Working Woman

When all you can reach is the ground

2011-07-31T10:14:00.002-04:00

Start there and work up

Plant something and maybe it will grow

Sit down

Nature - and work - are the sum of many parts

2011-07-31T09:29:00.006-04:00

Lessons learned from the garden:

If you took every beautiful and distinct flower in your garden, and tried to turn them all into one multipurpose flower, it would be the color of mud. And probably a pretty weird, not too attractive shape.

On the other hand, a bouquet of flowers combines the unique colors and shapes of each, leveraging their distinction. Maybe one stands out, maybe none stand out; and the beauty is achieved through the subtle strengths of each that just wouldn't be the same on their own.

Work is like that, too.

I've been struggling for a while with a workplace that is increasingly cookie cutter. By plugging units into self-determined slots (required by the corporate mother board), we have become manufactured chips intended to perform designated functions. The function is king! But individual distinction, experience and value is too time consuming to figure into the human resource equation.

What an organization gains with this approach is consistency, and perhaps scalability. What an organization loses is sight of the fact that businesses are organic entities; driven by creativity and distinction, not always able to be captured within the 20 minutes alotted to it or the 6 slide powerpoint meant to express it.

I know that I am not alone in this observation; there's a great corporate world out there that thrives on the comfortable and consistent tools of consultants that endeavor to bring to businesses something that feels like logic. And perhaps in some cases they do bring that logic. But increasingly in the world we now inhabit, logic is no longer linear, and businesses do not grow because we followed steps 1-10 in the manual. We do not all look alike, sound alike, and meet metrics in the same way. And companies that make great leaps do so these days in an entrepreneurial, organic, and somewhat circular way .. or perhaps not at all.

I'm not a youngster at this game. You might think I'd be more comfortable with the tried and true methods taught to me in B-school; and not embrace the somewhat bewildering (but also exciting) frontier of this generation's business practices. But I've seen firsthand the impact of companies and businesses that work by pigeonholing their talent into predetermined boxes that all look alike; and the result is this:

You get yourself a mud-colored flower.

Despite the work and time needed to create it, I prefer the bouquet.

I can picture it

2010-07-25T09:31:00.002-04:00

In the process of closing up my 98 year old aunt's apartment (she's going to a nursing home), I came across a dusty bag of old photos. Old cracked albums and loose pictures, frames falling apart at the corners. This week I dedicated myself to sorting through all the photos and creating a brand new, very full album for her.

Along the way, my mental picture of Aunt Helen began to change.

She was born in 1911; at a time when fashions were changing, but women weren't so far away from long skirts and piled up hair. Children were very serious for photos then; little staged portraits in their Sunday best. But the really interesting stuff began later. Growing up in New England, even in farm country, education was highly prized and Helen and her sister were both educated. They went on from high school to get teaching degrees.

In 1931, her photos show a shy, dark haired girl at the age of 20 visiting a Yale football game, and wearing her best lace dress on campus. My favorites, though, are a group of shots from 1938, when she and her friends travelled to Gloucester for the summers to waitress and make money during the school breaks. 27 - bathing beauties, boyfriends, cars. These girls are laughing, joking, and smiling, mugging for the camera; and there's my aunt, young and carefree, a beauty herself. She looks straight into the camera with the confidence and directness of a young teacher who is out on her own, supporting herself, and looking forward to an exciting life ahead.

You can see her fiance Ken in some of the photos. Alone or in groups, Ken had super model quality good looks, and was clearly smitten with Aunt Helen. We kids never really heard what happened to Ken, but the rumor is that he died in an accident before they could marry, and she remained a single lady for the rest of her life.

You can see the summer sun in these photos, the carefree unclouded aspect of the beginning of adult life for Helen. It's a picture of her that I never had, and as I care for her now that her world is shrinking into very small rooms and very few pursuits, it makes me feel melancholy.

It is impossible not to consider the passage of time when looking at these photos. We see ourselves forever young; and that stage of life and hopefulness defines that vision for a long, long time before accumulated pressures of time and the world's expectations erode it. All those you meet see you only as an old woman; with no frame of reference that includes your younger self, buried deep within.

There's another picture that I really treasure of Aunt Helen. From 1964, she is on a sailing boat on Block Island Sound, with a scarf in her hair, sunglasses on, and her (ever-present even now) silver bracelets shining on her tanned arms. At first glance, it's classic Jackie O. look; maybe a bit Ann Bancroft a la Mrs. Robinson fame. Either way, it's a breathtaking statement of the times and a lady that absorbed her earlier tragedies and moved on, working hard to establish a life, a livelihood and a set of friends (teachers, travellers, ocean lovers like herself) that would be fulfilling. Intrepid. She would have been 53 then; one year older than I am now. Still beautiful in a different way.

As the baby of the family, I've always been a bit selfish - it makes me a poor and unnatural caregiver. But I am caught, again and again, when my first impulse is to be irritated by these demands, by the mystery of how a life comes down to these few moments; and how much is unseen and unappreciated. People really are not one dimensional.

To see Helen's memories is to know where her sadness comes from, why her vanities (that may seem small to me) are so consuming to her; and maybe a little, what she sees in her mind's eye when she looks at herself.

I know I will be there someday, am heading there inexorably myself. What will people see when they look at me?

Now it's summertime

2010-07-25T09:27:00.003-04:00

We are coming into the fruitful time of summer. Plenty of flowers for the table, at close hand in the colorful garden. Too many weeds, but among them are garden vegetables ready to be eaten; and the farm stands are in full swing. There are still only 24 hurs in a day, and it's not nearly enough, but it is possible the pace may slow for just a little bit. I'm very ready to appreciate the dao of now. We had my brother stay this weekend, and made it a weekend of feasts with fresh herbs in our (best I've ever made) spaghetti sauce, and fresh vegetables of all kinds to go with the incredible steak dinner last night. Nice.

There's a keeper for every flame

2010-04-04T18:18:00.003-04:00

It seems to me that when I look back to remember the newsworthy events in the world as I grew up, they are inevitably framed by the presence of my father. He was, in my eyes, the watcher of the evening news on the television, and it was to him that I looked to find out if the news was world-changing.

I remember that when JFK was shot and died in the Dallas hospital, the television was on constantly for a week. We watched the news from Texas, we listened to the words of LBJ as he took the oath of office, we sat perfectly still, my two brothers and I, while Jackie Kennedy attended the funeral ceremony.

My father had tears in his eyes; something we saw occasionally, but not often. Mostly he was just very serious about news.

I remember the night Apollo 13 went around the moon as the world waited in heart-stopping silence (at least in our house) to find out if the astronauts would return alive. Again, the television was on all night. Dad looked tired the next day, but we all watched until the capsule was safe again, and the feeling of relief in the house at splash down was palpable.

These were times when some of the most dramatic news footage ever filmed was televised; and through it all, Dad's favorite voice, the voice of Walter Kronkite, reported faithfully into our little living room all that was terrible and moving in the world tonight.

I remember my father this way; that even though I was too young by far to understand what I was seeing, I was a part of the audience. And though I had no idea why, I can testify to the feelings that a generation had for each of those events.

To see my father cry for JFK stayed with me; but not more than my mother's cry of shock when she heard the news. It was exactly the same sound she made the night that her mother died. The phone call came, and the news was delivered, and she dropped the phone with the same cry. I will never forget the sound; it signaled that no death could ever be a surprise again.

Not sure where these ramblings lead, but to both of my parents, for different reasons, I give thanks. To live in a world unmoved by the events around us is to be truly isolated. I do think that they gave me that connection; and it is one that still takes me out of myself and my bubble; and brings me into the community with my fellows. It is a legacy worth holding on to.

The Valley

2010-01-21T14:52:00.005-05:00

A person who loves hobbits once asked me why I moved back to the Western part of Massachusetts from the North Shore of Boston. (Actually, lots of people ask me that). I promised to explain, and incude here a photo that will at least partly supply that explanation.

The Valley is a place for an appreciation of river life, dairy farms and apple orchards, tobacco sheds and fields (although the tobacco world here in Pioneer Valley is shrinking now, it used to be a major crop), and viewing the autumn world from a mild mountain top, not too high, but just high enough for the air to be crystal and the view to be fine.

When you prefer life with a slower pace than in the city, but close enough to visit there if you have an adventurous soul; and are a book and conversation lover comfortable spending your winter afternoons in the rarified company of academics, it has appeal. Jenny Lind called it "Paradise". Residents are conscious and inclusive about their spirituality, and it is believed by some to be the site of a "spiritual vortex"; a kind of a magnet for spiritual pursuit and thought. Consider Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost - both long time residents of the area, and you'll get an idea what I mean.

We have witches in the hills, but don't make a big deal out of them. We grow folk singers, jazz, R&B, country, and "alternative music" by the bunches. (Street musicians are a specialty). Crafters at every church fair and county fair offer home made jewelry, quilts, clothing, artwork, wood working, candles, and you-name-it-we've tried it craft there is. In fact, we host an annual craft fair that's known throughout New England.

We love all kinds of food. Best barbecue, best sushi, best German/Polish food, best Italian, best hot dog. Ever.

We are more adventurous as a whole than hobbits. But have many characteristics in common. Like the Shire and like all river valleys, it can sometimes be an insular place, protected from the "outside world" and prone to forgetting that life is harder (or even exists) elsewhere. It is important, if you live here, to leave it once in a while so as not to fold in on yourself and lose your sense of the world. Sometimes, although surprisingly seldom, it can be boring. But you don't have to go far to find something interesting to look at. Maybe just the nearest mountain top.

Graciousness

2010-01-02T12:17:00.003-05:00

from Webster's: from middle english and Anglo-French. Marked by kindness, courtesy, tact and delicacy. Characterized by charm, warmth and compassion.

Respect is from the Latin, looking back. Regard or esteem, consideration.

The road to gracious

2010-01-02T12:03:00.006-05:00

Respect is the first step toward being gracious. And I really do want to be about graciousness. I've known some people who were all about grace and while I know that I am not, I would like to be.

I am not making a New Year's resolution, I read somewhere that people often make the mistake of considering New Year's Eve and New Year's Day the one time all year to decide life-changing things. She said (and I agree) that transformation does not happen with one decision, but with a thousand smaller decisions all year long. She's right. So no pressure.

But in order to remind myself about what I thought should take priority for a while, I'm making the month of January Respect month.

A few thoughts about respect. The journey to respect is not about getting it, earning it, or being worthy of it. It isn't about yourself at all, except in terms of learning to do it, give it, (active voice), and participate in it. There is something to respect in everyone. People you hate. People who annoy the crap out of you. People about whom you've said to yourself "they are a waste of air".

That said, it's hard work remembering to look for the thing that you can respect. But if you are really interested in other people, it makes you look harder at them, and maybe judge them less. And while you are working on respecting the world, it's tough to worry about whether you are being taken advantage of. (which tends to be pretty counterproductive)

I might focus on something else in February. But for now, this feels like a really good thing to spend time thinking about.

A Christmas Letter

2009-12-10T08:10:00.002-05:00

As I addressed Christmas cards to send to friends and family this year, I waited for inspiration to write my Christmas letter to include. And waited. So my cards are late, and I've seriously considered not sending a letter this time around. Because really, let's be honest. As 2009 winds down, it's very clear that it was a year that made most of us feel like beleaguered barnacles, hanging on to a very large and wet rock, enduring the bashing and cold waves breaking over us and waiting for summer to come so we could dry out a little. It was a year of waiting, of patience, of putting off and redefining what we thought were the basic necessities of life while we either prepared for the worst or experienced it. Not many people will be sad to see 2009 go; and we hope heartily that 2010 is for God's sake better.

So what is there to say about it that's inspiring? We got through it? Well, yeah. We did. On the way, we saw some dear friends that had been absent from our lives for a long time. Other dear friends brought new little lives into the world; the most hopeful thing there is. We kept in touch with friends and colleagues (thanks to Facebook) that a few years ago, we might have otherwise lost touch with.

Abby told me the other day that she might like to be a writer or a lawyer, and she's changed her mind about the veterinarian or teacher thing. Now we all know that at the age of 12, it will change again before she's through. But as she explained to me, "I like to argue and I'm realy good at it", I saw -- yes, wait for it -- something of myself in that and it made me laugh. It also reminded me that for those of us with kids, this year has made us remember that it is never too late to aspire to be the things we want them to be. They watch, they see, and they follow in our footsteps. I have not, this year, always been my best. And every time I zing Abby for being crabby, cranky, rude or irritable (or argumentative) I gotta take the heat myself. It was hard to be kind and gentle this year. But not impossible.

So I guess we have miles to go before we sleep, and if we wish for our children to take the long view, we must (sigh) figure out how to best do that ourselves.

One of my personal favorites, the oh-so quotable Socrates (his stuff is on refrigerator magnets, so I know he's made it) said "The life unexamined is not worth living". So I offer to all my family, friends and neighbors, our sincere love and appreciation for having you in our lives and sharing the examination with you this past year. It's hard to do, and we couldn't do it without you..

Merry Christmas, 2009

Black Friday

2009-11-27T08:38:00.002-05:00

I hate malls. Normally. And I have no money right now, budgeted or otherwise, for Christmas shopping.

But there is a little part of me that is kinda' itching to go out to the mall just to be there. It's been a long year, and we need a little Christmas.

I might go just to look at the lights. With nothing I need to buy, maybe it's a safer trip anyway?? Such an American tradition. It's either that or put up christmas lights, and it's raining. Yuk.

Tomorrow

2009-11-26T08:15:00.002-05:00

It's Thanksgiving. So I'm seeking for some sort of thankful message to the day, at the end of a really heartbreaking week. I asked my daughter Abby (12 years old) what she was thankful for last week, and she said "I'm thankful that I'm not bald". OK. No major enlightenment there. I'm thankful I raised a practical child??

My dear friends lost their only daughter at the sweet, wild age of 25 this past week. Shock. Heartbreak. And the feeling that there is no clear guide to follow to figure out what's next. Suddenly all the maps are gone; the plans cancelled, packages unwrapped and happy expectations, small and large, stilled. If there is any message to take from this, it will be difficult to find.

However. Even from inside the pain, Penny nailed it for us all. Love the loves you love today. Tell them, experience with them, create the moments you know are important with them. Today. Don't wait. Anticipation is a wonderful thing, but we simple humans have absolutely no idea at all what tomorrow holds. None.

If there is a truth here to feel good about in some way, for me it has long been this. For as long as I can remember, I believed nothing so strongly as this; that no matter how bad today is or feels or looks like it will be forever; it is only today. Tomorrow, as Scarlett likes to say, is another day. And we just don't know, do we? Something will happen. It might be good. It might be bad. It might be small, or large. It might just be a step on the way to something else. I'm not convinced that anybody (including God) knows with certainty where it will lead. But it will lead somewhere.

Abby had a bad day this week. Her school work wasn't going well, it was overwhelming and difficult to feel good about. She was bummed in a way only a girl her age can be bummed, and I'm sure it felt like it would be that way forever. I was not sure what to do for her. The next day, something went right. It was a good day. All better. I hope she's absorbing from that the message. (Probably not, since she is, after all, 12). Nothing stays the same.

If you love the things you have today - the turkey, your home, friends and family - love them fiercely, and make it as special as you can right now, today. Don't wait. And if you don't have something that brings you joy today, have faith. It might be right around the corner. Tomorrow is another day.

Wife Swap

2009-10-17T14:34:00.003-04:00

OK. I confess to sometimes being a reality TV junkie. Not for everything, mind you. I get addicted to "Wife Swap", for instance. Not sure why. There's something fascinating about the completely opposing family cultures and values held by the two couples in play. They are so, so passionate about changing eachother's lives. It brings a new perspective into for each side.

Marriages and families can easily become a bubble of their own. Is it good, is it bad? Really, really good and bad? Or just a little good and bad. Hard to see in anything but 2 dimensions when you are inside it.

But, the family you are in is the family you are in. And as we've proven in our contemporary American society, you can swap it if you want to. But I was brought up to believe my father's maxim, which was "you will always be part of your family no matter what you do or where you go." We don't disown, cut off, or dispose of family members. We don't always approve of them. (Sometimes we don't even like them). but they are, after all, ours. And nobody can circle the wagons like a family.

There's huge safety in that rule, and sometimes it's something you try really hard to get away from. But in time, you return to it, like the place where a lost tooth used to be. And really, you have been carrying it around with you all along and didn't realize it.

There have been times in my life (being a Catholic), when I have really felt I was living the "everyone has their own cross to bear" saying, every day. Usually because of rough patches with family. And I obtained a certain about of relief from thinking of it that way, as my cross to bear, which (if Mom was right), probably would not be too heavy for me, even if it felt like it right then. And you could always lay it down for a while, and let God have it. As long as you picked it up again.

I think of family a bit differently now. If we really each have soemthing unique to learn from our journey through this, maybe our family members are not there only for joy; but also to teach us something. And you really can't get rid of a karmic lesson until you learn it, right? So I still drink my father's kool-aid; and I really do think that once you are the member of a family, you are always part of that family. Swap if you want to, but you'll always come back.

Framing a River

2009-10-16T16:30:00.003-04:00

Listening to a guy on the radio the other day, talking about a piece of atonal, modern jazz. He was very lit up about the piece, and described it as "framing a river". To capture something in a moment that is actually always moving and changes continually; so it's the same, but different all the time.

My daughter Abby asked me yesterday if I could blog "about her". And I thought about framing a river. Girls her age, growing up are often not deep waters or still, like a lake. There's little about them that is calm and introspective. They are much more like the river, always moving, always changing. And if possible, picking up stuff as they move along, growing as they go. But never the same.

(With a really short attention span). Teaching teens is a little like writing on sand, or framing a river. You have to keep doing it.

2009-10-10T09:32:00.002-04:00

OK, just one more post this morning and then I really have to go.

Back when I was thinking about making a Bucket List (see that post for more), I came across this website from a BBC poll. http://www.beforeyoudie.co.uk/50-Things-To-Do-Before-You-Die.htm

All the choices people made were pretty predictable, actually. But as I review the selection now, one thing pops out at me. The overwhelming majority of the bucket list items here are about experiences. Travelling somewhere, or doing something. Not a single one is about acquiring a thing. Cool, eh?

Stories are a life inoculation

2009-10-10T09:10:00.004-04:00

I am really enjoying my other new blog, Mary and Lou (see the link). It's an adventure in recounting the things I remember about my Mom and Dad. They have both been gone for a long time; as I also age, I'm realizing that I've already lost many of the stories they used to tell us, because they were never written down. I want my daughter to have the stories in my memory banks (someday when she's no longer a teenager and cares), and so I'm capturing them now.

I invite you to check it out. If you are like me and grew up in the 60s and 70s with parents who were from the Depression-era generation, I bet it will provoke some of your own memories as well.

So what's the story with the name of this post?
With flu season in full swing, and swine flu in the news, I'm thinking a lot about microbes. I've always been a big fan (my mother influenced me here) of letting nature take care of building immunities. I clean, but not too much. I'm not a big dis-infector, feeling that without a healthy dose of microbes, our antibodies don't have a chance to get strong.

This analogy might be a stretch. (Suspect it is) But I see some people that go to the extreme of protecting themselves from all the potential troubles in life by not participating at all (dis-infecting their space). And others go to the extreme of vaccinating themselves with constant doses of trouble, real or imagined, in order to be more "prepared" when the big one hits. Trouble-seekers, thrill addicts and drama queens. Seems to me I don't really want to do either of these, but what then? I don't know what the solution is, but I'm thinking part of it might be some sort of genetic immunity.

OK, follow me here. If we don't forget the experiences of our parents, can those experiences protect us when trouble comes? Collective wisdom passed on helps to arm us against troubles we've never experienced ourselves? Why else do we (as a race of humans, I mean) tell stories?

Yeah, I know it's a stretch. But maybe....

Lighter

2009-10-09T17:50:00.003-04:00

Well, the first few days of the week were definitely hard ones. I could have used a hug on numerous occasions. Monday was so bad, I couldn't even bring myself to talk to anyone. Just took a book and got under a blanket in my spare bedroom and stared at the wall. Didn't even make dinner. Not much like me...

The rest of the week was better. I know we will hit really rough bumpy spots in the road as a family, but at least we are talking more now and that just feels better. The strain was so immense, and the walls so high for so long.

We'll see! I actually feel somewhat hopeful as we end the week. Did some good work, talked to some good friends, and even though we are kind of guarded with eachother as a family, it "ain't all bad", as they say. Some nice normal-feeling moments.

I don't know what kind of weather the weekend holds, but it's a long one, and I'm really crossing my fingers for a couple of sunny days. I think everyone could use it to lighten their spirits.

I'll be visiting my aunt and my brother tomorrow. She's very old and he's very sick, so I'm calling it "Shut-ins care package day". I will bring whatever cool food I can think of, and maybe I can give them a lift also.

My heart goes out to my dear friend P. on the other side of the state, who has had a very scary and not fun day; and I wish I could be there to give her a hug. sometimes being out here in the West sucks.

Damn the torpedoes

2009-10-06T08:23:00.003-04:00

Tuesday. As I guess you could see from my previous post, yesterday was hard. Frustrating. I still feel really alone right now, but I know what I know. I'm exhausted from pretending things are normal.

No shoulders to cry on

2009-10-05T18:39:00.004-04:00

I don't even know what to title this post. Today, we went to the family therapist for the first time. We are so confused even he couldn't figure out what was best to do for us. My daughter cried, I cried. I knew not to expect much from this right away, but I feel like I'm just done. The anger I'm feeling is too immense for me, and I've worked so hard to be fair that it's choking me. I can't be fair anymore. I'm just angry now. What a waste all the effort has been. My heart hurts today.

Unconditional Love

2009-10-04T18:17:00.002-04:00

Dogs live only in the moment. That's probably why they are capable of total, unconditional love.

You can yell at a dog, accidentally step on it's tail, blame it for stuff it didn't do, and forget to feed it; and literally 2 seconds later, it will love you like nobody else on earth.Dogs are great companions when nobody human that you know wants to talk with you or hear your stories for the seventh time, or be around you because you are crabby. They don't care. They just want to be near you.

I'm pretty sure people are not capable of unconditional love; because they do a lot of living in yesterday and tomorrow, but not enough in today.

Judge not

2009-10-04T18:15:00.001-04:00

"...time will change and even reverse many of your present opinions. Refrain, therefore, awhile from setting yourself up as a judge..." Plato

I sometimes think that certainty is the playing field of younger folks. Teens and "twenty-somethings" are always so sure, aren't they? As was I at that age.There are things that I know. I feel sure of my instincts in business, for instance (experience does count).

In personal matters, I am less and less sure that what my gut tells me is actually right for others or even for me. I'm not actually used to this, so it's a learning experience.My brother is an alcoholic in recovery who has a great store of wisdom, hard-earned. I respect what he's learned on his journey. He frequently reminds me (gently) that he tries to hear the stories, worries, and journeys of others without deciding what they should or should not be doing about it. Everybody has their own set of problems, baggage, and approaches, he says. And their answer may not be your answer. It's helpful sometimes to give them your own story, but refrain from the impulse to say "If I were you, I would....", or "you should".

That's a tough one for a "fixer" who's grown up around alcoholics and still struggles with it. I admit to falling into the trap of thinking my judgement is really more on target, right on, and clearly considered than that of others. Not necessarily! Humbling

Morning person

2009-10-04T18:12:00.000-04:00

I'm a morning person. Except for a brief period as a teenager, I've always like being up on Saturdays before everyone else. Breakfast is my favorite meal, and mornings are my best time to reach out and talk to friends and family.I have memories of Saturdays growing up when my Dad (who worked all week) would take me and my brothers for rides to visit a local farm stand or explore the countryside. it was a great way to spend time with him, and a rare experience.

We often had "family night" card games on Saturday nights, but by evening, (as I remember it) Dad would have already begun to put away the beers; and the Saturday pitch games are not a good memory for me. The more he drank, the broader his mood swings would be, and we were all kept on the edge with either his uncharacteristic high spirits (if he was winning), or the mean streak that presented itself with a losing hand. I don't like pitch games to this day, and won't play them.

But early morning rides, either with my family or alone, are a big draw.Relationships are different in the morning, before the habits that get in the way have time to re-assert themselves. It's like everyone has a fresh chance first thing in the day.

It's fun to have a friend

2009-10-01T16:20:00.002-04:00

I got a call from an old friend today that I hadn't talked to in a very long time. We both got busy. It was like a warm blanket, though, realizing that the things that drew us together so long ago are still there for us, and we haven't really grown out of eachother. We're both smart, love a good laugh, and like to talk about stuff that cuts close to the heart.

She's had a tough year, I think tougher than mine in a lot of ways (and this year was not a great one, so far!). I feel bad that she was so close by and having a hard time and I didn't know or was too busy to feel it through the ether and reach out.

But I'm here now, and I won't forget again. Friends are few and rare and so important.

Good things come to those who wait... Mary (Mom)

2009-09-19T15:01:00.004-04:00

Don't misunderstand me, but I was talking to "the widow next door" today, and she has had a recent loss. She talked a lot about her plans to re-arrange her whole house, and seemed kind of excited about it. It reminded me of my mother, Mary.

When I was about sixteen, my Dad died. My Mom, like many women of her generation, actually got a new lease on life when that happened. She grieved, definitely. She loved and missed her love and her companion of so many years; and in addition, she found herself without any of the skills she needed to make her way in the world.

She didn't drive. She didn't work. She didn't know how to manage money. And we teenagers left at home were driving her crazy, without the support of a "wait until your father gets home" weapon to keep us on the straight and narrow.

It took time, but my 62 year old mother got her GED, learned to drive and got a license, bought a new (smaller) car, got a full time job at the nearby college, made friends, went travelling, and learned to manage her money quite well.

I remember in her last week of life, when she was at home with terminal cancer. She said "There's not a thing I wanted to do that I missed. I don't regret a thing. I did everything". And many of the things she listed.. she experienced after Dad died.

Now that men are living longer, it makes me wonder if those of us in the next generation will miss this Indian Summer that works so well for women of a certain age. Without it, there is much my mother would never have done. Would she have had regrets, then?

Compromise

2009-09-11T16:24:00.004-04:00

When I was young, I thought that compromising a principle was always the wrong thing to do. Tell the truth, unvarnished, never edit your words. I've learned, over time, that there are a host of reasons to hold back. Love is one of them. It isn't always a lie to hold, to wait, to bide your time.

When all you can reach is the ground

2009-09-11T15:35:00.003-04:00

Start there and work up?

Be thankful it's solid

Plant something and maybe it will grow

Sit down

Hitting a wall

2009-07-03T19:32:00.002-04:00

Hard to believe I haven't posted here since 2008, well before the cruelest part of our current recession. And now I'm posting mostly because I have hit a wall; something that is for me a rare occasion.

It's 7:30 pm and I'm in that "jesus take the wheel" kind of frame of mind. It is possible to become so overwhelmed that you feel that life in general is just beyond your capabilities. the simplest things take on the shadow of mountains that are unscalable.

As a Gemini, I have always live comfortably with the schizoid parts of my personality and values. but I gotta say, I find increasingly that the pampered baby-of the family strong and independent ego part of me (I love myself, right?) wars more each passing year with the adult child of the alcoholic part of me (I am the only responsible adult within 100 mile radius). I've been a reluctant caregiver since I was 16. Except for my daughter, the love of my life, (and even, secretly a couple of times with her), I have really never wanted to take care of anybody else. And yet I feel press-ganged into service on a regular basis.

Took care of my mother when she had terminal cancer. I didn't begrudge her that, because my love for her was unreserved, even when she wasn't her anymore. Took care of my friends when they were sick, or injured, or in the case of my best friend, dying of AIDs. Took care of animals, relatives, elderly aunts.

Now I ask, mostly because I have hit this wall today, who takes care of me? The answer in the past 30 years has always been that I take care of me. And that sufficed. but today, that's a tough one.

I've been busy being my mother for a long time. Today I just miss my mother.

If you give a marketer a cookie

2008-09-07T12:16:00.002-04:00

If you give a marketer a cookie, he’ll go to the office kitchen to get some coffee to have with it.

In the office kitchen, someone will hand him a fax that was left in the fax machine from a customer who tried to order online, but couldn’t because the e-commerce site was down again. He’ll remember that he has to call web support to find out how much down time there was on the weekend.

On his way back to his office to make the call, he’ll run into a colleague who will say “Aren’t you coming to the meeting?” He’ll say “what meeting?”, and they’ll say – the one they just called about how we’re going to double our shipping and handling fees on all online orders from now until the end of the year.”

Since he didn’t know about the meeting, he’ll turn around and go to the meeting room. On the way to the meeting room, he’ll remember that his coffee and cookie are still in the kitchen, and make a detour so he can nuke his now cold coffee and bring it to the meeting.

After he warms up his coffee, he has to go to the men’s room because he hasn’t been there in 7 hours and really needs a bio break.

In the men’s room, an editor will tell him there’s an email that was just sent out that he’d better go and check from the CFO, who wants to cancel all our outsourced SEO efforts for the next two months effective immediately, and he’d better go and check the email because “I have a website meeting next week, the COO wants me to completey redesign this website, and I really need that report from our vendor. Will I still get it?”

So he runs back to his desk to check on the CFO email and call the vendor and tell them to hold the report.

He sees an email from his second in command, asking to talk as soon as possible.

While he’s checking his emails, he’ll see an email from two days ago that he missed from a headhunter asking him to make an appointment for an interview for a job as Director of Marketing for a large financial services company in Boston.

He writes himself a sticky note to remind himself to call the headhunter, and starts down the hall to the meeting he’s already late for.

On the way there, his second in command meets him in the hall and tells him, “the meeting is cancelled, because the CEO decided that doubling shipping and handling was a bad thing to do. Can we talk now?”

So he goes back to his office, quickly grabs the headhunter reminder from his monitor and stuffs it in his pocket and closes the door. After he takes a sip of his (now cold again) coffee, he sits down and asks his employee what it’s about.

That’s when the employee tells him he interviewed two days ago for a job as a director of marketing with a large financial services firm in Boston. They just offered him the job, and he’s giving his notice.

After the employee leaves, the marketer takes the bottle of Jack Daniels from his desk drawer and pours a slug into his cold coffee.

Jack Daniels goes great with cookies.

That’s what happens when you give a marketer a cookie.

County fair

2008-08-31T11:48:00.003-04:00

Labor day weekend. Today is the last day of August, and everyone keeps saying it's the "unofficial" end of the summer.

When I was a kid, our local county fair started on Labor Day weekend, and kids' day was free all day on Tuesdays. So the very last day before school, the big deal was to go to the fair. It was one thing to look forward to besides.. you know.

After spending the afternoon at the fair, as the hot, late summer sun slanted through the trees and lit the dust motes hanging in the air from barnyard straw and hay, we would face what seemed like a long, long walk back home from the fairgrounds. Balloon and cotton candy in hand, and (if it was a good day) one last cheap stuffed animal won at the dart game booth (please, Mom, one more game?! I HAVE to win something!); we would trudge homeward into the bittersweet evening.

Facing an early dinner that nobody really wanted (having eaten fair junk all day), baths and an [early bedtime] (yuk!) because the next day would be an early one. We'd plead for just one more half hour in the gathering dusk to play with our friends next door. Some years we got it, some years we didn't.

I still feel those feelings on the last day before school, even though I'm not in school anymore. Work will be the same for me as it was all summer.. but all day I'll have the end of freedom as we know it feeling, without the fun and excitement of shopping for new school stuff and getting new books. {Sigh}. Maybe I'll make it a point to go on Amazon and order myself some new books and a highlighter, just because.

Meantime, see you at the fair this weekend.

Dog people

2008-08-29T18:53:00.004-04:00

Just finished Marley and Me, which takes the latest place as my new favorite book.

I was never a dog person (never had a dog at all) until I was married 20 years ago, but our first dog, Kia was a girl who won my heart and was my dog before she was anyone else's. I expect that's how it happens... y0u get a magic one and after that, just love dogs, period.

Kia has since passed away at the ripe old age of 18, but had a great run. marley and me brings back many of the special moments in the relationship, and made me come home from vacation and give my current dog, Hunter, some serious loving.

http://www.marleyandme.com/blog/ is the John Groghan blog, check it out, very lively and many commenters, because once you engage dog people, you've got them.

Bucket list

2008-08-25T11:55:00.004-04:00

Study world religions with my daughter.
Jetski
Take a hot air ballon ride.
See the Grand Canyon
Take a 3 month sabbatical and go across the U.S. in an RV
Go to Stonehenge

Active resistance

2008-08-25T11:52:00.001-04:00

Passing by the Mill River, Abby said,
"It looks like the rocks in the river are swimming against the current. Go, rocks, go!"

Ruthless

2008-08-21T08:40:00.003-04:00

"I'm ruthless", protested my friend and work colleague yesterday. This is a guy who wants to lead and be successful in his career, it's important to him. One of his chief and most stunning characteristics is the degree to which he cares about people. Colleagues, family, employees. This is a man concerned for the welfare and well-being of those around him, and it shows.

He was determined to convince us that he was truly a ruthless guy. A tough boss, a serious minded negotiator.

My friend, it is totally true that you are an excellent business man and a good steward of the resources you manage. Some of the key reasons for that are your creativity and passion, your willingness to entertain opposing points of view, your inherent fairness, and your attention to detail. But beyond it all, darnit, people like you. Never discount how important that is.

When you are 80 years old and sitting in a rocking chair on your porch with your family, I have no doubt that what you will remember and point to with pride will not be 20% overall growth of your market divsion, or the business mergers and acquisitions you acheived. It will be the people that liked you, and that you liked.

Apologies that I couldn't call you ruthless. I think that you are much more important things. Like a good friend.

This day in history

2008-08-16T20:32:00.002-04:00

Dashiel Hammet and Vincent Price were both born on May 27th.. also my birthday.
Not sure what to think about that.

Karma is real

2008-08-16T10:30:00.002-04:00

I guess I want, on my personal bucket list, to identify and communicate what the values are that are at the heart of me. I think of this often as I talk to my daughter. There are so many practical things I teach her, but what i really want her to know are the key ideas that have started to pop up again and again as themes.

Curly the cowboy in City Slickers holds up his finger and says the secret to everything is this one thing, "but it's different for everybody. you have to figure out what yours is".

Not sure it doesn't change over time, but in the pursuit of finding the one thing, here are a few:

Random acts of kindness isn't just a movement and a movie. i don't want to set up a website to talk about the ones I've practiced, I just really think they are worth doing. They are ultimately selfish, because the main outcome is that they make you feel great while you are planning and doing them. Find a reason to do something really nice for somebody without an occasion to trigger it. It totally brightens up the day and polishes up your karma.
Even better: do it for somebody that you basically don't like or are irritated with. You'll find it sometimes turns that around.
If you have somebody in your life that you have to work with, be with, or have a relationship with, and it just isn't going well, ask them for help on something. Being asked for help tends to make people like you more and feel better about you.
Karma is real. Keep an eye on it, because all that sour stuff can tarnish it.
Religion is about a wide variety of complex ideas, and the ways in which we all choose to express those are startlingly like eachother (like karma). Exploring history and world religions is a great way to remember how common the myths are that are at the root of what we think is diversity.

Natural born leaders

2008-06-29T10:57:00.003-04:00

Last week, two of my favorite voices for sanity died. In very different ways, Tim Russert and George Carlin were able to re-spin the world around us in a totally new way and give us great perspective in doing so.

It made me think about the differences between those people that are what we call "thought leaders", and leaders that are given their authority. There are a lot of leaders among those elected to office, promoted to management, etc. But when your authority is given to you by someone else, you always have to worry about whether they'll take it back. (Even the Pope has to answer to God).

Influencers are people that have gained so much credibility with their perspectives on things that their opninions are sought, and their reflections taken to heart.

Dick Gregory has a type of personality that he talks about as "turtles". Turtles are people who are hard on the outside, soft on the inside, and willing to stick their necks out. I guess the sticking your neck out part is a key part of being an influencer. You just can't be afraid to have an opinion. You might be wrong, but the idea is to seek the truth, not always find it.

Carlin said, "By and large, language is a tool for concealing the truth. " But I think that both he and Russert were exceptions to that idea.

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme

2008-06-15T13:13:00.004-04:00

It's perhaps because I'm part Polish, part Yankee that I am happiest about yards and gardens when they work. When we moved to Greenfield, I was thrilled to find very fertile ground with troops of blueberry bushes and blackberry bushes all over the place giving me fruit in abundance. I have since added strawberries, raspberries, and two apple trees. I may not stop. We could have our own little orchard before I'm through.

This year, I have cleaned out part of my perennial garden to make room for a large number of herbs. Close to the house, this is my Kitchen Garden. It holds chives, cilantro, oregano, lavendar, lemon balm, parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme and basil. The mint that was gradually taking over the garden bed has been purged ( I hope, it's an awful parasite) and is now kept in a nicely contained pot on my deck. My guilty secret is that I really don't even know how to use them all, but I will learn throughout the summer. You can learn anything on the Internet, even the use and application of freshly picked Greek oregano. Actually, I know what to use oregano for. Thyme escapes me, though. (Shameless pun)

What does ruthlessness have to do with it?

2008-06-14T11:52:00.003-04:00

I was spending some time in the garden this morning, pruning back overgrown shrubs and flowers. They are just at that point where the plant is busting out all over, and becoming huge; but the flower is about to pass by. Kind of like when you know you need your hair cut, because it's starting to annoy you. But when you make the appointment, you feel a pang because it just looks so--perfect right now.

Here comes the analogy

It would feel worse to be ruthless if it wasn't grounded in some real knowledge. And expertise. And yes, it is indeed (you guessed, clever visitor) an analogy for many other things in life. When you are a writer, you need to have the knowledge to cut and edit and refine your words down to the spare and necessary few. Verbosity may seem beautiful, but experts know it's not.

When you are a manager, you need to snip away at redundancy and waste, nurturing special talents in your people and getting rid of habits, assignments, even people that may seem very cool but are not part of a productive and creative team.

Spiders contstantly maintain their webs, detaching weak or useless strands, strengthening key ones. Homeowners throw away broken and useless gadgets and junk to remove clutter and let the good stuff shine through. And gardners.. best of all, gardners.

Back to the garden

One of the reasons I couldn't clean out and trim up my inherited garden wilderness for the whole first 2 summers I lived here was that I just didn't have the knowledge. What was a weed, and what whas good? What kind of tree was I looking at? This plant has cool flowers, but is it everywhere because that was the plan, or is it just "self seeding" and it's blown itself all over the place? Is it "OK" to get rid of some stuff, or will it be irreplaceable? And when do the peonies and day lilies start to lose their floral "oomph" and need to be ferociously cut down the grown to make room for other stuff?

Know the garden first. Then have at it.

Are books a window to the soul, and am I just a glutton?

2008-06-12T19:10:00.003-04:00

So I'm sitting here looking at my books on the origin of brands and digital marketing, alongside the Yeats compendium, Beowulf in the old english, and the 30 year old Lord of the Rings series and yes, of course, all of Steven King, Dean Koontz, and Robin Cook. And thinking to myself, "Man, are you a book junkie!" While I kind of like it, I weed out the collection once a year and sell or give away what seems like an obscene number of books, and the collection JUST KEEPS GROWING! it would be OK if I had room. I'm going to have to invest in an outbuilding just to house the extra books and become the library on my property. (that probably won't work). I even love all the children's books that Abby and I have read and acquired over the years, and they fill a room of their own at the top of the stairs.

Cost accounting and principles of corporate finance are next to Star Woman, Thomas Merton, and Emerson on my shelves. Every Arthurian myth, novel, and history; Chaucer and "The Art of Chivalry" next to Grisham and David Balducci. I admit to reading but ditching Nora Roberts immediately, but keeping all the DragonWorld novels and Thomas Covenant, White Gold Wielder series for my guilty re-reading pleasure.

My 30 year old nephew once came to my house and after browsing around all my shelves, commented, "this is probably the most interesting collection of books in one place I've ever seen."

I admit to secret pleasure at the comment. it was not unprovoked. I could not decide that night between rereading Animal Farm, Catcher in the Rye, or the beautiful Dandelion Wine.

I remember a Twilight Zone episode (for those of you too young, this used to be a weekly sci fi show featuring a totally new and really weird sci fi story each time, written by different, and famous writers. Anyway, this episode was stuck in my mind. It's post Apocalyse, and the only person left on earth, in New York City, is one man. He digs his way out of the NYC library. He has never had time his whole life to read all the books he wanted to, and now they are all at his fingertips, and he won't miss the human race one tiny bit. but he wears very thick glasses, and as he runs down the steps of the library in excitement, he trips, and .. well, you get it. The glasses break. Final shot, the broken glasses are lying on the pavement. be careful what you wish for.

At least that's the way I remember the story.

Left brain-Right brain gardening

2008-06-07T15:50:00.003-04:00

Being a Gemini, I have always tested pretty close on left brain right brain. What does that mean? Although i am a bit more holistic and intuitive than analytical, still logic and analysis figure pretty highly in everything that I do. But that fits with my experience of the world, which is fairly schizophrenic.

It's unofficially summer (June 7th), and the daylilies, flag lilies and irises are in bloom; along with a zillion other floral characters in my garden. I'm trying to capture them all this summer in photographs, since I have no idea what most of them are - and my only chance to identify them is when there is a flower that I can at least (I admit it) search Google images for.

My husband asks, why would I bother trying to identify these plants? And as I am currently working on a "map" of the perennial garden (and the whole backyard) in an effort to do this, it does seem like a pretty geeky left brain pursuit. I have no idea why I feel compelled to label every plant, but i will say that it's hard to pull weeds when you don't know whether half this stuff is a weed or a "good" plant (what's a good plant, anyway?)

But I'm at peace with my need to make lists and label plants. it makes me feel good when I can name one, and in a purely right brain way, naming a thing is, after all, the key to mastery over it, right?

From the right brain perspective, i can say that the plants I already recognize are a pure pleasure, mostly because they evoke memories that have little to do with the plant and more to do with my past. We had bridal wreath in our back yard when I was very small, and I remember having secret "forts" under the branches. Lilac was a plant we did not have in our small yard. But the neighbor down the street on the way to school had some, and I can clearly recall stealing lilacs from the branches hanging over the sidewalk, and bringing the sweet smelling flowers home to my Mom as a gift. Flag lilies are special because I have planted them in every home I've lived in since I was married (that's a lot of homes), and always brought them with me when I moved.

Here's an old poem of mine that I just unearthed, called The Welcome Home.

the willows rustled by the door
the welcome was reserved
so glad - but no-one's been here for so long,
we hardly know how to react.

well met, my friend! the dahlias heartily expressed.
but they were insincere.
the lilac stood in silence, as it always had
belonging, as it were, to someone else.
It murmured only to that one who never came,
and so was locked in silent hurt.

the willows, though; they had been hers
and the unquestioned welcome home would come from them
or not at all

so, for the time, they did not know
or could not tell
and she, still wondering -
she entered in.

Fearless

2008-06-05T13:18:00.004-04:00

Someone called me fearless the other day, and it gave me pause. It was in the context of finding something adventurous to do on my birthday (I wanted to sky dive, but my husband and daughter think it's too dangerous). So I've made myself a promise to go ballooning and white water rafting this summer instead, since I've never done either and always wanted to.

There's a great country song about a guy who gets a bad medical diagnosis and asks his doctor what he did when he got similar news. The refrain goes:

I went sky diving
I went rocky mountain climbing
I did 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Manchu
And I loved deeper
and I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I'd been denying.

I've always been of the mind that those are the things you should not wait to do. Do 'em without a good reason. You never know what tomorrow will hold.

So I think it all came down, not to adventure so much, rather to thinking about all the stuff you "always wanted to do but didn't", and then picking some. There's a movie I have yet to see that I'm really looking forward around this.. called "The Bucket List".

Not sure that being fearless has anything to do with it. Maybe it does. What's keeping you from your bucket list?

Seek happy

2008-03-16T14:34:00.002-04:00

So I spent the whole weekend a) looking for a daylight therapy lamp for my brother, who is suffering from severe depression; (you can only find one online, and it takes days to ship it); b)trying to entertain my 11 year old daughter, who was left out of a birthday party and is bummed out; c) getting irritated by my husband, whose foot hurts and is making him crabby in turn; and d) yelling at my dog, who is going ballistic barking loudly at all the (many) ladybugs flying around our house.

"Can't you guys be happy!!!!!" I went off in a huff.

Only to realize that I had broken one of my own commandments (so many times in one weekend that I can't even count them).

You can't make other people be happy. If you try, you will most often end up unhappy yourself, and probably make them worse.

You can only seek happiness your own way for yourself, and then be around them.

That's it, that's the wisdom. Joy is something you have to seek, and happiness is something you need to find. But nobody else can do it for you, and there are a million ways to find it. There I go, enabling again.

And I forgot to be happy. Duh.

My tummy is full of laughter

2008-03-06T18:12:00.007-05:00

That's what my daughter said last weekend. The flower show made us all kind of high, and goofin' on stuff. In the middle of a wicked harsh winta', we really needed it. and now I'm planning all sorts of garden stuff, even though it's frozen outside.

See the photos, and this is only a taste! Brian took 82 pics. You should see them printed out. genius.

The Threshold Coffeehouse

2008-03-01T13:36:00.002-05:00

Firmly under the heading of very formative experiences.. When I was 16, my friends and I were lucky enough to become involved in a local youth center, called Threshold; run by social services workers who were, in a word, Sixties born and bred. They really were hippies working on evolving to the next stage - whatever that was to be. And it was a metamorphosis worth being around.

The kids at the center were also undergoing rapid and sometimes painful change. One of the most joyful pursuits that brought us together was the weekly Saturday night Coffeehouse. This was conceived, created and run totally by teenagers and was called, simply, The Coffeehouse. In the town of Northampton MA, which was later to be the home of so many coffeehouse performances when the now famous Iron Horse opened as a commercial enterprise. In those days, the Iron Horse didn't exist. So local folk singers and performers were easier to book (but not that easy, especially for sixteen year olds who didn't pay anything but tips). You'll note on the poster (drawn by one of our own young group, our Artist in residence), that we charged a whole 25 cents for admission.

The lineup usually consisted of 2-3 local favorites: Big Ed Malloy and others that now so many years later escape my memory. I remember the songs, though. A night incomplete without Back to the Garden, the Circle Game, House of the Rising Sun, and of course, The Oreo Song.

To any out there that remember the Coffeehouse Committee and our Thursday night mastermind sessions at Joe's Cafe.. cheers to ya! Post here if you can remember more of the songs and the artists that sang 'em.

Trying to like tomatoes

2008-03-01T13:22:00.002-05:00

My daughter does not like tomatoes. She's a pretty adventurous eater, overall. But these have never been a favorite of hers, and she usually picks them out of salads and sandwiches in favor of the lettuce only approach.

Today she tore into her chicken wrap sandwich (with tomatoes and lettuce) declaring, "I'm trying to work on liking tomatoes!" Not sure why she felt it was important, but how interesting is that?

As I age (yes, I am aging), I am more conscious of that willingness to try new things, to learn from others, to challenge my habits than I have been in the past. When you are young, it's just what you do. Natural as breathing, since just about everything is new. But as you age, it's something you choose, usually on purpose, to do.

To me, embracing change is a survival tactic. I never, never want to be afraid of it. So I've chosen to categorize some of the posts on this very personal blog into two categories. (Helps me to remember the point). Anything posted under Trying to like tomatoes is likely to be about new things, change, moving forward. the future... Anything posted under Season of the Monarchs is about the past - what it does to form me, the memories that make me what I am.. and maybe a little bit of nostalgia.

OK, so this is like doing a theme in school!! (Do they still do those?)

Life imitates art

2008-03-01T12:34:00.003-05:00

So I have this 11 year old daughter, and we went out to breakfast this morning. Once again (happens so often), I listened in to our conversation and we sounded like an episode of the Gilmore Girls. If you aren't familiar with this slightly cult-ish family oriented TV show, it's about a single Mom and her teenage daughter. The dialogue is clever, quirky, rapid-fire, and clearly written by writers and performed by actors.

Nevertheless, I ask myself, why do Abby and I always seem to sound like the Gilmore Girls? Even though the daughter on the show is, like, 17, and Abby is only 11 - so why does she sound like a 17 year old.

Although, in retrospect, I have noticed that Abby says "I don't get it", more frequently than the daughter on the show who, naturally always gets it and in fact is right out in front of it even when it's an inside, inside joke.

I think that in the final analysis, this is not a case of life imitating art. Whoever is writing the script for the Gilmore Girls is listening in on conversations had by mothers and daughters elsewhere in America. So really, art is imitating life; and for me and Abby, it's just one more example of the old truism that rears it's ugly (depending on how you look at it) head again - nothing is new under the sun and whatever you are sure on a good morning is completely unique about yourself is probably being repeated by people all over the globe in exactly the same way. I guess there's some comfort in that, depending on what it is that's being repeated. Do you think?

Why follow a leader?

2008-01-19T11:28:00.001-05:00

General John Glover, born Salem, Massachusetts. He became a fisherman with his own fishing schooner and later a merchantman. He worked always on the sea, and learned early to do the impossible, persevere until the job was done. Why did he follow Washington? Here was a man born and raised by the ocean, doing well in his own right. Plain spoken, well liked.

The stories tell that after he met Washington during the siege of Boston, they became friends. Washington was less at ease with his men than Glover, more patrician, and found it harder to make a personal connection with them. But he had charisma and a vision. Did Glover fall first for the cause, and later for the leader representing it?

Who is more important, Scotty or Kirk? (little Star Trek there). Glover was the “miracle worker”, who worked the problem until it was solved, and never gave up. His response, typical of a sailor and fisherman used to adverse conditions, when asked to find a way to cross the frozen Delaware in the middle of winter: “Not be troubled about that, as his boys could manage it.” His boys moved 9,000 men off of Manhattan Island in the middle of the night, in 9 hours – a feat even by today’s standards. They never questioned that it could be done.

Shared visions will bring together very different personalities toward the same goal. And opposites united are a pretty strong team to beat.

Holidays and New Days

2007-12-31T14:29:00.001-05:00

It is the last day of the old year, and I feel a teensy bit guilty about not posting for so long. I'll do better! Holidays are so full for me, planning special surprises anywhere possible. No doubt Christmas is my favorite time of year despite obviously spending more that I should and being distracted the whole time. but hence, New Year's is a time of refreshed focus for me, as I come back to earth and generate energy to move forward.

I have all my vitamins at the ready, and (yes, yes, I will remember to take them daily starting today!) expect to schedule all the doctor and dentist visits I've let lapse in my orgy of christmas crafts and shopping. I have updated my eyeglass prescription and can stop getting eyestrain from this @%&*$@! computer.

I did appreciate the chance to read three good books on my vacation, eat an unhealthy amount of food, and see friends that I only see at this time of year. Our house is warm and full of brightly colored lights, and you can't beat that and a flannel robe. With 10 inches of snow outside, I think it will be a quiet, but very content New Year's Eve.

I mostly don't make New Year's resolutions, you never know what's coming up next. but I hope it's a creative year. I'll do my best to make it that way!

Super Powers of Gray Goose

2007-09-28T18:16:00.001-04:00

Someone asked me today what I was going to be for Halloween; assuming that I was picking a persona within the company theme of super heroes.

I've really never thought about being a super hero before. I remember the cartoons of my youth (aqua man, super twins, human torch, green lantern); but was never really a super hero junkie. If pressed, however, I'd have to choose, I think, to be the Gray Goose -- and my story would go something like this:

I am the Gray Goose (GG), and I fly point for my flock. If I happen upon strangers that have lost their way, I make them part of my flock, and help them find their direction. I am equally at home on land, water, or of course, airborne. I do not lose my way. My sense of direction is unerring, and instinctual.

Because of this instinct, I will always find what is lost. Nothing escapes my memory or perception, because I remember how to find things I've never seen before. I do not lose my way.

I am the Gray Goose. I fly by day, and by night, and I fly point for my flock.

The less noble aspects of being gray goose? Although I have beautiful eyes, my seat is large and wide. This helps me to be at ease upon the water. In order to call stray members of my flock back to their path, my voice can sometimes be harsh and very loud. But heard from far off, the sound is wistful and also beautiful.

Keep to your path, and fly high. -- GG

Season of the Monarchs

2007-09-20T17:37:00.002-04:00

Monarch butterflies live about 2 weeks.. just the length of a nice, long vacation for us. This time of year, they hang out in abundance in my garden, sometimes 10 in a row. Because they are undisturbed most of the time, they will not fly away even when you come an arm's length away from them.

Along with a colorful and nectar-filled flower garden, the previous owners of our house in the country made certain to plant and grow a number of milkweed plants, which is the favorite food of Monarchs. I suppose that's why we have so many.

Bef0re I came here, I never connected these butterflies with the summer-turning-fall season, but now it is something to look forward to. Whatever else the end of summer means: school starting, swimming weather ending, and harvest time; it for certain will mean the Monarchs will attend my garden in large numbers.

If you've ever read Alice through the looking glass, you'll know what I mean when I say the Monarchs put me in mind of the white knight, moving slowly down a summer road at the end of the day. I like to picture him surrounded by bright orange butterflies.

Long has paled that sunny sky

Echoes fade and memories die

Autumn frosts have slain July.

Ever drifting down the stream

Lingering in the golden gleam

Life what is it but a dream?

Take me there, my friend

2007-09-13T17:22:00.001-04:00

I have a wonderful friend who is about to go through chemotherapy. I say that she is a wonderful friend (and she is unarguably wonderful), although a year ago I would likely have referred to her as a coworker. Colleague.

I've noticed that when people share something personal about themselves, they generate friendships. Tried it before, and it actually worked for me. I am not the one to define friendship, it's an elusive concept. but I do know that in my experience, it's always begun with sharing something personal. You can have a ton of acquaintances, a lot of peers, a whole set of coworkers.

But when my friend shared something that was intensely personal, it seems that those she shared it with became part of a very special circle.. of friends.

There's a country song (yes, I'm a country junky) , the new Rascal flats tune. called "Take me there":

There’s a place in your heart, nobody's been, Take me there. Things nobody knows, Not even your friends, Take me there.

Try it. You'll actually like it.

Who wants to be a leader?

2007-08-30T18:27:00.001-04:00

Friend of mine got an email from his boss today, saying "be a leader". Funny part of it was that the substance of the email required him to do something that was the boss' idea.

It made me think, though. I've done a lot of considering over the past couple of years about being a leader. What is it, why do people want it, and do you have to be a certain way to be one?

Everyone around me in the workplace these days seems so eager to attain leadership. I see people tripping all over themselves, jealously guarding information, refusing to delegate work to their troops, hoping that if they can get in "the big meeting" and make sure that nobody is there that will disagree with them, they can be leaders. Demanding. Extorting. Makin' rules. In other words, getting their way.

I believe that people who are really leaders spend a lot of time staying up nights scrutinizing their visions. Yes, it's important to have the intestinal fortitude to make the call, make the decision, give the marching orders. I used to think that was all that about leading. It's not.

Definitely, leaders need the bravery and the maturity to let their visions be challenged, and refine them - trial by fire - in the open forum of ideas. Maybe there is a new perspective, a new layer, a new point of view that can add, embellish, and hone the vision. Will you ever know if you are not open for discussion? Leaders aren't afraid to offer their ideas and perspectives. If they offer them, they have faith in them. Hence confidence. Which generates credibility, and trust. Amazingly powerful tools of influence.

Secrecy is not a tool of leadership.

I recently gave up a job title that carried with it lots of accountability, and an accompanying amount of pressure.. as a leader in my company. So much was on the shoulders of these professionals in the firing line that it was necessary to often lead by mandate. "make it so" "so let it be written". Now I have much less (almost no!) job description based authority. And I'm delighted, intrigued, tickled to death. It removed a whole world of pressure, of the constant stress that comes from command.

don't manage anybody now. don't command a soul. it's all about influence and facilitation. Love that. Secret special surprise sauce? I found out that a bunch of people respect my opinion and judgement enough to provide me leadership credibility and influence any way!

And I wonder if that was working for me back when I actually had authority. or if it could have worked better had I known.

The key to successful leadership today is influence, not authority. ~ Kenneth Blanchard

http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Leadership#Influence

Making friends

2007-07-29T11:14:00.001-04:00

I'm noticing lately that as the pace of life increases, everyone seems disappointed that they can't make friends more quickly, establish a social network within a week of hitting somewhere new, etc.

Today is the one year anniversary of my big move to a new town, new house and new part of the state. My family and friends are very, very gradually beginning to realize we are here, and find us. The visits have increased, and I've even had some folks coming out to stay overnight at the house. But still, some of my old friends in the area have been too busy to stop by, and making new friends, while it progresses, progresses slowly.

So I feel impatient. With a great garden and a great deck to watch it from, I want more margarita evenings talking with friends. But it does take time, doesn't it? Despite the internet, despite the current fashion of "joining" groups in order to quickly gather a circle of friends, real "stop by and put your feet up" friendships take a long, long time to build.

My Mom used to say that you can make a lot of quick friends in your lifetime, but if you have even just one real, long lasting friendship that stands the test of time, you are doing well. it's not that easy, despite the "Beaches", "Ya-ya Sisterhood", popular movie notion that it's a common event.

I have a 95 year old aunt who just moved to a new apartment after living for 50 years in her old digs. She has been in her new place a month. She tells me on the phone that despite going to bingo every week, she just hasn't really made new friends there yet. And since the majority of her lifelong friends have long since passed away, her longevity is really challenging her to find ways not to be lonely. But she's either out of practice, or maybe was never really that good at making friends.

Lesson learned. If you outlive everybody you've known your whole life, will you still have the skills to connect with people and share experiences, make friendships? Does it get harder and scarier as you age.. or is it a matter of keeping up the skills?

I think remembering in our busy schedules to make a time to reach out to somebody once in a while that may just be an acquaintance now, but could be a friend later, is difficult but important. And the rest, well, just takes time.

Insomnia

2007-07-22T10:36:00.002-04:00

I have never been troubled by insomnia. My husband spends most nights (the lo-o-ng hours between 1AM and 5AM) awake, unable to sleep, enveloped in the night silence broken only by the flicker TV or computer screen. I find telltale signs of butter knives on the counter, coke cans on the coffee table and a few crumbs in the morning to tell me he's been up again.

It's the only way I have of knowing, since I sleep so deeply. I don't even wait until my head hits the pillow, I'm asleep on the couch trying desperately to stay awake for that one really good movie that I love, (last week it was One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest) only to wake and find myself watching the last (damn!) scene. Sleep of the just, my mother used to call it.

On the few occasions when I wake in the middle of the night, and can't get back the dream threads because I am in free floating anxiety land ( I didn't get it done, whatever it was, or how will I pay that bill? I'd better remember in the morning...) it's always because I've been followed into sleep by RESPONSIBILITIES. Usually making a list will take care of it. Reading is also good, and sends me right off. Entering someone else's world heart and soul for a while is a compelling way to leave your own behind.

Sometimes I wonder if the alone night hours make people a little crazy. Do they talk to eachother in the night, now that the Internet is so close at hand? Some do. Not sure if my husband does or not, I kind of think he embraces the perfect alone-ness of the night, tucked into his basement office in front of his bank of glowing screens. Like a control panel in space; he'd probably be perfectly comfortable on a ship light years into the dark exapnse of it. I, on the other hand, am earthbound and could never be an astronaut.. space travel would take me from the sunlight and atmosphere that sets me right every time.

The dark of night bends the thoughts that come to you like light through a water glass. Not a prism, it doesn't break the ideas, just bends them around a bit of a corner to make something that seems like the same thought you'd have in the light.. but it's not. (there be monsters here, I think.) Shiver.

2007-07-08T09:27:00.001-04:00

I am an enabler.

I read today that enabling is different from helping. Helping means helping another to do what they cannot do. Enabling is doing for someone what they can do for themselves. Further, you often find it connected in reading material with helping people to avoid the consequences of their actions.

It is interesting to me that while most references out there to enabling are connected to alcoholism or addiction, it's really something that we do in all kinds of situations. I am the adult child of an alcoholic, and still have more than one alcoholic in my life (both recovered and not). But I find that I enable as a parent, as a co-worker, as a friend.

OK, the more boring (and common) aspects of enabling: do a majority of women in families enable? Do you pick up your kids' clothes for them? Pay their bills? Bring family members' bank accounts out of the negative and into the positive to avoid overlimit fees, even though they are adults and could manage it themselves? If a co-worker muffs a deadline on a piece of work that you need to have done, do you step in and just do it for them (in order to get the job done...)?

How about reminding people; are you a big "reminder"? Do you sometimes feel like a walking post-it note? Don't forget... to pack all your stuff, to pay a bill, to call and make an appointment, to send a card or note, to do your homework, to refill your prescription, to BE AN ADULT and DO YOUR OWN JOB!!! How much frustration does that create in your life, eh? If you are resonating to all of the above, you are probably as much of an enabler as I am.

What on earth possesses us to do this? We want things to turn out all right, run smoothly, and we like order.. so we work hard to manage the world around us... and the people. OK, in true 12 step style, I would like here and now to admit that I am powerless to control everything in my life, especially other people. And I can find so many examples of myself enabling that I am clearly addicted to doing it.

Turns out, though, that modifying that behavior is a lot harder than just admitting I have a problem. My husband calls me controlling, and then in the next breath, runs into my office to tell me about the problem of the day, and "asks my opinion" about "what I would do" in response. And what do I do? God bless it, I open up my mouth and tell him what I think. Oy. How seductive is it.. especially when you are asked for an opinion directly?

On the other hand, I have no problem helping my daughter with her homework and NOT telling her the answer. But.. I still check her homework and she's 10 years old. Shouldn't she be checking her own work??

I guess it will have to be baby steps. I will take each day one at a time, and try hard to identify opportunities to not enable, to not help the people around me with things they could do for themselves, to not help them avoid the consequences of their actions. And when they can't find something they want, tell them to look harder even when I know right where that thing is.

Everybody just loves to be needed. Detaching from that is not going to be easy.

Independence is a social contract

2007-07-05T08:27:00.001-04:00

The declaration of independence was signed, not by a single person, but multiple people. It was the product of prolonged and difficult negotations, sometimes conducted on a mature and thoughtful level, and sometimes the cause of frustration, venting, and ticked off vists to the local tavern.

The final document was won by democratic process.. conducted by neighbors. In it together, to the end, not necessarily in agreement. But they talked it out.

The war for indpendence, also won by the uniting together of neighbors with differing opinions, differing interests, required a social contract. We will fight for a common cause, we will help eachother and we will live together, not alone, in the country we make.

Why, then, are there so many neighborhoods today without neighbors? Yesterday was independence day. I saw a lot of very independent folks in my little town. Indepndently throwing trash in the streets, independently shooting off fireworks in neighborhoods where houses nestle close together, and independently deciding that it is well within their rights as Americans to set the noise and risk levels for the rest of the folks living around them.

I can't help but reflect on the kind of maturity it took for the founders of our nation to sit down together, face to face, with people they maybe didn't like or relate to, and clearly disagreed with - and talk. How often would you find in modern days someone with the bravery to prepare for a big, noisy party or a firworks event by going house to house and asking his neighbors first what they thought about it? Negotiating with them about sides of the road, time frames to minimize the possible disturbance, airing of concerns? Really. Not often.

On the flip side, if I have a disagreement with a neighbor, I like to call or stop by and talk to them personally about it to see if we can work it out. But it seems to me lately that the first impulse when neighbors disagree, or parents disagree, or anyone disagrees, is to call the cops. Anonymously. Shows a lot of personal fortitude and integrity, wouldn't you say?

How can we learn to be more mature about negotiating with our fellows, and neither avoid nor seek conflict? And if we can't face our neighbors and work out our issues with everyone's good in view, is there really a democracy in America, or just an assortment of independent people living in proximity to eachother?

Berries in the summer

2007-06-30T18:04:00.001-04:00

What do you think of when you hear the word?

Did you know: the BlackBerry was developed by a Canadian innovator who founded his company, Research in Motion, while still in college (1984). The BlackBerry was and still is their flagship product. Well ahead of it's time. I bet you thought this was something from Apple or IBM, or even Palm, but no. (Palm never took off like the berry). It's a useful little tool, and for "remote workers" like me, lets me work while dashing off to the bank, or work out on deck instead of holed up in my office. It has become the common name for tools in it's category, much like "Kleenex". hard to know if it will be eclipsed by new visual tools like the iPhone... probably eventually, but 3 years from now, will everybody still call handhelds blackberries?

but I digress, because I meant to talk about the kind of blackberry that pre-dates the RIM brand by.. oh, what, thousands of years? Millions? The inspiration for the brand, of course.. how do you think they came up with that name? Did they look at the keypad and someone in the room said "Hey, that looks like all those little round things on a blackberry?" and someone else said "We can't call it that! It doesn't explain what it does!" ... that's another discussion.

My yard has vast pockets of blackberry bushes, and lo and behold, I took a walk today and found that a good quarter of the berries have ripened. Just spent 45 minutes picking them (note to self: remember to wear a long sleeved shirt and pants next time! you can get more...) and covered them over with a dusting of sugar to "sweeten" in the refrigerator. I could have taken with me an iPod for music, or my cell phone and earpiece to talk while i picked, or my "technological" BlackBerry to make sure i didn't miss my email. Always assuming that listening to birdsong and quietude would be too tedious without them.

This is a great piece of land for summer surprises, we also have four blueberry bushes in the back, and can already see the round, plump light green pods promising much future joy. Can't wait for those.... blueberries and cream, yum.

Brian (my husband) thinks I'm crazy to spend all that time picking and weeding in the garden ("Your hands! It'll make your arthritis worse..") but it's peaceful and better than meditating. You feel more productive. I like that it's manual, he hates that; his relationship to the yard is quintessential male, all conquering with big machines. He loves the wood chipper, the gas lawn mower, weed wacker, and leaf mulching machine! but has no idea how to relate to a hoe or garden rake. That's my department. There are too times when a lack of machines, large and small, IS a good thing!!

Adios, berry loving amigos. Good picking

Inspired by a friend...

2007-06-28T12:48:00.001-04:00

OK, I'm a little nervous. My first post to a blog. A good friend (from work, natch) inspired me to do this, and I have the strangest feeling it will get to be addictive. She is a writer. I am not, but have been known to jump in and punt. She also has a wonderful sense of humor, and I love her blog.

I've been reading all kinds of other blogs, and have noticed (strangely enough) that a majority of postings seem to be made in the middle of the night.

Are all bloggers insomniacs? Because I have to admit it now.. I sleep through the night. I'm so not a hacker, and will probably need to control the impulse to respond to my blog calling me during work hours. "Come and post, come and post!" Sweet siren song.

There is no trigger event, or even theme to this blog. but I suspect there are a lot of people out there (maybe especially women) that I'd love to talk with in the blogosphere about all our shared experiences.

My 10 year old daughter is standing at my side while I pick a blog name, saying "You're weird", and she is the light of my life. But since she told me just last night that I'm "a fun Mom", I guess that's OK. Maybe someday SHE'LL start a blog... and I can listen in, lurking out there on the Internet to see what's really on her mind. Anyway, I can't think of a more creative name right now, but think of work as making a family and home, supporting friends, and creating something. My paid work is in publishing, maybe ideas, but the bigger view is creating things that maybe weren't there before.

OK, so rules for blogs. Are there any, really? Here are my first impressions: I wonder if people who pick dark colored backgrounds know they are depressing and potentially reflect a really negative place that they (might) be in. also they make it hard to read.

Pet peeves: really small typeface. I am 49 years old, my eyesight is a lot worse than it used to be, and until I have 3 cups of coffee, I can't even read half the blogs out there without squinting. Why the small type?

Another pet peeve: blogs that are basically ads for the blogger's expertise. If it's a scientific treatise, it's not very personal. ???

Enough about pet peeves. You'll probably find more in here as we go along, but too many in one post will break my rule about thinking positively!

Already I can't wait to blog some more. Bring on the addiction!