I had lunch with a girlfriend yesterday, one of my Besties, as PaKou would say, and I love that term so much it's in my vocabularly now and soon to be in Websters, I'm sure. There's nothing like sitting across from someone whose face you memorized, every little strand of hair and worry wrinkle, being able to see every one of her teeth, even the molars, because we are laughing so hard I can see her tonsils.
When we are together, we talk about dieting while ordering dessert. There is this really effective communication shorthand we use as we carry forward with news, not gossip per se because it's just us. We wouldn't dream of trying to get away with showing life all scrubbed and shiny on a little pedestal for the inside of a Christmas card: I mean, what would be the point?
And so this Bestie who gets teary because even after a 3 hour lunch she isn't talked out -not by a long shot- and doesn't want it to end, she listens to my grandiose plans and in her magical way believes every one of them, believes so hard that even I come to think everything is possible, and she says you should do it all but don't forget to write.
I am caught in mid-air by how well she knows what I love to do more than anything in the world. She doesn't care a whit that there are people whose writing takes my breath away and makes me feel small. She sees my light and knows it will shine just as brightly as the next guy's by being who I am and doing what I love. Besties are like that. Thank God.
Dec 18, 2009
MidLife Love
I sit here mezmerized by its sparkle, this beautiful ring perched on my hand. Something old and something new, he and me, collectors of lost loves so that we may find us.
We have known life without each other to cushion the blows and understand the gains we have made. It has been a leisurely journey together and now with our families alongside, we draw it up with a beautiful big red bow.
I awaken in the night and he is holding my hand in his, a warm and sleepy comfortable love. I have found him out!!, I think, as I nestle closer and drift back to sleep. I love that he reaches for me tenderly even when I am not looking.
We have known life without each other to cushion the blows and understand the gains we have made. It has been a leisurely journey together and now with our families alongside, we draw it up with a beautiful big red bow.I awaken in the night and he is holding my hand in his, a warm and sleepy comfortable love. I have found him out!!, I think, as I nestle closer and drift back to sleep. I love that he reaches for me tenderly even when I am not looking.
Dec 15, 2009
Great
Aiyana's place is natural wood with an etched butterfy and hummingbird taking nourishment from a flower. It was ready on Thursday, something to feel again the loss we bear as it sits somewhere safe and honored. I look for her everywhere and when I find her in a sculpture from Spain I have to have it, without question. She was a gift in my life and something I will pass on.
In this season of miracles, Steven was magnificent as the lead in his church's Christmas play and Gavon sang his heart out all around town. Ava did a rootin' tootin' good job in her Christmas program, too, and Beckham laughed when we played hide and go seek. Avry wrapped her hand in mine as we dashed into the store to buy her sister roses and bread. Morgan and Jason showed me what love tasted like - home made beef stew on a cloud of fluffy mashed potatoes! And through all of it, Randy's hand stayed in mine, constant and warm.
It was on one of these December evenings that Korina looked at me the way she does when she melts my heart and said, 'How does it feel ... ?' I was at loss for words, so consumed with gratefulness for this moment, this family, this connection. I feel full beyond measure, comfortably stuffed with all of my favorites. I smiled back into her twinkling eyes and said, 'Great, honey: it feels great.'
In this season of miracles, Steven was magnificent as the lead in his church's Christmas play and Gavon sang his heart out all around town. Ava did a rootin' tootin' good job in her Christmas program, too, and Beckham laughed when we played hide and go seek. Avry wrapped her hand in mine as we dashed into the store to buy her sister roses and bread. Morgan and Jason showed me what love tasted like - home made beef stew on a cloud of fluffy mashed potatoes! And through all of it, Randy's hand stayed in mine, constant and warm.
It was on one of these December evenings that Korina looked at me the way she does when she melts my heart and said, 'How does it feel ... ?' I was at loss for words, so consumed with gratefulness for this moment, this family, this connection. I feel full beyond measure, comfortably stuffed with all of my favorites. I smiled back into her twinkling eyes and said, 'Great, honey: it feels great.'
Dec 14, 2009
All Aboard!
Challenges are disguised as opportunities sometimes, or at least that's how it seems. I am reading this book, this book that speaks to me, and thinking it must be the exact right time to read it. That happens, doesn't it: life is merrily skipping along and then something intersects at the exact moment you need it -- a passage in a book, news from a friend, a bit of luck, a prophetic movie -- and off you go in another direction.
The set up is this: a young executive has hit a crisis point and seeks out a successful mentor for help. Through a series of introductions, the young executive learns some life-changing fundamental truths. I read and re-read the chapters and wondered if some of these lessons lay dormant in a little corner inside of me: namely, giving feels better, action improves lives, others come first, the necessity of believing in yourself, what a gift it is to really listen, and all of those values and lessons together defines your success in business.
The set up is this: a young executive has hit a crisis point and seeks out a successful mentor for help. Through a series of introductions, the young executive learns some life-changing fundamental truths. I read and re-read the chapters and wondered if some of these lessons lay dormant in a little corner inside of me: namely, giving feels better, action improves lives, others come first, the necessity of believing in yourself, what a gift it is to really listen, and all of those values and lessons together defines your success in business.
I hear my parents voices still and their life lessons. All except this last part, the part where business can operate on the same principles of compassion and merit and fairness, and I have to admit I believe the opposite, that a job is a job, just a paycheck, and I do not define it.
I roll over and over the words of the book as I try to envision a business world that mirrors the values of an exemplary life, that embeds who I am and what I believe with my contributions. How would it feel to safely carry along others while pursuing my dreams and let everyone win?
In such a world, I would grab the handrail of that fast moving train and throw all of me aboard. I wouldn't know the destination, only the rightness of the journey, like a dream but for real. Such a train would be full to the brim but I'd be on it.
Dec 7, 2009
Pound the Ground
I wake in the night cuddling the Nemo stuffed animal, restless and soured to sleep. Up and down, what is it I wonder? I am not sore or hungry or cold, so what is it that even my favorite tea won't soothe?
By day, I shop for gifts and catch my breath at a song or a treetop angel or the sound of a bell. My thoughts continually drift to that ache that won't go away. Twenty times a day I wonder ~how can this be~ all the while knowing there is no answer I will understand.
When I was small and would fall down, my mother would hit the ground with her palm and tell it not to hurt me. I would dry my tears knowing she had made things right. It's no wonder I dream of her and wish she were here to pound the ground.
What I'm feeling is powerless. I wasn't able to save Aiyana's life. I wanted to. I prayed for Him to. Losing her feels incredibly unfair. I am lonesome. What if I become so afraid of loss that it robs me of the joy of living?
No, no that's not it. I know I carry power if I can respond to life, even when it means having to fight myself to let go. I want to CHOOSE to love unconditionally and hold nothing back. I want to risk having irreplaceable people in my life even if it means knowing someday there will be pain when we part. Love is the destination, and I'm all in for the ride.
By day, I shop for gifts and catch my breath at a song or a treetop angel or the sound of a bell. My thoughts continually drift to that ache that won't go away. Twenty times a day I wonder ~how can this be~ all the while knowing there is no answer I will understand.
When I was small and would fall down, my mother would hit the ground with her palm and tell it not to hurt me. I would dry my tears knowing she had made things right. It's no wonder I dream of her and wish she were here to pound the ground.
What I'm feeling is powerless. I wasn't able to save Aiyana's life. I wanted to. I prayed for Him to. Losing her feels incredibly unfair. I am lonesome. What if I become so afraid of loss that it robs me of the joy of living?
No, no that's not it. I know I carry power if I can respond to life, even when it means having to fight myself to let go. I want to CHOOSE to love unconditionally and hold nothing back. I want to risk having irreplaceable people in my life even if it means knowing someday there will be pain when we part. Love is the destination, and I'm all in for the ride.
Dec 3, 2009
Son
How are we like this, you and I, breathing the same air but seeing different scenery? I wrapped my heart around you like age rings in a mighty oak, year after year, watching your hair grow coarse as you grew strong and tall.Images are so vivid still, of yellow pages that you perched on at the table and chubby little fingers held the spoon that scooped food past your face and onto the floor. I still feel your silky baby hair as I bathed you in the sink. Life was possible then, and good, when the world was new.
Your laughter rings in my ears when a giraffe leaned over the fence to take a carrot from your outstretched hand. You nearly wiggled out of my grasp with excitement but I held on. Your tears are still wet on my shoulder from tenderly saying goodbye to your favorite pet and I feel the warmth from snuggling up to watch Flight of the Navigator for the 18th time.
All I wanted was for you to see the possibilities in life and its hopeful limitless joy. Away you go, out of reach, but I will hang on, sure that love tethers us. Loving you will always be my scenery of choice.
Dec 1, 2009
Nectar and Life
Children see things we don't because we forget to look.
And so today I looked at the view and not just walked on ahead. I noticed something off to one side and munched through the undergrowth to discover a lake quietly reflecting the trees along its shore. I breathed in that sweet moist muddy smell and watched the things moving just under the surface, water bugs and minnows. How great life would be with a house just to the left, right at the edge, right right there...
Eventually I worried because I always get lost and why would today be any different, so I trod on back
and noticed a meadow on the other side so I stepped over the path and into it. I sat in the tall grass with little flower sprays and the blades grazed my neck and cheeks as it rustled in the breeze, itchy and smelling of sun and dirt and nectar. I closed my eyes and listened in the quiet to butterfly wings and buzzing insects and then looked along the tops of the grass all the way across the field to the majestic oaks. How nice it would be every morning to be part of the peace, for a little cottage to be to the right of the oaks, right right there ...
Do all adults want to own beauty, tame and capture it, engage and draw from it, or is it just me? I think children don't think this way because they can hold the moment. By giving their whole selves to the beauty they find, it becomes part of them. Wish I could do that.
And so today I looked at the view and not just walked on ahead. I noticed something off to one side and munched through the undergrowth to discover a lake quietly reflecting the trees along its shore. I breathed in that sweet moist muddy smell and watched the things moving just under the surface, water bugs and minnows. How great life would be with a house just to the left, right at the edge, right right there...
Eventually I worried because I always get lost and why would today be any different, so I trod on back
and noticed a meadow on the other side so I stepped over the path and into it. I sat in the tall grass with little flower sprays and the blades grazed my neck and cheeks as it rustled in the breeze, itchy and smelling of sun and dirt and nectar. I closed my eyes and listened in the quiet to butterfly wings and buzzing insects and then looked along the tops of the grass all the way across the field to the majestic oaks. How nice it would be every morning to be part of the peace, for a little cottage to be to the right of the oaks, right right there ...Do all adults want to own beauty, tame and capture it, engage and draw from it, or is it just me? I think children don't think this way because they can hold the moment. By giving their whole selves to the beauty they find, it becomes part of them. Wish I could do that.
One Christmas
There are so many things, so many lessons to learn from Aiyana's life. She was absolutely herself without apology. Can I say that about myself after all this time? I remember last Christmas we came into the house which had been transformed into a busy happy mess of strewn wrapping and bows and packaging.
We made our way through the greetings, which in this family takes a while, especially with the hide and seek search for the kids on Wii, playing in the bedrooms, listening to music online or strewn around the yards running off the day's excitement. All day long you listen to the door: open, shut, open, shut, as everyone loops through the kitchen to grab something off a plate.
Aiyana was first in line for her present, a game my sons played when they were young. We were still holding Ava's gift ten minutes later and she eyed it and offered to give it to her. Ten or so minutes after that Ava's gift was found behind the chair sitting in a puddle of ripped ribbon and torn paper.
I didn't react or know what to do. Surely her little sister wouldn't get the pleasure of opening her gift, and I thought she might cry. But her grandfather looked down at the girls with his most loving face and gently to Aiyana said, 'I just love you' and handed the gift to Ava with a hug.
Ava looked up into my face and with that I grabbed the girls and the game and we made a place in their room for play. Over the next hour we played it over and over, and Gav joined in and Summer, too. The children didn't dwell on who opened what, as most children might. They had already learned what mattered most was on the inside.
We made our way through the greetings, which in this family takes a while, especially with the hide and seek search for the kids on Wii, playing in the bedrooms, listening to music online or strewn around the yards running off the day's excitement. All day long you listen to the door: open, shut, open, shut, as everyone loops through the kitchen to grab something off a plate.
Aiyana was first in line for her present, a game my sons played when they were young. We were still holding Ava's gift ten minutes later and she eyed it and offered to give it to her. Ten or so minutes after that Ava's gift was found behind the chair sitting in a puddle of ripped ribbon and torn paper.
I didn't react or know what to do. Surely her little sister wouldn't get the pleasure of opening her gift, and I thought she might cry. But her grandfather looked down at the girls with his most loving face and gently to Aiyana said, 'I just love you' and handed the gift to Ava with a hug.
Ava looked up into my face and with that I grabbed the girls and the game and we made a place in their room for play. Over the next hour we played it over and over, and Gav joined in and Summer, too. The children didn't dwell on who opened what, as most children might. They had already learned what mattered most was on the inside.
Nov 30, 2009
All That
Joy abounds today, as I reflect on yesterday's service for our sweet Aiyana. Her life was celebrated with balloons, flowers, loving music and pictures. Life is rich and deep and beautiful. Thanks, sweetheart, for reminding us of that.
Nov 26, 2009
Yana
Life stopped for a minute or two on Tuesday afternoon as we paused to say goodbye to our beautiful Aiyana, Randy's eight year old granddaughter.
We celebrate her place in Heaven but it is hard to say goodbye. I think it is always hard to be left behind.
We are so grateful for her life, her smile, her generous heart and all the thousands of beautiful moments she contributed to our lives. We will carry her with us every day of our lives.
Nov 20, 2009
A Hard 48
It's been a hard 48 hours. From high hopes and peals of laughter on Tuesday night, Aiyana developed a spiking high fever to 105 and specialists raced to identify the cause. Fluids and antibiotics and ice packs and cool towels brought the fever to normal by Wednesday night, but there was a deep and overlying concern about the cause with her in such a fragile, post chemo state.
She began retaining water Wednesday night and then had difficulties breathing and was moved to ICU. Steadily her situation worsened, it was discovered a fast moving lung infection had taken root and the first of three treatments was immediate implemented but Aiyana had not responded to treatment. They were partway through the second treatment when we arrived at the hospital and that, too, seemed ineffective. This infection, we were told, only can be healed by the white antibodies fighting it off and Aiyana's body healing itself.
The minister led us in prayer and we began to absorb the words that truly, she was in God's hands. I guess this is the moment of truth when our will falls away and we are left with what we truly believe. It is here where we reach for God's hand and have him lead us the rest of the way. We were able to see Aiyana briefly from a distance, and during one such visit with her aunt and her mom and dad standing by, Aiyana stopped breathing. Code Blue, PICU.
She began retaining water Wednesday night and then had difficulties breathing and was moved to ICU. Steadily her situation worsened, it was discovered a fast moving lung infection had taken root and the first of three treatments was immediate implemented but Aiyana had not responded to treatment. They were partway through the second treatment when we arrived at the hospital and that, too, seemed ineffective. This infection, we were told, only can be healed by the white antibodies fighting it off and Aiyana's body healing itself.
The minister led us in prayer and we began to absorb the words that truly, she was in God's hands. I guess this is the moment of truth when our will falls away and we are left with what we truly believe. It is here where we reach for God's hand and have him lead us the rest of the way. We were able to see Aiyana briefly from a distance, and during one such visit with her aunt and her mom and dad standing by, Aiyana stopped breathing. Code Blue, PICU.
Doctors and nurses tore past us as we pasted ourselves along the walls of the hallway to get out of the way. Long long minutes later, she was breathing and everyone was crying with relief. By that time, Randy and I were right there watching her vitals on that reassurring little machine with red numbers, that beeps irritatingly all night long. We trembled and listened to the sobs from a deep place in her father's heart.
And so, Aiyana is now hooked up to a bypass machine that essentially filters and oxygenates the blood and returns it to her body bypassing the lungs. Resting the lungs will let the building army of white antibodies wage war on the infection and regain control. Day by day her growing pool of antibodies will fight and we will keep vigil, and nudge her along with our hope and love and prayers.
When things seemed most dark, it was Aiyana's dad who reminded us that when she was born with cerebral palsy and epilepsy, the doctors said she wouldn't walk -- but she dances and runs and rides her bike. The doctors warned she would be impaired -- but she laughs and sings and does well in school. And so, her dad says: she has always defied the odds before, and why not now? Give her the chance to do her thing and she will beat the odds.
Nov 18, 2009
Nov 17, 2009
Do You Want The Good News First or the Really Good News?
Morgan Harman (Aiyana's big sister) just sent the Over the Moon News!
I'll have a more in detail update very very soon, but I just got a phone call from Aiyana and our Granny. Aiyana has some good news...and then some really REALLY good news.
Good news: It looks like she'll be coming home at the end of the week!!!
And the really REALLY Good news: her Leukemia in non agressive which means NO BONE MARROW TRANSPLANT WILL BE NEEDED!!!
We all have tears of happiness flowing right now. My baby sister is a living, breathing, walking, talking miracle since the day she was born. Thank you so much to everyone for all of the love and support. Our family can't say it enough.
She isn't in the clear of the Leukemia yet so we have to keep doing what we are doing. I just thought you all would like to hear some good stuff!!! Thank you again from the warmest place in my heart, Aiyana's big sister Morgan.
Nov 12, 2009
Where Were You When ...
We all talk about remembering the 89 quake, when the Twin Towers fell or Christa's shuttle exploded. It's strange how hyper aware those moments become, as if time locks itself away and we can recall even the smallest details: what we wore, where we were, what we were doing and who we were with.
There a few other memories like that. I remember one summer day playing Barbies on the front lawn under the tree, the Dream House spread in an arc leaving plenty of room for action and the Dream Car. I remember what the warm sidewalk felt like after a good run through the sprinklers with Kimmy Pohlman and how it would prickle like popping bubbles and tug at our skin as we lay sunny side up. I remember curling into the crook of my father's arm as he read the paper, wiggly and anxious for attention. I remember kneeling in front of a planter planting carnations because they were my mother's favorite flower. She wore an apron with pockets to hold the seeds and gloves. And I remember the day our family dog was hit by a car.
It was my fault, really, anxious as I was for my brother to make it all the way home. I could see him across the street just passing the Kurtz' house and came to the idea that it would be fun for Laddie to do the big reunion scene halfway down the block. And so I opened the screen door.
We were on a busy corner and Laddie never went out front except on a leash. He saw Don, too, and shot out of the house like a rocket and tore across the lawn. I didn't see the car and it didn't see the dog until they intersected along his left flank and he skidded on his side to the curb. My brother looked stricken and dropped his books and bolted to the corner, as I did from the house, yelling for mom, inconsolable and wracked with guilt and fear. My mother got a blanket and we gently put him in the car and headed to the vet. No one blamed me for it, which made it even worse.
This story ended happily. Laddie recovered and I did eventually get the lecture which made me feel oh so much better. He went on to many more adventures which included biting the milkman, being backed up on his own porch by a cat, having a parakeet chase him down the hall and land on his back, and years of being used as a delivery dog for secret messages sent between our rooms after it was lights out. But I can tell you what I was wearing and where I was on the day he was hit.
There a few other memories like that. I remember one summer day playing Barbies on the front lawn under the tree, the Dream House spread in an arc leaving plenty of room for action and the Dream Car. I remember what the warm sidewalk felt like after a good run through the sprinklers with Kimmy Pohlman and how it would prickle like popping bubbles and tug at our skin as we lay sunny side up. I remember curling into the crook of my father's arm as he read the paper, wiggly and anxious for attention. I remember kneeling in front of a planter planting carnations because they were my mother's favorite flower. She wore an apron with pockets to hold the seeds and gloves. And I remember the day our family dog was hit by a car.
It was my fault, really, anxious as I was for my brother to make it all the way home. I could see him across the street just passing the Kurtz' house and came to the idea that it would be fun for Laddie to do the big reunion scene halfway down the block. And so I opened the screen door.
We were on a busy corner and Laddie never went out front except on a leash. He saw Don, too, and shot out of the house like a rocket and tore across the lawn. I didn't see the car and it didn't see the dog until they intersected along his left flank and he skidded on his side to the curb. My brother looked stricken and dropped his books and bolted to the corner, as I did from the house, yelling for mom, inconsolable and wracked with guilt and fear. My mother got a blanket and we gently put him in the car and headed to the vet. No one blamed me for it, which made it even worse.
This story ended happily. Laddie recovered and I did eventually get the lecture which made me feel oh so much better. He went on to many more adventures which included biting the milkman, being backed up on his own porch by a cat, having a parakeet chase him down the hall and land on his back, and years of being used as a delivery dog for secret messages sent between our rooms after it was lights out. But I can tell you what I was wearing and where I was on the day he was hit.
Nov 10, 2009
A Trust Walk
I've been kind of sore at God lately. Aiyana is such a wonderful and loving child, it's been hard to accept the fact she's so ill. Essentially, I think He could have at least picked someone more deserving of the honor of leukemia, say a world leader who committed genocide. It would have been nice to be able to say to each other, well there you go, we all know a bad seed deserves to suffer.
I happened to be watching teenagers the other day be released from school. They came in waves, spilling over the walkways and grassy slopes and pooled near the crosswalk ready to cross. They were anxious to get to wherever they were going and some had no plans to wait for the light. They stepped right out into traffic even though we were approaching at 45 miles an hour on a green light.
I happened to be watching teenagers the other day be released from school. They came in waves, spilling over the walkways and grassy slopes and pooled near the crosswalk ready to cross. They were anxious to get to wherever they were going and some had no plans to wait for the light. They stepped right out into traffic even though we were approaching at 45 miles an hour on a green light.
Camo
I was talking aloud in the car the other day and thinking how great the invention of the Bluetooth is for those of us who do that sort of thing. But when it comes to singing, the Bluetooth is a grossly inadequate shield. Once that whole performance gesturing thing gets going when you're belting out an old show tune like When You're A Jet, there's just no way to camoflague it.
California lane buddies pull alongside and the first thing they do is give cursory glances this way and that. I think it's because they think something better is going on in the next car and they don't want to miss out. In places like Chicago, lane buddies don't want to know what's going on in the car next to them because they really, really don't want to get involved. So they just stare straight ahead as if they're the only ones on the road which they might as well be.
When westerner lane buddies encounter a live performance, they fall into one of two subgroups. They either -- a) nod and smile because they, too, are cabaret car singers and realize how silly they look, -- or -- b) mutter something to their passenger who also snaps and stares, mutters something back, probably about me being off my nut, and discreetly change lanes. But really, how can subgroup B not fess up to knowing how amazing car acoustics are, especially with music cranked up just enough so we can delude ourselves into thinking we've got amazing pitch? The pervs.
Car etiquette otherwise is pretty straightforward except for one thing which is really important. Next time you have marshmallow peeps stuffed in your cheeks and hit a red light with lane buddies on either side, here's what to do: stop chewing and swallowing to remain undiscovered. Try not to gag up those sugar crystals dripping down your throat and saliva closing your esophagus from over-stimulated taste buds. When the light changes, and it will after it goes through an eight stage cycle including turn lanes, being slow on the take off will give you just enough time chew and swallow.
Oh and don't forget the Golden Rule: Never never ever ever pick your nose in the car even if it's in the middle of the night with no one around for 100 miles. You're in a box with windows, Man: someone will see.
California lane buddies pull alongside and the first thing they do is give cursory glances this way and that. I think it's because they think something better is going on in the next car and they don't want to miss out. In places like Chicago, lane buddies don't want to know what's going on in the car next to them because they really, really don't want to get involved. So they just stare straight ahead as if they're the only ones on the road which they might as well be.
When westerner lane buddies encounter a live performance, they fall into one of two subgroups. They either -- a) nod and smile because they, too, are cabaret car singers and realize how silly they look, -- or -- b) mutter something to their passenger who also snaps and stares, mutters something back, probably about me being off my nut, and discreetly change lanes. But really, how can subgroup B not fess up to knowing how amazing car acoustics are, especially with music cranked up just enough so we can delude ourselves into thinking we've got amazing pitch? The pervs.
Car etiquette otherwise is pretty straightforward except for one thing which is really important. Next time you have marshmallow peeps stuffed in your cheeks and hit a red light with lane buddies on either side, here's what to do: stop chewing and swallowing to remain undiscovered. Try not to gag up those sugar crystals dripping down your throat and saliva closing your esophagus from over-stimulated taste buds. When the light changes, and it will after it goes through an eight stage cycle including turn lanes, being slow on the take off will give you just enough time chew and swallow.
Oh and don't forget the Golden Rule: Never never ever ever pick your nose in the car even if it's in the middle of the night with no one around for 100 miles. You're in a box with windows, Man: someone will see.
Nov 6, 2009
Taking the Hill
Ok for the harder news.
Aiyana's leukemia type is confirmed as MPAL - Mixed Phenotype Acute Leukemia, and ALM is primary so the doctors have begun an aggressive regimen of 10 days on, recover days off, and a repeat. Treatment began yesterday. The length of recovery days will depend on how our girl tolerates treatment, and that varies widely. Some do very well on it, and we know that if Aiyana's strong spirit has anything to say about it, she will, too. No matter what, she will try very hard and be very brave.
Her mother told her last night there is a boxing match going on inside and that she might not feel well until the good guys win. Aiyana understood at once what she was talking about. It was a great analogy.
I have been looking the disease up online, and there are all sorts of statistics and ratios that suddenly are unimportant. Reading stories and statistical probabilities only diffuses what is going on here and now with this precious child.
When Aiyana's mom was hungry to know information way into the future, her oncologist wisely replied, 'I will tell you what we are doing today, and tomorrow I will tell you what we are doing tomorrow.'
And so we will take this in small doses, just like Aiyana does, to fight the good fight and keep strong. Minute by minute, day by day, we will take it one hill at a time.
Aiyana's leukemia type is confirmed as MPAL - Mixed Phenotype Acute Leukemia, and ALM is primary so the doctors have begun an aggressive regimen of 10 days on, recover days off, and a repeat. Treatment began yesterday. The length of recovery days will depend on how our girl tolerates treatment, and that varies widely. Some do very well on it, and we know that if Aiyana's strong spirit has anything to say about it, she will, too. No matter what, she will try very hard and be very brave.
Her mother told her last night there is a boxing match going on inside and that she might not feel well until the good guys win. Aiyana understood at once what she was talking about. It was a great analogy.
I have been looking the disease up online, and there are all sorts of statistics and ratios that suddenly are unimportant. Reading stories and statistical probabilities only diffuses what is going on here and now with this precious child.
When Aiyana's mom was hungry to know information way into the future, her oncologist wisely replied, 'I will tell you what we are doing today, and tomorrow I will tell you what we are doing tomorrow.'
And so we will take this in small doses, just like Aiyana does, to fight the good fight and keep strong. Minute by minute, day by day, we will take it one hill at a time.
Nov 3, 2009
Just the Same
On Friday I joined the club of those I have been holding out hope for: I became unemployed. You'd think after living life this long, I'd be accustomed to change. I was immersed with living by the bell, interacting and keeping up with routines and tasks.
What a beautiful day it is today and I wouldn't even know that if I was at work, knocking down that inbox with important things to do. I liked it there. It's fun to be kept by children who challenge and care and push and pull, whose faces and names I have finally learned to spell. Their voices are familiar on the other end of the line when they called to say hi.
How will it be now, I wonder, for me and for them, finding a foothold, a focus forward. It's not exactly how we thought it would go but we'll get there just the same.
What a beautiful day it is today and I wouldn't even know that if I was at work, knocking down that inbox with important things to do. I liked it there. It's fun to be kept by children who challenge and care and push and pull, whose faces and names I have finally learned to spell. Their voices are familiar on the other end of the line when they called to say hi.
How will it be now, I wonder, for me and for them, finding a foothold, a focus forward. It's not exactly how we thought it would go but we'll get there just the same.
Nov 1, 2009
God's Children
I was watching the kids play with Floam, this weird textured dough with little beads that stick together. As I watched those little hands shape and form it, I thought of God.
He is there in whatever shape we need Him to be, waiting and watching until we begin walking step in step. We roll around thoughts of Him, over and over, shaping Him this way and that while we try to understand who He is. He is as unique to each of us as we are to each other.
God can burst into our hearts like a shooting star on the 4th of July or enter silently on tiptoes like a kitten we don't know is there until we reach out and feel the warmth. He is with us when we are lonely and scared or when we are joyous and grateful. He smiles and watches with us when we discover a miracle because He never gets tired of those.
If I could pick a favorite game for God it would be Hide and Seek. He would be really good at it! He wouldn't mind when we were a long way from counting all the way up to 100 before we started to look for him. He would not throw his hands in the air, give up and go home at dark the way others would. No sir ree. No matter how slow we are or how far ahead the others are, He will wait there for us to discover Him. And when we do, with arms outstretched, excited to be found, He will joyfully run with us all the way home.
He is there in whatever shape we need Him to be, waiting and watching until we begin walking step in step. We roll around thoughts of Him, over and over, shaping Him this way and that while we try to understand who He is. He is as unique to each of us as we are to each other.
God can burst into our hearts like a shooting star on the 4th of July or enter silently on tiptoes like a kitten we don't know is there until we reach out and feel the warmth. He is with us when we are lonely and scared or when we are joyous and grateful. He smiles and watches with us when we discover a miracle because He never gets tired of those.
If I could pick a favorite game for God it would be Hide and Seek. He would be really good at it! He wouldn't mind when we were a long way from counting all the way up to 100 before we started to look for him. He would not throw his hands in the air, give up and go home at dark the way others would. No sir ree. No matter how slow we are or how far ahead the others are, He will wait there for us to discover Him. And when we do, with arms outstretched, excited to be found, He will joyfully run with us all the way home.
A Great Day
Halloween in the Pediatric Unit of UC Davis Medical Center's Cancer Ward was hopping yesterday. Facepainters were stationed just outside the door, and rainbows and stars and spiderwebs on everyone's smiling faces. A clean room playroom was set up at the end of the hall staffed by volunteers to design pumpkins, decorate door hangers and make origami windchimes.
Inside the windows were decorated, and pumpkin decorations were all over the room. Gavon was the Spider King and Avry was a butterfly; Mom and Morgan were witches and Dad was a Hippie; Jason was a pirate. Randy and I went as cleverly disguised responsible adults.
The staff came in every minute or two, superheroes, Minnie Mouse, soccer goalies and Jessie and Woody from Toy Story, with their arms full of toys and candy and flash lights to put in the bag for Aiyana and her sister Avry. We watched and laughed at the trick-or-treat in reverse and the delight and anticipation on Aiyana's face with each knock on the door.
Aiyana got up and walked down the hall, and we trailed behind, most of us in masks decorated with big smiley faces, moustaches and glasses. She played a game of fishing and won a doll gymnast set with - count them - TWO Barbies! The anti-nausea meds kicked in mid-day and she was in great spirits. She ate! She ate peaches, drank water and juice, chicken nuggets and half a hamburger. We took a lot of pictures, overjoyed she was hungry and eating as much as how darling she looked in her little ladybug cap and fireman's hat.
Her mother said that today was a great day, one to keep as a memory because the days ahead will be hard. We know she is right. We are here to love each other, be strong, and hold hands
Inside the windows were decorated, and pumpkin decorations were all over the room. Gavon was the Spider King and Avry was a butterfly; Mom and Morgan were witches and Dad was a Hippie; Jason was a pirate. Randy and I went as cleverly disguised responsible adults.
The staff came in every minute or two, superheroes, Minnie Mouse, soccer goalies and Jessie and Woody from Toy Story, with their arms full of toys and candy and flash lights to put in the bag for Aiyana and her sister Avry. We watched and laughed at the trick-or-treat in reverse and the delight and anticipation on Aiyana's face with each knock on the door.
Aiyana got up and walked down the hall, and we trailed behind, most of us in masks decorated with big smiley faces, moustaches and glasses. She played a game of fishing and won a doll gymnast set with - count them - TWO Barbies! The anti-nausea meds kicked in mid-day and she was in great spirits. She ate! She ate peaches, drank water and juice, chicken nuggets and half a hamburger. We took a lot of pictures, overjoyed she was hungry and eating as much as how darling she looked in her little ladybug cap and fireman's hat.
Her mother said that today was a great day, one to keep as a memory because the days ahead will be hard. We know she is right. We are here to love each other, be strong, and hold hands
Oct 23, 2009
My Morning Routine
The minutes of my day tick by without thought. I sometimes get to work remembering only the songs on the radio and having admired the architecture of the mercedes SUV in front of me most of the way. Pulling into the lot, knowing the spot is waiting for me, is somehow comforting.
And then lights pop on and passwords are set for the day. What will come is in the wind as I help out, encourage and greet hundreds of kids, one at a time, one after another. First it's 11:05, then 1:25, 3:20 and 5. Where did the day go? So many kids have trailed in for all sorts of reasons, the respect and connections are strong and good. I matter to them, and they to me, and that has been a profoundly important lesson.
I wonder if teaching is my calling after all. My heart gently chides me for being surprised for what I see myself do. We hug and joke around as I push them, fight for them, make them stand tall and and grab their place in the world. There is nothing more exhilirating than knowing the good I do. In this moment in their life and mine, it matters.
And then lights pop on and passwords are set for the day. What will come is in the wind as I help out, encourage and greet hundreds of kids, one at a time, one after another. First it's 11:05, then 1:25, 3:20 and 5. Where did the day go? So many kids have trailed in for all sorts of reasons, the respect and connections are strong and good. I matter to them, and they to me, and that has been a profoundly important lesson.
I wonder if teaching is my calling after all. My heart gently chides me for being surprised for what I see myself do. We hug and joke around as I push them, fight for them, make them stand tall and and grab their place in the world. There is nothing more exhilirating than knowing the good I do. In this moment in their life and mine, it matters.
Oct 12, 2009
The Worry Stone
I've been down and out with the flu for a few and taken up worrying about things that aren't mine to decide so I made an electronic worry stone for what's on my mind. Hopefully it works.
Healthcare and Health: Things are stable and improving with most everyone, and people are in transition - including me, who has a long overdue date with exercise and eating sensibly. Aging parent issues with all of my friends are difficult and ongoing. And this new healthcare issue is driving me crazy.
Work and Money: Another friend lost her job last week, but two found ones. Most realize the impersonal environmental climate we are in and have stabilized their thinking, thank God. Kids: come home whenever you need. Houses are in jeopardy. How to pare down monthly expenses in a climate that doesn't encourage refinance is worrisome.
And as for that new phantom 2012 big cataclysmic event: Holy Crimeny! Calm down. The Mayans just ran out of room on the chart.
Healthcare and Health: Things are stable and improving with most everyone, and people are in transition - including me, who has a long overdue date with exercise and eating sensibly. Aging parent issues with all of my friends are difficult and ongoing. And this new healthcare issue is driving me crazy.
Work and Money: Another friend lost her job last week, but two found ones. Most realize the impersonal environmental climate we are in and have stabilized their thinking, thank God. Kids: come home whenever you need. Houses are in jeopardy. How to pare down monthly expenses in a climate that doesn't encourage refinance is worrisome.
And as for that new phantom 2012 big cataclysmic event: Holy Crimeny! Calm down. The Mayans just ran out of room on the chart.
Oct 2, 2009
Invisible Breadlines
I put a few gallons of gas in the car of an older man who offered to wash my car windows this week as his wife quietly sat in the passenger seat with her eyes lowered. Who is saying the economy is rebounding any day now?
Life feels familiar because we have been here before in the stories around the dinner table as our parents recounted life growing up in the shadow of the Great Depression. Friends and family lived together then and formed a tight huddle, pooled their resources, and rode it out. But livelihoods were sacrificed, and property and lives. It was a time when all Americans were reduced to a level playing field and those who could help understood the humanity in it.
After that, our government established coping systems should it happen again. Flash forward to 2009 and these systems are bursting at the seams trying to keep up with an economy rocketing out of control. We don't see the depth of the problem because the systems are already in place and invisible. I know folks living in their car, who lost their home and business, and many more friends/family who are out of work. Are these times as dire as the 1930s? I know we're being fed propaganda that our economy is on the cusp of a rebound and we should hang on for reinforcements. Like the Alamo.
Maybe seeing those long breadlines and children sleeping in doorways is exactly what we need to kickstart this country into quitting its gripefest and unifying with a common goal. It doesn't matter who's in the hot seat: there are serious issues in play and we need direction and help. How about if everyone puts their bipartisanship aside and throw themselves into a fix for that?
Life feels familiar because we have been here before in the stories around the dinner table as our parents recounted life growing up in the shadow of the Great Depression. Friends and family lived together then and formed a tight huddle, pooled their resources, and rode it out. But livelihoods were sacrificed, and property and lives. It was a time when all Americans were reduced to a level playing field and those who could help understood the humanity in it.
After that, our government established coping systems should it happen again. Flash forward to 2009 and these systems are bursting at the seams trying to keep up with an economy rocketing out of control. We don't see the depth of the problem because the systems are already in place and invisible. I know folks living in their car, who lost their home and business, and many more friends/family who are out of work. Are these times as dire as the 1930s? I know we're being fed propaganda that our economy is on the cusp of a rebound and we should hang on for reinforcements. Like the Alamo.
Maybe seeing those long breadlines and children sleeping in doorways is exactly what we need to kickstart this country into quitting its gripefest and unifying with a common goal. It doesn't matter who's in the hot seat: there are serious issues in play and we need direction and help. How about if everyone puts their bipartisanship aside and throw themselves into a fix for that?
Sep 15, 2009
The Law of Averages
I hate to admit it but I think the guys are right on this one. Chicks are crazy.
A guy trying to win a woman will do a series of thoughtful and considerate things and, say, hit the mark 80% of the time. A woman thinks from that display that he understands her. He's encouraged that things are working nicely and sticks with the plan, trusting in the law of averages and the clues she gives him along the way. Life is good.
And then a crisis hits. It could be the death of someone close, the loss of self esteem, a crisis of faith. She pulls back, relying on her inner processing unit to work it through, and stops communicating while she desperately looks for safe footing. Sometimes she can do it herself; often she can't. She doesn't know anything about his law of averages. All she knows is that her man has met most of her needs up until this point, and she assumes he will know what she needs. Under these circumstances, his law of averages routine doesn't work and their relationship enters a crisis.
That's very true in friendships as well. Years and years of friendship assumes you know somebody through and through. It speaks to a level of trust that says -- I Will Be There. A crisis shatters even the best of friends when they don't know what to do, how to help, or when. I can only imagine how much harder it is for a guy to understand and react to the signs when as a woman I struggle like crazy. I sometimes drop the ball and miss the trail of bread crumbs, too.
This is a great reminder of how important communication is. When things seem dire and scary, whatever a woman says translates into needing a hand to hold. She can say whatever she wants, but those who love her need to stand by her, if only to hold the nightlight.
A guy trying to win a woman will do a series of thoughtful and considerate things and, say, hit the mark 80% of the time. A woman thinks from that display that he understands her. He's encouraged that things are working nicely and sticks with the plan, trusting in the law of averages and the clues she gives him along the way. Life is good.
And then a crisis hits. It could be the death of someone close, the loss of self esteem, a crisis of faith. She pulls back, relying on her inner processing unit to work it through, and stops communicating while she desperately looks for safe footing. Sometimes she can do it herself; often she can't. She doesn't know anything about his law of averages. All she knows is that her man has met most of her needs up until this point, and she assumes he will know what she needs. Under these circumstances, his law of averages routine doesn't work and their relationship enters a crisis.
That's very true in friendships as well. Years and years of friendship assumes you know somebody through and through. It speaks to a level of trust that says -- I Will Be There. A crisis shatters even the best of friends when they don't know what to do, how to help, or when. I can only imagine how much harder it is for a guy to understand and react to the signs when as a woman I struggle like crazy. I sometimes drop the ball and miss the trail of bread crumbs, too.
This is a great reminder of how important communication is. When things seem dire and scary, whatever a woman says translates into needing a hand to hold. She can say whatever she wants, but those who love her need to stand by her, if only to hold the nightlight.
Sep 11, 2009
A Bigger Pond
My students are a willful group and that has gotten them to this little pond we all share. They know every plant, every sound and the rocks that are safe to jump into deeper water. Having lived more life than most of us by the tender age of 17, they are reluctant to let go.
They have already felt parts of their life dissolving like sand under their toes and drawn out to sea. They know why it scares them to move to a bigger pond: the door between high school and college will have no handles should they want to return. They are hyper aware of the opportunities but the risk is in giving up the safety net and their sense of security.
It has been said that great achievement accompanies great risk. The juncture of moving from who we are to who we are becoming is a vast individual leap. It is not easy or slow or painless, and sometimes it means going it alone with nothing but warm memories. It takes a strong sense of self to scoop up life, tuck it under your arm and make a run for it.
Like settlers, they will have to find the courage to forge their path. With great fanfare and tears they will head off, facing challenges and unexpected setbacks. Some will make it to Iowa before turning back, learning about themselves how far is too far. Some will come over the Rockies and make a go of it in the beautiful, rich farmland of Colorado. And some will make it all the way to the Pacific, those big dreams tangible and real as they run towards the waves and the hard, wet sand.
They have already felt parts of their life dissolving like sand under their toes and drawn out to sea. They know why it scares them to move to a bigger pond: the door between high school and college will have no handles should they want to return. They are hyper aware of the opportunities but the risk is in giving up the safety net and their sense of security.
It has been said that great achievement accompanies great risk. The juncture of moving from who we are to who we are becoming is a vast individual leap. It is not easy or slow or painless, and sometimes it means going it alone with nothing but warm memories. It takes a strong sense of self to scoop up life, tuck it under your arm and make a run for it.
Like settlers, they will have to find the courage to forge their path. With great fanfare and tears they will head off, facing challenges and unexpected setbacks. Some will make it to Iowa before turning back, learning about themselves how far is too far. Some will come over the Rockies and make a go of it in the beautiful, rich farmland of Colorado. And some will make it all the way to the Pacific, those big dreams tangible and real as they run towards the waves and the hard, wet sand.
Sep 2, 2009
Exorcise
I sit here tonight just having walked through the door. It's been a week of late nights, and my sweetheart is fast asleep. My day is filled with unimaginable things to him, earnest conversations and demands for my time that are far removed from his world.
The quiet love from the room calls to me, welcomes me home, wonders where I have been. What is it that pulls me forward and into and through a whirlwind kind of day, each day busier than the last? Why my relentless drive?
I miss you, I whisper as I curl into sleep, into love, longing for the contact of a warm embrace, hand in hand for walks and a laugh. I have come to see an exorcise is in my future.
The quiet love from the room calls to me, welcomes me home, wonders where I have been. What is it that pulls me forward and into and through a whirlwind kind of day, each day busier than the last? Why my relentless drive?
I miss you, I whisper as I curl into sleep, into love, longing for the contact of a warm embrace, hand in hand for walks and a laugh. I have come to see an exorcise is in my future.
Aug 29, 2009
Dreams with Feet
I have this old friend. Old, in terms of the thousands of stories we share, but new in the ways we share our lives. We have been friends most of my life. We were college roommates during those silly and hopeful years with conversations full of philosophy, self discovery and heart. We are part of each other's stories, moving forward to raise ourselves, our kids, our hopes. We are not always central in each other's lives. Our friendship expands and contracts, but the heartbeat is always there, a total investment in each other. Her mother, my brother, her brother, my kids, her sister, my parents, her daughter, we are one.
Last night, over a leisurely dinner, we fell into a thoughtful discussion about nature and nurture, always a great topic when observing our kids. All the preparation in the world can't prepare a child to meet life head on. As they flounder along, we mused about how too many high-fives for minimum results and soccer trophies for placing 4th creates a false sense of expectations and self importance.
I remember life placing me in check. I was 22 and working my first job in my major. I thought I was a white hot writer and future novelist. But there I was, in a little cubicle with a job to only correct manuscript spelling and punctuation. No silver platter, or anything...
Life takes work, and as I like to say: the only way around it is through it. Painful or not, our children will have to figure out how to live without summer vacations. Life occasionally gives high fives and trophies, but they won't get rest stops. It is a constant push to maintain the status quo, make gains and exceed them. No one is going to hand it to them, cute as they were in their Halloween costume in their kindergarten parade. They are the only ones that can make their dreams grow feet.
I had a great conversation with a co-worker who was describing his invalid father as the most emotionally well adjusted man his doctors had ever seen. It's not that he is happy with his physical limitations, but he has come to terms with it without sacrificing his work ethic, self value and purpose in life.
There is a nugget of wisdom here, one worth passing on to our children if we can. The core of who we are needs to shine. We don't get to choose what life dishes out, but we do choose our response. Being the best workers, friends, spouses, children and parents makes a bold statement about life skills they will need. And in the end, let the final lesson be that life is challenging and incredibly worthwhile, even without the standing ovation.
Last night, over a leisurely dinner, we fell into a thoughtful discussion about nature and nurture, always a great topic when observing our kids. All the preparation in the world can't prepare a child to meet life head on. As they flounder along, we mused about how too many high-fives for minimum results and soccer trophies for placing 4th creates a false sense of expectations and self importance.
I remember life placing me in check. I was 22 and working my first job in my major. I thought I was a white hot writer and future novelist. But there I was, in a little cubicle with a job to only correct manuscript spelling and punctuation. No silver platter, or anything...
Life takes work, and as I like to say: the only way around it is through it. Painful or not, our children will have to figure out how to live without summer vacations. Life occasionally gives high fives and trophies, but they won't get rest stops. It is a constant push to maintain the status quo, make gains and exceed them. No one is going to hand it to them, cute as they were in their Halloween costume in their kindergarten parade. They are the only ones that can make their dreams grow feet.
I had a great conversation with a co-worker who was describing his invalid father as the most emotionally well adjusted man his doctors had ever seen. It's not that he is happy with his physical limitations, but he has come to terms with it without sacrificing his work ethic, self value and purpose in life.
There is a nugget of wisdom here, one worth passing on to our children if we can. The core of who we are needs to shine. We don't get to choose what life dishes out, but we do choose our response. Being the best workers, friends, spouses, children and parents makes a bold statement about life skills they will need. And in the end, let the final lesson be that life is challenging and incredibly worthwhile, even without the standing ovation.
Aug 24, 2009
Anyone's Guess
Most of life includes an element of risk. I can say with absolute certainty that the only regrets I have are times I wasn't daring enough to risk the win.
And so as we age, our bodies and minds become less limber, and we become someone unrecognizable to who we once were, the free spirit, whole earth zen bunny from our glory days who stores our sense of self. We scarcely notice the changes in spirit but they are there.
There is a soaring sense of hope when love envelops us in comfort and safety. It is very alluring. But when we let life beat us into a box, out comes the intolerances that have overtaken our souls. How it ends is anyone's guess.
And so as we age, our bodies and minds become less limber, and we become someone unrecognizable to who we once were, the free spirit, whole earth zen bunny from our glory days who stores our sense of self. We scarcely notice the changes in spirit but they are there.
There is a soaring sense of hope when love envelops us in comfort and safety. It is very alluring. But when we let life beat us into a box, out comes the intolerances that have overtaken our souls. How it ends is anyone's guess.
Aug 9, 2009
Thanks, Dad
John Mayer's lyrics, Daughter
I know a girl, she puts the color inside of my world
She's just like a maze, where all of the walls all continually change
I've done all I can to stand on the steps with my heart in my hands
Now I'm starting to see maybe it's got nothing to do with me
Fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn in to mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters, too
Oh you see that skin, it's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she's left cleaning up the mess he made
Reprise
Boys you can break, find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong, boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without warmth of a woman's good heart
On behalf of every man looking out for every girl
You are the God and the weight of the world
Reprise
Reprise
I know a girl, she puts the color inside of my world
She's just like a maze, where all of the walls all continually change
I've done all I can to stand on the steps with my heart in my hands
Now I'm starting to see maybe it's got nothing to do with me
Fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn in to mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters, too
Oh you see that skin, it's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she's left cleaning up the mess he made
Reprise
Boys you can break, find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong, boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without warmth of a woman's good heart
On behalf of every man looking out for every girl
You are the God and the weight of the world
Reprise
Reprise
Out with the Old
Our friend Patriot gave up the ghost this week, after five years of companionship and enjoyment. I'm not sure the life expectency of a Beta Fighting Fish, but he was a wisened old fella who came to the top of the bowl for a pat on the fin and puffed up to remind us it was dinnertime. He had a good life.
I'm watching a burgundy fancy fighter named Wasabi who was yesterday's purchase and is destined to become the Advisory class mascot tomorrow. Randy picked Sherman for home and Sherm has a brilliant royal blue body with fins trimmed in bright red. He is still in hiding, probably planning a big offensive.
We discovered a leak in the hall in late June from the a/c drain and insurance will help us replace some of the flooring. Some big decisions need to be made: replacing the heater and a repair or replacement of the a/c; flooring in the hall, the livingroom and the oval office. Complicated by the 'while we're at it' thinking which I am famous for, there have been earnest negotiations going on for the last several weeks.
We were astonished to learn the furnace was the original unit from 1969, still working and serving us well, giving heat on demand and without complaint for 40 years. Admittedly there are more energy efficient units on the market and rebates, too, but will they be able to boast that kind of longevity and service forty years from now? Are American products even being made to last? Either way, the old fella needs to go.
But the a/c unit is only about 14 years and just needs a tune up and repair, although we are being enticed by the sales promise of 30% savings with the new unit. But wait! The savings would only be on the a/c portion of the bill, and so the yield would be relatively small for the four months a year we actively use it. It would take ten years to recoup the cost of replacement. Final answer: we will replace the heater, repair the a/c, and wait for the eventual ban on freon. Add some paint and flooring inside after insurance kicks in and we're back in business.
I'm watching a burgundy fancy fighter named Wasabi who was yesterday's purchase and is destined to become the Advisory class mascot tomorrow. Randy picked Sherman for home and Sherm has a brilliant royal blue body with fins trimmed in bright red. He is still in hiding, probably planning a big offensive.
We discovered a leak in the hall in late June from the a/c drain and insurance will help us replace some of the flooring. Some big decisions need to be made: replacing the heater and a repair or replacement of the a/c; flooring in the hall, the livingroom and the oval office. Complicated by the 'while we're at it' thinking which I am famous for, there have been earnest negotiations going on for the last several weeks.
We were astonished to learn the furnace was the original unit from 1969, still working and serving us well, giving heat on demand and without complaint for 40 years. Admittedly there are more energy efficient units on the market and rebates, too, but will they be able to boast that kind of longevity and service forty years from now? Are American products even being made to last? Either way, the old fella needs to go.
But the a/c unit is only about 14 years and just needs a tune up and repair, although we are being enticed by the sales promise of 30% savings with the new unit. But wait! The savings would only be on the a/c portion of the bill, and so the yield would be relatively small for the four months a year we actively use it. It would take ten years to recoup the cost of replacement. Final answer: we will replace the heater, repair the a/c, and wait for the eventual ban on freon. Add some paint and flooring inside after insurance kicks in and we're back in business.
Jul 19, 2009
Practice Makes Perfect
Life seems to be spinning faster than we can go. We talk about that late at night, when we lay in bed thinking about people we love and how long it's been since we've seen them.
How lucky we are to have people we miss and long to see. My Wicked Step Mother in Cupertino, Randy's Auntie Norma in Walnut Creek and Pop in SF are in their 80s and hang closer to home nowadays. The new generation is on the upswing with graduations, birthdays and weddings, and of course there's our own responsibilities with work and rental units, home improvement projects and yard sales. We're still trying to integrate our households.
Balancing life with 3 families and carving out space for other things we enjoy is a real challenge. I like reading and blogging and he loves to fish, and we'd sure like more easy Saturday afternoon drives or quiet dinners with friends. Making wiser choices with our time may mean sometimes saying no. I'm going to practice that in front of a mirror ... right after I give Uncle Dick and Aunt Shirl a call.
How lucky we are to have people we miss and long to see. My Wicked Step Mother in Cupertino, Randy's Auntie Norma in Walnut Creek and Pop in SF are in their 80s and hang closer to home nowadays. The new generation is on the upswing with graduations, birthdays and weddings, and of course there's our own responsibilities with work and rental units, home improvement projects and yard sales. We're still trying to integrate our households.
Balancing life with 3 families and carving out space for other things we enjoy is a real challenge. I like reading and blogging and he loves to fish, and we'd sure like more easy Saturday afternoon drives or quiet dinners with friends. Making wiser choices with our time may mean sometimes saying no. I'm going to practice that in front of a mirror ... right after I give Uncle Dick and Aunt Shirl a call.
An A for Effort
I wonder about people sometimes. In about 10 days, the house was made rent-ready, and we worked nearly around the clock to paint and clean and move and clear out life, re-setting toilets, fixing blinds, flooring and hanging lights. It was an ambitious amount of work, no doubt, and most of it was done by the time the new tenants arrived. And yes, I did get a complaint call there was some unfinished work and items left in the garage ... Ouch!
Life really is in the details. No matter how much the effort, that last day when you have to push past exhaustion to scratch the last 3 chores from the list is as important as all the big days prior. I hope Tim learned a valuable lesson about how finish work relates to the rest of the job.
The tenants offered for Tim to stay on a while if he'd like, but after seeing the house transformed with their stuff, it didn't feel like his space anymore. So he is off on another nomadic adventure in what I presume is Plan B. He's welcome here but subject to house rules.
That being said, thanks for all your hard work, kids. It was an A in my book.
Life really is in the details. No matter how much the effort, that last day when you have to push past exhaustion to scratch the last 3 chores from the list is as important as all the big days prior. I hope Tim learned a valuable lesson about how finish work relates to the rest of the job.
The tenants offered for Tim to stay on a while if he'd like, but after seeing the house transformed with their stuff, it didn't feel like his space anymore. So he is off on another nomadic adventure in what I presume is Plan B. He's welcome here but subject to house rules.
That being said, thanks for all your hard work, kids. It was an A in my book.
Jul 16, 2009
ZenMan
There's this ecclectic high schooler living a couple of doors down. We've been friends for years; in fact, he was part of Randy's and my first date at the bookstore because he hangs out there. I'd describe him as a liberal, idealistic Democrat, a 60s throwback struggling in this bland metrosexual era. Love, peace, joy, man.
He has this refreshingly unapologetic nature when he ignores the more mundane but essential parts of life, you know, like school, chores, and normal sleep and eating schedules. He is curiosity-driven and delves deeply into a subject when it piques his interest. He nails tests in public school without attending regularly and doesn't think it offers much other than a diploma.
There is a natural curiosity about everything that makes him a great sparring partner on social and political topics. He's passionate about learning, language, music, the world, the internet, global warming and American government. We talk about gay rights, parental controls, national healthcare, top Presidencies of the 20th century, and the Beatles, all in an afternoon. He loves Harry Potter books and violent video games.
He's remarkably effacing. This warm and wise and clever guy has communication skills that are off the charts. Might he derail himself with his lack of focus? It's possible. But what I think more possible is that when his body catches up with his brain, life will take off like a rocket. But first, school.
"Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known." --Carl Sagan
He has this refreshingly unapologetic nature when he ignores the more mundane but essential parts of life, you know, like school, chores, and normal sleep and eating schedules. He is curiosity-driven and delves deeply into a subject when it piques his interest. He nails tests in public school without attending regularly and doesn't think it offers much other than a diploma.
There is a natural curiosity about everything that makes him a great sparring partner on social and political topics. He's passionate about learning, language, music, the world, the internet, global warming and American government. We talk about gay rights, parental controls, national healthcare, top Presidencies of the 20th century, and the Beatles, all in an afternoon. He loves Harry Potter books and violent video games.
He's remarkably effacing. This warm and wise and clever guy has communication skills that are off the charts. Might he derail himself with his lack of focus? It's possible. But what I think more possible is that when his body catches up with his brain, life will take off like a rocket. But first, school.
"Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known." --Carl Sagan
Jul 14, 2009
It's All Good
Have you ever noticed that the more stress takes hold, the harder it is to get done what is stressing you out in the first place? I've been told a good way to approach stress is to go outside and clench my fists for 15 seconds. If I do it longer, can I store up extra happy endorphens for later?
I tried clenching my teeth, but that stress relieving strategy seems to be restricted to hands. What about a list? It would be easy to track progress, but then again, maybe it would redouble the stress.
I'll tell you one thing: I am not on board with this It's All Good mindset. What does that mean, exactly? It's not all good!! Stress can't survive in an all-good environment. Let's see how well that Weinermobile driver is embracing the 'no worries' philosophy, shall we?
OK ... close your eyes ... breathe slowly ... count to 50.
So back to this fist clenching idea: this is seriously worth a try (read: I am desperate). Here I am outside in 70 degree weather, in the sun with a little light breeze. I can hear happy chirping sounds coming from the open field across the way.
Gee, I do feel better! Stress is just melting away. This fist clenching thing really works! I'm not sure how to force myself back inside but, hey, it's all good.
I tried clenching my teeth, but that stress relieving strategy seems to be restricted to hands. What about a list? It would be easy to track progress, but then again, maybe it would redouble the stress.
I'll tell you one thing: I am not on board with this It's All Good mindset. What does that mean, exactly? It's not all good!! Stress can't survive in an all-good environment. Let's see how well that Weinermobile driver is embracing the 'no worries' philosophy, shall we?
OK ... close your eyes ... breathe slowly ... count to 50.
So back to this fist clenching idea: this is seriously worth a try (read: I am desperate). Here I am outside in 70 degree weather, in the sun with a little light breeze. I can hear happy chirping sounds coming from the open field across the way.
Gee, I do feel better! Stress is just melting away. This fist clenching thing really works! I'm not sure how to force myself back inside but, hey, it's all good.
Jul 9, 2009
Taking Her Time
Sweet news just in from Blogger Feed:Statia Kealy of Ireland has never married, smoked, drank or even put on makeup. So maybe that's why she's finally ready to cut loose and hit the dating scene at the tender age of 106.
Statia, who could easily pass for 88 or 89, says she's looking for love. If you know any lonely centenarians who live near Ireland, maybe you should pass along her number. She's got a sense of humor, telling one reporter, "Those that get married do well, but those that don't do better." Fiery!
If she can't find a man and is willing to learn Chinese, maybe she could be pen-pals with Wang Guiying, a 107-year old Chinese lady who finds herself in the same "predicament." Although 106 years of eating Pop Tarts alone in bed doesn't necessarily sound so bad.
Jul 7, 2009
Habanero
As I wrapped my arms around their 25 year old son, I reminisced about holding him in my arms at age 4. His folks had gone away for the weekend and he had taken a tumble during a bike ride when I was watching he and his brother. He wrapped his legs around my waist like a Koala bear and tucked into my rib, missing the comfort of mom and any mom would do. Obviously this was the position of choice for that tender-hearted little boy.
It was nice to see them after a brief 20 years, and our lively staccato talk was filled with laughter and stories. There was no lag or loss of continuity, as if the friendship was woven together with one dimensional emails, cards and family photos now upgraded to 3D. It was glorious, vibrant, like talkies - no technicolor talkies! - astonishingly satisfying.
Come play, we rejoined: Texas! California! Oh, we will.
Thank you. Love you.
It was nice to see them after a brief 20 years, and our lively staccato talk was filled with laughter and stories. There was no lag or loss of continuity, as if the friendship was woven together with one dimensional emails, cards and family photos now upgraded to 3D. It was glorious, vibrant, like talkies - no technicolor talkies! - astonishingly satisfying.
Come play, we rejoined: Texas! California! Oh, we will.
Thank you. Love you.
Pomegranate Girl
We've got all this stuff in the garage blocking the way to the workbench. It's draped with old blankets and comforters, piled high with boxes, and I'm fed up with the whole mess. We're stuffed like a turkey in the old house, the new house, the storage unit, and now the garage. Actually, I'd rather put it at the curb with a free sign on it, but RMan's level headedness prevails and so we'll do a yard sale.
The last yard sale was like Amish bartering gone bad -- people traded homemade pomegranate vodka and a little pot for heirlooms such as blown glasses and a Star Wars Millennium Falon model kit. Neighbors came out of the woodwork to visit and some even made return visits to catch up on news and critique our flowers. At one point, Pomegranate Girl popped behind the table and sold a teaset for us. It was a riot.
As irreverent as it is to put my mother's 60s vintage Thomasville heirlooms on the driveway, that's exactly where they'll be: primped and polished and ready for whomever careens to a stop in front of the house.
Gotta dig out somehow. Sorry, Mom.
The last yard sale was like Amish bartering gone bad -- people traded homemade pomegranate vodka and a little pot for heirlooms such as blown glasses and a Star Wars Millennium Falon model kit. Neighbors came out of the woodwork to visit and some even made return visits to catch up on news and critique our flowers. At one point, Pomegranate Girl popped behind the table and sold a teaset for us. It was a riot.
As irreverent as it is to put my mother's 60s vintage Thomasville heirlooms on the driveway, that's exactly where they'll be: primped and polished and ready for whomever careens to a stop in front of the house.
Gotta dig out somehow. Sorry, Mom.
Anticipation
You could say it's been one of those days. Talk had been building for a couple of weeks about a hand-in-glove job change and today was gonna be the day where I'd get the word.
Anticipation is a weird thing. Once momentum starts, it's hard to stop the voices in your head. You deserve this, it says; you've paid your dues. No one is better qualified; take stock of your talents and enjoy the ride! Nowhere does it tell you to hold up, whoa, slow down, don't count your chickens, although you really know you should.
I'd have bet my salary on the deal, and I'm not much of a better. I slide back into place at the desk with faint dusty piles of work and a top drawer that doesn't lock. The same old money jingles in my pocket.
Visualize the process. Celebrate the journey. God knows what he's doing.
Anticipation is a weird thing. Once momentum starts, it's hard to stop the voices in your head. You deserve this, it says; you've paid your dues. No one is better qualified; take stock of your talents and enjoy the ride! Nowhere does it tell you to hold up, whoa, slow down, don't count your chickens, although you really know you should.
I'd have bet my salary on the deal, and I'm not much of a better. I slide back into place at the desk with faint dusty piles of work and a top drawer that doesn't lock. The same old money jingles in my pocket.
Visualize the process. Celebrate the journey. God knows what he's doing.
Jun 23, 2009
Homework
I've believed for a long time that life is cyclic: no, that's not precisely right. It feels more of a continuous loop with joints and cartilidge that can traverse life's obstacles. Sometimes it's not convenient to believe that, especially when life dishes out one bad event after another.
And God knows I have had years with so many balls in the air it blocked out the sun.
Over time, what came from reading the kinds of books I love is that there is positive and negative energy and a natural balance between the two. Whatever you want to name it (karma, mojo), there's a jarring moment when you become aware that your life is either in or out of balance.
God's in it all the way but there's free will to complicate matters, and our imperfect natures that tempt and cloud our judgment and misinterpret or manipulate life to our own advantage. Probably justification is the worst of our sins, because it pre-dates most of our bad decisions, but that's for another blog.
If balance is the goal, restraint is the means. There's shiny things everywhere to catch my eye, activities and chores and work and family that looks fun and engaging. I know this of me, that I want to fit it all in. There is a lesson I know but can't apply: that to keep an optimal balance, I can't do it all . Coming to a place where I can let go and be at peace with the limitations is my homework.
And God knows I have had years with so many balls in the air it blocked out the sun.
Over time, what came from reading the kinds of books I love is that there is positive and negative energy and a natural balance between the two. Whatever you want to name it (karma, mojo), there's a jarring moment when you become aware that your life is either in or out of balance.
God's in it all the way but there's free will to complicate matters, and our imperfect natures that tempt and cloud our judgment and misinterpret or manipulate life to our own advantage. Probably justification is the worst of our sins, because it pre-dates most of our bad decisions, but that's for another blog.
If balance is the goal, restraint is the means. There's shiny things everywhere to catch my eye, activities and chores and work and family that looks fun and engaging. I know this of me, that I want to fit it all in. There is a lesson I know but can't apply: that to keep an optimal balance, I can't do it all . Coming to a place where I can let go and be at peace with the limitations is my homework.
Jun 18, 2009
OZ
Life just smacks you upside the head sometimes.
Went to the doc today to check out a bump on my left hip. No big deal, Doc says, birsitis and sciatica. Exercise, keep losing weight, and do yoga. YOGA?
Anything else? she asked. Now that you mention it, I've noticed my left arm has less range of motion. Can you look at that, too? Oh, and this bunion bugs me. And how about my plantar fascitis and the Olive Oyl shoes I am forced to wear and ... OMG! I've become my mother.
Driving home, as I salivated over a 100 pill supply of Naproxin with - count them: TWO refills! - I realized I'm in OZ: the old zone. Here I am, achy and creaky and cranky in the mornings, having to think long and hard about 2 hours of weeding because I may not be able to move the next day, let alone get up off my knees. I guess Lazer Tag is a definite no.
Nowadays, a healthy weekend recovery plan involves a slugfest day on the sofa in jams, reading a book or watching back to back movies. Yah dah, yah dah, I can say all I want about the greuling pace of life, but the twelve pairs of cheaters strewn all over the house, in the car, at the office, and in the glove box say otherwise.
I would long for the moment when pedaling would slow for a little coasting, and straining muscles could relax, to be able to savor the sun and breeze and earn the moment. Will it ever be as perfect as it was in my head? Probably not. But it's still a place I wanted to see, creaky bones and all.
Went to the doc today to check out a bump on my left hip. No big deal, Doc says, birsitis and sciatica. Exercise, keep losing weight, and do yoga. YOGA?
Anything else? she asked. Now that you mention it, I've noticed my left arm has less range of motion. Can you look at that, too? Oh, and this bunion bugs me. And how about my plantar fascitis and the Olive Oyl shoes I am forced to wear and ... OMG! I've become my mother.
Driving home, as I salivated over a 100 pill supply of Naproxin with - count them: TWO refills! - I realized I'm in OZ: the old zone. Here I am, achy and creaky and cranky in the mornings, having to think long and hard about 2 hours of weeding because I may not be able to move the next day, let alone get up off my knees. I guess Lazer Tag is a definite no.
Nowadays, a healthy weekend recovery plan involves a slugfest day on the sofa in jams, reading a book or watching back to back movies. Yah dah, yah dah, I can say all I want about the greuling pace of life, but the twelve pairs of cheaters strewn all over the house, in the car, at the office, and in the glove box say otherwise.
I would long for the moment when pedaling would slow for a little coasting, and straining muscles could relax, to be able to savor the sun and breeze and earn the moment. Will it ever be as perfect as it was in my head? Probably not. But it's still a place I wanted to see, creaky bones and all.
Jun 15, 2009
Forward March
Eve successfully raised her babies in the Bridal Veil hanging plant by the back slider and last week two astonishingly chubby babies fluttered away. For a few days one of them lingered, totally unconcerned by our daily activity of watering plants and checking the pool. Very cool. And then this week, as the baby built up the courage to explore new worlds, we discovered another egg. What is this, the Holiday Inn?!
We've been in a huddle lately about the future and how to best shape it through planning. The terrible economic conditions have been a super conductor to the discussion, but it was always there, a nagging little itch to plan, plan, plan. I've let my focus be on life in full sail and the beauty of the present scenery.
I know that planning anything yields better results but somehow this topic was mired in my diminishing role in an otherwise productive life. I never have come around to believing I'm getting old.
I've said it a million times: women are adaptable creatures, a big jumble of heart, flexibility and spirit that leaps through the stages of life -- little girls, women, workers, wives, mothers, homemakers, painters, landscapers, photo journalists, educators, medics and psychologists. We are first, last, and invisible as historians of our clan.
So if this isn't about adaptability, it has to be about value and place, and the perception of discarded old people in our country. Maybe it's time to see those wrinkles in the mirror and notice the need for more sleep and a quiet day at home after a long week.
Today looks like a good day to grow up, into life as it stands, not tinted by the sweet memories of noisy children and messy playrooms. I reluctantly admit the time to plan and scheme and dream and work has arrived.
And so I will -- Forward March! -- into wherever, walking boldly and surefooted, through transitions in my thinking, my body, my identity, my perceptions, keeping tight to the faith that the path will be lit.
We've been in a huddle lately about the future and how to best shape it through planning. The terrible economic conditions have been a super conductor to the discussion, but it was always there, a nagging little itch to plan, plan, plan. I've let my focus be on life in full sail and the beauty of the present scenery.
I know that planning anything yields better results but somehow this topic was mired in my diminishing role in an otherwise productive life. I never have come around to believing I'm getting old.
I've said it a million times: women are adaptable creatures, a big jumble of heart, flexibility and spirit that leaps through the stages of life -- little girls, women, workers, wives, mothers, homemakers, painters, landscapers, photo journalists, educators, medics and psychologists. We are first, last, and invisible as historians of our clan.
So if this isn't about adaptability, it has to be about value and place, and the perception of discarded old people in our country. Maybe it's time to see those wrinkles in the mirror and notice the need for more sleep and a quiet day at home after a long week.
Today looks like a good day to grow up, into life as it stands, not tinted by the sweet memories of noisy children and messy playrooms. I reluctantly admit the time to plan and scheme and dream and work has arrived.
And so I will -- Forward March! -- into wherever, walking boldly and surefooted, through transitions in my thinking, my body, my identity, my perceptions, keeping tight to the faith that the path will be lit.
Jun 5, 2009
Tweaking
Words take on all sorts of other meanings in today's society, but tweaking still means to me the intricate final adjustments when two things fit together.
No truer is that than with relationships. Strong at first, big and bold, a present moment thrill ride that seems like it condenses life into a series of dense bursts of feeling, each stronger than the next. It's addictive, this place we go when love is new.
And then time settles us down, into a routine, and the balance sheet of compatibility begins. There are things we notice, as the relationship tweaks and broadens. We begin integrating who we are with who we are to each other. If all goes well, we advance.
No longer a roller coaster ride, the relationship is at the apex of discovery as families and friends integrate and bond. Life today is so different, the way I spend time, with whom and how. A tinge of longing bubbles up -- melancholy, maybe -- and I vaguely miss something I can't identify. What is it I forgot to pack?
The baby doves in the nest are nearly grown now, right before our eyes, nurtured and protected by their doting parents. And I wonder, as they spread their wings and hop around the hanging plant under the eaves, if they realize the changes in store on this final stretch before they complete their journey. It will never be the same once they decide to go. They will return as parents someday, under our awning off the back porch, but it will not be the same. But we will celebrate them anyway: our hearts full of hope as they flutter and fly.
No truer is that than with relationships. Strong at first, big and bold, a present moment thrill ride that seems like it condenses life into a series of dense bursts of feeling, each stronger than the next. It's addictive, this place we go when love is new.
And then time settles us down, into a routine, and the balance sheet of compatibility begins. There are things we notice, as the relationship tweaks and broadens. We begin integrating who we are with who we are to each other. If all goes well, we advance.
No longer a roller coaster ride, the relationship is at the apex of discovery as families and friends integrate and bond. Life today is so different, the way I spend time, with whom and how. A tinge of longing bubbles up -- melancholy, maybe -- and I vaguely miss something I can't identify. What is it I forgot to pack?
The baby doves in the nest are nearly grown now, right before our eyes, nurtured and protected by their doting parents. And I wonder, as they spread their wings and hop around the hanging plant under the eaves, if they realize the changes in store on this final stretch before they complete their journey. It will never be the same once they decide to go. They will return as parents someday, under our awning off the back porch, but it will not be the same. But we will celebrate them anyway: our hearts full of hope as they flutter and fly.
May 30, 2009
Regina Brett
Written By Regina Brett, 90 years old, of The Plain Dealer, Cleveland , Ohio
To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me. It is the most-requested column I've ever written. My odometer rolls over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more:
1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
4. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.
5. Pay off your credit cards every month.
6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.
8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.
9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.
11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.
12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.
13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.
16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.
17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.
19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.
23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.
24. The most important sex organ is the brain.
25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.
26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words 'In five years, will this matter?'
27. Always choose life.
28. Forgive everyone everything.
29. What other people think of you is none of your business.
30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.
31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
32. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
33. Believe in miracles.
34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.
35. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
36. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.
37. Your children get only one childhood.
38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.
39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.
40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's,we'd grab ours back.
41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
42. The best is yet to come.
43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
44. Yield.
45. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift."
To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me. It is the most-requested column I've ever written. My odometer rolls over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more:
1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
4. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.
5. Pay off your credit cards every month.
6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.
8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.
9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.
11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.
12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.
13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.
16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.
17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.
19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.
23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.
24. The most important sex organ is the brain.
25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.
26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words 'In five years, will this matter?'
27. Always choose life.
28. Forgive everyone everything.
29. What other people think of you is none of your business.
30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.
31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
32. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
33. Believe in miracles.
34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.
35. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
36. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.
37. Your children get only one childhood.
38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.
39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.
40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's,we'd grab ours back.
41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
42. The best is yet to come.
43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
44. Yield.
45. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift."
May 19, 2009
Guarding the Gate
I've had the chance to listen to seniors tell the stories of their lives as they present their Senior Portfolios before graduation day on May 30th. Their stories are poignant and compelling. It is hard to imagine their words, their memories, as they stand before us in high heels and pretty dresses, suit jackets and ties. The air is full of promise, and success, as they finish high school and hold college acceptance letters in their hands. Here in the moment it dramatically illustrates what the impact a loving support group has on the life of a child.
Families seem durable and rugged, but they are not. They are shred by poverty, and violence, indifference, divorce and mental illness. I listen to them, to how they got to this moment and their climb out of a culture of failure that contributed to their journey but did not define it. Here, they put to words the truth of those who took their hand and helped them along. The names of teachers, coaches, pastors, neighbor families, and grandparents fill the room with gratitude and love.
The daughters I have grown to love had an unstable childhood which has dogged them into adulthood. They understand all too well the importance of being Lions Guarding the Gate of their childrens' innocence and breaking the cycle of indifference. I listen gently to their journeys and grieve for them and applaud their courage. The wounds still bleed but I know someday it will stop. They are wonderful parents, these girls. One has raised six children under extreme circumstances and the children continue to thrive. Another has stepped forward to raise her nieces and nephew, although she and her husband have no children of their own. They taught themselves how to sacrifice every day, postpone their own plans, re-route their goals, because they know what not doing it will mean.
This I believe: no child is someone else's problem. It is sometimes inconvenient or complicated to intercede when we see crisis or neglect, but we must. Adults need to become an instrument of change when children need our help. Always, and forever, children come first.
Who knows what a simple outstretched hand will do, a gesture of kindness, a nutritious meal, a trip to the zoo, or a ride to church? If all of us are charged with being Lions, children will receive the love, support, dignity and respect they deserve. No one knows better than these high schoolers where they would be without it.
Families seem durable and rugged, but they are not. They are shred by poverty, and violence, indifference, divorce and mental illness. I listen to them, to how they got to this moment and their climb out of a culture of failure that contributed to their journey but did not define it. Here, they put to words the truth of those who took their hand and helped them along. The names of teachers, coaches, pastors, neighbor families, and grandparents fill the room with gratitude and love.
The daughters I have grown to love had an unstable childhood which has dogged them into adulthood. They understand all too well the importance of being Lions Guarding the Gate of their childrens' innocence and breaking the cycle of indifference. I listen gently to their journeys and grieve for them and applaud their courage. The wounds still bleed but I know someday it will stop. They are wonderful parents, these girls. One has raised six children under extreme circumstances and the children continue to thrive. Another has stepped forward to raise her nieces and nephew, although she and her husband have no children of their own. They taught themselves how to sacrifice every day, postpone their own plans, re-route their goals, because they know what not doing it will mean.
This I believe: no child is someone else's problem. It is sometimes inconvenient or complicated to intercede when we see crisis or neglect, but we must. Adults need to become an instrument of change when children need our help. Always, and forever, children come first.
Who knows what a simple outstretched hand will do, a gesture of kindness, a nutritious meal, a trip to the zoo, or a ride to church? If all of us are charged with being Lions, children will receive the love, support, dignity and respect they deserve. No one knows better than these high schoolers where they would be without it.
May 13, 2009
Feet in the Pool
I miss blogging. Like something pulling you from a comfortable sleep, it takes a while to come around to what it is that disturbed you. I've carved out some leisure reading time and already gulped down two books. House projects, here and in Elk Grove, are taking shape. I'm particularly excited about painting the house, putting up window boxes and awnings.
Family plans dominate the rest of the time.
On the horizon: two granddaughter wedding, three niece/nephew graduations, the 21st birthday for my son and my best friend's birthday. I'm tossing back what I've taken over the past couple of years, pounds-wise. (Already lost 5) There's no better diet incentive than to make plans to see friends you haven't seen in a while (thank you Jeff and Susan, Jen and Jeannette!!!).
Mother's Day was in high spirits, lots of laughter and storytelling. Work seems busier than ever, the library is taking shape (especially the teacher resource room) and I'm scurrying around doing a lot of different things that I like. Mike has a big race coming up over Memorial weekend in Sparks, NV. You should check out his blog - it's a riot: http://iwannaroc.blogspot.com/
The dove couple has two eggs in the nest under the eaves and we co-habitate nicely. Our red, white, and blue toned Beta fighting fish (Patriot) is in his 5th year and going strong. We will obviously spend more time with the grandkids, and the kids, now that summer is here. I'll just blog with the laptop propped on my knees and my feet in the pool.
Family plans dominate the rest of the time.
On the horizon: two granddaughter wedding, three niece/nephew graduations, the 21st birthday for my son and my best friend's birthday. I'm tossing back what I've taken over the past couple of years, pounds-wise. (Already lost 5) There's no better diet incentive than to make plans to see friends you haven't seen in a while (thank you Jeff and Susan, Jen and Jeannette!!!).
Mother's Day was in high spirits, lots of laughter and storytelling. Work seems busier than ever, the library is taking shape (especially the teacher resource room) and I'm scurrying around doing a lot of different things that I like. Mike has a big race coming up over Memorial weekend in Sparks, NV. You should check out his blog - it's a riot: http://iwannaroc.blogspot.com/
The dove couple has two eggs in the nest under the eaves and we co-habitate nicely. Our red, white, and blue toned Beta fighting fish (Patriot) is in his 5th year and going strong. We will obviously spend more time with the grandkids, and the kids, now that summer is here. I'll just blog with the laptop propped on my knees and my feet in the pool.
Apr 17, 2009
Reality Bites Back
I hate reality shows. It seems more than not what the audience learns about the ethics and integrity of the participants I'd just as soon not know. But that's just me.
So when someone comes along that defies the odds and sets new ground rules on a failure-oriented reality show, I love it. Such is the story of Susan Boyle, a nice, middle aged, simple woman who had the courage to audition on the reality show, Britain's Got Talent.
I'm trying to imagine her backstage, in her pretty dress and matching pumps, nerves tightening her throat and feeling acutely out of place and far away from the safety of her small English village. She might have been feeling like everything was at stake and her dreams were hanging in the balance before a crowd of thousands she didn't know, young and old, judging her right along with three cynical judges. She probably wouldn't have been able to even imagine the millions more viewers around the world also tuned in on TV and the internet.
I used to watch my son David play competitive soccer in middle school. He was a thin and wiry lad, quiet and humble. But once the ball was in play, he had the skill and speed of a jaguar, whipping the ball down the field before the other team knew what was happening. His coach used to call him the team's secret weapon. It was one of his special gifts.
I am so proud of Susan for having the courage to face her dreams head on. Even with rude eyes rolling and murmers from the crowd, she pushed forward because she knew something we didn't know: she knew her gift. And when the music began, her glorious voice filled the room with pure joy, stunning us, inspiring us, and reminding us that cynicism and snap judgments are barriers to revealing who we really are. All of us have special gifts that aren't always visible with the naked eye.
Susan Boyle is a world-wide sensation because everyone wants to believe that anything is possible. It feels good to be reminded that, scary though it is, our gifts are worth sharing with the world. The writers and singers among us, those that could inspire and make a difference in big and small ways, when will we have the courage to step out on that stage and reveal ourselves? Mom was right about not judging a book by its cover.
So when someone comes along that defies the odds and sets new ground rules on a failure-oriented reality show, I love it. Such is the story of Susan Boyle, a nice, middle aged, simple woman who had the courage to audition on the reality show, Britain's Got Talent.
I'm trying to imagine her backstage, in her pretty dress and matching pumps, nerves tightening her throat and feeling acutely out of place and far away from the safety of her small English village. She might have been feeling like everything was at stake and her dreams were hanging in the balance before a crowd of thousands she didn't know, young and old, judging her right along with three cynical judges. She probably wouldn't have been able to even imagine the millions more viewers around the world also tuned in on TV and the internet.
I used to watch my son David play competitive soccer in middle school. He was a thin and wiry lad, quiet and humble. But once the ball was in play, he had the skill and speed of a jaguar, whipping the ball down the field before the other team knew what was happening. His coach used to call him the team's secret weapon. It was one of his special gifts.
I am so proud of Susan for having the courage to face her dreams head on. Even with rude eyes rolling and murmers from the crowd, she pushed forward because she knew something we didn't know: she knew her gift. And when the music began, her glorious voice filled the room with pure joy, stunning us, inspiring us, and reminding us that cynicism and snap judgments are barriers to revealing who we really are. All of us have special gifts that aren't always visible with the naked eye.
Susan Boyle is a world-wide sensation because everyone wants to believe that anything is possible. It feels good to be reminded that, scary though it is, our gifts are worth sharing with the world. The writers and singers among us, those that could inspire and make a difference in big and small ways, when will we have the courage to step out on that stage and reveal ourselves? Mom was right about not judging a book by its cover.
Apr 4, 2009
Intangibles
Ok, so now you know. I can't sleep. Melatonin didn't even work.
What woke me up was a sore foot, but I was thinking about my dad and about the way we pass on parts of ourselves to each other. It doesn't have to be family members, although that's usually our closest unit. Friends, co workers, bosses, neighbors - everyone and everything colors our world. It's part of the human experience, the MeStory.
I really believe living stories create a shared history from past to future. The great oral traditions and, later, written works captured historical events, but it is the experience of life that changes us fundamentally, and those we love or admire can't help but become part of our life process, part of who we are becoming.
My skin, my hair, my eyes are like my father's, but it is the passing along of his intangibles that are stored in my heart. Life is bound to build on bits of others, person to person, story to story, imbedding it in history. You're right with me, Pop.
What woke me up was a sore foot, but I was thinking about my dad and about the way we pass on parts of ourselves to each other. It doesn't have to be family members, although that's usually our closest unit. Friends, co workers, bosses, neighbors - everyone and everything colors our world. It's part of the human experience, the MeStory.
I really believe living stories create a shared history from past to future. The great oral traditions and, later, written works captured historical events, but it is the experience of life that changes us fundamentally, and those we love or admire can't help but become part of our life process, part of who we are becoming.
My skin, my hair, my eyes are like my father's, but it is the passing along of his intangibles that are stored in my heart. Life is bound to build on bits of others, person to person, story to story, imbedding it in history. You're right with me, Pop.
Darkness to Light
It's been a long rest stop between blogs, and I've missed it. I've been immersed in re-establishing the library at the high school where I work. The school was under a huge remodel and renovation which is now complete, and for the last month or so it has been my task to rebuild and organize the space. It's a huge and physically exhausting task, and I have come to appreciate the generosity of students and staff who have pitched in to help.
There is excitement building as the space takes shape. Students drop in to find out when it will officially be open and what it will look like. I tell them, come in and check out whatever you like: this is your library and the books are always here when you need them.
I put Inherit the Wind and The Grapes of Wrath on the shelves, knowing the stories and lessons they teach and wonder if they still pack the punch for today's students that they did for me. Jane Eyre, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Long Walk to Freedom, all part of the sampler quilt of life, all waiting for eager minds and warm hands to open them up.
We unbox hundreds a day, maybe more, separating by author or number and carting them to their destination. There are thousands more, each with a voice eager to be heard. Boxes are still everywhere, and as I inspect the covers and check bar codes I drift off thinking about how the space will be.
I imagine a reader's corner, with used books to take and replace for free, and an author-of-the-month display with a bio, photo and copies of books the author has written. Lining the walls will be inspirational quotes and framed photos of student readers, study desks around the perimeter and a research room full of computers with networked printers. Students will learn about library etiquette, a place of quiet respect that welcomes them in and wants them to linger.
The City of Sacramento has expressed interest in developing a partnership and that may mean more books, more hours, more community outreach. I can't think of anything better than a school library being a positive link to families and the neighborhood. It will come.
There is excitement building as the space takes shape. Students drop in to find out when it will officially be open and what it will look like. I tell them, come in and check out whatever you like: this is your library and the books are always here when you need them.
I put Inherit the Wind and The Grapes of Wrath on the shelves, knowing the stories and lessons they teach and wonder if they still pack the punch for today's students that they did for me. Jane Eyre, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Long Walk to Freedom, all part of the sampler quilt of life, all waiting for eager minds and warm hands to open them up.
We unbox hundreds a day, maybe more, separating by author or number and carting them to their destination. There are thousands more, each with a voice eager to be heard. Boxes are still everywhere, and as I inspect the covers and check bar codes I drift off thinking about how the space will be.
I imagine a reader's corner, with used books to take and replace for free, and an author-of-the-month display with a bio, photo and copies of books the author has written. Lining the walls will be inspirational quotes and framed photos of student readers, study desks around the perimeter and a research room full of computers with networked printers. Students will learn about library etiquette, a place of quiet respect that welcomes them in and wants them to linger.
The City of Sacramento has expressed interest in developing a partnership and that may mean more books, more hours, more community outreach. I can't think of anything better than a school library being a positive link to families and the neighborhood. It will come.
Mar 5, 2009
Life can be breathtaking. Take Randy's grandson, PJ, for instance. You go, boy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dfl1u3wt21c
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dfl1u3wt21c
Feb 24, 2009
A Slice of Love
One of the littlest granddaughters met a lamb at her Aunt's farm with a damaged shoulder. The farm where it came from was going to put it down but her Aunt took it in. The little girl spent time with the lamb and at dinner was still thinking about it. She asked its name. 'Dinner' one of her wiseguy uncles replied.
There were chuckles around the table, and admonishments, but she didn't hear the literal joke or understand the bleaker aspects of life in the country. She accepted Dinner as its real name.
The next day, she returned to school and wrote a story about the lamb. For a little girl with Cerebral Palsy, it's impossible not to make the connection, and she wrote of her aunt was caring for the little lamb the way her mother cared for her.
The story so touched her teacher that she was asked to read it for the class, and then for the faculty, who listened with amusement and warmth to this tender-hearted little girl telling the story of compassion and hope about her friend, Dinner the Lamb.
Sometimes real life doesn't need sweetener.
There were chuckles around the table, and admonishments, but she didn't hear the literal joke or understand the bleaker aspects of life in the country. She accepted Dinner as its real name.
The next day, she returned to school and wrote a story about the lamb. For a little girl with Cerebral Palsy, it's impossible not to make the connection, and she wrote of her aunt was caring for the little lamb the way her mother cared for her.
The story so touched her teacher that she was asked to read it for the class, and then for the faculty, who listened with amusement and warmth to this tender-hearted little girl telling the story of compassion and hope about her friend, Dinner the Lamb.
Sometimes real life doesn't need sweetener.
Feb 10, 2009
What are Friends by Alice Weers
Friends are forever:
they laugh, they love, they share
Each other's thoughts and words
and, most of all, they care
Friends can come and go
and never be apart
Because they keep each other's smiles
deep within their heart
Friends can laugh and talk and cry
and think of lovely times gone by
But - most of all -
they love until they die.
they laugh, they love, they share
Each other's thoughts and words
and, most of all, they care
Friends can come and go
and never be apart
Because they keep each other's smiles
deep within their heart
Friends can laugh and talk and cry
and think of lovely times gone by
But - most of all -
they love until they die.
Feb 7, 2009
Every Single Drop
A college professor used to assign us immitation essays. We would take a passage from Thomas Carlysle, or Keats, or a sonnet of Shakespeare, dissect the structure, pick a topic and write something of our own. I always loved doing that, trying to get in the head of someone who was a master craftsman. Definitely my kind of fun.
I read a lot. The interactive and personal experience of a book, the slow, savory read, the ownership of connecting with its characters, it -- cliche coming! -- transports me. And so when an exceptional piece of writing comes along, I've got to know how they teach their thoughts to breathe.
A book written by Sue Monk Kidd has prose so intricately crafted and fluid, it draws me back. When I'm in the mood for a Monkfest, it's a full scale date -- a cup of tea, a pad of paper and throw blanket, a jug of water, a cozy spot -- because I'm in for the duration. There will be re-read paragraphs and notetaking and I barely accomplish more than a chapter a night, but come away as satisfied as if I had enjoyed a rich dessert.
Anita Shreve is another extraordinary read. Have you read her? She constructs her paragraphs so melodious, I read them aloud. Hers have a zinger at the end, so unexpected and enjoyable that I long to see how she does it. Even with uncomfortable subjects, Anita is a master of language, and carries the reader along on a personalized journey. Oh, and Barbara Kingsolver! It's impossible not to finish a book that is Kingsolver compelling.
Last week, I came upon an article in the February issue of Redbook written by someone unknown to me, Catherine Newman. The bio said she had written Waiting for Birdie and I have since found a humorous blog of hers, too. But as I sat there under the hair dryer in my favorite salon, the words pulled me into an unexpected swirl of emotion. The strong scents of beauty faded, and the chatter of women and the whirr of the hair dryer disappeared. It was me in that hospital room, watching her with her husband during the moments just before receiving the reassurring diagnosis that he would recover. It was me listening to the heartbeat of their connection, knowing the intimate and first person language of love: joyous, triumphant, soulful, and frightened. It was me nodding, yes, I can imagine it.
There is great allure in words, their humility and ability to heal, and the pain and power of them. Love expresses itself in these ways -- words spoken, written, and by touch. I want to catch what life pours out: every single drop.
I read a lot. The interactive and personal experience of a book, the slow, savory read, the ownership of connecting with its characters, it -- cliche coming! -- transports me. And so when an exceptional piece of writing comes along, I've got to know how they teach their thoughts to breathe.
A book written by Sue Monk Kidd has prose so intricately crafted and fluid, it draws me back. When I'm in the mood for a Monkfest, it's a full scale date -- a cup of tea, a pad of paper and throw blanket, a jug of water, a cozy spot -- because I'm in for the duration. There will be re-read paragraphs and notetaking and I barely accomplish more than a chapter a night, but come away as satisfied as if I had enjoyed a rich dessert.
Anita Shreve is another extraordinary read. Have you read her? She constructs her paragraphs so melodious, I read them aloud. Hers have a zinger at the end, so unexpected and enjoyable that I long to see how she does it. Even with uncomfortable subjects, Anita is a master of language, and carries the reader along on a personalized journey. Oh, and Barbara Kingsolver! It's impossible not to finish a book that is Kingsolver compelling.
Last week, I came upon an article in the February issue of Redbook written by someone unknown to me, Catherine Newman. The bio said she had written Waiting for Birdie and I have since found a humorous blog of hers, too. But as I sat there under the hair dryer in my favorite salon, the words pulled me into an unexpected swirl of emotion. The strong scents of beauty faded, and the chatter of women and the whirr of the hair dryer disappeared. It was me in that hospital room, watching her with her husband during the moments just before receiving the reassurring diagnosis that he would recover. It was me listening to the heartbeat of their connection, knowing the intimate and first person language of love: joyous, triumphant, soulful, and frightened. It was me nodding, yes, I can imagine it.
There is great allure in words, their humility and ability to heal, and the pain and power of them. Love expresses itself in these ways -- words spoken, written, and by touch. I want to catch what life pours out: every single drop.
Feb 2, 2009
Postcards in Acts
I've been pawing through boxes of family files. A postcard from the Red Cross in 1914 reassured my grandfather's family that he had survived the long voyage. A Lincoln centennial postcard announced the birth of a child with the simple words: 'We have a 7 lb baby girl at home. Come see it when you can.'
Photos grab hold. Here my mother and dad, with arms linked around people with unfamiliar faces, so treasured the memories captured that they kept them all of their lives. Young and strong, my father held me in his arms before I could hold myself, his tanned forearms reaching across another frame to light my first birthday candle and sing. My mother stands by his side, immersed in happiness and peace, knowing life only as a simple flowered dress and sensible shoes.
I never lay on the carved mahogany bed with creaky slat side rails without thinking of what it knows, times before electricity, indoor plumbing, automobiles, and basic medical miracles, refrigeration, and phones. I stare at a 1920s photo of the bed, marble top dressers, hand carved mirror which is virtually unchanged. The craftsman from 1856 is gone, as is my Great Uncle Don who had saw it new and had it sent by covered wagon from New York to Chicago Heights to provide life its comfort and continuity.
Who has lived and loved in this bed, and how did they spend their lives? In a hundred years, maybe it will it be on display somewhere, in one of my children's children's homes, and pictures will be discovered in a box somewhere with a smiling me in old fashioned clothes. They might lay on it and wonder about the tender moments spent discovering love for the first time, cradling babies or crying themselves to sleep. I hope my sons as fathers will wrap their arms around their children and tell them about me and the early years, when life for them was playful and noisy and new.
Life feels amazingly gradual: neverending days and hours and moments offer ample time to do and think and wonder and play. We won't come up short, we think: there will be time to fit it all in. But as gravity takes hold, and we are astonished to learn we, too, are transitory, what matters is that we passed this way at all. What we hand off to future generations is our indellible mark: how we spent the time we had and what that says about the people we were.
Photos grab hold. Here my mother and dad, with arms linked around people with unfamiliar faces, so treasured the memories captured that they kept them all of their lives. Young and strong, my father held me in his arms before I could hold myself, his tanned forearms reaching across another frame to light my first birthday candle and sing. My mother stands by his side, immersed in happiness and peace, knowing life only as a simple flowered dress and sensible shoes.
I never lay on the carved mahogany bed with creaky slat side rails without thinking of what it knows, times before electricity, indoor plumbing, automobiles, and basic medical miracles, refrigeration, and phones. I stare at a 1920s photo of the bed, marble top dressers, hand carved mirror which is virtually unchanged. The craftsman from 1856 is gone, as is my Great Uncle Don who had saw it new and had it sent by covered wagon from New York to Chicago Heights to provide life its comfort and continuity.
Who has lived and loved in this bed, and how did they spend their lives? In a hundred years, maybe it will it be on display somewhere, in one of my children's children's homes, and pictures will be discovered in a box somewhere with a smiling me in old fashioned clothes. They might lay on it and wonder about the tender moments spent discovering love for the first time, cradling babies or crying themselves to sleep. I hope my sons as fathers will wrap their arms around their children and tell them about me and the early years, when life for them was playful and noisy and new.
Life feels amazingly gradual: neverending days and hours and moments offer ample time to do and think and wonder and play. We won't come up short, we think: there will be time to fit it all in. But as gravity takes hold, and we are astonished to learn we, too, are transitory, what matters is that we passed this way at all. What we hand off to future generations is our indellible mark: how we spent the time we had and what that says about the people we were.
Jan 27, 2009
A Second Rate Idea
I don't understand the way things are anymore. Used to be, a person worked hard, mastered their job, devoted to it years of service and loyalty, and the company knew to give 'em a pat on the head and a roof over their head. It was all about trust and reciprocity. When times were lean, they problem-solved like good partners do. Eighty years after the Depression what lingers are those inspirational stories of corporate heads taking big salary cuts and workers offering to split their shifts so their buddy can stay on the payroll. Corporate America knew their success was intertwined with their workers.
That's not a common belief anymore, that big business will take one for the team. 'Experience' is being let go in record numbers, replaced with young grasshopper workers who are cheap and inexperienced. Maybe retirement is too pricey, I don't know, but it's hard to swallow bailout money being used to buy corporate jets and host lavish parties. That $100K office remodel would hold a couple three workers in their jobs for a year. Even worse, it creates a reciprocal user environment of self centered, unmotivated, uninspired workers. What a second rate idea.
There's a reason folks make a 35 minute drive to see their dentist twice year and chit chat about the kids. It's standing room only at that out-of-the-way sushi restaurant because the sushi chef remembers his customer's favorite rolls. Sure, there are businesses closer to home, but it's not the same.
Truth is, I seek connections. It's why I have a favorite clerk at the market and why we patronize the little theatre downtown instead of the big one at the end of town. It's good to know who will pick up the phone, someone to trust to have answers, who knows me.
With all these layoffs, I'm wondering how these big dogs gauge the market value of this kind of customer service, or even if they do. All of America is watching and wondering: has our corporate country lost its conscience?
I assumed we'd already learned the different ways to measure success. Throwing resources and faith behind their workers when it's needed most will translate into white hot profits. At the very least, and this is huge, it would restore our faith in corporate America to do the ethical thing, not just what benefits them.
That's not a common belief anymore, that big business will take one for the team. 'Experience' is being let go in record numbers, replaced with young grasshopper workers who are cheap and inexperienced. Maybe retirement is too pricey, I don't know, but it's hard to swallow bailout money being used to buy corporate jets and host lavish parties. That $100K office remodel would hold a couple three workers in their jobs for a year. Even worse, it creates a reciprocal user environment of self centered, unmotivated, uninspired workers. What a second rate idea.
There's a reason folks make a 35 minute drive to see their dentist twice year and chit chat about the kids. It's standing room only at that out-of-the-way sushi restaurant because the sushi chef remembers his customer's favorite rolls. Sure, there are businesses closer to home, but it's not the same.
Truth is, I seek connections. It's why I have a favorite clerk at the market and why we patronize the little theatre downtown instead of the big one at the end of town. It's good to know who will pick up the phone, someone to trust to have answers, who knows me.
With all these layoffs, I'm wondering how these big dogs gauge the market value of this kind of customer service, or even if they do. All of America is watching and wondering: has our corporate country lost its conscience?
I assumed we'd already learned the different ways to measure success. Throwing resources and faith behind their workers when it's needed most will translate into white hot profits. At the very least, and this is huge, it would restore our faith in corporate America to do the ethical thing, not just what benefits them.
Jan 26, 2009
The Invisible Mother
Every now and then a funny and prophetic article comes along that is too heartwarming to keep to myself. Although it refers to mothers, I know others will recognize themselves: coaches and neighbors, fathers, uncles and teachers. Together we build one masterpiece at a time. Thank you.
----
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'
Obviously, not.
No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.
Somedays I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands, I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated sum a cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going; she's going; she is gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England ... Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself.
I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription:
'To Wendy, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, afterwhich I could pattern my work:
1. No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
2. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
3. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
4. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Wendy. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'you're gonna love it there.'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by our sacrifices.
----
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'
Obviously, not.
No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.
Somedays I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands, I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated sum a cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going; she's going; she is gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England ... Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself.
I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription:
'To Wendy, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, afterwhich I could pattern my work:
1. No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
2. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
3. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
4. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Wendy. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'you're gonna love it there.'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by our sacrifices.
Jan 21, 2009
My Fellow Citizens
(Jan. 20) - Text of President Barack Obama's inaugural address on Tuesday, as prepared for delivery and released by the Presidential Inaugural Committee.
My fellow citizens:
I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. I thank President Bush for his service to our nation, as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition.
Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential oath. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace.
Yet, every so often the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because we the people have remained faithful to the ideals of our forebears, and true to our founding documents.
So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans.
That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war, against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred. Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age. Homes have been lost; jobs shed; businesses shuttered. Our health care is too costly; our schools fail too many; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.
These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable but no less profound is a sapping of confidence across our land — a nagging fear that America's decline is inevitable, and that the next generation must lower its sights.
Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America — they will be met.
On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.
On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.
We remain a young nation, but in the words of scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.
In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of shortcuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted — for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things — some celebrated but more often men and women obscure in their labor, who have carried us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and freedom.
For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life.
For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West; endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.
For us, they fought and died, in places like Concord and Gettysburg; Normandy and Khe Sahn. Time and again these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction.
This is the journey we continue today. We remain the most prosperous, powerful nation on Earth. Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week or last month or last year. Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions — that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.
For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of the economy calls for action, bold and swift, and we will act — not only to create new jobs, but to lay a new foundation for growth. We will build the roads and bridges, the electric grids and digital lines that feed our commerce and bind us together. We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology's wonders to raise health care's quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age. All this we can do. And all this we will do.
Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions — who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this country has already done; what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage.
What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them — that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works — whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end. And those of us who manage the public's dollars will be held to account — to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day — because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government.
Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control — and that a nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our gross domestic product, but on the reach of our prosperity; on our ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart — not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.
As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our founding fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience's sake. And so to all other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman, and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and that we are ready to lead once more.
Recall that earlier generations faced down fascism and communism not just with missiles and tanks, but with sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please. Instead, they knew that our power grows through its prudent use; our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint.
We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort — even greater cooperation and understanding between nations. We will begin to responsibly leave Iraq to its people, and forge a hard-earned peace in Afghanistan. With old friends and former foes, we will work tirelessly to lessen the nuclear threat, and roll back the specter of a warming planet. We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.
For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus — and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.
To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect. To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West — know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.
To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds. And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.
As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Americans who, at this very hour, patrol far-off deserts and distant mountains. They have something to tell us today, just as the fallen heroes who lie in Arlington whisper through the ages. We honor them not only because they are guardians of our liberty, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves. And yet, at this moment — a moment that will define a generation — it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all.
For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.
Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends — hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism — these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility — a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.
This is the price and the promise of citizenship.
This is the source of our confidence — the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.
This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed — why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall, and why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.
So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:
"Let it be told to the future world ... that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive...that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet (it)."
America, in the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.
Barak Obama, 44th President of the United States
My fellow citizens:
I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. I thank President Bush for his service to our nation, as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition.
Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential oath. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace.
Yet, every so often the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because we the people have remained faithful to the ideals of our forebears, and true to our founding documents.
So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans.
That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war, against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred. Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age. Homes have been lost; jobs shed; businesses shuttered. Our health care is too costly; our schools fail too many; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.
These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable but no less profound is a sapping of confidence across our land — a nagging fear that America's decline is inevitable, and that the next generation must lower its sights.
Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America — they will be met.
On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.
On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.
We remain a young nation, but in the words of scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.
In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of shortcuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted — for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things — some celebrated but more often men and women obscure in their labor, who have carried us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and freedom.
For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life.
For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West; endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.
For us, they fought and died, in places like Concord and Gettysburg; Normandy and Khe Sahn. Time and again these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction.
This is the journey we continue today. We remain the most prosperous, powerful nation on Earth. Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week or last month or last year. Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions — that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.
For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of the economy calls for action, bold and swift, and we will act — not only to create new jobs, but to lay a new foundation for growth. We will build the roads and bridges, the electric grids and digital lines that feed our commerce and bind us together. We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology's wonders to raise health care's quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age. All this we can do. And all this we will do.
Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions — who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this country has already done; what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage.
What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them — that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works — whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end. And those of us who manage the public's dollars will be held to account — to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day — because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government.
Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control — and that a nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our gross domestic product, but on the reach of our prosperity; on our ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart — not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.
As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our founding fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience's sake. And so to all other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman, and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and that we are ready to lead once more.
Recall that earlier generations faced down fascism and communism not just with missiles and tanks, but with sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please. Instead, they knew that our power grows through its prudent use; our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint.
We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort — even greater cooperation and understanding between nations. We will begin to responsibly leave Iraq to its people, and forge a hard-earned peace in Afghanistan. With old friends and former foes, we will work tirelessly to lessen the nuclear threat, and roll back the specter of a warming planet. We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.
For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus — and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.
To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect. To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West — know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.
To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds. And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.
As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Americans who, at this very hour, patrol far-off deserts and distant mountains. They have something to tell us today, just as the fallen heroes who lie in Arlington whisper through the ages. We honor them not only because they are guardians of our liberty, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves. And yet, at this moment — a moment that will define a generation — it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all.
For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.
Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends — hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism — these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility — a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.
This is the price and the promise of citizenship.
This is the source of our confidence — the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.
This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed — why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall, and why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.
So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:
"Let it be told to the future world ... that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive...that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet (it)."
America, in the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.
Barak Obama, 44th President of the United States
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