Advancing Up

I know you're shocked by this disclosure, but I'm stubborn. No, no, really I am! I just love getting wrapped up in making things happen according to my schedule. The weight of the reins feels good now and then, and it's fun to lose track of the fact that individual achievement is only a small part of success.

Like too many Bounce sheets in the towels, stubbornness blocks the absorption rate of life lessons. Tools for our belt, like persistence and empathy, compassion, integrity and humility, are hard to learn because we don't want to -- or can't -- admit we're not the Puppeteer.

Heck, even the Super Mario Brothers illustrated the rewards of pushing forward. By mastering each level, we earn the win to experience the next rung on the ladder, learn new things and encounter new worlds.

And as for those game levels that take a few extra tries -- and you know what I mean -- I like believing there's someone with the alternate routes already mapped out, who knows the hidden passages when we're locked a dungeon, who is standing by.

The Secret(s)

There's a lot of talk about a little DVD making a splash by that same name. To say it is a short course in empowerment is to underestimate its value and purpose, but let's start there. For me, it was a reaffirmation of the power to redirect your life by practicing conscious thought. God already encourages us to know the participatory joy and rewards of mining for inner strength. The Secret just ratchets it up a notch or two.

I wasn't mulling that over as I approached the task of cleaning up and organizing a big box of photos. Sitting cross legged on the floor, I began sorting by topic and year, thinking of making album piles for my sons, my brother, myself. Midway through the several hundred pictures, the memories suddenly became overwhelming and all organizational hope was lost.

A snapshot of my mother-in-law smiled proudly as she held my eldest on his first birthday. Remember how how hot it was and how the barbecue smoked and we set up that little plastic pool on the lawn so everybody could stick their feet in it? My eyes welled up with tears at the sound of the voice I had not heard in over a decade, the memory was so fresh and sharp.

There were pictures of my husband and me on a catamaran off the coast of Puerta Vallarta and, another time, under a Banyon tree in Hawaii, smiling and carefree. How glad I was to remember moments like that as the marriage now sits in decay.

I moved on, looking at the terrified glee as my kids headed into their first solo roller coaster ride, and seeing their tender expressions on that Christmas morning when Santa gave them pet rats. I laughed aloud at the goofy Halloween costumes and Olympic scoring swim parties, scouting events, neighborhood get-togethers and cheesy sports pictures that stilled a life anything but still.

My folks and in-laws, beloved pets, a few dear friends ... they are gone. But look at how much remains! The years have changed and drawn us along on its timeline, but faces I see in these bent edged, faded photos are still with me: you -- and you -- and you.

There are so many secrets to learn in life. One is that love makes it possible to magically feel again the warmth of a vacant hand around the Christmas table. Another is that a messy box of pictures can be a profound reminder that trust keeps those we love in our lives, timeless and true. Those are pretty big secrets, too.

Learning To Dance

You want to learn something new about someone, just take them to a picnic. Maybe others pose questions we don't think to ask or that we tend to live our lives as individuals rather than in clusters. It just blows me away that someone I have known for 30 years can invariably pull out a surprise or two.

For a new couple unaccustomed to socializing in each other's world, it's pretty wild. Observing what they say, what they do, and how they share with a large group of friends tells volumes about them. What do you think happens with old married couples sitting together at a picnic? Do they still listen to each other talk, turn in surprise at a reply and companionably join in, or do they turn away in their own conversations, assuming they know the answers already?

I like that we're prisms in the sun, able to simultaneously curse the continuity of life and feel gratitude for the strength it provides. For newbies who don't yet know the quiet of each other's thoughts, we're just starting to know if we hear the same music, let alone if we can dance to it.

A Hole in the Bucket

I'm not sure I like technology. As it infiltrates society and roots itself in our lives, people seem more lonely. It bombards us with instant, effortless entertainment but look at how impatient and intolerant we have become.

We spend most of our time interacting with work people who aren't part of our inner circle. At home, there's so little left of us that we flip on the TV or fire up the PC. Our social skills atrophy because technology fills the gap. Or does it?

It takes effort to plan events with the people we love. That's never been more true than in this day and age of friends living farther away and family schedules with working couples and less time. Perhaps get-togethers have gone by the wayside because we lose track of how wonderful it feels to sit across from people we love over a game of cards on Saturday night. Technology does not satisfy us the way being together does.


One of the best Far Side cartoons is entitled 'Before Television'. It shows a family sitting on two livingroom sofas arranged in an L shape facing a blank wall. That's not that far off.

Technology can be a pretty amazing tool. It provides a connecting link we wouldn't otherwise have. It broadens our global vision and educates and enlightens. But it also has barbs. It indiscriminately delivers whatever we want whenever we want it. It offers up filler rather than protein - a supplement, not a substitute, to life.

I wonder if our kids know the difference.

Altruism

In this dizzingly fast paced me-me-me world lives a true altruistic friend. Her mother-in-law had been raising her grandson, my friend's nephew, for most of his life. She'd done a good job, but age has a way of necessitating change and they had approached that point.

She was feeling a little discouraged when she phoned. She'd been mulling over the idea of taking him in and her local friends hadn't been all that encouraging. They wondered aloud why she'd risk adding a troubled teen to her well ordered life. What she essentially wanted to know was if I thought she was nuts.

Honestly, a lot of thoughts jumped to mind. Had she considered how it would unbalance her world and the world of her only child? What about the importance of a peaceful home to someone that needs to decompress? How about the educational goals she has in place, about her finances that hover from paycheck to paycheck? What pressures would it put on the marriage? Instead, I asked her what she had to offer.

She told his story first, about a splintered family life and a grandmother out of her league, about his willful spirit that was becoming more pronounced as he approached the teen years, about where a boy heads when he has no anchor.

Then she offered up what a difference she could make, the stable and loving home with ample food and room enough for him. I was struck by her voice cracking just a little as we talked, feeling honored to have her as a friend and believe the passion she felt for her nephew.

Most of us have altruistic moments where we want to help a little and sometimes do. But how many of us would throw ourselves into an open-ended, lifetime commitment with a lot at stake. What a courageous, selfless thing to do! What a shining example of living large. She got my enthusiastic two thumbs up and an offer to help.

It's been over a year since we had that talk. The state of Nebraska called during the background check and has indeed awarded my friend and her husband custody of their nephew. Sure, there have been some bumps in the road. Rules and boundaries have taken a while, respect and family cohesion issues, too. But all in all it's been a great ride.

Now her calls brim with news about 'the boys' and their activities. Her nephew is flourishing but so, too, is her son. My friend is blossoming as a person, a mother, a teacher, an aunt. Every day, she is a reminder that true altruism thrives, even in this world of ours that seems to have forgotten what that is.

Talkies

It's pretty weird to be telling you this as a non-media fan, but I've been going to the movies. Three times in the last week, as a matter of fact. I know: I think the last movie I saw was Music and Lyrics with a girlfriend for a mercy cheer up but before that it was probably Lord of the Rings or maybe the first Pirates movie. I really prefer live performances.

What started this kick is that someone I love loves to go to the show. I'm trying to acclimate myself, you know, like immersion therapy, but boy has the movie experience changed. How come previews are inappropriate for some of the audience who have shelled out nearly $10 of their hard earned money to see something else? We're sitting there with our jujubees waiting for a comedy and on comes previews filled with violence and horror. And what's up with the crossover advertising for TV shows? Not cool, people.

We saw Rush Hour 3 first, which was so bad we had to get the taste out of our mouth by going the following night to see No Reservations. That was good. The story line has been over-produced: you know, the professional-woman-turned-mother-unexpectedly-and-has- to-adjust scenario. But I like Catherine Zeta-Jones and the characters showed no immoral behavior or swearing. I liked that people who loved each other struggled to put each other first and I always like happy endings, so that hit the spot. I do wonder how come the theater was empty. I hope it's not because of the very things I found refreshing.

Hairspray was fun. The concession stand even good naturedly let me buy a little kid snack pack which included a few handfuls of over-salted, greasy and stale popcorn, a sour rope and a lemonade which cost less than the admission price. Score!

Hairspray satirizes the zany optimism of the 1950s and the audience was really into it. They clapped and laughed aloud all during the movie, we looked at each other and shared our enjoyment of it. Some nodded in remembrance of life before integration, and some pointed excitedly. We participated. I think the last time a movie felt like a live performance was when we waited in line for four hours to see the first Star Wars movie at the Coronet Theatre in San Francisco in the summer of 1977.

Ok. Maybe I can give this going to the movies idea a shot. But I really wish they'd drop the previews.