Around the table

It is season when we spend a lot of time around tables. The table itself is symbolic and may be real or implied and the analogy has to be modified because technology enables our tables to be continents and time zones apart. Around the table we enjoy or tolerate co-workers, family of origin and family of the heart.

We gather at an altar to worship. We gather in dining rooms, kitchens and restaurants to share a meal. We gather to simply be together, to fight loneliness, to celebrate, to remember. We gather out of tradition, because of duty, because it is expected. We gather in spite of. 

Some gather for the annual bird count or the annual team rivalry. Cousins will teach a new recipient of Chutes and Ladders how to play and in another part of the house, whatever is trendy will be projected on the huge or laptop screen. For a while the men will gather in one room and women in another. It may be baby's first Christmas or grandpa's last Hanukkah. I remember a year where I returned to Buffalo with the thought that either my brother or father wouldn't be there the following year.

Life being what it is, some will gather around a graveside, new or old, but all our gatherings include saints and ghosts. Sometimes we acknowledge their presence, like at a company I once worked for that left an empty chair at the table for a founder who died suddenly. Some we allow to haunt benevolently but others we need to exorcise, and perhaps plan to not set a space for them next year.

Diplomats line up across a table and more meet in strategy rooms. Cowboys, shepherds, refugees and soldiers sit around a camp fire and the incarcerated in cells. Meals on Wheels will drop off food and greet the recipient who may then sit at a TV table alone. Fathers will sit at small tables to enjoy imaginary tea with their daughters.

Think about all the "tables" at which you sat this year and what made it unique. Think about where you will soon be a guest or a host and see if there is anyone else you need to invite to pull up a chair to make it a richer experience. Then do it.

Marilyn

Test drives

In the past month I test drove four cars. The prospect of walking into a dealership with the possibility of buying a car is intimidating, at least for most people I know, and particularly for women. In three of the four instances as I walked in, there were at least four men standing not exactly in a line, kind of waiting for their next victim. I decided to take control from the beginning."I don't care which of you helps me. I'd like to test drive a ____," is what I said when I looked at the line of salesmen.

Driving three cars that were very different from what I've been used to, got me thinking about other things we try on in life to see what works best for us. There are the dressing rooms where we check out sizes and colors and materials and styles of clothing before making a purchase. Play dates help kids have fun and also begin to figure out who might and might not become good friends. Dating and all the rituals associated with that introduces us to different types of potential mates or special relationships. An engagement takes a couple to another level before the commitment of marriage. 

Internships give young people a chance to check out a company or an industry to see if what they think they would like to pursue as a career is really a good match. Internships also allow a company to see if the candidate not only has the needed skills, but is also a good fit in the organization's culture. At the other end of one's work life, reducing hours to part time lets us begin to experience what retirement might be like.

When we prepare to move, we may drive through different neighborhoods at various times of day to get a sense of what living there might be like. Then, as we settle in to a new home, we check out all the local haunts until we find our favorite stores and restaurants. Some even do church shopping until they find the one or ones that fit for where they are in their faith journey. Oh, and as we decorate that new home, there are now test cans of paint so we can see how a particular color looks on a wall or in a room.

Sometimes we let others take the test drive for us. Before spending time and money on a movie or at the theater or a restaurant, we read reviews. With experience, we learn whose opinion we tend to trust. Of course, there are times when we just want to see a movie and go regardless of what the experts said. Chefs and cooks taste what they are making as they go along. Quality control assures that items on the manufacturing line pass the necessary tests. 

As I read this to see what a new reader might take away from their test drive of my writing, I realized there were three options to bring this to a close. One is a reminder this season to be grateful that we are in a place where we have opportunity to test drive so many areas of our lives even as we remember those who do not. The second is to issue a challenge to us all to plan to test drive something new in the coming months. Whether it is trying a new genre of book, a new exercise regimen or a new social venture, take a test drive that stretches your world. Oh, finally, what was the result of all my car shopping? I bought an electric blue VW beetle! 

Marilyn

Counting pennies

When I was in sixth grade, my dad added a new hobby to his resume. He became a coin collector. I don't know how he managed it, but every night after dinner he would have a pocketful of change to put on the table. Out would come his magnifying glass and some reference material. Each coin would be carefully examined and sorted. He ultimately had some interesting collections, such as pennies and nickels from every year.

I learned several lessons from watching my dad count pennies through three decades. First, I saw that one is never too told to start something new. Because my parents had me late in life, my perception of them always had been that they were old, and here he was taking up something new. Now, he would have been in his mid-fifties when he became a numismatist, so perhaps it is due to this that I started exploring the artistic side of myself and took so many art classes at that time in my own life.

Taking advantage of another one of his interests, he built boxes to store and to showcase various treasures. From that I saw what it was to integrate important pieces of who we are. While there can be a need to compartmentalize areas of our lives, we can also seek to blend them. When company came over he was anxious to bring out his latest creation, eager to have others share in his interest, and, I think, to be affirmed. His self esteem was low, mostly due to having to drop out of school after the 8th grade to help on the farm. Because my father was well loved, I saw most people patiently give him accolades for his accomplishment and passion.

Sometimes he let me help him sort and catalog, so I experienced a pleasure in a joint activity and learned that we do not have to always do things that bring us joy on our own. Up until this new hobby I never saw my dad read anything other than the newspaper, but soon different magazines appeared on the table by his chair. I saw that we may need to invest more than time to develop an interest and that we need to learn and study.

When he could no longer enjoy or safely operate his saw and tools on his workbench or hold a paintbrush steady, he could still count pennies. Each time my parents came to visit I had a couple of jars filled with coins, and it was my dining room table he then sat at to sort and package, even though his hands shook from Parkinson's disease. I saw sadness and triumph when he completed a roll of 50 pennies and folded the flaps.

His most exciting find was a 1941 dime that, due to a die printing error, had a 2 over the 1. He cherished the thrill of that discovery for several years and then sold it for more than $300 and bought my mother a mink stole. From that I saw that often it is better to use and to share rather than to hoard. I also learned to keep trying because there might be a surprise in the next coin examined. As I look back, I see that you never know what you are modeling to the next generation. I know that he would chuckle to read that I learned something more than just about coin collecting by watching him all those years. 

You might have thought that I was going to talk about how concerned I am that those in charge of our state and country are men who may be able to read a Profit & Loss statement but who never personally had to count pennies in order to meet their monthly bills and who appear to have no empathy for those who must do that all their lives. That was too obvious.

Marilyn

I've got your number

When I was a a youngster trying out some childish trick on my Uncle Bob, he would wink, give a sly grin while pointing a finger at me and say, "I've got your number!" He understood I was trying to pull something over on him. Last week I responded to a salesperson offering some type of service for the office with, 'Yes, well, if we ever need it, I've got your number." Whether used professionally or personally, when that phrase is said in that tone or those circumstances, both parties know the piece of paper or business card with the number on it will usually be thrown away. However, there are those rare times when numbers have been exchanged and when the feeling is, "I've got your number. Would 5 minutes from now be soon to call?" indicating romance, excitement and possibilities.

As an adult, we look at others and say, like my Uncle Bob, "I've got your number" with the thought that I've got you figured out, I know what you are trying to do, what motivates you or how you will react. During the recent campaign everyone looked at each of the candidates and concluded, "I've got your number!" After looking at who is now our president-elect, more people voted for an alternative than for him. Unfortunately, from my perspective, where all those votes were cast provides a sad lesson in civics. 

Regardless of who was elected, a large portion of the population would always continue to hold to the "I've got your number" philosophy and look for indications and evidence they were right, that the winner is indeed a trickster. Had Hillary won, someone else would be writing a blog similar to this. But now I am among those who are saying "I've got your number" and I'm concerned. A problem when I think I have someone's number - or they think they have mine - is that after a few instances that prove our initial belief, we put that person in a box. We don't allow them to easily change or even challenge them to do so. If someone who has my number suggests ever so gently that I might try something different, I probably don't make it easy for them, or vice versa, because, after all we've got each others' numbers.

So, our collective problem may become complacency when what we need to be is over-diligent and pay careful, thoughtful and close attention to identify the tricks we sense in the works and let him know he can't get away with it. I hope to see headlines in prominent papers and hear mainstream reporters call a lie, a lie. I want respected and knowledgable pundits to watch equally all the balls in the air, not just where an arrow of misdirection might point at the moment. I want the energy to engage, for I think we will tire very quickly of having to react to every oversimplification, claim and outrageous promise that underscores that we have his number.

But I also hope to see and hear accolades where deserved. While I expect those to be few, I do have faith in the process and that individuals can rise to the occasion. After all, he looks at us and thinks, "You think you've got my number, but I've got yours and I may just surprise you." 

I hope so.

Marilyn

It seems unlikely

We are entering a season of unlikelys. For those who believe in the Jesus story of Christmas, an unlikely teenage girl had an unlikely visitor who told her of an unlikely happening. Hanukkah marks the story of the unlikely eight days of candlelight with only a one-day supply. Finally, how likely is it that one saint can circumnavigate the globe and find every home where there is a child?

All of this we anticipate after two other recent unlikelys. A City in desperate need of good news and camaraderie celebrated a so long wished for unlikely ending of a 108 year old curse. A disturbing, tiring and unlikely election has highlighted the multitude of divisions and differences in our country instead of asking us to look for what we have in common.

It is unlikely that the complex problems we face today on every front will have easy solutions. Many children will spend this Christmas in poverty, in refugee camps, in fear. Many families will continue to scramble to make ends meet even as they light their menorah. Letters that plead for unlikely presents will be sent to Santa. Think of any area of your own life or our society, and I'll bet you would be able to complete the sentence, "It seems unlikely that..."

But, we will sing the familiar tunes, give and receive gifts and hugs, drop a dollar in a red kettle, wear red and green and blue. We will take comfort in the familiar as we listen to the unlikely stories of this season. We will recognize that the unlikely girl did not balk at the unlikely story and responded in the affirmative. We will honor the rededication of the temple with a festival of lights. We will celebrate a saint who has morphed into someone who represents a spirit of giving. 

Miracles, all. 

Let's look for the unlikely in our own lives this coming month. And, let's be someone else's unlikely small miracle. Whether it's shoveling snow off a neighbor's sidewalk, sending a note to someone who is homebound or building a bridge to an estranged family member, each small gesture contributes toward the unlikely day when the lion will lie down with the lamb. It seems unlikely, but I believe that can happen.

Marilyn

When the words don't come

According to some studies, the second most common fear is of public speaking, ranking just behind the fear of flying. What can make us nervous, beyond hundreds of eyes on us, is the thought of getting tongue-tied. Whether it is a piece we've memorized or words on a paper in front of us, we know that things can go wrong and we can end up feeling foolish and embarrassed. Even the suggestion of picturing the people in the audience in their underwear doesn't minimize the panic that the words won’t come.

Most of us are not called upon very often to be at a podium. It's in our one-on-one daily dealings when we can struggle to string together the right words. Whether spoken or written, we can stumble trying to say what we want to say. Words of comfort. Words of guidance. Words of encouragement.

The last few years many of us have added the phrase "senior moment" to our conversation, sometimes to cover when the word we are thinking of or someone’s name just isn't at our fingertips. We know it's there, on the tip of our tongue, but remains elusive for a few moments or throughout the conversation. While such experiences can be a precursor to dementia, mostly it's the stress of our lives and pressure we put on ourselves that makes words and names elusive. Hours later we think of the perfect comeback, a great punchline, a main point we forgot to make, or the name. I try to give myself grace in these circumstances and not beat myself up or get further stressed, and hope you do also.

When I have writer's block, like for this musing or the hardest for me – sympathy cards and performance reviews – I find many errands or tasks that are absolutely necessary distractions. Then, when I return to the keyboard, I can end up going off on many tangents. Some can turn out to be more interesting than where I started and are fodder for future writings. At some point something clicks and the words do come, or I try certain exercises, or I realize I've said all there is to say….

I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, forget what you did, but will never forget how you made them feel. Maya Angelou

Marilyn

E-signs

Sometimes I take Madison Ave. to work. It's a four lane highway and a straight shot into the West Loop. A left turn onto Ogden and another left onto Randolph and I'm at the office. I drive through neighborhoods that have struggled for decades and ones experiencing gentrification. I go past the United Center with statues of Michael Jordan and Bobby Hull. There are hospitals to my right and townhomes to the left. Recently I started paying attention to signs and billboards, particularly when the first word started with the letter E. I found such signs fell into two categories: things I was offered and things I should do.

Express was the word that actually started this line of thinking. The sign for Express Beauty made me chuckle since, in my opinion, true beauty takes decades and doesn't come in a jar or in minutes. In fact, the only express beauty I know is out in nature when I see the sun rise or set over the horizon or a rainbow appears. A couple miles down the road I’m offered Express Liquors. Again, I'm out of sync, for even with the little imbibing that I do, I know spirits are something to be savored, not gulped, even if you can purchase them quickly. Besides those express things, along the way I can choose Economy parking or an Exclusive cellular experience.

During recent weeks signs on this route encouraged me to Elect certain candidates (mostly Danny Davis who was in no danger of losing). If we exclude those signs, I am exhorted to Educate, Evangelize and Enhance. No surprise that Educate is on a sign for a day care center and Evangelize, a storefront church, but it's my nails I'm supposed to Enhance.

Just two weeks ago billboards were euphoric as we reveled in a Cubs win that brought people together, had strangers celebrating and singing in the el cars. Now we need signs to inspire us to be Energized as we prepare for an Ending. Luckily, with an ending, we can mold a beginning. Every day we can get up, put one foot in front of the other. We can find the energy to Engage, one on one, and work for change. We will Endure.

Marilyn

Woulda, coulda, shoulda

As the analysts - professional and armchair - rehash the events and feelings that got us here as a nation, I have to do my own reflections and take some of the blame for the outcome of the election. At no point this year did I write a check or volunteer, and worse, at no point did I even try to engage with anyone outside of my comfortable circle who mostly share a similar world and social view. I'll admit I also mostly tuned out because I had enough stress in my life and didn't want to deal with the hate and fear that the headlines touted. Besides, I was confident in an American people who saw through rhetoric and who truly, at their core, believed in equality for all. I went to bed last night when the map was mostly red, confident that it would be different in the morning. I didn't know how out of touch I was.

Now that I do know, the question for today is, what do I do about that?

Now, in the shock and grief and sadness, I want to: 

• Thank Hillary and tell her to not beat herself up.
• Thank all those who did work hard on my behalf and in my stead.
• Not be bitter.
• Not listen to analysts, just let this election be done and turn the page.
• Burrow deeper into my own world.

Yes, that last one is true. But, it's not the answer. Instead I will use this wakeup call that reminded us that feelings are more powerful than facts, to commit to finding the energy to engage in something that will facilitate a change I believe is needed. There is an organization where I've considered volunteering. It's time to take one step, however small it might be. It's time to get involved.

Marilyn

Gladys and Louie

Gladys and Louie were my parent’s best friends. I remember hearing lots of laughter when they came to our house for dinner and cards or falling asleep on their sofa the times they reciprocated the hospitality. Gladys and Louie were different than relatives or neighbors. They were in my parent's lives by choice, not by chance.

When I was 10 or 11 I asked my mother why we hadn't seen them in a while. I could tell that the question made her sad and her response was brief. She said that an elderly aunt of Gladys' had died and left them a lot of money. They were selling their house and moving. They had new friends. Now they were out of my parent's lives by their choice. After a couple years of Christmas cards, they were never mentioned again. This was my first inkling that a lot of the relationship lessons from the playground continue into adulthood.

Lesson #1: Loyalty isn’t guaranteed. Money changed Gladys and Louie. The desire for a winning team can leave a good friend who has no skills in the game of the moment as the last one picked.

Lesson #2: Interests shift. By the time Gladys and Louie moved on to their new life I’d had several BFFs. One good friend dropped out of Brownies.

Lesson #3: Slights, whether real or imagined, happen to everyone. We have all been on the giving and receiving end of exclusion, sometimes intentionally but more often, unintentionally.

Lesson #4: Relationships ebb and flow. Best friends from 1^st grade reunite in 5^th. Distance separates us after graduation or marriage or promotion, but I’ve some faraway or once-a-year friends with whom I can pick up where we left off.

Lesson #5: People will rise to the occasion and sometimes let us down. We’ve all made a terrible error in judgement in who we trusted and have friends who continue to disappoint, but we keep our perspective and keep them in our lives.

Lesson #6: Friends fall into categories, such as school friends, work friends, relatives and neighbors. It wasn’t until my dad retired that their circle of friends expanded from neighbors, relatives and church to include people who liked to take bus trips. They had several years of enjoyable times with these later-in-life let’s-go-somewhere friends.

Lesson #7: If we are lucky and healthy, each time a negative something happens in a relationship our heart bleeds a little or our pride is hurt but we continue to look for kinship, connections and friends. And, if we are lucky, we find them while remembering to treasure those we already have.

Marilyn

Hope is an echo

When I come across a word seldom used in daily conversation three times in a 24 hour period, I pay attention. I wonder. I equate it to those serendipitous times when you are humming a song and turn on the radio only to have that song playing. Such was my experience this week with the word echo.

My first encounter was when I tuned into WMFT on the way home from work. The announcer read a blurb written by conductor Gerald Schwarz from a CD titled Echoes, Classic Works Transformed. He had hired current composers to write a short piece based on something written by a master like Bach, Beethoven or Brahms. So, the premise is that updating a theme or being inspired by a well-known phrase becomes an echo. The track that was played was wonderful. I made a mental note to investigate the CD.

That night I was doing a crossword puzzle and 37 Down was 'reheard cry.' Ah, I thought as I saw it was 4 letters starting with e, another echo. Then, the following morning, part of my meditative reading included, "Hope is an echo, it ties itself yonder, yonder. The spring grass showing itself where least expected." It's a line from a Carl Sandburg poem.

As I started putting this together I remembered a song we used to sing in Brownies. "Little Sir Echo, how do you do? Hello! (Hello!). Little Sir Echo will answer you. Hello! (Hello!)." I thought of walking through the tunnel from the parking lot to the entrance of Brookfield Zoo, a place where children run ahead of their parents and yell back so they can hear the noise resound. I thought of bird cries in a fjord in New Zealand, of reading about sounds bouncing off the moon. I thought of the vacant look in my father's eyes as he became an echo of the vital man he once was.

Today is the 28th anniversary of my father's death. Each memory I have of him is now an echo, as, I suppose in a different kind of way, am I and his grandchildren and their children, who are now reflecting his life lessons coast to coast. On this All Hallows’ Eve, I'm sure there are people who are echoes in your life as well. Whether you lost them last week so the pain may overshadow the echo, or last decade, we who remain get to choose the echoes we pay attention to. We can let some echoes fade away and we can keep alive those that make us smile, warm our hearts and make us certain that our hope for spring green grass will indeed appear where least expected but perhaps most needed.

Marilyn

The best meal I ever ate

Going out to eat was a treat when I was growing up. Except for the Friday night fish fry at either a local tavern or the VFW Hall, and pizza at Jacobi's or a sub at John and Mary's after a school event, going out also meant you got dressed up. Even for lunch at the Woolworth counter when you went shopping downtown. A couple of times a year my family went out for Chinese food or met friends at The Syracuse, our favorite restaurant. My mother was a great cook so there were always good meals at home, but any meal eaten out was special.

Hamburger joints were just emerging when I left for college, where I discovered a whole different world of dining out. My boyfriend was interested in the food service industry and the head of the dining service took him under his wing. One night he took us on a field trip to Chicago's famous The Bakery, with Chef Louis Szathmary. While I don't remember what we ate, I do remember the feeling of being a tourist in a new land. I still have the 6 oz. dark green bottle that contained my first fizzy water. My friend's boss also got him a job at Henrici’s, a popular restaurant in the Oakbrook shopping center, about 20 minutes from campus. There he worked in the kitchen and waited tables, offering diners gravy boats with toppings like bacon bits, chives and sour cream for their baked potatoes. Henrici's cherries jubilee was superb, as was their ice cream Brandy Alexanders. I sometimes went along and studied at a table by myself or occasionally at the bar, something Wheaton College could probably have expelled me for at the time. I have a blue water glass from that restaurant and fond memories of nibbling samples while I read and watched.

By the time I entered the workforce, going out to eat was much more common, and I gladly embraced that norm with coworkers for lunch or on a date or with friends on the weekend. A fish sandwich and vanilla shake at McDonald's was a once a week lunch out of the office. Supper clubs, like The Clubhouse Inn on North Ave. gave good value. They had a cart of appetizers like corn relish, beets and cottage cheese and interesting specialties like frog legs. Mr. Steak offered a great surf and turf for $4.99 but when there was a little more discretionary money for occasional splurging, friends and I enjoyed places like The Barn of Barrington where I remember ordering pheasant consommé. A challenge, and a big step, was my first meal out by myself. It was a Saturday breakfast at a familiar restaurant. As a primer on the single life suggested, I took along a book to help me look sophisticated and comfortable, not nervous, which is what I was. It was a good beginning for all the meals I've eaten alone in traveling for business or pleasure.

In the 1980s, Chicago was booming with 'in' places of various sorts and an 'in' thing was ordering a Caesar salad that was made table side. I enjoyed Gordon's off the Magnificent Mile, The Walnut Room at Marshall Field's, and Ceil Blue high atop some building by the lake. My housemates and I went out to dinner once a month and took turns picking. We went to little hole in the wall places in local neighborhoods and top rated spots, but once a week we went to Moody's Pub for a hamburger. I've still got an ashtray from the Ambassador Room and try to get to Moody's at least one a year.

By the 1990's, it wasn't so much the place as it was the type of food. Let's try Ethiopian or Afghani or Argentinian was the new challenge. Up until then, Thai was probably the most exotic food I'd had except for the reindeer sausage I enjoyed while working up in Alaska, where we also discovered this restaurant about a half hour out of Anchorage that served a mouthwatering steak covered with peppercorns. In New Zealand we learned we had to pay extra for a basket of bread but enjoyed lamb fresh from the farm where we were staying.

As take out or dine in grew as an industry catering to families and casual became the norm, I mostly settled into routines and today stick with favorites. Friends and I have dinner once a week at a Panera. Costco's hot dog is a real bargain and I allow myself one a month. If I want ribs, there are two places I suggest, another for Italian and so on. It's New England Seafood for a lobster roll or Demera for Ethiopian, both clients of Accion, where I work.

I guess this topic came to mind because my diet after surgery is very soft. I'm hankering for a salad, but need to wait another month. To get back to the title of this piece...the best meal I ever ate? While all the food mentioned here has been wonderful, it's taken a lifetime to learn that it's not the ambiance, the chef or what's on the plate that matters. It's sharing the meal with people I love.

Marilyn

Getting back up

We’ve all fallen and been knocked down. Sometimes literally, but more often figuratively. Lots of times. In all areas of our lives. It starts when we are taking our first steps toward independence and exploration. Until we get our balance, we often end up on our bottom, stunned, with a ‘hey, what just happened?’ expression on our face. The adults around us chuckle and encourage us to not cry but to get up and try again. It continues when a sibling or playmate or school chum pushes us and we fall. That’s when we begin learning to both stand up and to stand up for ourselves.

Then we learn that we need to get back up after a disappointment, a failure, a loss, a series of bad luck events. Whether a broken heart, a poor grade, not getting the job or a promotion, we know we have to get back on the horse. Over time we learn our individual coping mechanism that helps us get back up and take the next step, and, unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, we learn what takes us to the end of our tether. It doesn’t matter that you endure something that breaks me or that I only bend when the same thing shatters another. Our reactions don’t mean than one person is stronger or weaker than another. It simply means we are at different points on a continuum or have different triggers.

What really is lamentable, however, is that over the decades we forget that with our first steps we are holding on. Usually to a hand. And, as much as we need to take those steps toward standing on our own on all levels, the flip side of that lesson is thinking that we always need to get back up all on our own. We forget those first times when we accepted, even needed, a hand to help us up, when we leaned on someone or something.

This year, life has reminded me how important it can be to accept that helping hand when offered, and to ask for it to be there like a safety net when needed. Perhaps it is a gift of age along with necessity that has enabled me to stop being so self-reliant. But it is a lesson learned that I would like to keep in play moving forward. After all, continuing to move forward in one’s life is why we get back up. I challenge you to think about an area in your life where you need to get back up but need a little help. Reach out. I believe you’ll find it’s not as hard as you thought and that a needed resource will appear.

Marilyn

'and then' times

We've all experienced 'and then' times. Our 'and then' times are either long periods where each day can be condensed into 'and then' activities, summarizing what kept us busy, or periods of good or bad disruptions to the routine. Just yesterday one friend had a blip that included "and then I was rear-ended and probably need a new car," this after recently losing her job, while another's 'and then' was a twisted ankle on the last day of vacation in Hong Kong. A third friend recently celebrated a milestone 'and then' when she told her employer she was retiring even as she prepares to move from a house she's lived in for a couple of decades.

For me, 2016 has been an 'and then' year. It started in January when I walked into the glass wall through the fact that a week ago I was in the hospital with a morphine epidural post-surgery. You may have given some thought to your ‘and then’ times, but here's what I've learned about mine:

• When there are no traumas or joyous interruptions, the days blend together and, if I am not careful, I keep busy doing but not necessarily living or moving my life forward. I fill the minutes but not necessarily my life.
• I come from a comparing people. How do I compare to you? When I experience a series of challenges, hurts or disruptions, it is easy to fall into the 'poor me' mode until I encounter someone in more dire straits. Comparisons provide some perspective to jostle me out of those 'poor me/and then' times.
• Comparisons can also make me bitter, envious or jealous when I see a series of 'and then' good things happen to others, even to those close to me. Maturity and love now allows me to recognize the envy while still celebrating the other's good fortune.
• When I experience my own 'and then' blessings I downplay them, don't share the news with some people and usually don't take the time to bask in the brightness and joy.  I have a smidgen of fear that the good is undeserved and the knowledge that good times don't last.
• I have used my 'and then' challenges to either isolate myself or embrace everyone around me who loves me and wants to lend support.  I can affirm that allowing others to walk the difficult path with me is much better. It has made my year richer and the 'and then' trials not as hard.

So, I challenge you. The next ‘and then’ that comes your way, good or bad, share it in a different way than you normally would. See what happens.

Marilyn

Punctuation marks

For those of a certain age, we remember Victor Borge's comedy sketch about punctuation. Whether you were a fan of his or not, that piece really is a classic. If you haven't seen it, I'm sure it's on You Tube. The premise was that verbal communication might be easier if each punctation mark had a sound. For example, people would know you were at the end of a sentence by a cluck of the tongue. 

This topic came to mind because a couple of clever people have told me that now, post surgery, I am a semi-colon. After I chuckled, I realized that, come to think of it, there are punctuation mark stages of our lives. We all start off as a dash - that straight line that better defines the phrase that came before. Children somersault or curl up as a period. When we stand up straight, we are an exclamation point. Raising our arms in celebration, we are quote marks that can signal a beginning and an end to the event. People raise one arm in a salute, thereby using one quote mark to name whatever they are a part of. When we hug we are parentheses and when we sleep we may be commas. As we age and are bent over, we become a question mark, which can indicate that because we have decades of experience of living, we may have the answers to some of life's mysteries. In our coffin, we return to the dash or an exclamation mark at rest.

Over the course of my writing life some punctuation rules have changed. We no longer put two spaces in between sentences or a comma before the and in a series. For example, it used to be apples, oranges, and grapes but now the standard is people, animals and trees. As my colleagues and I worked on writing our annual reports, we edited carefully for consistency throughout, and mumbled at corporate brands that go against the rule of a comma before Inc. or the like. 

The faithful companion of writing is reading, and while I worry about grammar and punctuation, as long as people are communicating I guess we'll see what evolves. While it seems that more people are writing thanks to email and social media, many elements of writing are changing. We LOL and use emojis to reflect feelings. I wonder what Victor Borge would have done with those! 

Marilyn

PS: Sorry for the change in type size. Written and puslished from the hospital and having trouble with technology.

Preparations

This is one of those musings where I had a perfectly good 400 words blog on how we spend a large part of our lives getting ready. From starting an academic journey with preschool and kindergarten that prepares us for graduation, to planning a wedding, to adapting a home for a baby or an elderly relative, to wearing a suit for an important meeting, I had examples. I wrote about a friend who spent months preparing for a 3 week trip to China, concerned about what to take and the imposed weight limit. Her preparations paid off, for I’m getting occasional emails like "Glad I had a granola bar," or "I had the right clothes for the thrilling but hot 4 mile walk of the Great Wall."

But as I read what I’d written, I hadn’t made any point, so I had to think about why the topic of preparations was on my mind in the first place and where I really wanted to go with it. I realized it rose from the fact that I'm preparing for surgery. It continues with recognizing that too often we don’t understand how preparations are as much a process as they are tasks on a to-do list. Then there is an element of not exhausting ourselves with the preparations to the point that we cannot enjoy or participate in what we’ve been planning for. Or, how sometimes we are dreading what we are preparing for and how we need to plan to deal with that. It ends with the issue that we often forget to acknowledge, invite or accept other’s assistance in our preparations.

As someone who has worked very hard all her life to be self-sufficient, this is a time when others are contributing to my preparations and in a variety of ways. One friend knit a prayer shawl while another is treating me to a pre-surgery massage. Others will take me to the hospital and be there when I wake up, and two invited me to their home for recovery because they knew I would have trouble with the stairs at my new home right after surgery. A nurse walked me through a pamphlet on everything I need to know before, during and after my hospital stay.

I’ve shopped and packed and made plans and contingencies for home and office and treated myself to a pedicure. I have to believe that as I do my part, the others involved are also doing theirs. For me, it is very personal and, I hope, a one-time thing. For the surgeon and staff, their preparation is the routine, their norm, the everyday actions of their profession in dealing with dozens of people weekly and founded on their education, experience and honed expertise. For those in my life walking this journey with me, they are listening and hugging, praying, and planning the meals they will bring when I’m home.

There may not be something this significant going on in your life, but as you go through your routine preparations this week, I urge you to consider the elements involved in those normal activities and apply something that you’ve read here. Make sure that you are able to fully engage in what you are preparing, plan how to handle the unpleasant, and allow others to participate. And let me know how it changes things for you.

Marilyn

Success depends on previous preparation and without such preparation there is sure to be failure. Confucius. 

One morning commute

There I was, traveling east on the Eisenhower Expressway, watching the hazy bright yellow sun hanging to the right of the Sears Tower in a morning blue sky. Traffic was slow because of the glare, but the view made up for the snail's pace. As I emerged from under an overpass, there, far ahead on the right just off the highway, were two round images against the skyline. They looked like water towers side by side. They hadn't been there the day before. From a distance, and with the sun in my eyes, I couldn't figure out what they were. 

Coming around a slight curve in the road, the glowing circle of the sun was now below the other two mystery circles and I started to laugh. It was Mickey Mouse's silhouette. The

round face (the sun) and two round ears (unknown circles) perfectly aligned. When I finally got close enough, I saw that the ears were balloons advertising balloons for all occasions. Then I chuckled even more. The balloons were on the roof of a building with an ad for granite headstones painted on the side facing the highway. I smiled at the juxtaposition all the way to my exit.

Waiting at the end of the exit ramp for the light to change, I looked at the red SUV in front of me. The vanity license plate was ISIS with a number. I thought, "Boy, that driver has a strong sense of self to proudly keep an acronym that must have some meaning to them, but which the uninformed person in the car behind can only wonder about." 

So, in a car's length I went from tickled to thoughtful. 

Turning left onto Ashland, the car to my right also turned. Now, that's not a double left turn corner, so I was forced into a different lane than normal to avoid a collision. The other driver seemed oblivious as he went straight down the middle lane of a 3 lane section of the street. Too bad that a pothole that hadn't been in the street the day before was suddenly there for him to experience rather than me. 

So, in a block's length I went from thoughtful back to tickled. 

When I turned onto Randolph where our office sits on the corner, I got the last parking spot on the street. It was a pretty good beginning to the day and quite different from the normal commute that seems so routine that it becomes rote. So much of our lives depends on a smooth routine and such constants can be comforting. In this musing I’m not suggesting we all switch up a routine, just that we be on the lookout for the whimsy that might be present in our daily activities. Such surprises brighten the day and are fodder for a good story.

Marilyn

5 things I want to un-invent

We've all got our pet peeves. Such things basically fall into two categories: behaviors and things. Behaviors get resolved in relationships. If you work in an office, you know that teammate who never makes a fresh pot of coffee or cleans up after themselves. When you live with someone, you compromise about clutter and cleanliness. You adjust, or not, to changes in society that have ‘like’ as every other word in a sentence, underwear showing or online shopping. This musing is not about those, but about 5 things I wish had never been invented.

This topic came to mind because the first item is in my new home and I cannot change it. There is only one switch in the bathroom and it turns on, simultaneously, the ceiling light and the exhaust fan. I've always been annoyed with such switches in hotels, and now I've got it in my home. I understand the reason for it is to help eliminate the moisture, but still. Now I can't hear the radio in the kitchen.

My second peeve has been in my last 2 cars. When the temperature outside hits 39 degrees, my car beeps to tell me it might snow with an alert usually meant for stop-the-car-now-before-it-blows-up and a flashing snowflake. Each autumn as it gets colder, even though I know it is coming, I get momentarily frightened. I remain irritated until spring.

While the first two may not be on your list, I'll bet this one is: molded plastic packaging. That heavy stuff that is so difficult to cut but that you can cut yourself on. I'm sure it was shoplifting statistics that led to this invention, but I'll admit there are things I have not bought because I didn't want to deal with the packaging.

It’s back to the bathroom for my fourth item I wish hadn't been invented: the automatic faucet, the kind with sensors that start the flow of the water. I find these troubling because I seem to always stand at the sink where the sensor is non-sensitive and water doesn’t come. Same for automatic soap dispensers.

The last thing for now that I want to un-invent is bottled water. During my prep for moving, on move day and for the unpacking parties, I was grateful for the water in plastic, but also know had they not been available there were alternatives. I won’t buy anymore until it’s time for a big gathering. While I appreciate the convenience, the money we are collectively putting into some conglomerate’s pockets while harming the environment is absurd. Let’s ship all the bottled water to someplace experiencing a drought.

Alright, I’ve ranted enough and appreciate a venue in which to vent. At the moment, these are my top 5. What would you add?

Marilyn

Attention to detail

We recently needed to purchase fireproof file cabinets. Each cabinet weighs 500 pounds, so after ensuring that the flooring could handle the additional stress, I needed the appropriate space to be available when they were delivered. This was a great opportunity to do more organizing – certain departments needed more storage while others could do some consolidating. After lots of measuring and negotiating, on File Cabinet Domino Day, movers shifted around 10 cabinets to have the right spots for the new heavy cabinets.

I moved to my new home over the weekend. On Friday, a wonderful friend and a hired teen packed up our cars with plants, groceries and treasures. I've moved enough to know that a folding chair needs to be part of the pre-move schlepping. My friend, who has moved more often than me, was impressed with the chair for she always ended up sitting on the floor to rest after scrubbing or while simply waiting. Move day itself requires having things ready, labeled, giving clear directions, as well as lots of water and energy snacks for the workers. The grapes in the afternoon were a big hit with Andrew and Stephen, while Mark and Tony went for the chocolate chip cookies.

So, while I can do the details, mostly I think of myself as a big picture person. I like painting the broad strokes and letting others consider the particulars. Well, what I really like best is collaboration, where my broad strokes are enhanced and flushed out with others’ input, and the details they create are improved with my review or by others we add to the team.

One would think that such collaboration, where everyone is allowed to play to their strengths, would enable teams to do their best work. I don’t think that is always true. We all need to learn how to function outside of our comfort zones. 

My life is richer because of the situations that have made me stretch or wear alternative hats even if I’m not always happy about it. This week I’ll be hiring a new team member. While I’ll be looking for someone who is detail oriented because that’s what the job calls for, I really need someone who is willing to take on opportunities to help them stretch and ultimately challenge me. What new hat are you ready and willing to try on today?

Marilyn

All hands on deck

There are times in our lives when we need all hands on deck. A situation arises, whether at home, work or in the neighborhood, when we rally all co-workers, family and friends or even call in reinforcements to get something accomplished quickly or to keep what is cherished safe. On Saturday, I had twenty hands on deck to help pack up all my belongings in preparation for my move this week.

Two moves ago I realized I just couldn't do all the packing myself, so I threw a packing party. Friends were invited to stop by and pack one box or stay the whole five hours. At the end of the afternoon everything was done and I hadn't packed one box. To me, there now is no other way to handle a move. 

My job for this particular all-hands-on-deck situation is three-fold. First, I have to do the prep work. Besides required resources like boxes, tape, newspapers, bubble wrap, scissors and markers gathered in readiness, prep also involved four trips to Goodwill. That means I got unnecessary things or what could be distractions out of the way. Prep means organizing and thinking about the how and where boxes could be easily assembled and planning for sufficient work space. Oh, and, of course refreshments, although this time workers even provided most of that.

During the party my job was to provide some direction and answer questions. To tell stories about a certain item as it was being wrapped in newspapers. To make sure that people weren't doing too much, that we took occasional breathers, that there was camaraderie. As folks left throughout the day or at 4:30 p.m., when all 75 boxes were taped and labeled, they went home with a sense of accomplishment. I'm sure we all slept soundly. 

Which brings me to the last part of my job, which is the acknowledgement. G.K. Chesterton wrote, "When it comes to life, the critical thing is whether you take things for granted or take them with gratitude." I may have taken for granted that some and enough folks would show up to get the work done, but it is was with profound gratitude that I opened the door to greet them and then, after their labor, sent them on their way. But allow me to say again, to Kathy, Sue, Sharon, Donna, Ruth, Rose, Suzy, Nydia, Marilyn and Cindy, thank you for being my friend and for your all hands on deck attitude. My life is richer because you are in it.

Now there are those who can't imagine handling their packing this way. That's fine, but I challenge you to find an all-hands-on-deck event of your own making. It's much better than an emergency forcing one's hand. These come-together times are rewarding, heartwarming and reassuring.

Oh, un-packing is this coming weekend. All hands are welcome!

Marilyn

Slamming on the brakes

We’ve all sent up a prayer of thanks or breathed a sigh of relief when our car did not plow into the vehicle in front of us. Not long ago I did just that one morning driving to work on the Eisenhower Expressway. I was doubly thankful when I looked in the rearview mirror and saw that the driver behind me had pulled over to the shoulder. Often we never learn the reason for the chain reaction, and we are simply glad when everyone can stop holding tight to the steering wheel and move forward again.

As a driver, it is something outside our car, like a dog running across the road or the stopped car ahead that makes us slam on the brakes. In other areas of our lives, it is usually something internal that triggers an alert to the need for such an action. Unfortunately, we usually ignore the signs and continue moving. We remain in a relationship or continue taking a project in one direction. When needing comfort or to fill the boredom, we shop, or eat or drink, or turn to electronic distractions. We do what we can to numb our feelings, escape our situation, fill our time. We cause our own chain reaction. Day after day, night after night, we stay on autopilot on the same road, even when our brain and our common sense tell us to slam on the brakes. Our instinct, our habits, our fear tell us to keep moving, even knowing we are going in a circle. Outsiders call it self-destructive. We call it self-preservation.

Collectively we have allowed others to slam on the brakes on equality, justice and doing what is right. While we may be touched by the picture of a 5-year old being carried from the rubble, disturbed by flooding in one city and fires in another, mostly we are numb to images and stories. We may go as far as writing a check or clicking a button to donate, but we’ve come to believe the situations are too complex for any solutions.

When I say ‘we,’ I’m describing my reactions most of the time, but I think many of you are in the same lane with me. We have forgotten that ‘we, the people’ are in the driver’s seat and it’s time to get moving forward, not circling the same block. Let’s take our feet off the brakes.

Marilyn

 

What big ears you have

Has there been someone in your life who truly listened to you? I mean the grandma, the lover, the friend who just let you talk and didn't:

·         Tell you what to do
·         Say that had also happened to them 
·         Have a better or worse story
·         Try to problem solve
·         Multitask while you talked
·         Seem rushed
·         Compare your experience to someone else’s
·         Minimize your feelings

No, they just gave you 100% of their attention and let you talk. When you ran out of breath or out of story, they remained quiet for a second, just in case you hadn't finished. Then they patted your hand, or gave you a hug, or asked a key question that kept the focus on you, something like, "What do you want to do about that?"

We can take classes on communications, but topics are limited to the creative and origination aspect, not on how to receive information. Unless you are studying things like psychology or social work, there is no required class on listening. Our natural inclination is to do the things on the list above. The sad impact is that when we do them, we are discounting the speaker's experience and not really listening. 

Listening is learned while doing the job of living. It is a skill that can be honed at any age. I was in my 40s when I was confronted by the concept of and need for effective listening. I was embarrassed to realize that I did all of the things on the list. All of the time. My personal go-to 'help' when listening is to problem solve. While I now try to not jump in with solutions, it's hard. 

It's a rare gift to have someone really listen to you. While I think this has always been true, listening seems a more valuable skill now, when silence and time are at a premium. There is a difference between listening and hearing. One is a sense that either we have or do not have, and even if we have it, as we age we can lose it. The other is a conscious act. We might say, “I heard you!” meaning that I comprehended what you were saying. But, what we are really saying is that “I was listening and understand both what you said and what you meant.” Luckily you don’t need big ears to listen. Just a big heart.

Marilyn

Endorsements

It's a year where we are bombarded day after day with this word and the images each situation evokes. Traditionally, political candidates look for, even expect others with a similar view, to stand with them and to oppose those running on a different platform. Viewers see logos and brand names or hear the slogans of companies sponsoring athletes or athletic events or outdoor music venues. 

Businesses depend on brand loyalty. Such a concept of loyalty probably goes back to our cave dwelling days of following who could bring in the most provisions, protect the entrance or make fire the quickest. We toss our lot to or behind who we consider the strongest, the best. Originally it was probably the biggest until we realized that clever, guile, or intellect might overpower the goliath. 

One problem today is that endorsements come easy. After each Uber ride you have to rate your driver. “Take our survey and receive a reward” are emails from places we frequent. Consumers are encouraged to comment on their good experiences on Yelp and other social platforms, while business owners take the time to tally the good and respond to the bad. I’ve been researching moving companies and have discovered satisfied and unsatisfied customers for each one.

Our good will, our dollars and our votes matter. In reading those reviews I pay more attention to the positive because one is less motivated to share the positive over the negative. Boycotts of products or companies can work. Sea World recently announced it is phasing out its orca breeding program and shows. Companies that utilize sweatshops or blatant deforestation methods around the globe have been hit hard and have usually caved in to the demands of advocates after losing millions of dollars.

I’ve been listening to interviews with people who say they are too disgusted with this election season and plan on not voting. While I will admit to currently being disengaged from the political drama beyond the headlines, closer to November I certainly will be investigating the less dramatic seats up for contention locally before casting my ballot. The voting booth is not the place for a boycott. It is a place for using our voice as a thoughtful endorsement, much more important than which celebrity uses which shampoo.

Marilyn

Address books

My mother's address book is packed away in a box of family stuff up in the attic. After she died, we needed the book to let all the people in her circle know, and for the next few years I referred to it to send notes to some of her friends. They are all gone now, yet I still keep the 4x6 inch book with a bouquet of flowers on the cover. Other than some recipe cards, it's the only thing I have that's written in her hand. 

I can picture her at the dining room table with one of that book's predecessors and a stack of Christmas cards. Sending those cards took a long time. Notes were written on the inside, the envelopes addressed and then secured with Christmas seals supporting some charitable cause. She used some type of coding system in the address book to track who we got a card from and who we sent cards to. Every decade or so the book got replaced because there were lots of changes to those already in the book and people to add. 

A new address book used to make a lovely present and I remember giving and receiving some special ones. Over the years the books got larger, more elaborate and included spaces for birthdays or other things folks might want to track. Nowadays most people use technology, including programs that remind you a special day is coming up for someone.

During the 1980s and 90s I used one of the popular calendar products that fit into a 5x7 3-ring leather binder that zipped. You had your choice of how you wanted the calendar pages – day, week, month – and then at the back of the packet were there A-Z tabs. Each year I would replace the calendar pages and discard the new address section rather than transfer all that contact information. I still have those pages of names and phone numbers, though the binder and calendars got tossed long ago. Like my mother's address book, they are full not just of names, streets and cities, but of memories and stories. They remind me of when one niece moved to Toledo, a nephew to Indianapolis or of a friend now forgotten. 

This subject came to mind because I am moving. Again. This will be my 12th move since college. Somehow that feels lucky; however, my sister-in-law and a dear friend have told me I can't move. They have no more room on the page for a new address for me! During the process of packing I may just take a minute to open that family box and dig out my mother's address book and flip through the pages. I'll remember the women in her church group and those who were part of 'the girlfriends coming over for pinochle.' There will be cousins I've lost track of and a few of my dad's co-workers who occasionally visited him in the nursing home. I'll smile. Maybe I'll even think about tracking down someone in there.

There is no street listing for Memory Lane, but it’s an important place to make note of and visit occasionally. Perhaps this musing has triggered a similar nostalgic journey for you, Perhaps both of us will reach out to connect to someone once important and whose contact information was faithfully recorded on a page or in a file to bridge the gap of years. That’s a nice thought with which to start the week.

Marilyn