Old School

My father in law has been in my thoughts lately.  Born in 1903, he came of age during the Great Depression, and that event shaped his character.  He repeatedly told the story of going to his bank in Chicago one morning to find the doors locked and a sign saying “Out of Business”  on the window.  His life savings completely gone, hopes of buying back his family farm disappeared.  His life and his outlook were forever changed.  He became pessimistic, fearful, and unable to enjoy anything.  He never trusted banks again, and took to hiding large sums of cash in strange places -we’ve found money wrapped in tinfoil and hidden under the ceiling tiles in the basement.

Although he wasn’t formally educated, having left school in the eighth grade, he was a deep thinker on many levels.  But his extreme conservatism, both politically and religiously, made for some very unpleasant dinner table conversation.  Truthfully, he most often made all of us miserable with his bombastic approach and hard core didacticism.  So, as is the way of youth, we generally discounted everything he said simply because of the way he said it. 

But I’ve been thinking about some of the “predictions” he made as far back as the 1980’s…that globalization would be the “death of America,” that the media would one day “control the country,” that a world currency would be “disastrous,” and credit was “evil.”  That banks and financial institutions, particularly the stock market, were “not to be trusted.”

Hmm. 

I’m rather glad he’s not here right now, because I’m quite sure he’d be saying “I told you so”  – over and over.

In the past couple of decades it seems we’ve all been focused on the future- on advancing technology, global entrepreneurship, and increasing personal wealth – that perhaps we’ve forgotten the lessons of the past.  We need to correct the excesses that have led us to this point – we need to return to values of honest work for decent pay, and we must return jobs to America so our citizens may reap the benefits of their labor

But just as importantly, we must overcome our feelings of fear and helplessness and look for practical ways to improve this situation.  It feels to me right now as if the world is collectively frozen like the proverbial deer in the headlights, standing stock still and helpless, not knowing which way to turn.  I don’t know about you, but I’m trying to jump back from the road into the relative safety of the woods while I reconnoiter and make a new plan of action. 

Although it probably wouldn’t hurt to take some cash and hide it in the ceiling.

What do you think?  Has your action plan changed?  Any ideas for things the average American can do to help alleviate the current situation?

Renewed

In the midst of winter, who could imagine the resorative power of spring?  For weeks and weeks I’ve been sludging through snow and ice, wind battering my face and stinging my eyes.  I took for granted that this was my lot, to live through this long winter with my shoulders hunched defensively around me.

I had forgotten about his magical place where the sun shines every day, the grass is still green, where rhododendrons, impatiens, and geraniums blossom in gleeful profusion.  A place where the herons dive headfirst into the lake, and sandpipers skitter beside my bare feet in the sand.  I’d forgotten that, even in January, one might be able to slip off a sweater while sipping cofffe on the patio at Starbucks, or that it was possible to kick off your sandals and let the cool ocean waves wash over your feet and ankles.

Ahh, Florida. 

For the past year or so, I’ve struggled with some ambivalent feelings about this southwestern Florida “paradise.”   In the seven years we’ve been coming here, I’ve become dismayed by the way the area has burgeoned into a mecca of materialisim and greed.  But within our gated community things have remained quiet and serene, and I’ve always found it a place to retreat, an oasis of calm in an otherwise busy, overcrowded city.

In light of our recent trip to Las Vegas, however, my feelings about Florida have mitigated somewhat.  The past three days here have reminded me just how refreshing it is to escape from the ravages of winter into the gentle pleasures of  a tropical clime.

So today, after breakfast with my father and stepmother, we drove to the beach (for the second day in a row).  For the true Floridian, it’s too chilly for beach-ing – but for us, 76 degrees is just fine, thank you very much.  I’m perfectly happy to wear a gauzy long sleeved shirt over my tank top and capri’s, and it doesn’t bother me one bit to sit for two hours in full sun and never break a sweat.  Plus, I’ve soaked up enough pure Vitamin D in the past two days to replace those gigantic supplement pills my doctor just prescribed.

I took a long walk down the (nearly deserted) beach, just me and the sandpipers.  I couldn’t resist picking up a few more shells, although the shelf in my laundry room where I display them is getting quite full.  One of them will come home with me, I think ~it’s flat and powdery smooth, layered with all my favorite shades of ecru and cream.  I imagine tucking it into the pocket of my slacks so that on some cold day, when my fingers are chilled and I thrust them inside my pocket, it will be there waiting to remind me of this magical place where summer never ends and the sun always shines.

The place where I was renewed.

In Perspective

With the inaugural excitement over, real life intruded in a big way yesterday as I rather literally “picked myself up, dusted myself off, and set about the task of remaking America”  my life.  

Things have been a bit surreal in Becca’s world for the past couple of weeks.  I’ve been sick, for one thing, with some strange combination of infections that have stolen my appetite, my hearing, and my ability to breathe through my nose.  Despite mega doses of antibiotics, the malady lingers, morphing in and out of my body like some weird shape shifting amoeba.  One day I feel quite fine, and the next I’m a quivery mass of weakness and nausea, wandering through the house wrapped in blankets and microwaveable heating pads to quell the spasms of chills that permeate my body. 

In the midst of this, we set off for a three day jaunt to Las Vegas.  Oh I know, you’re already shaking your heads in dismay.  Believe me, in retrospect I’m wondering what demon possessed me to agree to this trip.  Last December, when our friends invited us to join them at their Marriot Vacation Club Resort, I was in the midst of my Christmas season doldrums and the thought of doing something completely off the wall was very appealing.  And the trip was basically free – the lodgings were free, as was our plane fare, since we used frequent flyer miles.  So what’s to lose, right?

I’m sure there are people who really enjoy the kind of atmosphere Las Vegas provides – constant entertainment, gambling, the opportunity to indulge all the senses in every possible way.  Non-stop activity, drinking, food, shopping.  Anything goes, anywhere, anytime.

I’m not one of those people.  And even the unique architecture of the hotels/casinos couldn’t make up for the sensory bombardment.   There was something just a little evil about seeing all these people carelessly throwing money to the winds when back in my home state more than 10% of the population is unemployed.

Okay, I know that sounds prudish.  But I’ve become a lot more sensitive to egregious spending of late, and the whole Vegas atmosphere was just too much “in your face” wastefulness.  I don’t have money to waste anymore, that’s for sure, and if I did, I wouldn’t be wasting it in Las Vegas.

So the whole trip left a bad taste in our mouths – literally and figuratively.  My poor husband got terribly sick our last night there, and was so dehydrated the day we returned that I had to wheel him through the airport in a wheelchair, his Vitamin Water bottle attached like an IV to his hand.

Fast forward to today. 

We woke up this morning to the sound of birds singing and the gentle shush of the fountain in the pond across the street.  After coffee, we laced up our tennis shoes, pulled on sweatshirts, and set off  for a walk around the lake.  The sky was cloudless and purely blue, we met no one but friendly neighbors with their tail wagging dogs.

No, we’re not in Michigan anymore, Toto…and although I’ve found myself complaining about the materialistic lifestyle of the southwest Floridian’s, it’s a far cry from the hedonistic atmopshere in Las Vegas.

In fact, comparing today’s fresh air, green grass, swaying palm trees and foaming fountains with the congestion and choas of Las Vegas or the frigid, snow packed streets in Michigan, I’d have to say I’m in paradise.

I’m glad to have this opportunity to come to Florida right now, to sort of clear the Vegas dust from my brain.  Being in a place where I was totally out of my element and unhappy gave me a new perspective on the places where I feel most comfortable, and reminded me of the atmosphere that best suits my emotional needs. 

My therapist used to lead me through relaxation techniques which involved learning to put myself mentally in a place where I felt most tranquil and at peace.  “Visualize your favorite place to be,” she told me, her voice soothing and low pitched.  I lay with eyes closed in the big reclining chair, imagining myself on the walkway into the World Showcase at Epcot (which was a place filled with happy memories at that time), the gentle Disney-esque music playing faintly in the background. 

Finding your perfect spot in the world is no easy task, and sometimes the place differs from one stage of your life to the next.  The words of one of my favorite American folk songs (Simple Gifts) come to mind –  “and when you find yourself in the place that is right, you will be in the garden of love and delight.” 

I’m not sure my garden of love and delight is here in Naples, Florida – or even in my hometown of Detroit, Michigan. But I feel as if I’m a lot closer to finding it in these two places, different as they are, than I could ever be of finding it in Las Vegas, Nevada.

How about you?  Have you found yourself in the place that is right? Or are you still looking?

Godspeed, Mr. President

Watching televison coverage of  Barack Obama setting out on his historic railway journey to Washington on Saturday was a bit like watching Ulysses riding off into battle.  The days ahead will undoubtedly be difficult and dangerous, but, cheers from adoring crowds shivering in the cold alongside these train tracks dispelled some of that fear and distilled it into excitement and promise. 

One tv news reporter, describing the thousands of people lining the route, remarked that they had come to “wish this man Godspeed.”   I’ve always liked this saying.  According to Wikipedia, it’s a 13th century “expression of respect and good will addressed to someone about to embark on a journey or daring endeavor.”  It’s particularly appropriate to this occasion for the task before the 44th President of the United States is certainly one daring endeavor, a pilgrimage toward the re-creation of our nation.

Enormous expectations are heaped on the shoulders of this new administration-putting the brakes on the downfall of our economy, stabilizing perilous foreign relations, rebuilding domestic policy and programs, all while bringing social and racial cohesion to the nation.  While I have no illusions that one man can undo the damage that has been done in the past eight (or more) years, I have hopes that he can make a good beginning at the process. 

Obama’s  charismatic manner of speaking, which is both erudite yet down to earth, is greatly touted.  Much is also made of his ability to “fire people up,” stir people to action, inspire them to think and act in new ways.  He certainly capitalized on this talent during his campaign, and continues to do so in these days leading up to his inaugaration.  I believe this ability is one of his greatest strengths as a leader, and will prove to be the most powerful tool he has in helping to restore the United States of America.  As the greatest teachers, team coaches, conductors. and CEO’s learned long ago, a leader is nothing without the support, respect, and dedication of his students, players, and employees.  An organization is worthless without the support, respect, and dedciation of its members.  A country is lost without the support, respect, and loyalty of its citizens. 

Obama’s “job one” (at least on an emotional level) appears to be inspring this belief in the American people, this conviction that our country can be great once again, can “fulfill the promise of its founding fathers,” and that we can, one and all, live to reap the benefits.  It’s more than just words, as any coach who has faced a losing team at half-time will tell you.  Giving people belief in the ability of a positive outcome gives them the power to make it happen.

Listening to Obama speak on Saturday, listening to him exhort us all to come together in a sense of common purpose, inviting us to be part of his place in history, urging us to embrace our “power to make the world new,” it felt as if he were wishing us Godspeed in return.  For aren’t we all about to set out on this journey together, run onto this playing field with banners flying, march into battle with weapons at the ready? 

Godspeed, my fellow citizens.

Godspeed, Mr. President.

 

crossposted in the Carnival of Family Life at Colloquium

Honestly!

Myrthe, at The Armenian Odar Reads, honored me with this award, presented to bloggers who “are honest and speak their minds in a thoughtful manner.”    This one comes with an assignment – you are to list 10 honest things about yourself.  We are encouraged to “have some fun with this,” meaning, I suppose, to be candid, but also good humored. 

In an attempt to get my writing mind back in gear after three days in Las Vegas (more about that will be forthcoming), here are 10 honest things about me:

1. I say “yes” without thinking much too often, which gets me in trouble time and again, in every kind of situation you could imagine.   Plus, I generally tend to act without thinking things through “logically” (as my husband would advise), which causes me to do things I often regret;
2. I’m extremely claustrophobic.  I have trouble quelling panic attacks in traffic jams, I need to sit in an aisle seat in auditoriums and on airplanes.  I break out in a cold sweat when I see an MRI machine on some medical show – if I ever have to undergo one of those tests, I’ll need anesthesia;
3. I don’t like  hate big cities~ don’t care to visit, and would never live in one;
4. I’m impatient, which is a natural correlative to #1 (or maybe it’s the other way ’round);
5. I drive too fast – always have, and always will.  It’s my one minor rebellion against “the establishment” (as we old hippies once referred to all restrictions imposed by a governing body).  And yes, I know it’s dangerous;
6. Aside from my children, my husband, and my mother, there’s no one I’d rather spend time with than my dogs;
7. I would rather be home than anywhere in the world.  I like to visit other places, but being home definitely trumps traveling every time;
8. I look for the good in people, which sometimes makes me gullible;
9. Because I’m a good listener, empathetic, and non-judgemental, I often take on the role of confidante for friends and co-workers.  Conversely, I’m rather private about my own feelings, and rarely confide personal matters to anyone but my very closest friends and family (and you).  Which leads directly to the final “honest thing…”
10. I keep feelings bottled up inside, and sometimes suffer emotional and physical consequences. 

Part II of the award assignment consists of passing this award along to other bloggers whose honesty and thoughtful expression in writing have impressed me.  Among my regular reads, here are five writers whom I find particularly skilled at “speaking their minds in an honest and thoughtful manner”:

Anno

Jen

Bella Rum

June

Suzanne

Take a few minutes and go meet them – honestly, you’ll be glad you did.

Random Thoughts from the Junk Drawer of My Mind

I awoke at 4 a.m., thanks to the stimulant effect of Sudafed (which is no doubt why it’s locked safely behind the counter at Walgreen’s), with the usual random amalgamation of thoughts swirling in my brain.  In an attempt to clear them out once and for all, I list them (in no particular order):

1. What’s the proper etiquette when you receive a text message in error?  I got a message from an unfamiliar number at 7:00 a.m., cryptically stating…”new money.”   Should I text back – “wrong number?” 
2. Why -oh why oh why – does something happen every time I’m planning a trip?  We’re going to LasVegas tomorrow (I know, but it’s a free trip) and first I come down with a terrible cold, then we’re supposed to have a blizzard (!) along with record cold temperatures while I’m gone.  Worry worry worry…about my mother and the dogs and….
3. Perhaps Number 2 above is the reason I’ve beginning to feel as if traveling isn’t worth the bother (Gasp! I can’t believe I said that)  Especially having to pack a suitcase – I’m seriously  spoiled by our trips to Florida where I have everything already there and simply board the plane with laptop and purse.
4. I made the mistake of opening my 401K statement yesterday.  Dear God…
5. Speaking of junk drawers, I think a mouse has been in mine! 

So there you have it – now that I’ve downloaded all these disturbing things from the recesses of my psyche, perhaps I can continue on with my day.

Or maybe going back to bed would be a better plan.

Cafe Writing –

Don’t be discouraged by a failure. It can be a positive experience. Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success, inasmuch as every discovery of what is false leads us to seek earnestly after what is true, and every fresh experience points out some form of error which we shall afterwards carefully avoid. ~John Keats

 

Pick at least three of the following words, and build a piece of writing around them. The form is up to you: poem, scene, flash-fic, essay, or general blog entry.
discovery, experience, failure, false, highway, positive, seek, sense, true

Failure.  It’s a mournful word, I think, the diphthong a ghostly moan into the final syllable.  The voice tends to fall at the end of the word, defeated. I’ve not had much experience with failure, for which I’m appropriately grateful.  Although, I believe it’s because I seek safety, and not because I’m particularly gifted or even lucky.  I’m not a risk taker, in any sense of the word, and the highway of my life is pretty straight and narrow.

Keats is certainly not alone in the sentiments he expresses about the positive nature of failure.  Everyone from Jesus Christ to Oprah can quote chapter and verse about discovering new opportunities in the face of defeat.   I’ve observed this from time to time, seen people make lemonade from lemons and rebuild their lives after near destruction.  The human spirit seems indelible,  and sometimes the greater the hardship, the more magnificent the rebirth.  Like the phoenix, we rise from the ashes in golden glory.

I’m not sure I’m one of those people, and I often wonder if I would have the guts to dig myself out of a huge emotional or financial hole, to fight a deadly disease, to survive the loss of my husband or child.  When my young friend Jeff committed suicide two years ago, I looked at his mother and thought, if that were me, I’d crawl into a hole and never come out.

But most likely I wouldn’t do that, I’d continue on somehow, diminished in many ways but stronger for having survived something so horrific.  There’s a saying I particularly like, and you’ve probably heard it too…the one that goes, “a woman is like a teabag  – she gets stronger when you put her in hot water.”

I know it takes patience to survive failure, to wait for things to turn around when they’ve gone wrong.  It also takes forgiveness, sometimes of other people who have in some way played a part in your failure, sometime forgivness of yourself, when all your best intentions and efforts still go awry. 

Mostly, it takes time for perspective to set in, and for possibility to present itself to you.

Most likely I’ll someday have to discover what I’m really made of, for no one goes through life completely free of failure of one sort or another. I hope when the time comes that I’ll be gifted with the good sense to create something positive from the experience, “to seek after what is true” and be able to “avoid the error” in the future.

 ~for Cafe Writing

 

Friday Forecast: Dismal with a Glimmer of Hope

Amidst the news of more snow on the way and the headline on The Detroit News  citing Detroit as the “second worst place to live”, came the news that 26 people from my husband’s office had lost their jobs today.  Thankfully, he was not among them ~ at least not this time.   If you live in southeastern Michigan and work for an automotive company or one of their suppliers, you begin to feel as if a large bullseye is painted on your back.

Add to this  my stuffy head, scratchy throat, and achy body, and you could say it hasn’t been the jolliest of days.

However…

I did enjoy a nice lunch with my friend Carol, today ( at least I assume the food was good, since I couldn’t taste a thing! )   Our husbands sing in Measure for Measure, and she and I have become buddies as well as choir groupies.   This was our first outing a deux,  and we enjoyed talking over delicious fresh pita sandwiches at First Cup.

And…

 I have the entire weekend to recover from my cold/sinus infection, with a chunky novel to read (The Hour I First Believed, by Wally Lamb), some tv ( more Prime Suspect)  and a fresh batch of rooibos tea from Adagio.

So…

All is not lost.

Stay warm and stay well, my friends.

How about you?  What’s the forecast for your weekend???

Oh, Come On!

If you watched Gray’s Anatomy  last night, you’ll instantly realize the origin of this post’s title.  A young woman, hospitalized with a broken hip after a year of being befallen by one broken bone after another, raises her eyes to heaven and cries out in aggreived disbelief, “Oh, come on!”

That was my reaction this morning when I awoke at 4 am, last night’s sniffly nose a deluge, yesterday’s frog in the throat  a lump the size of Dallas.

Oh, come on!

My upper respiratory infections, while once numerous and legion, have dwindled significantly in the past several years.  In fact, I don’t recall being sick since that infamous trip to Florida in fall of 2007, when I flew home with a sinus infection and fainted during the descent into Detroit.

That flight is certainly on my mind this morning, because we’re due to fly to Las Vegas on Tuesday with some friends, and right now my sinus passages feel as tightly jammed as the airplane is likely to be, and I can already feel my larynx swelling tightly shut.

Oh, come on!

And the weather forecast is predicting eight inches of snow during the next 24 hours.

Oh, come on!

In another bit of televison wisdom, gleaned from yesterday’s epidose of Oprah’s Best Life week, we’re advised that, when things in life don’t seem to be working out as planned, look for those areas of our lives which are working.  After all, Oprah says, even if the only good thing you can say about your life is that you’re breathing without the help of  a machine, at least that’s something, right?

Oh, come on!

And pass me an oxygen mask, would you please?

Cafe Writing: Seven Things

In a mood of faith and hope my work goes on. A ream of fresh paper lies on my desk waiting for the next book. I am a writer and I take up my pen to write..
~Pearl S. Buck

In improvisation, one of our exercises is a game called “Seven Things,” in which we go around in a circle giving each other the challenge, “Give me seven things that [whatever].” We are not going to go around in a circle here, but if you’re drawn to lists, this prompt is for you.

Give me seven things that inhabit or occupy your writing space. Interpret “writing space” any way you please. You’re not required to explain the items in your list, but it’s more fun for readers if you do.

• My desks – the small oak writer’s desk my parents bought me when I went back to college in 1982  ~for the third and final time!  And also the new lap desk my husband ordered for me from Levenger’s a few months ago.  Both indispensible…
• My new engraved fountain pen, a Christmas gift from my husband, also from Levenger’s;
• My cozy chair and ottoman, where I can now not only read but write comfortably (thanks to the aforementioned lap desk)…
• My writing sweater, a black jersey cardigan my friend Pat had made for me.  The cuffs fold back to reveal stamped phrases (“live your dream,” “make a wish”), the pockets are patchwork, one with coffee cups, the other with brightly colored fish (I’m a Pisces), and one more with music staves flowing across.  In the pockets were more treasures…a tiny tablet, reminiscent of something Charlotte Bronte might have used, a cotton lace handerkerchief, and a tiny coin with the word “hope” etched into it;
• Books, piled on the floor, on the desk, on the small bedside table;
• An etching, done by one of my great-great aunts, of a path leading uphill in the moonlight, to a small cottage where smoke curls invitingly from the chimney;
• Two fluffy white dogs, always curled up at my feet, snoring softly as I type.

What are some of the things that adorn your writing space? 

Go to Cafe Writing  for more fresh writing ideas.

By the way, Write On Wednesday  is making a fresh start too.