As I have mentioned before, Leo and Zoe have four living great grandparents. My grandparents are in their mid-eighties and still living independently. Like every family eventually must, ours is entering the phase where we must take greater responsibility for our elders…an adjustment for all of us.
I live about two hours away from my grandparents, so I don’t see them as often as I’d like. Last weekend we went up to PA to check in on them, and take my dad out for brunch for his birthday. I spent part of the day Saturday at their apartment, alternately sitting down to chat and puttering around, doing some tidying.
Their preference would have been for me to spend more time chatting, and less time tidying. Whenever I was absent for more than a few minutes my grandmother would make her way to where I was working. At one point she sat down on her bed and patted beside her, indicating that I should sit down. Referring to the changes our family is facing, she said, “We’ll figure it out, kid.” I laughed, and said, “Gram, I’m thirty-seven years old.” She leaned back and regarded me as if seeing me as an adult for the first time, and for a moment I saw myself through her eyes, as a person very different from the way I see myself. She said, matter-of-factly, “Well, you don’t look it.”
Our parents, Sean’s and mine, are the adults in our lives. I have been married for 11 years, I have two children, and a career, but part of me has never felt like a true adult. In some ways I still feel very young and like I have a lot of maturing to do. Because so many of our close friends don’t have children, we still have a lot of opportunities to socialize the way we might have when we were in college, in ways that are not centered around our children. We have a lot of fun.
Yet in that moment with my grandmother I felt like an adult, in a way I never have before, and since that day I have felt like a different phase of my life has begun. All of the times I have sat and talked with her in thirty-seven years sort of culminated in that moment. Time paused, and then leaped forward. Here we both are…what’s next?
What surprises me most is that it feels very positive, more like a new level of achievement and opportunity, rather than something to be feared or dreaded. The future is sure to hold both tremendous pain, and indescribable joy. Nobody likes getting older, but I have to say, that for me, this is kind of a welcome transition. I didn’t even know it was coming, and I’m intrigued to see where it goes.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Now With Even More Crazy!
Welcome to the Reluctant Hausfrau! I have been blogging, off and on, for at least five years now. I blog because I like to write, and I like to think that even if there are only a few people who are interested in reading what I post here, it’s a good way of expressing myself and giving people a window into my little world and the “unusual” prism through which I view it.
The thing about blogging is that, like anything written and presented to the world, it’s a permanent, yet imperfect record of what you put out there. What you say in written form, however well-crafted in your mind, can be interpreted differently than intended. It’s because of this that I haven’t posted anything here since last October. Though I have never intended to hurt or offend anyone with what I have written, the emotions I sometimes let come through in my writing can be intense, and I sometimes express strong opinions that people don’t like. They are just that…opinions. When I write about health and mental health, I provide supporting facts and research as much as possible.
Life at our house has become even busier since last year, when I increased my hours at work. I have less time and mental energy for writing, but that’s not a complaint. Though my work is very challenging, it keeps me mentally engaged, gives me many opportunities to write, and is a meaningful opportunity for me to contribute to the support and future of my family. These past few months I have also thought about the vanity of blogging…after all, who really cares what I think? What I come back to is that through writing about things that matter to me, and by writing frequently, I occasionally strike a note that resonates for a friend who reads it. Just a little something--a phrase, a poem, or a thought that is appreciated and brings happiness or comfort, or that causes you to say (whether you agree or not), “I didn’t know anyone would see it that way.”
I hope to post more frequently again in the coming months. So much is happening for our family and in our world all the time, and the more I write, the more I research and understand the things that matter in my life, and the better I understand myself (a very lofty goal, in my case). This blog is me…creative, curious, restless, impulsive. I write about what is occupying my thoughts, and there is no theme. I’m not trying to gain readers, bring attention to one thing, or piss anyone off. I’m just writing for the sake of writing...and learning. So, thanks for stopping by. Help yourself to a cup of tea or a glass of wine, and let me know…what do you think?
The thing about blogging is that, like anything written and presented to the world, it’s a permanent, yet imperfect record of what you put out there. What you say in written form, however well-crafted in your mind, can be interpreted differently than intended. It’s because of this that I haven’t posted anything here since last October. Though I have never intended to hurt or offend anyone with what I have written, the emotions I sometimes let come through in my writing can be intense, and I sometimes express strong opinions that people don’t like. They are just that…opinions. When I write about health and mental health, I provide supporting facts and research as much as possible.
Life at our house has become even busier since last year, when I increased my hours at work. I have less time and mental energy for writing, but that’s not a complaint. Though my work is very challenging, it keeps me mentally engaged, gives me many opportunities to write, and is a meaningful opportunity for me to contribute to the support and future of my family. These past few months I have also thought about the vanity of blogging…after all, who really cares what I think? What I come back to is that through writing about things that matter to me, and by writing frequently, I occasionally strike a note that resonates for a friend who reads it. Just a little something--a phrase, a poem, or a thought that is appreciated and brings happiness or comfort, or that causes you to say (whether you agree or not), “I didn’t know anyone would see it that way.”
I hope to post more frequently again in the coming months. So much is happening for our family and in our world all the time, and the more I write, the more I research and understand the things that matter in my life, and the better I understand myself (a very lofty goal, in my case). This blog is me…creative, curious, restless, impulsive. I write about what is occupying my thoughts, and there is no theme. I’m not trying to gain readers, bring attention to one thing, or piss anyone off. I’m just writing for the sake of writing...and learning. So, thanks for stopping by. Help yourself to a cup of tea or a glass of wine, and let me know…what do you think?
Friday, October 22, 2010
The Help
A few months ago some of my colleagues recommended that I read The Help, a book about a group of women in Mississippi in the 1960's, by Kathryn Stockett. Since my bedside table is always too heavy on non-fiction, I eventually ordered it and started reading. About halfway through, I found myself wanting to discuss it, so I asked a friend who is a very avid reader whether she had read it. She told me that she had heard it has a “Magical Negro” theme, and hadn’t been interested in reading it because of that. I found this unsettling…was I reading and enjoying a subtly racist book?
The first thing I did was refresh my memory on what the Magical Negro concept was. I had been under the impression that it referred to a black character that possessed magical powers or supernatural wisdom to rescue a white main character from crisis. I looked around to see how it was being defined, and found several variations. The Wikipedia entry for the term describes the Magical Negro as “a supporting, sometimes mystical stock character in fiction who, by use of special insight or powers, helps the white protagonist get out of trouble.” By that definition, any black character with “special insight” in a book with a white protagonist would be considered a Magical Negro character.
Further research yielded no good case for The Help meeting any definition of the term. None of the characters, black or white, were without flaws, or were especially wise. In fact, the genuine nature in which the characters connected with each other was one of the things that I appreciated most about the book. They all saw each other through a lens distorted by their own experience. Some allowed themselves to grow and be influenced by the dramatic events of the story; some (white and black) clung rigidly to their prejudices despite opportunities to change. What most reviewers, like Virginia DeBerry, writing for Open Salon, seemed to take issue with, was the fact that The Help was written by a white woman. I decided to finish the book and judge for myself. Having now finished it, I’m a little frustrated.
In the epilogue to the book, Kathryn Stockett admits, “I was scared, a lot of the time, that I was crossing a terrible line, writing in the voice of a black person.” As a white liberal, I am well-acquainted with the fear of doing something, anything, that would be contradictory to the ideals of cultural celebration that are so important to me, and that are a fundamental part of my social and professional image. Honestly, I’m a little uncomfortable even just typing the word Negro. Yet, despite a demonstrated commitment to diversity, I am still a product of my culture. I occasionally become aware of small biases I have failed to eradicate. When I do, I examine them, correct them to the best of my ability, and move on.
I think whether or not Stockett did cross a line in writing from the perspective of a black character is less important than the fact that she was willing to take the risk. Perhaps this willingness to put oneself out there, to walk on those lines and risk crossing them, is an important contribution to the goal of eradicating prejudice. Refusing to participate doesn’t do anyone any good. I think these small things are important in an age where racial segregation continues in so many ways. I think it is a fairly brave thing for a white writer to say, “I put my heart and soul into writing this and I hope you like it,” and risk the rejection of the literary community or black readers. I think those risks are important to take, and will contribute to our continued progress toward true interracial equality and acceptance. People who are truly progressive and open-minded will recognize these genuine attempts to do what is right. And people who judge them harshly…well they still have their own work to do.
The first thing I did was refresh my memory on what the Magical Negro concept was. I had been under the impression that it referred to a black character that possessed magical powers or supernatural wisdom to rescue a white main character from crisis. I looked around to see how it was being defined, and found several variations. The Wikipedia entry for the term describes the Magical Negro as “a supporting, sometimes mystical stock character in fiction who, by use of special insight or powers, helps the white protagonist get out of trouble.” By that definition, any black character with “special insight” in a book with a white protagonist would be considered a Magical Negro character.
Further research yielded no good case for The Help meeting any definition of the term. None of the characters, black or white, were without flaws, or were especially wise. In fact, the genuine nature in which the characters connected with each other was one of the things that I appreciated most about the book. They all saw each other through a lens distorted by their own experience. Some allowed themselves to grow and be influenced by the dramatic events of the story; some (white and black) clung rigidly to their prejudices despite opportunities to change. What most reviewers, like Virginia DeBerry, writing for Open Salon, seemed to take issue with, was the fact that The Help was written by a white woman. I decided to finish the book and judge for myself. Having now finished it, I’m a little frustrated.
In the epilogue to the book, Kathryn Stockett admits, “I was scared, a lot of the time, that I was crossing a terrible line, writing in the voice of a black person.” As a white liberal, I am well-acquainted with the fear of doing something, anything, that would be contradictory to the ideals of cultural celebration that are so important to me, and that are a fundamental part of my social and professional image. Honestly, I’m a little uncomfortable even just typing the word Negro. Yet, despite a demonstrated commitment to diversity, I am still a product of my culture. I occasionally become aware of small biases I have failed to eradicate. When I do, I examine them, correct them to the best of my ability, and move on.
I think whether or not Stockett did cross a line in writing from the perspective of a black character is less important than the fact that she was willing to take the risk. Perhaps this willingness to put oneself out there, to walk on those lines and risk crossing them, is an important contribution to the goal of eradicating prejudice. Refusing to participate doesn’t do anyone any good. I think these small things are important in an age where racial segregation continues in so many ways. I think it is a fairly brave thing for a white writer to say, “I put my heart and soul into writing this and I hope you like it,” and risk the rejection of the literary community or black readers. I think those risks are important to take, and will contribute to our continued progress toward true interracial equality and acceptance. People who are truly progressive and open-minded will recognize these genuine attempts to do what is right. And people who judge them harshly…well they still have their own work to do.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
So That Happened
Today was a dramatic day at work. Sometimes during the week I have the opportunity to get out for a walk or run, depending on my mood and energy level, and I was very grateful that today was one of those days. I left the house the back way, across the basketball court and through the parking lot, and not two blocks from my house I saw a very old woman standing in the middle of the street.
I kept walking quickly in her direction, and she looked up at me as I approached. She lifted one of her arms and lightly tilted her hand to beckon me toward her. The second I was in front of her, she murmured, "Just let me catch my breath," and tipped forward into my arms, light as a feather. I had a just few seconds to consider what could be happening and what I should do before she looked up at me and slowly righted herself. I asked if I should call for help, and she shook her head, "No, I'm fine." She thanked me and started to walk away.
I followed a few steps behind, slowly. She reached a row of cars a few paces away and stopped again. She was close to her front door. I asked her if she was sure she didn't need help, and she said she was sure. She looked tired, and weak, but with a core of determination. With so many elderly grandparents in our lives, we've grown accustomed to that.
"Can I get the door for you?" I said.
"If you do it for me, I won't be able to do it for myself," she replied.
I watched her open the door and go inside, and turned back in the direction I had been going. Nothing left to do but run.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Death Wish
The other day I was at Potbelly for lunch. I ordered a tuna sandwich, and asked for American cheese instead of Swiss. The kid behind the counter says, "You know that's not even really cheese?" I pause, and blink. Why, yes, I do know that. I know that American cheese is not cheese. I know that it has more salt, and chemicals, and less protein and nutrition than real cheese. And also I know that small indulgences like that slice of American cheese are all that stand between me and a steady diet of mint chocolate chip ice cream, French fries, and popcorn shrimp on a daily basis. So GIVE ME MY SANDWICH IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU, Little Boy.
But I just said, "Yes, thank you."
Monday, July 5, 2010
The What-If Wall
What if I try, and it doesn't work? It could! (just do it anyway)
What if I'm too scared to speak? You aren't. (so do it anyway)
What if I speak, and sound absurd? So what? (just do it anyway)
What if I reach out, and get hurt? You have. (but do it anyway)
What if I go and feel all alone? You won't. (so do it anyway)
What if something goes very wrong? It might. (but do it anyway)
What if I feel too weak for this? Act strong. (and do it anyway)
What if I don't think I can? Believe! (and do it anyway)
Friday, June 25, 2010
The Zone
This week I got to attend a national mentoring conference in Boston. Because I work for such a small agency with such a small budget, I have only been able to attend local conferences until this point, so the travel in itself was a fun experience. This was a gathering of directors of mentoring partnerships from across the country; people who do what I do, on varying scales. They range from a staff of just a few, like mine, to a staff of 20 for the larger orgs. The main sessions for the conference were hosted by a local non-profit org in Boston.
Because our staff is so small, and because I have been the primary regional contact for mentoring for over six years, I'm kind of isolated in that regard, even though I work in an office with hundreds of other people in human services. It was so energizing and refreshing to be with 100 other people who share my passion and knowledge about youth mentoring. For those of us who have seen what a good mentor can do in the life of an at-risk child, mentoring is a permanent commitment. Having had mentors who made such a difference in my life, and having been involved with youth mentoring for the past 8 years, I can't imagine a future without serving this movement in some way.
One of my concerns leading up to the conference was my ability to sit in one room and remain focused and engaged for an entire day. Fortunately, the atmosphere of the work sessions and the room set-up was ideal. People were encouraged to move around, and directly behind me was the coffee/tea station. Apparently, several of the Directors in the group are known for not being able to sit still, and one of the presenters even said he knew it would be time to cut his piece short when one of these guys had gotten up three times. That guy actually got up five times in two hours…some other people were counting. So going in I had been worried about whether my attention style would be able to meet the expectations of the meeting, and in actuality, the expectations were perfect for my attention style.
What happened was that I found The Zone, mentally. The presenters were going through their Powerpoints: National Standards! Capacity Building! Strategic Planning! And I was dual note taking, flipping back and forth between my thoughts on the information at hand, and ideas and plans for our agency in general. It was fantastic. I felt like sparks might start flying out of my ears. After two days I came away with plans and specific next steps for my agency--not just for our mentoring work, but for our mental wellness and educational enrichment work as well--that will keep me busier than ever.
We have been in survival mode for so long, it's has been nearly impossible to take the time to re-establish our goals beyond the next few months. I didn't expect this conference to give me a chance to do that, but it has.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Ain’t No Stopping Us Now
There are certain milestones all parents go crazy over: their baby's first steps, their first words. But for me, those are eclipsed by another achievement that comes years later. I will always remember 2010 as the year Leo and Zoe learned to read. Every typical child will eventually learn speak and walk, with or without their parents' help. But reading, of course, is something that many people never learn to do. In fact, about 20% of Americans cannot read at a level that allows them to comprehend basic forms, signs, or instructions that one encounters in everyday life.
Beyond that, it is just a magical experience to watch my babies, now ages 4 and 6, as they sound out words and begin to truly comprehend the assorted configurations of 26 letters on a page. The acquisition of language itself is a wonder which parallels intellectual development in amazing ways. The other night Leo and I were watching the end of Napoleon Dynamite before bed, and when Napoleon said, "I caught you a delicious bass," Leo laughed a hearty belly laugh. Leo, being a six year old boy, typically has a greater appreciation for physical humor, but he just knew that was funny. I looked at him and realized this was a subtle indicator of an advance in developmental maturity; the kind of thing that's easy to miss. When he grows a half-inch in a week, I can easily tell because his pants are suddenly too short. But little things like reaching a new level of language comprehension can sneak by unnoticed at the end of a busy day.
A few days ago, Leo's class had a writing celebration. Sean, Zoe and I were all able to go, and I honestly think Leo's Kindergarten teacher is superhuman. What she has done with these 21 children in ten month's time is incredible. They each had a story that they had written and illustrated, and a poem. Each student read their poem at a podium, with a microphone, and they were just darling. Poems about pizza, and flowers, and for one dear little boy, his mommy. Leo's poem was entitled, "Trains Are Trains No Matter What", with some creative spelling. Leo is one of three "high readers" in his class. I can remember how reading felt for me as a child in those early years. I spent hours a day with Laura Ingalls, on my top bed bunk, with my feet dangling over the side, or upside down, walking on the ceiling. Books could take me anywhere. For Leo, it's Captain Underpants.
Reading and writing ultimately became a fundamental part of who I am. I can't really estimate how many hours I spend every day between books, articles, essays, reports, blogs, emails, even text messages. Somehow, I can express things through writing that I can't otherwise, and it's the form of communication I can most easily understand. I'm in awe of the fact that my children are now standing at the entrance to the world of the written word, and I get to watch them walk through it.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Get Out of Your Head, It’s Nice Out Here!
What a week! After sleeping well last night, today is the first day all week I have really felt like myself. My anxiety level is finally back to normal for me, instead of the moderate to high fluctuations I was dealing with from Monday to Thursday.
I'm not sure what combination of nature and nurture resulted in this quirky brain that I have, but I basically live in a state of controlled chaos, mentally. I have to work very hard to make my energy comply with the expectations of normal behavior. I can be in a business meeting, acting very proper, listening and contributing, while inside my head, something like this is going on:
I have considered getting a Rock Flag & Eagle tattoo. My baseline intensity level seems to be a little higher than normal, kind of like an engine that is set to idle too high. I have done so much work to learn to manage it, and I've gotten to the point that I wouldn't change this about myself. Although I can be hyper…and impulsive…and uptight…this thinking style has allowed me to jump into things and keep going in really challenging situations. Life is full, and vibrant, and exciting, and the way I think allows me to have that.
It's like that song I posted down below…when you think the way I do, you're on a tightrope. You've got a lot going on, and you're energized and going for it, but sometimes you can lose your balance. I can handle a lot, but the thing I'm most vulnerable to is insomnia. In perfect conditions I can fall asleep easily, and stay asleep. But a house with small children is not a place where someone who can be easily distracted from sleep will find consistent, deep rest. And it's so easy to stay up too late. So before I even realized it, I went several nights without enough sleep, and Monday I went to the next level, anxiety-wise. It's not fun. My thoughts get less realistic, and less positive. I tend to fixate on potential negative outcomes, on the upcoming challenges, or on what I don't have, instead of what I do have. I am aware of this as it's happening, but my mood drives my reaction to my thoughts, and the anxiety can be self-perpetuating. When I get to this point, I get overwhelmed by the thought of anything stressful or exciting. All I want is to feel better. I don't always act like myself when I'm going through this.
The most valuable tool I have found for giving myself tune-ups when I need them is my journal. Sometimes it takes me a few days of thinking things through and writing to sort things out. When I'm in the middle of moderate anxiety (or a few times, full anxiety attacks) I write, letting everything pour out, no matter how crazy it sounds. That's therapeutic in itself. But the next day I can come back and evaluate. Is that how I really feel? Were those thoughts correct? What else is underneath that I haven't really identified yet? For ongoing challenges, like balancing my very demanding job with what I can actually achieve, I have been doing this work for a long time, and may just need to remind myself of the answers I've already uncovered. But sometimes a new situation comes along and I have to start from scratch.
By Thursday, I had worked through a lot of it, gotten more sleep, and gotten more time to walk and think (exercise is a proven mood enhancer). Last night, I read everything I had written again, and found the last piece to a puzzle I'd been working on all week. On Facebook, I wrote, "I kinda feel like She-Ra right now." I felt that way because I know it's a gift to be able to search my mind for an answer and eventually find it. I felt pretty powerful.
Anxiety is a tough thing to have to deal with, as the millions of people who struggle with it can attest. But like most challenges, it has its rewards. Sometimes, when you can be overwhelmed with worry, you are forced to stop, and really think, instead of just living life on autopilot. And then you emerge a feeling a little stronger, and ready to take on the world again.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Unexpected Treasures
This morning started out as a typical Thursday…the hustle and bustle of getting Leo, Zoe, and myself ready to get out the door at 7:50. Shower, workout, get everybody up and dressed, hair tamed, breakfast, pack lunches and snacks, make my go-mug of tea, and load up the car with backpacks, lunches, bags, etc. Leo gets dropped off first, in the kiss and ride carpool line at the elementary school, and then we drive to Zoe's school and she gets walked into her classroom. Then I drive to work.
I had been at my desk for about two hours when the phone rang. It was Leo's school nurse, telling me he was crying about his stomach hurting, and afraid he was going to throw up. I could hear him crying in the background. I sent the email I had been working on, and rushed out to the parking garage. On the way to the school I thought of my memories as a child in the nurse's office, waiting to be picked up when I was sick, and how relieved I was when I saw the familiar face of my mom or grandmother. When I arrived to pick Leo up, he looked unhappy, but not unwell, and he had no fever. I brought him home, and quickly became aware that he was not sick at all. Four days ago he had thrown up once, pretty much without warning, which is very unusual for him, probably because of car sickness or random virus. There had been no fever, and he was fine within the hour, asking to eat. He had just gotten it into his head that it was going to happen again, at school. At five years old, it's pretty hard to tell whether you're hungry, nervous, or sick.
And so it happened that I found myself at home on a school day with a healthy kid who was asking for lunch. We ate, and then I needed to do some of the work I had planned for the day. Leo read books, colored, and set up his wooden train tracks across the basement floor, for hours. Every so often he asked to watch TV, play Wii, or use the computer, but he didn't put up even a tiny fuss when I said those activities weren't options when he was home "sick" from school.
Later, a CD I had ordered came in the mail. I put it on and Leo got out the basket of instruments and played the shaky eggs. It was a really special experience to listen to great music for the first time with my little boy, who was enjoying it so much. Listening to music was something I always used to love doing with my mom.
It's not always so easy with Leo…we both have a tendency toward the dramatic, and since birth he has had a flair for the mega-tantrum. At five, he still has big ones, and it is a big priority for us to prevent them with reward systems and consistent consequences. This week he came home from school with a note from his teacher, for the first time. She felt that his behavior had worsened over the past few weeks, and asked that we reinforce the importance of good school behavior with him.
I was pretty upset, considering the fact that this goal—helping him learn to manage his emotions and deal with frustration without having tantrums—had been an ongoing, major priority for five years. But, in hindsight, hearing from his teacher may have been the best thing that could have happened. I have suspected for years that certain food additives, especially food dyes, affect Leo's mood and behavior. In preschool, he would come home on some days seeming especially wound up, and often with a defiant attitude that he didn't always have. After a while, when he acted this way I started to ask him if he had eaten anything special at school, and inevitably he would give an answer like "skittles" or "green cupcakes". I had no way of testing my theory, but I learned that studies have shown that some common preservatives and dyes (which are all just chemicals) used in food can cause ADHD-like symptoms (read about it here: http://pn.psychiatryonline.org/content/42/21/19.1.full).
Despite knowing about this research, and despite seeing good first-hand evidence that Leo was sensitive to food dyes, we have allowed him to have them on a regular basis, for several reasons. One is that many of our family members do not believe that substances in food can cause behavior problems, and I haven't wanted to be any more confrontational than I already am. Another is that I haven't wanted to be "that mom"—the one who doesn't let her child eat school food, candy, or classmates' birthday treats. Third, is the fact that this stuff is everywhere. Food coloring and preservatives, including the sodium benzoate mentioned in the above article, are used even in many foods that appear to be in their natural state. We eat mainly natural foods at home, but we encounter chemicals in food everywhere we go—at restaurants, and even in the school lunches Leo was eating, up until this week. I starting packing his lunches, and asked that he have treats I've sent in rather than anything that may have food coloring.
One day last week, after we came home after school, Leo was in a particularly wound up state. He was running past the bushes in the front yard, ripping off leaves. When I told him stop, he only acted wilder. It was a rocky couple of hours that ended in a huge emotional meltdown, and later he told me he had had something that day at school with whipped topping and a maraschino cherry. As I have many times, I wondered whether a small amount of these FDA-approved chemicals could really affect him this way. One small cherry? But then I thought about the size of a pill, much smaller than a cherry and capable of affecting health or mood in profound ways. In the case of the maraschino cherry, the original color is removed, and corn syrup, high fructose corn syrup, citric acid, flavorings, potassium sorbate and sodium benzoate, FD&C Red #40, and sulfur dioxide are added.
A few days ago we sent out birthday party invitations to Leo's classmates. Today he brought home a thank you card that his little girlfriend had made for him. She wrote Thank you for the invitation, and drew a picture of herself and Leo holding hands. I have so loved watching as he has made his way through kindergarten, making friends, learning to read, and maturing in so many ways. As a mother, I want nothing more than to make sure my little boy can be himself—the sweet, bright, energetic boy I see so much of the time. If I have to come off as an overzealous kook to make sure he only eats things that make him feel healthy and strong, it's worth it.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Last is the Most Important
Here we go again…it’s Sunday night, time to start another week. So much going on, so much to think about. We made it to church today. Since Christmas we’ve been kind of bad attenders, getting ourselves there only every other week or so. Maybe it was because we had been out of town, or because we had stayed up too late on Saturday night. Yet when we make it there on Sunday morning we are always so glad. It was a pretty low-key meeting today. In the hour of silent reflection time, only a few people felt moved to speak. I marveled at how that hour was the longest period I had taken in many weeks to think, really think with a purpose beyond what needed solving in that moment. I found myself wanting to stand and ask for support and perspective from the people in our meeting, always so kind and willing to really reflect on what is said. Most of the time when someone has a message, it is an offering of spiritual thoughts for the group. But sometimes, it’s a request to be “held in the light” on a particular problem. I have a few things I am trying to work through right now—nothing particularly new, and I know the collective wisdom would have given me new insights, and left me feeling encouraged. I never got my mind around how I would frame the query. How to verbalize the complexity that is my life? There were also some themes that had emerged from the earlier messages, and I didn’t want to change the direction of the messages.
At a recent Friends meeting, someone spoke about something she had read recently that had really made an impact on her—that some very difficult things in life are so because they are “not meant to be”. That by pursuing them, we are trying to fit a puzzle piece into a spot that is the wrong shape—no matter how hard you try, the piece will never fit. As I first thought about this, I was moved to tears. That’s what I’ve been doing, I thought, with a familiar pang of frustration. I've been trying to make something work, that is never going to. But the more I thought about that puzzle piece, the less the metaphor rang true for me. Some things are hard, just because they are. What matters is not whether something is resolvable, or could eventually be made not hard. What matters is whether it is truly important, and whether the work on the challenge itself makes you a better person. When I am old and gray, will I be glad I never gave up trying to make the puzzle piece fit, even if it never did?
At a recent Friends meeting, someone spoke about something she had read recently that had really made an impact on her—that some very difficult things in life are so because they are “not meant to be”. That by pursuing them, we are trying to fit a puzzle piece into a spot that is the wrong shape—no matter how hard you try, the piece will never fit. As I first thought about this, I was moved to tears. That’s what I’ve been doing, I thought, with a familiar pang of frustration. I've been trying to make something work, that is never going to. But the more I thought about that puzzle piece, the less the metaphor rang true for me. Some things are hard, just because they are. What matters is not whether something is resolvable, or could eventually be made not hard. What matters is whether it is truly important, and whether the work on the challenge itself makes you a better person. When I am old and gray, will I be glad I never gave up trying to make the puzzle piece fit, even if it never did?
Friday, April 30, 2010
Whether You're High Or Low
This is my favorite song right now. I love the music, I love the lyrics, and I love the choreography in the video. The next time you're feeling used and abused, just watch this and get your mojo back!
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The Mouths of Babes
I need to take a break from the news.
I’m trying to imagine how this period in our nation’s history that started with the economic downturn will look in hindsight—twenty, thirty, fifty years from now. I know this awful social friction we’re experiencing is to be expected. We're stuggling economically, and we have our first black president--and an unapologetically liberal one, at that. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but… wow. So much venom, so much hatred; some of it racially motivated, some not.
I know that the Tea Party is nearly as diverse as America itself, and that it’s largely comprised of perfectly respectable people. But the most outspoken and radical of its members seem to speaking for them all, and they are toxic. At least that’s the impression I get. I have to admit that my perspective is shaped by the media sources I use, and they are not the ones that might present the Tea Party Movement in the most positive light.
It’s no secret that I’m about as left-leaning as they come. But there are lots of people in my life--family members and good friends--who ascribe to very traditional values, and who surely are as confused by my beliefs as I am by theirs. I have come to appreciate how keeping an open mind and an open heart for people who don’t fit neatly into my world-view broadens and strengthens my perspective. And some of them seem to feel the same way about me. None of us is changing our beliefs, but we are allowing that there should be room for others. In fact, I think that it is the existence of these divergent attitudes that brings balance to our society, and the world. It is the people who want to eradicate all lifestyles and attitudes different than their own that I really fear.
Last night I had the first nightmare I’ve had in years. Without going into much detail…it involved two strangers perpetrating violence against my husband and me, in front of our children, because they didn’t like the way we looked. It was one of those terribly realistic dreams, and I woke up feeling the emotions I’d feel if I were really in that situation. As I lay there trying to shake it off, I heard Leo calling me from his room. He had had a bad dream, too, and he asked me, “What happens when things from TV become real life?” I know he was talking about monsters from TV shows, but I was struck by the idea that what we see in the media—stylized depictions of fringe groups, sensational conjecture about the motivations of our political leaders, talk show hosts “ranting to the choir” (yes, you, too, Jon Stewart)—can seem like reality, when it’s largely fiction, designed to bring in viewers and validate their feelings.
I heard an interview on the radio yesterday with a man who believes that our President’s goal is to dissolve the U.S. and blend it into the New World Order, a concept with which I am very familiar, having been raised in a fundamentalist household. There are people who believe that Obama’s rise to power has been orchestrated by the devil, as part of the events they interpret as having been predicted by the Book of Revelations. Any efforts by a liberal U.S. government to interact cooperatively (rather than aggressively) on the World Stage are seen as a step toward a one-world government. I’m fascinated by a mindset that reviles a process that should theoretically lead to the impending Rapture, the ultimate reward for believers in this scenario. This belief-system is entwined with Nationalism and Patriotism. In this particular interpretation of the Bible, the Book of Revelations doesn’t have much good in store for anyone other than American Christians.
At this point I’m just wondering: if no good can come of buying into the media-perpetuated frenzy of finger-pointing, how can you go on a news diet without being ignorant of current events? Or do we just suck it up, take the news reports with a grain of salt, and look forward to better days? I can remember only one time in my 36years when I felt that the American spirit was shining the way it was meant to, and that was in the months following September 11th, 2001. People and political parties seemed to be treating others as compatriots, rather than adversaries. It only lasted until pre-pre-election season, but it was so nice.
I’m trying to imagine how this period in our nation’s history that started with the economic downturn will look in hindsight—twenty, thirty, fifty years from now. I know this awful social friction we’re experiencing is to be expected. We're stuggling economically, and we have our first black president--and an unapologetically liberal one, at that. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but… wow. So much venom, so much hatred; some of it racially motivated, some not.
I know that the Tea Party is nearly as diverse as America itself, and that it’s largely comprised of perfectly respectable people. But the most outspoken and radical of its members seem to speaking for them all, and they are toxic. At least that’s the impression I get. I have to admit that my perspective is shaped by the media sources I use, and they are not the ones that might present the Tea Party Movement in the most positive light.
It’s no secret that I’m about as left-leaning as they come. But there are lots of people in my life--family members and good friends--who ascribe to very traditional values, and who surely are as confused by my beliefs as I am by theirs. I have come to appreciate how keeping an open mind and an open heart for people who don’t fit neatly into my world-view broadens and strengthens my perspective. And some of them seem to feel the same way about me. None of us is changing our beliefs, but we are allowing that there should be room for others. In fact, I think that it is the existence of these divergent attitudes that brings balance to our society, and the world. It is the people who want to eradicate all lifestyles and attitudes different than their own that I really fear.
Last night I had the first nightmare I’ve had in years. Without going into much detail…it involved two strangers perpetrating violence against my husband and me, in front of our children, because they didn’t like the way we looked. It was one of those terribly realistic dreams, and I woke up feeling the emotions I’d feel if I were really in that situation. As I lay there trying to shake it off, I heard Leo calling me from his room. He had had a bad dream, too, and he asked me, “What happens when things from TV become real life?” I know he was talking about monsters from TV shows, but I was struck by the idea that what we see in the media—stylized depictions of fringe groups, sensational conjecture about the motivations of our political leaders, talk show hosts “ranting to the choir” (yes, you, too, Jon Stewart)—can seem like reality, when it’s largely fiction, designed to bring in viewers and validate their feelings.
I heard an interview on the radio yesterday with a man who believes that our President’s goal is to dissolve the U.S. and blend it into the New World Order, a concept with which I am very familiar, having been raised in a fundamentalist household. There are people who believe that Obama’s rise to power has been orchestrated by the devil, as part of the events they interpret as having been predicted by the Book of Revelations. Any efforts by a liberal U.S. government to interact cooperatively (rather than aggressively) on the World Stage are seen as a step toward a one-world government. I’m fascinated by a mindset that reviles a process that should theoretically lead to the impending Rapture, the ultimate reward for believers in this scenario. This belief-system is entwined with Nationalism and Patriotism. In this particular interpretation of the Bible, the Book of Revelations doesn’t have much good in store for anyone other than American Christians.
At this point I’m just wondering: if no good can come of buying into the media-perpetuated frenzy of finger-pointing, how can you go on a news diet without being ignorant of current events? Or do we just suck it up, take the news reports with a grain of salt, and look forward to better days? I can remember only one time in my 36years when I felt that the American spirit was shining the way it was meant to, and that was in the months following September 11th, 2001. People and political parties seemed to be treating others as compatriots, rather than adversaries. It only lasted until pre-pre-election season, but it was so nice.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Your Dear Little Ear
Yesterday was a very strange day. On my way to work, I passed a woman who was standing by the side of a street in the rain, holding a sign that said, Need work, and food. Please help. As I drove by she looked me in the eye and waved a little wave. I waved back and felt uncomfortable as I held my travel mug of hot tea and proceeded on to work. I thought about her, and about some of the choices I made as a young adult, in the years before I met Sean, and how much sadder my life could have been. At the next light I made a U-turn and circled back. I stopped and talked to her. I gave her phone numbers for homeless intervention services and some soup I had in the car to bring to work. I only give money to organizations, not individuals.
Later in the afternoon, driving back from a meeting in Reston, I saw an elderly woman walking along the side of the road with an umbrella, in the pouring rain. She was slowly making her way toward the drug store, perhaps to fill a prescription. I didn’t go back.
As a teenager, one of my first paid jobs was working for my grandparents. My grandfather and I spent many summer days painting, landscaping, or cleaning out the garage. He taught me how to use power tools, and how to finish something even when I didn't feel like it. He is a huge music lover, and our trips out to the work site involved listening to tapes of his favorite music (and sometimes mine). I became a lover of The Carpenters and Kiri Te Kanawa. Her version of Gershwin’s Summertime is my favorite. In high school I bought (with my own money!) a VHS video tape of the London sessions of the musical South Pacific, for two reasons: One, Kiri Te Kanawa, and two, Mandy Patinkin!
Now that I think about it, it’s no wonder I didn’t make a very good Goth chick.
Mandy Patinkin played Inigo in The Princess Bride, and for me and some of my friends in the late-80’s, that movie was almost a religion. I watched it and read the book so many times, well, it’s embarrassing. So I had to have this video, and it did not disappoint. The music was so good, and the lyrics-written in 1949--were so ahead of their time. I think it’s safe to say that Carefully Taught was my introduction to the idea of learned prejudice, and to the concept of questioning whether my beliefs were my own, or someone else’s.
Sometimes the thought of all of the suffering in the world can be overwhelming. In my line of work, I see a lot of it. Heaven knows how much I appreciate everything I have, and how things could have been so different for me. As I was reflecting on this, and some of the hateful things people have been doing and saying in the name of religion lately, I was reminded that diversity, in all of its forms, is the natural order of things. Even diversity of opinion is an essential part of humanity. Without the darkest, most hateful side of the human condition, you couldn’t have the brightest and most beautiful side—it’s just not going to happen. It’s hard not to get pulled into the bad things people say and do, but if you look at humanity as a whole, I think you can make a case that over time things have gradually gotten better and will probably continue to do so. Maybe I’m wrong, but people seem to have more rights, and there seems to be a wider acceptance of differences in general, than there was even 50 years ago. It’s very slow progress, but it’s progress just the same.
A few weeks ago in church we were asked to set aside our usual format of quiet listening and reflection (we attend a Quaker meeting), and instead to reflect and share our thoughts about several queries. One of these was What supports the growth of Spirit in our lives? I spoke about the anger and fear we see in world, and how we can either absorb and reflect it, or we can deflect and transform it. Quakers speak often of “letting your life speak”. I found myself thinking that people who can do this successfully are like trees, taking what is poisonous from the air, and turning it into oxygen. By deflecting and transforming anger and fear we encounter in the world, we can be like the trees.
Later in the afternoon, driving back from a meeting in Reston, I saw an elderly woman walking along the side of the road with an umbrella, in the pouring rain. She was slowly making her way toward the drug store, perhaps to fill a prescription. I didn’t go back.
As a teenager, one of my first paid jobs was working for my grandparents. My grandfather and I spent many summer days painting, landscaping, or cleaning out the garage. He taught me how to use power tools, and how to finish something even when I didn't feel like it. He is a huge music lover, and our trips out to the work site involved listening to tapes of his favorite music (and sometimes mine). I became a lover of The Carpenters and Kiri Te Kanawa. Her version of Gershwin’s Summertime is my favorite. In high school I bought (with my own money!) a VHS video tape of the London sessions of the musical South Pacific, for two reasons: One, Kiri Te Kanawa, and two, Mandy Patinkin!
Now that I think about it, it’s no wonder I didn’t make a very good Goth chick.
Mandy Patinkin played Inigo in The Princess Bride, and for me and some of my friends in the late-80’s, that movie was almost a religion. I watched it and read the book so many times, well, it’s embarrassing. So I had to have this video, and it did not disappoint. The music was so good, and the lyrics-written in 1949--were so ahead of their time. I think it’s safe to say that Carefully Taught was my introduction to the idea of learned prejudice, and to the concept of questioning whether my beliefs were my own, or someone else’s.
Sometimes the thought of all of the suffering in the world can be overwhelming. In my line of work, I see a lot of it. Heaven knows how much I appreciate everything I have, and how things could have been so different for me. As I was reflecting on this, and some of the hateful things people have been doing and saying in the name of religion lately, I was reminded that diversity, in all of its forms, is the natural order of things. Even diversity of opinion is an essential part of humanity. Without the darkest, most hateful side of the human condition, you couldn’t have the brightest and most beautiful side—it’s just not going to happen. It’s hard not to get pulled into the bad things people say and do, but if you look at humanity as a whole, I think you can make a case that over time things have gradually gotten better and will probably continue to do so. Maybe I’m wrong, but people seem to have more rights, and there seems to be a wider acceptance of differences in general, than there was even 50 years ago. It’s very slow progress, but it’s progress just the same.
A few weeks ago in church we were asked to set aside our usual format of quiet listening and reflection (we attend a Quaker meeting), and instead to reflect and share our thoughts about several queries. One of these was What supports the growth of Spirit in our lives? I spoke about the anger and fear we see in world, and how we can either absorb and reflect it, or we can deflect and transform it. Quakers speak often of “letting your life speak”. I found myself thinking that people who can do this successfully are like trees, taking what is poisonous from the air, and turning it into oxygen. By deflecting and transforming anger and fear we encounter in the world, we can be like the trees.
Modern Family
Leo and Zoe are very lucky children: they have a huge extended family that stretches up and down the east coast, and all the way out to Washington.
In Georgia, they have a set of grandparents, an aunt, and uncle, and their first first-cousin on the way. In West Virginia, they have second and third cousins. In Pennsylvania, they have a set of great grandparents, two grandparents, an aunt, great godparents, and many second and third cousins. In New York they have another set of great grandparents, another set of grandparents, a wonderful step family including seven step-aunts and uncles, and seven step-cousins, plus more second and third cousins.
Then there are still more cousins in New England and Seattle. Here in Virginia we have been so fortunate to get to know another branch of the family that can be best described as “good people” and whom we love very much. Add to all of this the tremendous network of good friends we have collected through the years as we made our way from Lancaster, to Kansas, to Binghamton, and finally, down here to Virginia, eight years ago.
We travel every year as much as we can, up and back, down and back, and greatly appreciate that some of the grandparents and uncles and aunts also brave metro DC traffic and the expense of coming here to visit us. We all do our best to be together as a family, although it’s never as much as we’d like. Sometimes people feel we don’t do enough to be with them, and although we’re sorry they feel that way, we know that our lives are packed and we can’t be everywhere for everyone—and that we shouldn’t try. We have to focus first on making time to enjoy each other at home together as a family, making each day a thing of value and togetherness, rather than over-working and over-extending ourselves for some future reward that may never come.
We strive to make our daily lives peaceful--despite work stress, and school obligations, and meetings, and homework, and chores, and extra-curricular activities--so that when we are able to venture out and visit the extended family we can truly be there with them, present, and with an attitude of joy. We try to remember that what can feel like pressure, or an accusation of selfishness, is really just their way of saying they wish they could see more of us. We do, too.
I guess this is modern life, when divorce, relocations, and school and work schedules create so many obstacles to what really matters--spending meaningful time together. But that is the reality. Over the next five years there will be major challenges and changes as we gain new babies, and lose our elders. We will continue to do our best to know and love our family and friends, and to keep our humble door open for them all.
In Georgia, they have a set of grandparents, an aunt, and uncle, and their first first-cousin on the way. In West Virginia, they have second and third cousins. In Pennsylvania, they have a set of great grandparents, two grandparents, an aunt, great godparents, and many second and third cousins. In New York they have another set of great grandparents, another set of grandparents, a wonderful step family including seven step-aunts and uncles, and seven step-cousins, plus more second and third cousins.
Then there are still more cousins in New England and Seattle. Here in Virginia we have been so fortunate to get to know another branch of the family that can be best described as “good people” and whom we love very much. Add to all of this the tremendous network of good friends we have collected through the years as we made our way from Lancaster, to Kansas, to Binghamton, and finally, down here to Virginia, eight years ago.
We travel every year as much as we can, up and back, down and back, and greatly appreciate that some of the grandparents and uncles and aunts also brave metro DC traffic and the expense of coming here to visit us. We all do our best to be together as a family, although it’s never as much as we’d like. Sometimes people feel we don’t do enough to be with them, and although we’re sorry they feel that way, we know that our lives are packed and we can’t be everywhere for everyone—and that we shouldn’t try. We have to focus first on making time to enjoy each other at home together as a family, making each day a thing of value and togetherness, rather than over-working and over-extending ourselves for some future reward that may never come.
We strive to make our daily lives peaceful--despite work stress, and school obligations, and meetings, and homework, and chores, and extra-curricular activities--so that when we are able to venture out and visit the extended family we can truly be there with them, present, and with an attitude of joy. We try to remember that what can feel like pressure, or an accusation of selfishness, is really just their way of saying they wish they could see more of us. We do, too.
I guess this is modern life, when divorce, relocations, and school and work schedules create so many obstacles to what really matters--spending meaningful time together. But that is the reality. Over the next five years there will be major challenges and changes as we gain new babies, and lose our elders. We will continue to do our best to know and love our family and friends, and to keep our humble door open for them all.
Friday, March 19, 2010
What, No Laptop?
The other night we enjoyed the sitcom The Big Bang Theory, a must-watch for anyone who leans in the direction of All Things Nerdy. At the end of every episode there’s a message from the director that flashes onscreen that you have to pause if you want to read it. On this particular night as we were reading and laughing about certain phrases, the following conversation transpired:
Sean: Are you done?
Me: You know I read faster than you.
Sean: But I was further along so that’s why I asked.
Me: That’s because I read the first third, then the last third, then the middle third.
Sean: Like you do.
Not only is this short conversation a lovely sample of the dynamics of a 16-year relationship between two first-born nerds, it also serves as yet another reminder of how different our brains are (not just Sean’s and mine, but everyone’s).
Have you ever participated in the Nasa Exercise for group decision making… where you’re given a list of supplies to assemble a toolkit for an expedition, and your group must negotiate and decide which of the items you will bring and which you will leave behind?
You are a member of a space crew originally scheduled to rendezvous with a mother ship on the lighted surface of the moon. Due to mechanical difficulties, however, your ship was forced to land at a spot some 200 miles from the rendezvous point. During the landing, much of the equipment aboard was damaged, and, since survival depends on reaching the mother ship, the most critical items available must be chosen for the 200-mile trip. The 15 items left intact and undamaged after the landing include a box of matches, food concentrate, 50 feet of nylon rope, parachute silk, a portable heating unit, two .45-caliber pistols, one case of dehydrated Pet milk, two 100-lb. tanks of oxygen, a stellar map (of the moon's constellations), a life raft, a magnetic compass, five gallons of water, signal flares, a first-aid kit containing injection needles, and a solar-powered FM receiver-transmitter.
Our brains are like that, I think: Lots of unrelated elements, some which seem very important, but will ultimately be useless or even a hindrance, others which may go unnoticed, but could end up being essential for our success or even our survival. Some of the characteristics in your toolkit should be kept or tossed, depending on what others you have to work with. A tendency toward compulsive behavior, for example, can allow you to practice the piano until you become a virtuoso, or it can lead you to dark places from which you can’t escape.
Each of us must decide what to keep, and what to leave behind.
Sean: Are you done?
Me: You know I read faster than you.
Sean: But I was further along so that’s why I asked.
Me: That’s because I read the first third, then the last third, then the middle third.
Sean: Like you do.
Not only is this short conversation a lovely sample of the dynamics of a 16-year relationship between two first-born nerds, it also serves as yet another reminder of how different our brains are (not just Sean’s and mine, but everyone’s).
Have you ever participated in the Nasa Exercise for group decision making… where you’re given a list of supplies to assemble a toolkit for an expedition, and your group must negotiate and decide which of the items you will bring and which you will leave behind?
You are a member of a space crew originally scheduled to rendezvous with a mother ship on the lighted surface of the moon. Due to mechanical difficulties, however, your ship was forced to land at a spot some 200 miles from the rendezvous point. During the landing, much of the equipment aboard was damaged, and, since survival depends on reaching the mother ship, the most critical items available must be chosen for the 200-mile trip. The 15 items left intact and undamaged after the landing include a box of matches, food concentrate, 50 feet of nylon rope, parachute silk, a portable heating unit, two .45-caliber pistols, one case of dehydrated Pet milk, two 100-lb. tanks of oxygen, a stellar map (of the moon's constellations), a life raft, a magnetic compass, five gallons of water, signal flares, a first-aid kit containing injection needles, and a solar-powered FM receiver-transmitter.
Our brains are like that, I think: Lots of unrelated elements, some which seem very important, but will ultimately be useless or even a hindrance, others which may go unnoticed, but could end up being essential for our success or even our survival. Some of the characteristics in your toolkit should be kept or tossed, depending on what others you have to work with. A tendency toward compulsive behavior, for example, can allow you to practice the piano until you become a virtuoso, or it can lead you to dark places from which you can’t escape.
Each of us must decide what to keep, and what to leave behind.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Phatness
Director Kevin Smith was recently removed from a Southwest Airlines flight when he was deemed a flight risk because of his weight. Smith is a big guy, but reaction to whether someone his size should face restrictions in flying have been mixed. On the one hand, we all want our tiny bit of real estate on an airplane to be free of the bulk of our neighbors. On the other hand, many Americans are big, and getting bigger. Two thirds of Americans have a body mass index (BMI) that qualifies them as overweight, and about a third qualify as obese. In a country that prides itself on freedom and diversity, do we want to discriminate against a third of the population because of their size?
I was an overweight teenager. As an average-weight adult, I still struggle with body image issues. And as a parent it’s very important to me to figure out how I will present this issue to my kids. It’s a challenge to help them learn to have a healthy lifestyle and avoid the health risks of obesity, while teaching the to accept and understand size differences in others. I have many friends and family members who are heavy, and nutrition has always been a topic of interest for me. Here are some things I’ve learned.
The simple fact is that if you consume more calories than you burn, you will gain weight. If you drink one can of soda’s worth of calories a day more than you need to maintain your body weight (at 155 calories per can) you would gain 16 pounds each year. To many, this is a black and white situation. If you are overweight, eat less. If you can’t, or choose not to… you are lazy, weak, or lacking willpower.
But willpower is actually only one small part of this complex problem.
Americans are confronted with an abundance of food and beverage choices. In the past century, humans went from having access to a few dozen foods in a given month, to hundreds, or thousands. Simple carbohydrates like white rice, corn-based foods, and sweets are cheap and abundant, and our government subsidizes the production of many of them. The tastefully-named blog, Thisiswhyyourefat.com gives hundreds of examples of the decadent, calorie-dense foods people have access to.
The corporations that produce many of our foods have been engineering them over many decades to maximize their appeal and keep you coming back. In his book The End of Overeating, David Kessler, a former commissioner of the Food and Drug Administration, describes how levels of fat, sugar, and salt are manipulated to make people want more (and therefore spend more). Human beings require certain amounts of fat and salt to absorb and process other nutrients and function properly, but the human body has no need whatsoever for sugar. Yet sugar is everywhere, a part of nearly every American diet. It is romanticized and used as a reward. On a recent show about drug addiction, I saw one poor fellow who was trying to detox from Oxycontin abuse, and he had stocked his apartment with soda and cookies to help himself through the withdrawal process. This is a good demonstration of the drug-like qualities and the power of sugar.
Overeating is considered to be a vice, like drug or alcohol abuse. Yet a recovering drug abuser can attempt to avoid drugs altogether, and to avoid people who abuse drugs and may tempt them. A person prone to overeating, however, must still eat, and they must do it several times a day. And the negative consequences of overeating are delayed, in most cases. If you eat a donut (or six), the immediate payoff in satiety can be much more motivating than the small amount of weight gain that will result from a single, small act of overeating.
People self-medicate with food. Simple carbohydrates have an antidepressant effect. The term “comfort food” is well known. In our fast-paced culture, where we pack so much responsibility and activity into every day (or feel lazy when we don’t), the stress grows and grows. Is it any wonder we do, too? http://biopsychiatry.com/sersadcarb.htm.
Obesity is thought to be a combination of nature and nurture, but it’s hard to know whether it’s truly hereditary, or whether attitudes and customs about food are just passed down through generations. Either way, we are all influenced by the way our families eat. It can be nearly impossible to change to a healthy diet such as the “Eat real food, not too much, mostly plants” approach encouraged by Michael Pollan--when you were raised on Ritz Cracker Mock Apple Pie and fast food. http://www.michaelpollan.com/indefense.php
In addition to overeating to self-medicate for conditions like depression and anxiety, some people maintain a bulky physique to meet emotional needs. A link between obesity and a history of child abuse has been found. An overweight body can make a person feel larger and less vulnerable, or in some cases, shift unwanted intimate attention away from themselves.
A small percentage of people have physiological or hormonal conditions, like thyroid abnormalities, that cause them to gain weight. Some medications also cause appetite increases and weight gain.
People who go through cycles of weight gain and loss often gain more pounds back than they took off. This used to be thought of as the body’s response to starvation (to lower the metabolic rate so that less food was required to maintain body fat stores). This effect is now known to be the result of muscle loss caused by dieting. When you lose 20 pounds through dieting alone, some of the weight lost is muscle. When you gain back that 20 pounds, it’s all fat, which causes your overall resting metabolic rate to decrease. Muscle mass burns more calories than fat.
The eating habits and requirements of those around us influence our ability to eat according to our own needs. It’s difficult to expect your family to make dietary changes based on one’s own preferences or needs. And high calorie “celebration foods” are always being placed right in front of us: by the neighbor who drops off a plate of chocolate chip cookies because you shoveled their driveway; the donuts on the conference table; the parties with their super calorie-concentrated finger foods. It’s easy to put away a day’s worth of calories at a party, between the alcoholic or sugary drinks and the food.
People are motivated differently by thinness and perceived attractiveness, which is, of course, entirely subjective. Many people are comfortable with being heavier, and they don’t think weight has any bearing on beauty. In fact, there are some people who find a full figure especially appealing. And overweight people with a pear shape can be quite healthy, as their stored extra weight may have less of an impact on their hearts.
The past two hundred years have seen a significant change in the activity level of the average American. We used to work actively most of the day: building, hunting, farming, cleaning, and playing outdoors. Now, computers machines do much of our work for us. For many of us, after sleeping, commuting to work, and then working all day on a computer, there is very little time left for vigorous physical activity. The minimum recommendation for brisk daily physical activity (to maintain heart health) is 30 minutes a day. Most people have to schedule this and move mountains to stick with it. And the overweight must move those extra pounds in order to do the cardio, much like a fit person jogging or swimming with a 25 pound weight (or whatever the size) tied to their waist.
And finally, and maybe most importantly, there’s sleep: sleep, sleep, sleepity sleep. Americans don’t get enough, they don’t value it, and they don’t understand it. Lack of adequate, restful sleep impacts our health on so many levels, including our mood, focus, productivity, and energy level. And for the purposes of weight control, it is crucial: People who don’t get enough sleep have higher levels of ghrelin in their blood, a hormone which stimulates appetite, and lower amounts of leptin, which regulates appetite. http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC535701/
Like other forms of prejudice, our negative attitudes toward overweight people are based on ignorance and fear. In fact, some of the most fat-prejudiced people I know are moderately overweight themselves, as in “I wouldn’t let it go that far." Yet we know that every person’s food environment is different. Some people only have to contend with a few of the above factors to maintain a healthy weight; some have them all to deal with. Because a person’s weight is clearly visible to us all, we feel we have a right to make a judgment. But many of the other tendencies that influence our health are not visible to others. A trim person whose diet consists entirely of junk/fast food is damaging their health and potentially taxing the health care system more than a moderately overweight person who eats too much healthy food.
Personally, I think people who overwork and over-consume things (rather than food) are able to move through our society free of judgment because our culture over-values success—putting it above the family and community contributions people sometimes have to give up in order to work long hours and rise to the top of their field. That puzzles me, but to each their own, I guess. We may have different values, but everything works just fine if we slow down and take the time to understand each other.
I was an overweight teenager. As an average-weight adult, I still struggle with body image issues. And as a parent it’s very important to me to figure out how I will present this issue to my kids. It’s a challenge to help them learn to have a healthy lifestyle and avoid the health risks of obesity, while teaching the to accept and understand size differences in others. I have many friends and family members who are heavy, and nutrition has always been a topic of interest for me. Here are some things I’ve learned.
The simple fact is that if you consume more calories than you burn, you will gain weight. If you drink one can of soda’s worth of calories a day more than you need to maintain your body weight (at 155 calories per can) you would gain 16 pounds each year. To many, this is a black and white situation. If you are overweight, eat less. If you can’t, or choose not to… you are lazy, weak, or lacking willpower.
But willpower is actually only one small part of this complex problem.
Americans are confronted with an abundance of food and beverage choices. In the past century, humans went from having access to a few dozen foods in a given month, to hundreds, or thousands. Simple carbohydrates like white rice, corn-based foods, and sweets are cheap and abundant, and our government subsidizes the production of many of them. The tastefully-named blog, Thisiswhyyourefat.com gives hundreds of examples of the decadent, calorie-dense foods people have access to.
The corporations that produce many of our foods have been engineering them over many decades to maximize their appeal and keep you coming back. In his book The End of Overeating, David Kessler, a former commissioner of the Food and Drug Administration, describes how levels of fat, sugar, and salt are manipulated to make people want more (and therefore spend more). Human beings require certain amounts of fat and salt to absorb and process other nutrients and function properly, but the human body has no need whatsoever for sugar. Yet sugar is everywhere, a part of nearly every American diet. It is romanticized and used as a reward. On a recent show about drug addiction, I saw one poor fellow who was trying to detox from Oxycontin abuse, and he had stocked his apartment with soda and cookies to help himself through the withdrawal process. This is a good demonstration of the drug-like qualities and the power of sugar.
Overeating is considered to be a vice, like drug or alcohol abuse. Yet a recovering drug abuser can attempt to avoid drugs altogether, and to avoid people who abuse drugs and may tempt them. A person prone to overeating, however, must still eat, and they must do it several times a day. And the negative consequences of overeating are delayed, in most cases. If you eat a donut (or six), the immediate payoff in satiety can be much more motivating than the small amount of weight gain that will result from a single, small act of overeating.
People self-medicate with food. Simple carbohydrates have an antidepressant effect. The term “comfort food” is well known. In our fast-paced culture, where we pack so much responsibility and activity into every day (or feel lazy when we don’t), the stress grows and grows. Is it any wonder we do, too? http://biopsychiatry.com/sersadcarb.htm.
Obesity is thought to be a combination of nature and nurture, but it’s hard to know whether it’s truly hereditary, or whether attitudes and customs about food are just passed down through generations. Either way, we are all influenced by the way our families eat. It can be nearly impossible to change to a healthy diet such as the “Eat real food, not too much, mostly plants” approach encouraged by Michael Pollan--when you were raised on Ritz Cracker Mock Apple Pie and fast food. http://www.michaelpollan.com/indefense.php
In addition to overeating to self-medicate for conditions like depression and anxiety, some people maintain a bulky physique to meet emotional needs. A link between obesity and a history of child abuse has been found. An overweight body can make a person feel larger and less vulnerable, or in some cases, shift unwanted intimate attention away from themselves.
A small percentage of people have physiological or hormonal conditions, like thyroid abnormalities, that cause them to gain weight. Some medications also cause appetite increases and weight gain.
People who go through cycles of weight gain and loss often gain more pounds back than they took off. This used to be thought of as the body’s response to starvation (to lower the metabolic rate so that less food was required to maintain body fat stores). This effect is now known to be the result of muscle loss caused by dieting. When you lose 20 pounds through dieting alone, some of the weight lost is muscle. When you gain back that 20 pounds, it’s all fat, which causes your overall resting metabolic rate to decrease. Muscle mass burns more calories than fat.
The eating habits and requirements of those around us influence our ability to eat according to our own needs. It’s difficult to expect your family to make dietary changes based on one’s own preferences or needs. And high calorie “celebration foods” are always being placed right in front of us: by the neighbor who drops off a plate of chocolate chip cookies because you shoveled their driveway; the donuts on the conference table; the parties with their super calorie-concentrated finger foods. It’s easy to put away a day’s worth of calories at a party, between the alcoholic or sugary drinks and the food.
People are motivated differently by thinness and perceived attractiveness, which is, of course, entirely subjective. Many people are comfortable with being heavier, and they don’t think weight has any bearing on beauty. In fact, there are some people who find a full figure especially appealing. And overweight people with a pear shape can be quite healthy, as their stored extra weight may have less of an impact on their hearts.
The past two hundred years have seen a significant change in the activity level of the average American. We used to work actively most of the day: building, hunting, farming, cleaning, and playing outdoors. Now, computers machines do much of our work for us. For many of us, after sleeping, commuting to work, and then working all day on a computer, there is very little time left for vigorous physical activity. The minimum recommendation for brisk daily physical activity (to maintain heart health) is 30 minutes a day. Most people have to schedule this and move mountains to stick with it. And the overweight must move those extra pounds in order to do the cardio, much like a fit person jogging or swimming with a 25 pound weight (or whatever the size) tied to their waist.
And finally, and maybe most importantly, there’s sleep: sleep, sleep, sleepity sleep. Americans don’t get enough, they don’t value it, and they don’t understand it. Lack of adequate, restful sleep impacts our health on so many levels, including our mood, focus, productivity, and energy level. And for the purposes of weight control, it is crucial: People who don’t get enough sleep have higher levels of ghrelin in their blood, a hormone which stimulates appetite, and lower amounts of leptin, which regulates appetite. http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC535701/
Like other forms of prejudice, our negative attitudes toward overweight people are based on ignorance and fear. In fact, some of the most fat-prejudiced people I know are moderately overweight themselves, as in “I wouldn’t let it go that far." Yet we know that every person’s food environment is different. Some people only have to contend with a few of the above factors to maintain a healthy weight; some have them all to deal with. Because a person’s weight is clearly visible to us all, we feel we have a right to make a judgment. But many of the other tendencies that influence our health are not visible to others. A trim person whose diet consists entirely of junk/fast food is damaging their health and potentially taxing the health care system more than a moderately overweight person who eats too much healthy food.
Personally, I think people who overwork and over-consume things (rather than food) are able to move through our society free of judgment because our culture over-values success—putting it above the family and community contributions people sometimes have to give up in order to work long hours and rise to the top of their field. That puzzles me, but to each their own, I guess. We may have different values, but everything works just fine if we slow down and take the time to understand each other.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Super Bowl Politics: An Open Letter to Sarah Palin
Hello Governor Palin: First let me say that when I first heard the announcement of your candidacy for the office of Vice President on August 29th, 2008, I was absolutely thrilled. The idea that such a confident, intelligent woman —a mother of five, no less— was on the Republican ticket was incredibly exciting. I am a working mother, and a proud feminist, and I knew your candidacy was an important step toward better representation for women in the political world.
I have watched your career over the past eighteen months with bewilderment. There are two central pillars of your political persona that I can’t reconcile: your “us and them” approach to patriotism, and your Christianity.
At last night’s Tea Party convention, your response to a question on national security was: "It's easy to just kind of sum it up by repeating Ronald Reagan when he talked about the Cold War and we can apply it to our war on terrorism. We win. They lose, and we do all we can to win." You were speaking in the context of the “War on Terror”, but you seem to apply this principle to all of your political goals, as though any action that contributes to your personal success, and the advancement of your ideals, is warranted.
You have made your Christianity and your devotion to your family a central part of your overall message. Yet you have chosen in your public appearances to appeal to and support the most divisive contingency of our society. You profess to speak to the ideals of the typical American, yet the average voter is not represented by your words, which, rather than inspiring progress toward the American ideals of equal rights and diversity in harmony, incite the very people who fear these things.
The overall historical trend in both the United States and the world has moved from discrimination toward equality, most likely because this ideal is a reflection of true progress. The human fear of that which is Other is well-documented, but the enlightened and compassionate among us can transcend this instinct. In her famous exercise with elementary-school students in the 1960’s, Jane Elliott demonstrated that children could easily be influenced to perceive superiority of one group over another, based on something as arbitrary as eye color. Once this was demonstrated to the children, however, they were less vulnerable to becoming cruel, and less likely to engage in prejudiced behavior. (http://www.uiowa.edu/~poroi/seminars/2004-5/bloom/poroi_paper.pdf)
Another famous and (and very controversial) study conducted in 1971 at Stanford University demonstrated that college students would quickly become abusive toward other students when put in a position of power over them, even when they knew that the characteristics used to define the power roles were arbitrary. (http://www.stanford.edu/dept/news/pr/97/970108prisonexp.html)
America will truly become the “greatest nation in the world” when we have learned these lessons, and applied them to the genuine equality of all of our citizens.
I believe that all of the world’s major faiths make important contributions to our global culture, and that there is something of the divine in all of us. I believe that the spirit we put into the world is returned to us. Jesus Christ was an example of humankind at its best. There is such tremendous wisdom in the Bible, and I think one of its most important assertions comes from 1 Peter: 8-9: “Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble. Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing.”
Surely a true Christian would strive to live up to this ideal. It’s my hope that you will be able to resist the carrot of fame and success that fringe groups are waving at you, as they do not represent the ideals and interests of the typical, moderate American citizen. They certainly don’t represent those of us who strive to live as Christ did. Most importantly, I hope that you will realize that winning in the political arena should be the result of true service to the American people, not on blocking and tearing down the efforts of the competition at any cost. This is not the Super Bowl; you are not a player trying to get a win for your team. You are a woman, a mother, and an activist in your own way. What kind of legacy are you leaving for those who come after you?
I have watched your career over the past eighteen months with bewilderment. There are two central pillars of your political persona that I can’t reconcile: your “us and them” approach to patriotism, and your Christianity.
At last night’s Tea Party convention, your response to a question on national security was: "It's easy to just kind of sum it up by repeating Ronald Reagan when he talked about the Cold War and we can apply it to our war on terrorism. We win. They lose, and we do all we can to win." You were speaking in the context of the “War on Terror”, but you seem to apply this principle to all of your political goals, as though any action that contributes to your personal success, and the advancement of your ideals, is warranted.
You have made your Christianity and your devotion to your family a central part of your overall message. Yet you have chosen in your public appearances to appeal to and support the most divisive contingency of our society. You profess to speak to the ideals of the typical American, yet the average voter is not represented by your words, which, rather than inspiring progress toward the American ideals of equal rights and diversity in harmony, incite the very people who fear these things.
The overall historical trend in both the United States and the world has moved from discrimination toward equality, most likely because this ideal is a reflection of true progress. The human fear of that which is Other is well-documented, but the enlightened and compassionate among us can transcend this instinct. In her famous exercise with elementary-school students in the 1960’s, Jane Elliott demonstrated that children could easily be influenced to perceive superiority of one group over another, based on something as arbitrary as eye color. Once this was demonstrated to the children, however, they were less vulnerable to becoming cruel, and less likely to engage in prejudiced behavior. (http://www.uiowa.edu/~poroi/seminars/2004-5/bloom/poroi_paper.pdf)
Another famous and (and very controversial) study conducted in 1971 at Stanford University demonstrated that college students would quickly become abusive toward other students when put in a position of power over them, even when they knew that the characteristics used to define the power roles were arbitrary. (http://www.stanford.edu/dept/news/pr/97/970108prisonexp.html)
America will truly become the “greatest nation in the world” when we have learned these lessons, and applied them to the genuine equality of all of our citizens.
I believe that all of the world’s major faiths make important contributions to our global culture, and that there is something of the divine in all of us. I believe that the spirit we put into the world is returned to us. Jesus Christ was an example of humankind at its best. There is such tremendous wisdom in the Bible, and I think one of its most important assertions comes from 1 Peter: 8-9: “Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble. Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing.”
Surely a true Christian would strive to live up to this ideal. It’s my hope that you will be able to resist the carrot of fame and success that fringe groups are waving at you, as they do not represent the ideals and interests of the typical, moderate American citizen. They certainly don’t represent those of us who strive to live as Christ did. Most importantly, I hope that you will realize that winning in the political arena should be the result of true service to the American people, not on blocking and tearing down the efforts of the competition at any cost. This is not the Super Bowl; you are not a player trying to get a win for your team. You are a woman, a mother, and an activist in your own way. What kind of legacy are you leaving for those who come after you?
Friday, January 22, 2010
This is a short story I wrote for elementary school-aged children about a young man who lives alone on the edge of a small town. Soggysox Sam teaches children the strategies people might use to avoid or handle challenges, and how our thinking can influence their effects.
Soggysox Sam
Not long ago in a small town called Willow Springs, there lived a very practical young man named Sam. Sam lived a simple life alone in a cottage exactly one mile from town. Every day he got up and walked to work in the town library helping people to check out their books. At lunch time Sam walked home on Creek View Drive and ate his lunch, and then he walked back to the library for the afternoon. Sam liked working at the library and he enjoyed talking with all of the people who came to the library, especially Miss Melanie. She came in every week to return old books and check out new ones. She was very smart and loved to read.
At the end of every work day Sam walked home again. When Sam was 10 years old, his mother had allowed him to begin walking to school by himself. Ever since then, Sam had walked the straightest and most direct route to and from town so as not to waste time. There were no sidewalks on Creek View Drive, so he walked on the road--which was barely more than a dirt path, really. Since Sam’s cottage was the only house out his way, very few cars ever went by.
One year, when Sam was 23 years old, the spring rains were especially heavy, and many puddles formed on Creek View Drive. One puddle in particular was so large that it stretched across the whole road. Sam was vexed! He couldn’t walk around the puddle to the left because there was a steep hill. He couldn’t walk around it to the right, because there was a sharp drop-off and he might fall. His only option was to walk right through the puddle, so that’s what he did.
The puddle was wide, but not very deep, so only Sam’s feet got wet. But all day as he worked at the library his shoes made soft squishing sounds with every step he took. How embarrassing! And when lovely Miss Melanie came to sign out a book, Sam had to stay behind the check out counter so she wouldn’t see his wet shoes. He wanted so much to talk to her, but he just couldn’t.
This huge puddle became a real nuisance to Sam, because he had to walk through it four times a day, and every time he did, his feet dragged the water along so that the puddle actually seemed to be getting larger. Somehow, the more he walked through it, the bigger it got.
Soggysox Sam complained about his problem to the town elders who visited the library, and of course they wanted to help. One of the elders, Old Doctor Edwards, gave Sam four magic pebbles to throw in the puddle. He said they would make it dry up. That day when he walked home for lunch Sam threw the tiny gray pebbles into the puddle, and it instantly began roiling and churning.
The muddy, brown puddle water shifted back and forth, forming waves that for a few seconds made it look just like a miniature ocean. A miniature tidal wave formed and tossed a large splash of water up and out of the puddle, forming a second, and then a third, and a fourth puddle. Sam could easily hop across these four smaller puddles and keep his feet dry. Those pebbles really were magic!
But the magic pebbles’ effects only lasted for the rest of the day, and when Sam returned the next morning the four puddles had become one again. Sam had no more magic pebbles, so he was back to where he started.
Another town elder, Old Senora Avestruz, told Sam that if he concentrated hard enough to ignore it, and waited long enough, the puddle would eventually dry up and go away. Sam resolved that he would do this, and soon found himself thinking so hard about not thinking about the puddle that he got a headache to go along with his soggy feet.
Old Professor Brown suggested that Sam study the puddle so he could find a way to get rid of it. So Sam took out all of the books in the library he could find about water and earth and rain and walking and studied every moment of his free time. But he still had a puddle to walk through four times a day. He felt like that puddle was taking over his life!
After many days of soggy socks and frustration, Sam finally had a chance to talk to Old Mrs. McDowell, who spent most of her time gardening in the town park. “What can I do about this puddle? He asked her. “The more I walk through it, the bigger it gets. I’m so tired of having wet feet I could cry.”
Old Mrs. McDowell advised him, “Sam, I am 93 years old. I’ve known your family since your great grandfather was in short pants, and he was just as stubborn as you are. There is one simple answer to your problem, Sam. Just walk to town a different way, for Pete’s sake.” And she turned to her petunias and placed one gently into the hole she’d dug.
“But Creek View Drive is the shortest way, the straightest, and the one I have always taken,” he muttered. “My father walked to town this way, and his father before him. There must be a way to dry up that puddle!”
“Suit yourself Sam, if you’re happy. But if it were me, I’d walk right through this park to get to the library from your house. The sweet scent of honeysuckle would follow you all day, instead of the feeling of muddy water between your toes.”
Sam knew Old Mrs. McDowell was much wiser than he, and he thought maybe if he considered his problem in a completely different way, things could be different. It may sound simple, but Sam closed his eyes, and instead of focusing on his clammy, wet feet, he thought to himself, “The park is a good way to get to town and back. I’ll try it.”
That afternoon when the library closed, Sam was tired and cranky from a long day of working with soggy socks. He was not sure at all about changing the way he walked home. He liked to do things a certain way, and didn’t want to do them any differently. He was really tempted to step out of the library and walk toward Creek View Drive.
On the front steps of the library he stopped and thought of Mrs. McDowell, so content and wise in her old age. He knew she could be right, and he should give her advice a try. So he headed toward the park.
The first thing Sam noticed about the park was the canopy the trees made over his head. It was like stepping into another world, and he could feel the stress of the day fading with each step he took. As he kept walking, he felt pride in his ability to try something new, and he felt a sense of optimism that he could do this after all. He could adjust to the new route and have dry socks every day. It was a huge relief! Even though it took a little more time to take this new route, it was a lovely walk, and he arrived at work happy and with dry feet!
Because his feet were nice and dry and he was feeling so chipper, the next day he asked Miss Melanie to have a picnic with him in the park, and she accepted the invitation. As the weeks passed, and spring turned into summer, he forgot a little more each day what it had been like to walk through that muddy old puddle. And he knew that if something else happened and he couldn’t walk through the park anymore, he could adjust and find another way to town.
Soggysox Sam
Not long ago in a small town called Willow Springs, there lived a very practical young man named Sam. Sam lived a simple life alone in a cottage exactly one mile from town. Every day he got up and walked to work in the town library helping people to check out their books. At lunch time Sam walked home on Creek View Drive and ate his lunch, and then he walked back to the library for the afternoon. Sam liked working at the library and he enjoyed talking with all of the people who came to the library, especially Miss Melanie. She came in every week to return old books and check out new ones. She was very smart and loved to read.
At the end of every work day Sam walked home again. When Sam was 10 years old, his mother had allowed him to begin walking to school by himself. Ever since then, Sam had walked the straightest and most direct route to and from town so as not to waste time. There were no sidewalks on Creek View Drive, so he walked on the road--which was barely more than a dirt path, really. Since Sam’s cottage was the only house out his way, very few cars ever went by.
One year, when Sam was 23 years old, the spring rains were especially heavy, and many puddles formed on Creek View Drive. One puddle in particular was so large that it stretched across the whole road. Sam was vexed! He couldn’t walk around the puddle to the left because there was a steep hill. He couldn’t walk around it to the right, because there was a sharp drop-off and he might fall. His only option was to walk right through the puddle, so that’s what he did.
The puddle was wide, but not very deep, so only Sam’s feet got wet. But all day as he worked at the library his shoes made soft squishing sounds with every step he took. How embarrassing! And when lovely Miss Melanie came to sign out a book, Sam had to stay behind the check out counter so she wouldn’t see his wet shoes. He wanted so much to talk to her, but he just couldn’t.
This huge puddle became a real nuisance to Sam, because he had to walk through it four times a day, and every time he did, his feet dragged the water along so that the puddle actually seemed to be getting larger. Somehow, the more he walked through it, the bigger it got.
Soggysox Sam complained about his problem to the town elders who visited the library, and of course they wanted to help. One of the elders, Old Doctor Edwards, gave Sam four magic pebbles to throw in the puddle. He said they would make it dry up. That day when he walked home for lunch Sam threw the tiny gray pebbles into the puddle, and it instantly began roiling and churning.
The muddy, brown puddle water shifted back and forth, forming waves that for a few seconds made it look just like a miniature ocean. A miniature tidal wave formed and tossed a large splash of water up and out of the puddle, forming a second, and then a third, and a fourth puddle. Sam could easily hop across these four smaller puddles and keep his feet dry. Those pebbles really were magic!
But the magic pebbles’ effects only lasted for the rest of the day, and when Sam returned the next morning the four puddles had become one again. Sam had no more magic pebbles, so he was back to where he started.
Another town elder, Old Senora Avestruz, told Sam that if he concentrated hard enough to ignore it, and waited long enough, the puddle would eventually dry up and go away. Sam resolved that he would do this, and soon found himself thinking so hard about not thinking about the puddle that he got a headache to go along with his soggy feet.
Old Professor Brown suggested that Sam study the puddle so he could find a way to get rid of it. So Sam took out all of the books in the library he could find about water and earth and rain and walking and studied every moment of his free time. But he still had a puddle to walk through four times a day. He felt like that puddle was taking over his life!
After many days of soggy socks and frustration, Sam finally had a chance to talk to Old Mrs. McDowell, who spent most of her time gardening in the town park. “What can I do about this puddle? He asked her. “The more I walk through it, the bigger it gets. I’m so tired of having wet feet I could cry.”
Old Mrs. McDowell advised him, “Sam, I am 93 years old. I’ve known your family since your great grandfather was in short pants, and he was just as stubborn as you are. There is one simple answer to your problem, Sam. Just walk to town a different way, for Pete’s sake.” And she turned to her petunias and placed one gently into the hole she’d dug.
“But Creek View Drive is the shortest way, the straightest, and the one I have always taken,” he muttered. “My father walked to town this way, and his father before him. There must be a way to dry up that puddle!”
“Suit yourself Sam, if you’re happy. But if it were me, I’d walk right through this park to get to the library from your house. The sweet scent of honeysuckle would follow you all day, instead of the feeling of muddy water between your toes.”
Sam knew Old Mrs. McDowell was much wiser than he, and he thought maybe if he considered his problem in a completely different way, things could be different. It may sound simple, but Sam closed his eyes, and instead of focusing on his clammy, wet feet, he thought to himself, “The park is a good way to get to town and back. I’ll try it.”
That afternoon when the library closed, Sam was tired and cranky from a long day of working with soggy socks. He was not sure at all about changing the way he walked home. He liked to do things a certain way, and didn’t want to do them any differently. He was really tempted to step out of the library and walk toward Creek View Drive.
On the front steps of the library he stopped and thought of Mrs. McDowell, so content and wise in her old age. He knew she could be right, and he should give her advice a try. So he headed toward the park.
The first thing Sam noticed about the park was the canopy the trees made over his head. It was like stepping into another world, and he could feel the stress of the day fading with each step he took. As he kept walking, he felt pride in his ability to try something new, and he felt a sense of optimism that he could do this after all. He could adjust to the new route and have dry socks every day. It was a huge relief! Even though it took a little more time to take this new route, it was a lovely walk, and he arrived at work happy and with dry feet!
Because his feet were nice and dry and he was feeling so chipper, the next day he asked Miss Melanie to have a picnic with him in the park, and she accepted the invitation. As the weeks passed, and spring turned into summer, he forgot a little more each day what it had been like to walk through that muddy old puddle. And he knew that if something else happened and he couldn’t walk through the park anymore, he could adjust and find another way to town.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Pots, Coins, and People
I have always enjoyed collecting things. The first thing I can remember collecting is stickers, which I kept in a photo album. After that came Garbage Pail Kids cards, which were delightful because they were tradable, could be organized according to various criteria, and most importantly, were distasteful to my mother. In high school I kept scrap books (which I still have) with drawings, magazine clippings and notes from friends. Over the years I have kept many collections, including (1) a small box of rocks and minerals, (2) old coins and other interesting items my grandparents found in my great grandparents' files, (3) photos and keepsakes relating to my grandmother, (4) photo albums related to the various phases of Sean's and my 15 years together, (5) three decades-worth of books, (6) a small but lovely collection of teapots, (6) journals and poems dating back to 1988 (oh the angst!), and (7) my jewelry, about half of which I made myself, from my large collection of beads.
There are things we collect that are not objects. Friends, especially in the Facebook era, are a collection of sorts. I went to 11 schools before college, and have lived in Pennsylvania, New York, North Carolina, Kansas, and Virginia. My friends are all over the world, and down the street; they are people I have known since birth, and people I have only known for a few months. When I think of the diversity of our friends and experiences, I'm reminded of the way I feel when I contemplate any collection: the satisfaction of looking at things and comparing their similarities and differences, and seeing how they all make up one greater entity.
What really got me to thinking about this was the realization that my newest collection is my children's learning. Kids absorb so much, and acquire new skills and information as such an astounding rate. Last night Leo told me about something new he had learned, and it gave me that same feeling, a satisfaction, a feeling of wealth, of adding a new thing to a growing personally valuable collection. I'd like to buy a scrapbook for them both, and have them draw pictures, write notes, and paste photographs to represent things they've learned that are meaningful to them. Thirty years from now those scrapbooks would be priceless.
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