21: Today it means more than Blackjack!

Today is a huge day in my little family of three's life. Today, my oldest daughter, my firstborn turns 21. Yes, I know legally she has been an adult since age 18, but there was still some uncharted territory that she could not enter into legally, mainly consuming alcohol. Now, this is not going to be a post about the evils of demon rum, and I know that nothing was keeping her from imbibing before this day if she had wanted to at one of her college parties, but now that last little barrier is down, and LEGALLY, she can do anything she wants. She's not a kid anymore, and where the hell have 21 years gone? In my house, we are BIG Gilmore Girls fans! There is a character on the show, Lane Kim, the best friend of Rory Gilmore. Lane's mother is extremely strict! No rock music, no make-up, no dancing...you get the picture. Lane is a rebel, and lives a double life hiding contraband under the floorboards in her room, employing all kinds of schemes to date a boy she thinks will not gain her mother's approval until finally her secret life is revealed, and she moves out to live her life the way she wants. However when she finally ends up in a serious relationship and things are progressing the way most relationships do, she announces to her boyfriend, much to his shock and disappointment, that they have to be married. Later on she meets her mother on the street, and angrily she says to her, "You're in my head!" My little girl isn't a little girl anymore. She's away at college living her own life, and I am not there with that watchful eye to say, "No you can't do that!" or "As long as you're under my roof..." All I can hope is that "I'm in her head," and when she is faced with decisions big or small, she will think of all the conversations we've had, and the arguments and the advice I've given, yes, even sometimes unsolicited, and she will make the right choices. She will always be my little girl, but my role has changed. The raising part is done. She is on her own in the world. Ironic that we, as parents, spend all of our lives preparing them for this moment, and when it comes, all we want to do is hold on. Happy Birthday, sweet girl! I love you enough to let you go!

Everybody Gets a Trophy!

Recently I took time off work to attend what I thought was a school ceremony, at least I had the picture in my mind of what ceremonies were like when I was in high school. The function I attended was about as far from ceremony as you could get. My daughter was being inducted into an honor society. Coincidentally it was the same one I was inducted into in my high school days. When I was inducted or "tapped" as they called it then, it was a HUGE deal. It was coveted by those who didn't achieve it, and something to feel proud and honored by if it was achieved. The entire school attended the tapping ceremony, and the student who was being tapped had no idea until a fellow student, usually someone they had a bond with in the organization would come up behind the student and place their hands on their shoulders. You would then join the others to wait until all were tapped, and then you held a candle and took the pledge of the organization you had just been tapped into. Later, you and your parents, who had secretly been informed so they could attend to see this special moment in your high school career, were guests at a reception held in honor of all the inductees. It was an event that meant something, and being tapped into the organization meant not only academic scholarship, but leadership and character as well. You didn't just have to achieve a certain grade point average, and BOOM, you were in. I know this because I achieved the grade point average required in my Junior year, but I was not tapped until my senior year, something I was gravely disappointed about. What I attended last week could be likened to a cattle call audition. If you don't know what that is, anyone and everyone shows up for an audition and you are shuffled through as fast as humanly possible. The "ceremony", and I use the term loosely, lasted 20 minutes, TOPS! Very few parents were in attendance, only the students being inducted were there. No other part of the student body witnessed, as they had in my day, the induction. Some brief opening remarks were made by the sponsor. The officers were introduced. They read the definitions of the attributes required with about as much enthusiasm as if they were reading the phonebook. The president had all the students stand,  raise their right hand and repeat the pledge, and then all of the students names were read  so fast it made my head spin, as they crossed the stage to receive their pin. Closing remarks were briefly made by one of the school officials, and then we were released to the reception. Before you get excited and think the drive-thru ceremony was salvaged by the reception, let me describe it to you. A table was set up pushed against the wall in the commons area, and it was impossible to get to as the 3rd wave of the student body was also eating lunch at the time. There was cake and punch, and because of the crowd, it took my daughter a good 5 minutes just to get a cup of punch, which she then took back to her lunch table to eat with her friends. I gave her a hug, told her I was proud of her and left. My entire drive to work, I got more and more upset and disillusioned. There was nothing special about what I had just attended. No student felt honored or set apart. Truthfully, for all the decorum and pomp the ceremony possessed, someone could have called all the students into the auditorium, and threw the pins from a basket to the crowd much like someone throws candy from a float to the spectators watching a parade. I discussed things with my daughter later, and she told me that to get in, all you had to do was achieve the grade point average required, and pay your dues, and you were in. We actually knew about this at the end of last year. She brought a form letter home in her backpack that said she had been invited to participate, and when her dues needed to be paid to be in the organization. She didn't regard it as an honor, or something to be revered, or anything special. Why? because no one treated it as such. Why has it become taboo to set individuals apart? To make someone feel special? At the end of last year, my daughter received an honor in her choir that was voted on by her peers. As a proud parent, I posted on Facebook the honor she received only to receive a comment that felt it was not right to set an individual apart as "the best" Why? If they are the best at what they do, why not tell them? Why not give students an example to follow, a goal to strive for? Wouldn't that make them work harder, achieve more? I read an editorial several months ago that was written by a father. His son was young and had played in a basketball league. For lack of a better way to put it, he was terrible! At the end of the season a banquet was held. The son was given a trophy for participating. As the father and son walked to their car after the banquet was over, the son asked the father what the trophy was for. The father answered that it was for participation to which the son replied, "That's stupid." When they arrived home, he threw the trophy into the closet, and it was never seen again. Pretty smart kid, if you ask me. In an effort to make everyone feel "special" we have made no one feel special. Rather than positive results from sending the message that everybody wins, we have created apathy, and instilled a lack of drive and ambition. We have indeed told America's youth that to succeed in life, all you have to do is show up. Nothing could be farther from the truth, and we have done them a disservice by leaving them completely unprepared for rejection and failure. If you're even close to my age, 50 in a few short weeks, raise your hand if you've never experienced rejection or failure. I'm relatively sure NONE of you can make that claim. What ever happened to learning from our mistakes, trying that much harder when we lose, because the next time we want to win, looking at someone who is the best, and setting our sites to be just like him or her? I read a quote today in an article, and it sums it up best, "When EVERYONE gets a trophy, no one wins!"

Lost Connection

It's been 12 years. Sitting in my office this morning and reading Facebook posts about 9/11, I was trying to think of what kind of post to write. I didn't want to repeat myself, so I searched my own blog for previous posts I had written on the subject. I started to just share a previous post I had written in 2010 because I thought it pretty much summed up the way I feel, but just as I was about to hit the share button on Facebook, I stopped, not because the feelings I wrote about then don't still ring true for me, they do, but the picture I paint of America in that post isn't quite the same. My status update today asks the question, "Where were you?" But digging deeper, how did you feel then, and how do you feel now? 12 years ago, technologically, we were in a very different world. We listened to those reports of the attacks on a radio, or watched a TV set if we happened to be near one. If we were separated from our loved ones, we could not physically see them unless we drove to where they were. Yes, cell phones existed, but you could not call someone and see their face and talk to them on the phone. You could not shoot off a quick text of "You ok?" in between classes or coming out of a meeting at work. Today, we can communicate with each other instantly, and even if you couldn't get a call through, everyone would tweet or post, "I'm ok. Sending out prayers and love to all who have lost someone."  and the world would know just what was going on in our life at that moment. But for all of our advances in connectivity since September 11, 2001, we seem to have lost our connection. As is often the case when a tragedy of that magnitude strikes, everyone is united by their grief, their shock, their anger, their pain. We all come together. Together. I have to say, sadly, if someone asked me, today,  to name a word that describes America, together would not spring to mind. In fact, it may not be on the list at all. A friend shared something his mother used to say to him when he and his sister were getting along well, describing themselves as "Buddies to the end." To which his mother would reply, "And the end's not far away." I liken America to that. 12 years ago, we all stepped up. We thought of others before ourselves. We worked together for what was best for all. Now, we have become a people divided, caring only about being right and never admitting when we're wrong. Together isn't even in our vocabulary. It's my way or no way! Now, this seems like a pretty depressing post, but it was not my intention as I began to write this to depress anyone, more so to inspire. Do not wait for another tragedy to affect this country to come together, reach out, put someone's needs before your own. Build each other up! Don't tear each other down, and that includes celebrities! It all starts with one spark, and then another, and another, and another until there is a consuming fire of forgiveness, passion, and kindness. Be that spark! Start that fire!

The First of the Lasts

I have decided to write this blog post today because I can cry at home without attracting too much attention. Just kidding! Not really. I have already started, and I'm only 5 sentences in. Tomorrow, September 3, 2013, my youngest, my baby, will begin her senior year in high school. For this household, it will be our last ever first day of school. I cannot believe that I have watched her do this for 13 years already. I can still remember exactly what she was wearing her first day of Kindergarten, a little jeans jumper and a striped purple shirt, and no I didn't have to search through pictures to recall. She had a little bob haircut, a style in later years she told me she disliked greatly. That wouldn't be the last opinion she would share through her school years as she definitely speaks her mind. :) I walked her and her sister down to the bus top and cried just like I am now, and I am sure there will be many tears shed this year as I watch this beautiful young woman experience all the things that have to do with your final year in school knowing it's the last bit of childhood I have to hold onto. If you read this blog at all or if you know me personally, you know that our life has been a struggle. She has grown up without a father as a daily presence in her life as her father and I separated when she was 2. Some would say, "Well that's all she has ever known, so it probably wasn't that bad," and that argument has valid points. How can you miss what you never had? But on the other hand, you don't even have the memories of what it is to be daddy's little girl. Thank God for my father as he took over that role for both of my girls but especially my youngest. They shared lots of time together as we lived with my parents for her preschool years and beyond. Her older sister was already in school so that made for lots of quality time spent with my dad as he was retired and her primary caregiver for most of the day. If you asked her she would say that I have been all she has ever needed, but it's really the other way around. My children were my saviors. I pulled myself up because of them. That little girl in the jeans jumper has lifted my spirits more than she will ever know with her wisdom far beyond her years. Her depth of compassion is staggering! I know that tomorrow will carry with it bittersweet feelings as we experience the first of many lasts this year together. Bitter, well for obvious reasons as I have already gone through three tissues typing this and sweet because I am so proud of the young woman she has become. I know every parent says that about their kid, but for this one, there's something more, something none of us will ever know. Every person she comes in contact with will be touched in some way by her humor, her compassion, her honesty, and it will change them. I know she has changed me, and at the risk of her reading this, and saying, "Mom, that's so cheesy!" I will close with these lyrics: Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
                                                        But because I knew you,
                                                        I have been changed for good.
Go change the world, sweet girl! I love you!

Someone Else's Skin

I can't remember the very first time I saw the film, To Kill a Mockingbird. I believe it was somewhere around my early 20's. I will turn 50 this October, and in the last 30 years I have probably watched it at least 5 times. I loved the film, and was even set to name my second child Atticus, but God gave me a girl. Seeing the film almost 30 years ago you would think that at sometime I would have read Harper Lee's novel that the book was based on. I am ashamed to say that I had not, until now. Back in July, I was cast in a local production of To Kill a Mockingbird. In some of our very early rehearsals, the director suggested that we read the novel to get a real feel of the background of the fictional town of Maycomb, Alabama, the setting for Lee's story. So, 2 weeks ago, I trotted into Barnes and Noble and bought the novel. Now, I am not much of a reader. It's not that I don't enjoy reading, I've just always been a child of television and movies. It was like pulling eye teeth to get me to do any of reading in high school. I became the master of skimming to get the general idea. In fact, I became so good at it, that I once received an A+ on a critical analysis I turned in on D. H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers, a book I never read, but only skimmed with this comment, "This is one of the best critical analyses I have ever read on this book!" Go figure. So...I got lazy and coasted most of the time when it came to required reading. This time was different. I was really reading this book for research for a part on the stage, my true passion. I am so glad that I did. I finished it today, exactly two weeks after I started it. I cried several times. I laughed, and I thought....a lot! This book was written in 1960, 3 years before I was born. It's setting takes place in 1935, but the themes are just as relevant today, maybe even more so. Many people think this book is about race, black and white, and how we treat each other, and to some degree it is, but it's so much more. Atticus, after finding that his daughter, Scout, has had some trouble with her teacher at school tells her, "If you can learn a simple trick, Scout, you'll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks. You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view...until you climb into his skin and walk around in it." I don't know about you, but I think that one simple trick, as Atticus puts it, is the answer to world peace. I can't say that I always do that as I encounter people each day. I'm surprised, considering I must have heard my grandmother say a million times that we should follow the golden rule. If you don't know what that is, I'll enlighten you, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." As I read this beloved story, Harper Lee put me in someone else's skin several times, the falsely accused Tom Robinson, the physically abused Mayella Ewell, the neglected Dill Harris, the poverty stricken Cunninghams, the courageous addict, Mrs. Dubose,  and of course, the reclusive Boo Radley. As I "walked around" in their skin, I learned a thing or two about myself, and hopefully next time a situation arises,  I won't be so quick to pass judgement or assume the worst about someone, and maybe, just maybe, they might extend me the same courtesy.

Give Us Dirty Laundry

One of my friends on Facebook shared a photo last night. I looked at the photo, read the name, but didn't recognize it, and scrolled on to play my next level of "Candy Crush" Then this morning, another friend of mine posted this status, Maybe one day a person who saves countless children's lives will get as much attention and recognition as a person who takes them. Why is the media negative? Because that's what we tell them we want. It made me think of the Don Henley song, "Dirty Laundry" 


We got the bubble-headed bleached blond comes on at 5,
She can tell you 'bout the plane crash with a gleam in her eye,
It's interesting when people die,
Give us dirty laundry.
We have become a society who crave tragedy! We relish in celebrities woes! We want that dirty laundry! Now, before people get offended, I am not pointing fingers at anyone in particular, and when I say "we", I am not actually accusing anyone who reads this of being a ravenous wolf salivating at the prospect of seeing death, destruction and mayhem. I am merely making an observation. Case in point: Let's go back to the picture I mentioned above. The photo shared was that of Antoinette Tuff. For those of you who do not know who that is, she is the bookkeeper, yes, you read that right, the bookkeeper who talked an armed gunman into surrendering his weapons at an Atlanta Elementary school yesterday. The result? Over 800 students, an undisclosed number of staff, police officers on the scene, and even the shooter walked away from the scene without a scratch! I had to do a google search for "Georgia Elementary School" to find her name and the story. Of the 14 hits that came up on the first page, only 2 talk about Antoinette. The others are about the gunman, the AK47, and the shots fired. I saw nothing on Facebook when this was unfolding except one mention of a gunman at a Georgia Elementary School, and then nothing else until my friend shared Antoinette's photo last night. I have two local news station that come up in my news feed. Obviously, once it was over, and no one was hurt, I'm guessing, the story didn't make the cut for the teaser to go to the news station's website or watch the evening's broadcast. No, Antoinette's heroism and bravery were trumped by the three psychopath assholes who killed a jogger because they were bored. We read of the stories of the gladiators fighting to the death and feeding people to live animals while 1000's cheered, and we think it disgusting and vile and uncivilized, but is today's media frenzy obsessed with death and destruction really that different? And if we stopped watching, and turned it off, and stopped sharing it through social media, wouldn't they stop? I caught myself today. The story of the jogger killed came up on my news feed, and I got ready to share it on my timeline with my proclamation of my shock and disgust, and I stopped myself. I'm going to try very hard from this day forward to share good news. Does that mean I won't speak out against injustice? NO! But it does mean that I will stop and think before I hit that share button what and why I'm actually sharing. 

The Man Who Made the Shower Curtain Terrifying

Today is Alfred Hitchcock's birthday. I was never a big  fan growing up, and to this day, I still have never seen Psycho. It wasn't that I didn't like Hitchcock films. I just never gave them a chance because I was a big chicken. Then, in my late 20's, I was working for Time-Life. They had just broken into selling video and music series in addition to book series. Every year they held a big sale of all the current offerings at low, low prices for their employees. Books for $1. Videos for $5 and CD's for $3. I purchased a copy of a film called Notorious. It starred Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant, two of my favorite stars from that era. I didn't really pay attention to the fact that it was a Hitchcock film. I popped it into the VCR and watched it for the first time. It was released in 1946 and centers around the espionage and intrigue of World War II and the Nazis. It's really a mystery and suspense movie, not a scary movie, which is why I liked it so much. I had always thought all of Hitchcock's films were like Psycho and The Birds. Those genres were not to my liking, but with this new discovery of Hitchcock's mystery genre, I went in search of other titles. Thus began my pilgrimage to the master of suspense. In those days you could not get your movies streaming on your laptop, in fact there were no laptops. You had to go to the Blockbuster Video, yes video; not DVD, store and rent them. I started with  Rope, then Spellbound,  Strangers on a Train, Vertigo, The Man Who Knew Too Much, Rebecca, Dial M for Murder and my all time favorite, Rear Window. 

A few years back Hollywood tried to recreate this movie magic with a film called Disturbia. They failed. Hitchcock has a definite style. It's very slow and methodical. Nothing big and flashy. The best turn in this clip is the slow take that Raymond Burr takes directly into the camera, and you know. That was Hitchcock, drawing you in with every take. The top grosser of all time is of course, Psycho. As I said, I've never seen it, and I doubt I ever will. Of course, I'm sure it doesn't touch some of the things that I've seen on Criminal Minds or Supernatural, but I still don't want to see it. Without it, I still look behind the shower curtain every time I go in a bathroom where it is drawn. I don't need anything else to fuel my fire of fear and paranoia. The fact that I am not alone in that fear , I'm sure, is pleasing to Mr. Hitchcock, wherever he is. He made us look at every flock of birds in a different way. He made us wonder about the stranger next to us, and he made us hold our breath hoping someone would arrive to save our hero or heroine. Thank you for making our hearts beat a little faster in the dark!