Merry and bright, or not

Since leaving Buffalo, I’ve spent Christmas on a farm in Wisconsin, in lovely homes on the South and North Sides of Chicago and the western suburbs, in an upscale prefab in South Carolina, in small homes in southern California and southern Indiana, with a parent in a nursing home and with a dear friend in a retirement facility. I’ve been alone and I’ve hosted a houseful. I’ve been with family of origin or family of the heart, the two not being mutually exclusive. I’ve gone way beyond my budget and arrived with bags of festive boxes or had no budget at all and could only give handmade presents.

Through all of that there were three constants. The first is music. I have fond memories of years of Christmas concerts and caroling. Recently a friend said that she found the music of the season depressing. I’m the opposite. I love it, well most of it, as long as it’s played or sung in the old-fashioned way with not a lot of the currently popular vocal embellishments. Another constant was an inner voice that said the day had meaning in itself. That got me through many decades of hoping for that Norman Rockwell moment that never came.

The final constant was acknowledging the need to do something that actually made the season meaningful for me. Some years it was lighting advent candles nightly. Others it was sending notes and cards. Last year I did a lot of entertaining. For many years now I have saved my cards and opened them on Christmas morning. Wherever you are on the holiday spectrum – love, dread, ignore – I hope that you are doing something today or this week that will help end this year on the right kind of note for you.

Marilyn

Gut instincts

Leaving New York to go to college in Illinois was my first major life decision where I followed my gut. It wasn’t practical, for I had scholarships to several schools in my home state. It wasn’t easy, for I had no role models, and it wasn’t supported within my family who wanted me close. It simply felt right for me and that decision became my touchstone for understanding that I need to do what is right for me, regardless of external pressure.

Twice I have left jobs without another job to go to because it felt right. At the time I didn’t realize all of the factors leading me away, or at least couldn’t articulate them. In one instance, my attitude had become so negative I didn’t know any way out without leaving the situation entirely. Some in my circle shake their heads at the three moves I’ve made in the last six years, and while each could be justified, my gut instinct said they were the right moves. Each home has had its pros and cons, but the biggest pro always was the gut factor. Even at the office in creating procedures, sometimes I have to follow the gut policy when there are no best practices available or when making an exception that may not make sense on paper.

When I coach or mentor, I may suggest the making of lists, evaluating or even weighting factors one way or another, but then the final question is always, “What does your gut say?” Now, this is not the 1960s ribald motto of ‘if it feels right do it.’ This is a deep, visceral, very personal final check that I sometimes forget when caught up in the throes of a crisis. In these hectic days pushing toward the end of 2017, I need to pay more attention to what these lifelong lessons should have taught me. Maybe you’ve got a similar thermometer as well and want to check in with it to be better prepared to end the year on a high note and be ready for what awaits us in the new year.

Marilyn

How did it get there?

Weeks can go by and I don’t see, or at least notice them, but last week I paid attention, and I counted seven. Seven shoes by the side of the road. One was a baby’s shoe. Since there is a day care on the first floor of our office building, I can imagine a cranky little one kicking their legs as mommy or daddy hurriedly carried them across the street. But, how one sneaker, boot, stiletto, or loafer ends up along an expressway shoulder is a mystery.

Surely you’ve noticed them? Maybe you’ve got a theory, or an actual story of a sibling tossing a brother’s smelly boat of a shoe out the window of a moving car as a joke. If that’s the case, I’m sure there were consequences. Could it be a superstition of sports teams to drop a shoe from the bus as it sails along taking them to an away game? Are there abandoned clogs in Amsterdam or ferragamos on the Appian Way?

During this season of Hanukkah and Christmas there are plenty of mysteries to consider. Shoes are not one of them, but I doubt baby Jesus had booties and perhaps many of those rededicating the temple had only one pair of sandals. The random lone shoe now makes me think of those who would be grateful for even just the one. So, in my circular way of thinking, I’m sure that there are a pair or two of shoes in my closet that I haven’t worn in ages. I’ll be grateful for them as I sort and then make sure that the Goodwill bag gets delivered before Christmas Eve. You may consider doing the same thing now or the next time you see a shoe along the roadside.

You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.

-Dr. Seuss

Marilyn

Pedestals

What is it about human nature that has us putting people on pedestals and then being so surprised, disappointed, and, if truth be told, often secretly gleeful, when they fall off? That question is what I remember word for word of the couple of hours I spent writing before my IPad died. That's because most of what appeared on the screen were unrelated thoughts and some of those are what follows. I wrote about the issue of expecting someone who excels at one thing to be great at everything. About people coming to believe their own hype. About wanting people to be worthy of admiration but they better express their worthiness humbly.

One piece I drafted was something like this: Now, I’m not famous, but there is one thing I do know about pedestals because there have been a couple of times in my life when someone put me on one. It can feed the ego for a short time, but then it’s very uncomfortable and actually made me feel excluded and alone.

The original piece ended with some of these thoughts. I appreciate and want heroes. They give me something to strive for. I can also appreciate and want celebrities. Like heroes, they, too, can inspire me. When either a hero or celebrity screw up publicly, as I also do, it is a reminder that we may have more in common than one might originally think. With the famous falling off pedestals like dominoes – okay, that’s mixing too many metaphors – we don’t know who will be next, but I have one prediction. Soon, one will be a woman who has misused her power, and the conversations and reporting will get nastier.

Marilyn