Follow Her Lead

This week is an anniversary, a real where-were-you-when-you-heard-the-news kind of thing. Last year just before Halloween, our beautiful granddaughter Aiyana went from being a precocious, happy and joyful child with a pale complexion that everyone thought might be the flu to being a cancer victim. And in one short month, 30 days exactly from the day of her diagnosis, she was gone.

We are past the shock of it now, but not the lingering anguish that forces itself up and out in the most unlikely ways. She is in our dreams, and those moments of wakeful dreaming. It stalls our heart to watch other eight year old girls with long chocolate colored braids that swing happily as they walk hand in hand with their moms to the car. We recognize that elfish sparkle as it peeks out from behind eyes of a 4 year old eating sushi for the first time, or in the sound of happy laughter that floats over from the next booth.

The world misses her. Her elementary school began a a penny drive and the movement blossomed into a beautiful tribute with music and performances by her student friends and a bench dedication for disabled students to use after school. Aiyana's love of reading inspired hundreds of books to be donated to the school library.  

Aiyana gave us an astonishing gift, and perhaps that is why I continually write about her and see her as I go about my life. She lived the great example of truly loving others no matter what and joyfully loving herself just as she was. She lived as Jesus teaches us to, with an open, whole heart.  How many of life's problems would be solved if we could do the same?

It is uncommon to know someone like that, for it is hard to do. Maybe that makes the loss feel greater. I am grateful for knowing and loving her. She has changed me. And it is her example that will carry us through the lonesomeness to a place we can feel her arm gently draped over our shoulders like a shawl to keep us warm. Slowly and surely we will find our way there.

1869

I've shied away from political discussions for most of my life because a) everybody always gets mad and storms off to their respective corners, b) hard feelings develop and linger, or c) there's an all-out brawl.

And so with trepidation I entered into a conversation with a Texas friend about the issues of the day. It turned out to be a wonderfully spirited and very educational dialogue about the State of the Union and the Presidency. She is smart as a whip and our conversation went on for hours, days really, with banter back and forth about issues that matter most to us and our families. After about twenty discussions we emerged better at articulating our positions. She gave me something significant: a renewed confidence that earnest discussions can be had with people of differing philosophies without resorting to disparaging remarks. And walk away friends.

There's been similar discussions with a young man in Elk Grove who will be voting for the first time in this election. Intelligent banter and discussions I thought to be unique and primarily due to his political ideology tempered with optimism and promise. I remember those days! It's a fun intellectual workout to undergo his cross examinations and re-directs. He is smart and compassionate and his opinions are often fierce, but we always seem to come back for more. When he sways me, or I him, we do so with history, logic and reason.

Turns out I love discussing topics of the day. Pertinent stuff. It makes for a better citizenry to be able to discuss politically-charged issues without fear of someone trying to ram their philosophical ideologies down our throats. An open dialogue helps foster political awareness by listening to one another's perspectives. And discovered the fastest way to squelch open communication is to change a political debate into a political argument and try to win at all costs (i.e. by accusing the other of being  uninformed, inexperienced or unenlightened just because you disagree).

No matter. The 15th Amendment to the Constitution, 1869, guarantees each citizen one equal vote, one equal share, one equally weighted opinion. I will enjoy flaunting mine.

Beep Beep

Better than Fiction:

Yesterday there was an interesting tale of a 20 seater plane in the Congo crashing after one of its passengers smuggled a live alligator on board in a gym bag. The alligator somehow loosed itself and began roaming the aisles. Aisle.

Twenty people are encased in a small bullet hurling through the air and come upon an alligator, even a small one, weaving between their legs and going after the chickens on their laps. (Do Congoans even eat chickens?)

But I digress.

It was pandemonium. According to an eye witness and only survivor, the flight attendant dashed towards the Captain and a lot of the passengers followed, surging the weight to the front of the plane and causing it to crash in a field of thatched huts.

The alligator also survived, and was quickly dispatched by a machete on the ground. The story concludes with a fairly off-handed explanation that loose alligators are not all that uncommon on flights in this part of the world, and to their knowledge has never taken down a plane.

So ... a man boarding a plane with a wildly thrashing carry on doesn't arouse suspicion, but a grandmother with more than 3 ozs of shampoo is detained in Denver?

The Secret o' Life

(James Taylor)

The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time
Any fool can do it
There ain't nothing to it
Nobody knows how we got to
The top of the hill
But since we're on our way down
We might as well enjoy the ride...

The secret of love is in opening up your heart
It's okay to feel afraid
But don't let that stand in your way
'cause anyone knows that love is the only road
And since we're only here for a while
Might as well show some style
Give us a smile...

Isn't it a lovely ride
Sliding down
Gliding down
Try not to try too hard
It's just a lovely ride

Now the thing about time is that time
Isn't really real
It's just your point of view
How does it feel for you
Einstein said he could never understand it all
Planets spinning through space
The smile upon your face
Welcome to the human race

Some kind of lovely ride
I'll be sliding down
I'll be gliding down
Try not to try too hard
It's just a lovely ride

Isn't it a lovely ride
Sliding down
Gliding down
Try not to try too hard
It's just a lovely ride

Lean Forward

Who IS this fervent woman who leans forward and pays attention and debates the news of the day over dinner? In our house the news is on, and even sometimes the Direct Mix station showing all six at once. What have you done with her?

I am an emerging citizen. Every day I wade through all the stupidity of reporters who watched too many reality shows and are SUPER concerned about the WELFARE of the people in the unbelieveable stories (aka Bubble Boy, Acid Girl). Unbelieveable is right, as in not to be believed. Is the public so undisciplined that we won't sit through 20 minutes of actual news that tells the truth straight up without the supercharged human interest stories? (It's the fault of all those participation trophies we got for placing last in little league. I knew it!)

Informed citizenry. Especially when life is pinching us, Hard, we need to make ourselves informed and aware. For me, diverse viewpoints help me comprehend an issue and I certainly don't believe for a second voting candidates from differing viewpoints will hobble government. I mean, we all mastered the groundrules in kindergarten, right?

I just love those unscripted debates on shows like Meet the Press and the roundtable discussions that impart information and brainstorms about solutions. It is 'no kidding hard work' to be a good citizen and wade through complex issues and agendas filled with persuasive rhetoric. I research topics and still get tangled up in some of the rhetoric and super white smiles of the partisan shows - on both sides of the aisles - that are laced with prejudice and bigotry. 

Not only that. In a country who has laws to protect its diverse citizenship, to vote into office people who do not hold the same protective opinions of civil rights almost guarantees our laws will include the absence of protection for the citizens most vulnerable. If we don't follow the voting records of our legislature, how can we learn what they are up to and in whose pockets they are tucked?

There is neverending dialogue about our country's broad shoulders and the right to better ourselves in whatever way legally possible. It is a free country and we can hold whatever opinions we want.  So let's talk the economic crisis. It has been the opinion on Wall Street that they could freely fleece the country and its people out of their futures with a nod from the Legislature who signed into law the legal loopholes and relaxed regulations to make it possible. Do you still think our founding fathers meant our country to be that free? Seems like Jefferson and his cronies had more faith in us than we deserve.

It all loops back to this whole voting/citizen participation issue. Remember in the movie 'War Games' when Joshua the super computer had to learn the lesson itself to avert a global nuclear war? Sometimes no one wins. Like now:

When citizens put their feet on the desk and rely on something (or someone) else to do the work, no one wins. If we take in what the media feeds us and swallows it whole, and then regurgitate it at the polls, no one wins. When we copy down how Dad is voting, or mimick friends, no one wins. When we vote straight party lines without exploring who they really are and what that really means, no one wins.

Our individual intellectual power needs to weigh in at the polls or we are not participating beyond getting an 'I Voted Today' sticker. And as cool as they are, our country really needs us to care about her and fight for her and take a stand.

There are other ways to fight for your country than wearing a military uniform: straight down the middle in a country-saving, results-driven compromise. Maybe, finally, at last, I get it.

Life Upon the Wicked Stage

Last week I discovered my step grandmother had a checkered past which tumbled out in the form of family gossip as my  sweet little old step-mother and I chatted over lunch. Great story:

Doris was the daughter of successful parents who through a stroke of luck were virtually untouched by the financial woes of the depression. Doris' uncle performed in a well-regarded troupe of actors who traveled throughout California and the US, and his son had developed into quite a song and dance man in his own right, although still a child. He and Doris grew up together as contemporaries. 

At some point there arose a need for entertainment between the acts and Doris and her cousin were invited to join their travels to sing and dance during intermission.  It was an exciting life of adventure and Doris learned about the world by exploring it. But obviously, there was some sort of education training required since formal public education was out. 

As luck would have it, Doris' mother was a college educated woman, a rare specimen in those days, and she put her keen mind to the task of home schooling her daughter and nephew in mathematics, the arts, literature, history and science. In her entire life, Doris spent a total of 3 terrifying weeks in a formal classroom before abandoning it for the more comfortable alternative at home.

Her mother's legacy was a fine education through the 8th grade and the confidence and abilities to function well in the world. Doris had a fine business mind for property management in The City for sixty years, raised two daughters and was a talented seamstress. Plus, of course, having spent the better part of her childhood years bringing smiles to the faces of theatre-goers everywhere.

(I told you it would be a great story.)

JD

John Donne was on the brain this morning and his famous passage, 'for whom the bell tolls'. So I hopped online and while I was reacquainting my memory with his works, I came upon a well-pu-together essay on his background, experiences and health issues that contributed to propelling Donne to hold a prominent place among the Metaphysical Poets.  I hope you enjoy it.

http://community.middlebury.edu/~harris/donne.html

No man is an Iland, intire of itselfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a Clod be washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Mannor of thy friends or of thine owne were ; and mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.

The Gift of Time

My father's second marriage became an amazing and inspirational love story. They were the ideal match. I marvel that it happened at all, especially midpoint in life with all its complications. My dad passed in 2003 but the love of his life is alive and well.

His bride still has a great smile and infectious laugh. Life is gently running its course, and there is an  occasional need for someone to lend a hand, you know, with errands or cleaning out a kitchen cupboard. Her daughter/son do a lot but I realized there's room for me, too. So a plan was hatched for mine to be the helping hands once a month.

She lives hours away through bay area traffic, and BayAreaites groan when I say that, because it means seven different freeways and a constant fleet of crazies who accordion in and out of lanes, lookey-loos and texters and the-worst-drivers-in-the-world-Asians screaming along at 70 mph with optional turn signals.

After arriving we got right to work! :) And through the course of Day #1 I learned the Golden Helper Rules.

• Do not set things up the way I'd like because it's not my house!
• Move at the pace of the lowest energy denominator.
• And most of all:  Do know there is a Window of Opportunity, which is the precise amount of help to be helpful but not exhausting  (Unfortunately that lesson was learned after her eyes began to droop.)

We chatted and chored and I heard great family stories to put down here before I forget them. And when she finally kicked me out, I headed home with a grateful heart for the time together, but also for sharing the day with my father who I sensed was hovering nearby.

OneSon

I know by heart the shape of his head and the way the sun reflects off his hair. I know the freckles and moles on his arms and the smudgy profile that has become long and broad since our first meeting. On that day, I could circle his wrist with my thumb and forefinger as I cradled him gently against my heart.

He wiggled out of my arms a hundred thousand times to explore the world and make it his. I watched life fall in love with him, the same easy way I fell in love. His heart beats strong, and there is a willingness that propels him forward. Sometimes I hear him come by in the quiet thoughts of morning, checking if my arms are still there if he needs them. He lingers a second or two before turning tail and dashing out of sight. Life for him is laughter and hard work and full of obstacles, just as I hoped.

I have to look up now to see his handsome face and smile.  Like a foolish investor, I have tossed in with him all that I am, my assets, my liabilities, my heart.  It is impossible to remember the feel of life before his hand wrapped around my finger on his first steps because it has always been an all-or-nothing proposition that believes wholly in the promise and glory of my son.

Murky Waters

Less than a month to go before elections and last night's news was full of the discovery of thousands of potentially fraudulent loans that are overburdening homeowners and the bank's illegal foreclosure proceedings.

If the projectionists are anywhere near center on this, the legal ownership that is in question involves commercial and residential properties originally financed or refinanced during the last decade. We stand on the brink of a completely stalled national real estate market for sales, resales, and foreclosures.  Property will become investment mausoleums.

Without clear ownership rights, there are no assets, no sales, no credit, no growth. Courts will be flooded with lawsuits of those challenging the validity of paying for homes people no longer want. People will get away with staying in homes for years without paying for them while ownership is established. Banks could fail, for real this time, and the government will be powerless to assist.

I wonder about the hearts of the Wall Streeters who stood tall on technicalities and short on morals to personally profit. How can they live with themselves knowing their avarice is responsible for all of this? I shudder to think of the consequences if the shoe was on the other foot, and the consumer got the upper hand with, say, a legal loophole to crawl through that could lash back at those who have wronged us. We may know the answer soon enough...

Yesterday's article solidifies the issue ~ http://www.dailyfinance.com/story/investing/charting-the-foreclosure-crisiss-far-reaching-consequences/19673408/ ~ and a thoughtful response from a reader worth pondering: 

As a homeowner who did lots of things to pay off a mortgage and get our kids educated, I wonder if some of those folks who simply quit paying their mortgages aren't gaming the system. I know there... are many who have suffered from this economic downturn but no one, especially the major media outlets, ever pins some of this blame on the Dodds and Franks of our Congress. Quite honestly, I see this administration and the leaders of Congress looking for scapegoats around every corner when they have added to the problems because they are hellbent on redistributing wealth rather solving the real problems. It is time to put Bush to bed and start assuming some responsibily for failing to act as promised.

We are responsible for ourselves, no matter what the circumstances are, and have come to the moment to weigh the importance of character and if it is worth protecting. Will we hide behind anger at the Wall Streeters and Congressmen who put us here, and like them take advantage of the situation for personal gain? Or will we hunker down and do what it takes to see it through, go through the painful work to untangling this mess with our integrity intact?

Reflections on Retirement

Gentler musings on unrecognized transitions.

I look for work every day and more often than not come across minimum wage, or just-over minimum wage jobs that want a plethora of skills and education to do them. Not really what I'm looking for.

Yesterday there was a job for a part time worker (8-15 hours a week). Job requirements: 2 or more years of accounting experience and tax prep mastery, several years of being a personal assistant, consistent, independent and reliable habits, able to maintain personal and business finances, act as receptionist and problem-solver, do all product shipping, maintain all aspects of a home business, run errands and maintain household and business calendars. Pay: $10.50.

Another small business owner needed someone to manage her schedule part time, unknown salary, basic experience and she was open to a virtual assistant. She received 275 responses from all over the world. Seriously.

I've let thoughts stew over the weekend. I feel the prick of being on the short end of our supply and demand society for the first time. God, what a privilege of a life with little worry for buying that house or car, landing that job, taking that vacation. My life had some pretty good financial inertia.

Now a long termer OOWMAW (out of work middle aged woman), I live the bleak idleness of unrealized work. Too skilled and experienced to believe it at first; too assurred to believe it would last; too astonished to believe it has.

An unrecognizable world has emerged, with downsizing, restructuring, and regrouping. I pass up starter jobs, like starter houses ~ places to get into the game and pay your dues in order to move up ~ knowing my kinds of jobs will be on the horizon. In the quiet I hear Truth say 'Ready or Not, Here it Comes'.

It is suddenly my turn at bat.
I'm not in uniform or have the right shoes,

and I stand at the plate with trembling knees
not knowing the rules of the game.

I wonder if not being ready makes it any less real, or if environmentally-forced retirements are so hard because we didn't get to choose? If I were 62, it would be joyful to leave work and live a life of enrichment hobbies like cooking, and fine books, and gardening. Every day would be a portal to the next interesting phase of life.

Maybe someday I'll see it that way.