Shhhhh....you're making yourself look foolish.

Dear World,

There are a great deal of things I know nothing about.  Public policy, for example.  Politics just upset me in general. I know next to nothing about sports, pretty much of all kinds except baseball.  And when I say I know baseball, all that really means is I can follow the game.  While I consider myself to be a Christian, I in no way ever profess to be an expert on scripture, and will forever have to look things up.  I don't know the history of yoga.  I know absolutely zero about the business world...zip!  Every time a friend who does know informs me of something, I am shocked that the world actually operates that way.  I don't understand the stock market.  Hell, I don't even understand our taxes, or our investments.  People have to break certain subjects down to a true primary level in order for me to even begin to get it.  I have no spatial ability whatsoever, and any little iPhone games that require spatial skills, I suck at. I love art, but I would never, ever claim to know a lot about it.  I just know what I like to look at.

When presented with a subject I know little to nothing about, I admit it.  There's no sense in trying to fake my way through a conversation.  It's  been my experience that people respect this...if it's something I should know, or would benefit me to know, I make it my business to find out. I don't, by any means, find myself amongst the smartest people in a room.  My skill set and knowledge is very specific and very specialized.  

Here's what I know a fair amount about:  Music...I have no musical talent or extensive knowledge about the history behind it, I merely know as a lifelong appreciator.  Early 70's funk, Motown, 80's New Wave, 90's grunge, etc....I think I'm reasonably informed.  I know about weird details about certain areas of the world like the horrific conditions in North Korea and genocides in Africa.  This is not due to high intelligence or extensive study, I just like to read a lot.  My husband will never get why I enjoy reading about these things, but I do.  Currently, I'm reading about the history of mental hospitals in America.  It's horrifying and fascinating, and soon I will be fairly informed about this as well.  I know a lot about musical theater, which would have happened one way or another growing up with my father.  It would have seeped in via osmosis. I can sing almost the entire Pippin soundtrack, although I don't know if I should even admit that.  I've never even seen the play.  I know about clothes, and I know about makeup.  This knowledge does not make me deep, I realize.  But I like clothes and makeup, so there you go.

Here is what I know a LOT about.  My job.  Over the past 15 years I have learned and will continue to learn more and more about special education and psychology.  I have no doubt that my learning isn't anywhere near being complete, but I pour my heart and soul into it every day.  So world, here is what I would like to ask of you...please don't try to inform me of how a child qualified for services...I qualified them.  I know the 13 handicapping conditions, and the educational criteria. I may not have all 13 committed to memory, but I do know them. I also know the difference between Ed code and DSM-IV-TR diagnoses...contrary to what some of you appear to believe, they are not the same. Do not tell me that you "know" a child has this disorder or that disorder, when in reality you know nothing about any of them, other than maybe from Wikipedia. Do not attempt to intimidate me with your vast "knowledge" about  my job. Try not to inform me that I'm not a "real" psychologist...I'm an educational psychologist and will never claim to be more than that.  I will always be respectful in meetings, and I will always word things as carefully as I can.  However, if you're wrong and I know you're wrong, I will shut you down and you will end up looking monumentally foolish.  Don't try to fool me with your dizzying acronyms in an attempt to make yourself look like an expert.  You're not...and I know what disorders are real and which ones are the disorder du jour that you found on the Internet.

I am an expert...in the few things I know.  I'd be happy to educate and inform, if that will help you.  If you have information I could benefit from, please let me know.  Otherwise, please...shut it.

Sincerely,

Jane

The New Elitist Feminism. (I'm SO going to catch hell for this...)

I feel so conflicted right now...but all these thoughts are swimming around in my head, and they're screaming to get out...so here come the screams!


A little background...My parents divorced when I was 3, and primary custody was given to my mother.  As I've written before, my mom is a highly complicated, incredibly intelligent person who raised me while being exposed to her strong feminist belief system.  At the time of my being raised-dom, the 70's and 80's, there was a lot of good coming out of these teachings.  I went to grade school during the time of "girls can be anything", which I believe I greatly benefited from.  I was taught to never see myself as been less-than, simply because I was a girl.  I listened to a lot of Helen Reddy. But I also grew up kind of not seeing boys and men as truly "people".  I was very close to my father and my brother, of course, and I have had male friends my entire life.  Despite this, outside of my family, I don't think that I really saw the males in my life as having real emotions and perspectives on things. I have to add at this point that I do not blame my mom for this (really, mom). For whatever reason, this is just what I picked up.  I honestly don't have a reasonable explanation for this and am positive this is not what my mother intended. In my mom's defense, she grew up in a totally different era, and believing in something that could empower women was a very positive thing for her. She has accomplished a great deal in her life and I'm incredibly proud of her.


As I grew older and entered middle school and high school, things changed for me.  I loved clothes and makeup, and I still do.  I received a fair amount of grief about this from both my mom and my sister during this time.  They both accept this and have apologized for giving me a hard time about it.  It was a weird time for me. I still believed I could accomplish anything, but didn't put a whole lot of effort toward anything in particular.  My bedroom was plastered with pictures from fashion and beauty magazines that, of course, added to my already rock solid belief that I was a hideous troll.  I think I probably would have sold my soul for clear skin.


In my 20's, I believe that I experienced a fair amount of discrimination for being female.  I was horrifically sexually harassed at a job I had in college, something I haven't ever spoken much about.  Nothing happened to me physically, but the husband of my boss of the software company I worked for said vile, explicit, disgusting things to me on a regular basis.  I didn't tell anyone, and did nothing about it.  I also just didn't fully understand the psychology behind it at the time, that this loser was actually engaging in this behavior in order to intimidate me.  I wonder what that that paragon of male virtue is up to these days.  Also in my 20's, I met and married my husband Mike.  He is my best friend, and probably bore the brunt of  my leftover "men don't really have feelings" problem.  I've since gotten over this, obviously.  


I had our children in my 30's.  I clearly remember a moment after I'd had Maddie, and had gone back to work full time.  I'd been having a really hard time keeping on top of everything, and was exhausted and thought I was doing everything wrong, as most moms do.  My own mother said to me, "I think we did you girls a disservice.  We all worked so hard at being forces to be reckoned with in the working world,  we never really took the time to think about who would raise the babies."  I remember feeling supported, relieved, and shocked, all at once.  Jeez, mom!  I thought I did everything I was supposed to do...I got an advanced degree, I have a meaningful job, I have a great marriage and beautiful children.  And yet, what I discovered at this time is the whole "Superwoman" thing is a total and complete MYTH.  No one I know skates through this experience.  All the working moms I know freak out that their house isn't clean, stress over the fact that they aren't being good enough mothers, and lament about not being on their A-game at work.  The only thing that brought me peace with this is the acceptance that I won't and can't be perfect at everything.  Good enough has had to become...well, good enough.



Probably my favorite moment in the last decade in which I was the victim of serious sexism was simply ridiculous.  Many people have challenged our marriage and questioned the type of wife I am.  In this instance, it came from the husband of a former friend.  You see, I have this really irritating habit of having an opinion, in case you haven't already noticed this.  I don't tolerate being mistreated, and as a result of this, I'm not.  However, while in the presence of this person, I would be continually disregarded and talked over.  Women didn't matter.  It absolutely bothered me, but I tried to overlook it and roll with it for the sake of the friendship.  Then Mike shared something with me...this person had told him that he should really work on trying to "get your wife under control."  This was years and years ago, but still makes me giggle to this day.  Yeah, give that a try!  As a matter of fact, I think that was Mike's response to him...a sarcastic, "Ok, man.  I'll try that."  I remember being astounded that there were still guys like this out there. Good Lord, it still makes me laugh.


These have all been my experiences that have evolved from being brought up by a feminist, and trying to forge my own path.  However, there is a "tone" to some feminist-like voices these days that literally make my stomach hurt.  A very good example of this is Jezebel.com, an online blog that I've mentioned before. To be fair, they don't identify themselves as a "feminist" site per se.  Jezebel is described as: a blog aimed at women's interests, under the tag line "Celebrity, Sex, Fashion. Without Airbrushing.The Jezebel manifesto states that the site "will attempt to take all the essentially meaningless but sweet stuff directed our way and give it a little more meaning, while taking more the serious stuff and making it more fun, or more personal. Basically, we wanted to make the sort of women's magazine we'd want to read." One of the site's guiding principles, according to Holmes, is to avoid saying "misogynist things about women's weight."  Okay, that all sounds fairly benign and positive, right?  Let's address women's issues, inform the masses, and have some fun.  Yeah...not so much.


Their recent salivation over ripping Jason Russell to shreds has gone to new lows.  In response to his recent breakdown, they write, "We're not sure how to adequately express our shock and disbelief at the news that Jason Russell, one of Invisible Children's co-founders and the star of the Kony 2012 campaign, was taken into custody last night for drunkenly masturbating in public. But, as Jezebel's own Erin Gloria Ryan put it, "Wasn't the entire Kony 2012 campaign essentially this white guy masturbating in public?" Holy Moses, ladies, HATE much??  They've been after this guy since day 1, and why?  Because he's a white guy.  How does this further the cause of women in our country?  How does being snarky, sarcastic, obnoxious, and just flat out MEAN help empower women?  You know what this kind of crap does for us women?  It makes us look awful, mean-spirited, and petty.  I will say that there were plenty of comments on the site that stated what I just did...that if Jason is truly having a breakdown, it's not something to laugh at.  They truly ought to be ashamed of themselves.


It's possible that they have intended for their site to be purely entertainment based, but that's not what it has turned into.  It has been touted, at the very least, to be pro-woman.  Yet, look what else I found?  This was dated February 10, 2012. "On Wednesday, Jezebel.com posted screenshots of a woman being raped. They didn’t post the video, because the video had been removed from the Internet. Luckily for everybody, though, Jezebel had screenshots from the video, so even as the victim may have been feeling relief that it had been wiped from the Internet, hey! Jezebel still has screenshots. Like a white knight on a trusty steed, raping and raping and raping and raping and raping the victim with every pageview. And because Jezebel is a responsible website, the editors… apologized? Explained? Justified? Justified their action in a short and sour editor’s note."


Jezebel.com, what, in the name of God, ARE YOU DOING??  They've also covered the foolishness regarding the birth control debate quite a bit, but have chosen to focus on the fact that it's all white males making the decisions.  Really?  Hmmmm, read this:  "Yesterday, a Senate Judiciary Committee endorsed Republican Debbie Lesko's HB2625 by a vote of 6-2, which would allow an employer to request proof that a woman using insurance to buy birth control was being prescribed the birth control for reasons other than not wanting to get pregnant."  Last I checked, Debbie was a woman's name.  So who is to blame?  The GOP, or just all men ?  Jezebel, could you even attempt to be fair?  I hate what's going on with regard to contraception in this country, it feels like we're living  in maybe 1975 or so.  But it's simply not fair to put all men at the end of the barrel of your gun. (I know you don't like guns, I don't either.  I was just trying to make a point there.)


I was raised to be a strong woman, and I am one.  I also love and adore the men in my life.  My husband and my son have my heart.  My father made a profound impact on my life. My father in law is one of the kindest people I have ever known. My male friends have all helped me to see that just because men don't emote as much as women does not mean they don't have emotions.  I am proud to work alongside with many dedicated educators who work long hours for piddly amounts of pay.  I have tremendous respect for my pastor.  The list could go on and on.


To the people in today's media and on the net who have hidden behind being proponents of "women's issues"...Guess what?  Being mean doesn't make you smart.  Hating men doesn't make you any more involved or informed.  Being incredibly insulting doesn't make you clever.  We can all empower women, our sisters, our mothers, our daughters, but we don't have to cut men down to do it. Jezebel.com, I will no longer visit your site or read any of your articles.  I hereby announce my boycott.  Oh, I'm sorry, was that sexist?  I will be girl-cotting your site.   Lose the tired old rhetoric, stop whining, and grow the hell up. 

My take on KONY 2012 and the arrogance of America...

I'm imagining by now that most people have heard of the KONY 2012 movement and have either seen the video or at least heard about it. Filmmaker Jason Russell is the co-founder of the organization Invisible Children and has made a 27 minute film hallmarking the atrocities of the warlord Joseph Kony.  Kony was the leader of the LRA (Lord's Resistance Army) and has committed horrific crimes against humanity across Central Africa for more than 20 years. He's stolen children in the middle of the night from their villages, turned the girls into sex slaves and the boys into soldiers.  He has forced the boys to kill their own parents, and in some cases, abuse them before killing them in ways I don't even want to write about.  He has essentially taken these children and systematically and maniacally broken their hearts and their spirits in order to manipulate them into doing other atrocities in his name.  Many hadn't heard about this going on until this video came out.  I had.  I knew that children were walking miles and miles away from their villages to the bigger cities to sleep at night because they knew they'd be safe there.  The next day, they walk back and then do it again. I knew that one of Kony's tactics is to get his boy soldiers addicted to drugs, primarily amphetamines, so as to make them more effective killing machines. I also know that similar things have taken place in Liberia and Kenya.  This just happens to be an interest of mine, and something that I like to read and learn about.


Jason Russell made it absolutely clear that this video was an experiment using social media to raise awareness about this particular issue.  However, over the past couple of weeks the criticisms of this video, and of Jason Russell, have truly astounded me.  I find it incredibly sad that our culture has essentially turned into a pack of vultures that actively enjoys watching people go down.  It's practically a national pastime at this point.  I think there are a lot of reasons why people have come out so strongly against this video and the Kony 2012 movement. In my opinion, many of the reasons are disgustingly egocentric and short-sighted.

Everyone is a Critic

A major downside of social media and the Internet in general is that it's given license to anyone to attack and criticize at will.  Look anywhere and you'll find it.  Kids are being horrifically stalked and bullied on Facebook.  Actually, adults have gotten to the point where they use Facebook to complain about everything!  The weather, bad traffic, bad drivers, not feeling well, their lousy jobs, former friends, the lists are endless and tiresome.  I'm not exempting myself here, I've done it too. People post reviews of books on Amazon that are absolutely scathing, not just about the book, but about the authors on a personal level.  The comments about videos on YouTube aren't even worth glancing at...they quickly plummet to anonymous people calling each other expletives.  What are people getting out of this? It's just mean-spirited and cowardly. This leads me to my next point that is specific to Kony 2012.

Let's Play "Hate the Hipster"!

This is an element of this situation that truly troubles me...I've read articles on websites that I sometimes enjoy, like Jezebel.com, which at the very least is usually amusing. One of the articles I read started with "I hated this video on sight" and went down from there.  Why???  They accuse Jason of being arrogant, superior, and someone who has used this video to exploit the issue.  Regardless of the fact that using the video to expose Kony was kind of the POINT, I think there's a bigger issue at play here.  I believe that these "elite" people are choosing to criticize Jason Russell because he's a cute, white, surfer boy from San Diego.  I truly, truly do.  These critics are so "cool", that they have to dislike popular things, God forbid they become conformists!  I think that if a different "type" of person had done the exact same thing, the response would be different.  An older woman perhaps, or someone of color, or someone not as good looking.  Yet, the fact that he's a cute white boy seems to have diluted the issue for some.  Isn't this discrimination? I've read criticisms about the fact that he included his own adorable little tow-headed son in the video.  What could this darling little boy know about suffering in Central Africa? I personally think that having his son in the video is brilliant, the point being that these atrocities that Kony has inflicted on thousands of children could happen to us.  Any one of those beautiful children in the video could be our children, had we been born into a different culture.  America has become absolutely gifted when it comes to lifting  themselves above everyone else in the world, and think that nothing that bad could ever happen here.  The arrogance of that is amazing to me.  

Everyone Knows How to Run a Charity Now?

One of the main criticisms has revolved around the way Invisible Children spends it's money. Jason Russell has made it very clear that they use a three pronged approach...fund their films, pay their employees, and help to rehabilitate the children who have been rescued out of this slavery.  That's the way that they have chosen to run their organization, why does everyone have something to say about it?  There are plenty of other charities who raise money that may go directly to the people they are trying to help.  I don't think that anyone should give to a charity blindly, do your research and donate to whatever cause you believe in.  I will say this though...if other charities had undergone the same level of scrutiny that Invisible Children has over the last few weeks, I guarantee that our nation's people would learn a lot of things they would not want to believe. No organization is immune to corruption, it happens all the time.  I personally don't believe, based on what I've read, that Invisible Children is a corrupt organization.  I don't believe that I've learned enough about them to make a call one way or the other, to be honest.  Somehow though, amazingly, everyone else seems to have already tried and convicted these people.

Another criticism that I've read was "child slavery isn't a new issue to Africa..."  That one absolutely floored me.  Because they didn't uncover something "new", it's not as important? Is it old news?  Are those sweet little faces not worthy of attention and help because they aren't novel?  WOW.  I guess helping horrifically abused children is "so yesterday!"  Lord, please help us.  The fact that child slavery isn't new should fuel the issue, not weaken it.  The fact that it's been allowed by our nation, the most powerful in the world, to continue for decades is evidence of our complacent society.  It's so easy to distance ourselves from these issues.  Those kids in Africa are all really poor and dirty, and they look different, and they may even worship differently than we do.  That would never happen here,, maybe they're cursed somehow.  For all the Christian folks out there who are dismissing this movement, what about Matthew 25 34-40?   “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in,  I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’"  

I don't know about all of you, but that directive is certainly clear and easy for me to understand. HELP.  We're supposed to help! What could be more meaningful than to educate the younger generation about these issues around the world?  Oh, there's a criticism for that as well...

These Stupid College Kids Will Fall For Anything!

The major focus, the most intended audience for this video, is young people.  High school and college kids have been largely responsible for spreading the word and sharing it.  The video itself has been minimized as being "slick and fashionable".  Well, the young people of our country are used to and tend to expect slick and fashionable.  It works, it gets their attention.  Right or wrong, this is true...this generation has grown up being bombarded with visual images that are far more advanced and sophisticated than the images we grew up with.  Yes, production was probably quite expensive, but I believe the style of the video has a major role in how widespread this movement has become. Now Invisible Children is selling t-shirts and bracelets and posters, "conning" our kids into thinking this is a cool thing to do.  It'll just be a flash in the pan that should fade overnight, right?  It hasn't faded, though.  Our kids have brains, and the ability to think for themselves.  Sure, the idea of running around in the middle of the night on April 20th to plaster the city with posters is appealing to the rebel that resides in most young people.  Legal vandalism! When I was in my 20's, I would have been all over this, no doubt about it. 

Our young people are not being used as pawns, as some have said.  They're actually being given an opportunity to learn about something unjust and evil that is happening in another part of the world.  Currently, our young people are bombarded with negative things...promiscuity is rampant, drugs are everywhere and being sold on campus at high schools, popular music is largely vulgar and disgusting.  WHAT could be wrong with making international awareness "cool"?? I'm sure that this will be a passing fad for some, but what about the young people who could become truly inspired by this, and empowered?  There are amazing young people in our nation who have the potential to help change the world, but they can't do it if they don't know what's going on.  It doesn't have to be with Invisible Children, it doesn't have to be about Kony.  These people could grow up and start their own charity, volunteer overseas, or become investigative journalists that help expose monsters like Kony, and there are a lot of them out there.  Give our young people some credit.

Jason's Experiment

Again, at the beginning of the video, Jason Russell stated that this was an experiment using social media for global change, and to raise awareness.  HE SUCCEEDED.  His video has broken every record, and is the fastest spreading viral video ever.  The last figure I heard was that the video had reached 72 million people.  The day after I saw the video, he was on The Today Show. In the evening, it was on the local news, which is generally so inane that I don't even watch it. Later that evening, he actually even reached what I refer to as "Stupidity News", that being Entertainment Tonight and Access Hollywood.  Oh my God, how refreshing it was to watch that story covered instead of another tired story about another idiot Kardashian person.  That same day, I googled it, and the amount of links that popped up was overwhelming.  Those were only the ones I saw...he's been everywhere, trying to defend himself at every turn.  He set out to raise awareness, and he HAS.  He's chosen to focus on Kony, who is by no means the only evil tyrant out there.  You have to start somewhere.  What's more important is that he's brought attention, in general, to the plight of children throughout the world. America, historically, has been  very good at ignoring this issues. 


I'd be lying if I said that there haven't been moments when I have been weary of hearing this, all the varying opinions, all the criticisms, all the media.  This is what divisiveness does...it paralyzes people.  In hearing so much conflicting information, the brain (mine, at least) becomes overwhelmed and just shuts it out.  The presidential race is a great example...so overwhelming and stupid, I'd prefer to just not pay any attention.  I'll vote, but beyond that, I'd like to pretend it isn't happening.  What the critics of Invisible Children don't realize is that they're casting these shadows of doubt on people who are putting everything they have into helping others.  As a result, people don't know what to believe, so they just put their attentions into other things.  I'd urge everyone who is reading this, do some research.  Find out the truth about whatever organization you'd like to support.  Doctors Without Borders. Clean Water International.  Peace Corps. World Vision. Courage To Be You. There are hundreds of organizations out there that are working to change the world.  Just choose one!


What Jason Russell has managed to do is truly ground-breaking, and he deserves a ton of credit.  I don't know what will ultimately happen with this movement, but he has accomplished something monumental, surfer boy or not!  He gets major props from me. More power to you, man, and God bless you.

Losing King

On Tuesday, it will be two years since my dad left us to head up to heaven.  I wrote the following essay months ago, for a contest.  I couldn't post it at the time because it was considered to be "published".  I didn't win.  Ppppppppfft!  The topic was "When did you first understand the true meaning of love?"  I wrote about losing my dad.  I had to limit it to a certain amount of words, so it will seem short to those of you who know how long winded I usually am!  I'll probably add more to it at some point, but for the time being, here it is:

Understanding the meaning of love is a tall order, and it comes in so many forms.  To me, the biggest love of all is to be the recipient of God’s love.  However, back down here on earth,  it manifests in different ways.  I truly don’t think anything can compare to the love between a parent and child, and I don’t think this is ever as clearly illustrated as when the chips are down. It would be easy for me to write about the love I have for my own children.  However, I’d like to write about the love that existed, and still exists, between my father and me, Arthur “King” Stuart.

I’m the youngest of three, and we had always been extremely close and had a special connection. My parents divorced when I was around three, and he became my confidante, my touchstone, and my friend.  At the end of 2000, he was diagnosed with Emphysema while visiting our family.  

Over the next decade, his health continued to decline significantly.  The last four years of his life were spent imprisoned is his bedroom, attached to oxygen and a catheter 24 hour a day, unable to walk and only leaving the house for doctor’s appointments. He had a full time nurse for years, so he was well cared for. However, the rest of the house and his room didn’t stay clean.  During one visit, I went out and bought a special vacuum for hardwood floors and spent nearly 5 hours cleaning his tiny room of approximately 100 square feet.  While he slept, I moved furniture, scrubbed the walls, and ended up completely covered from head to toe with years and years of pet dander, dust, and dog hair.  As I cleaned, tears streamed down my face and I was thankful he was sleeping.  At the end of another visit, I came by his house to say goodbye before leaving for the airport, but he was sleeping.  I gently tapped him until he opened his eyes, and he said, “Oh, this is like waking up to an angel!  You’re so beautiful!” He was such a sweet soul, and so kind.

My father and I shared a twisted sense of humor, and I asked him more than one time, “Daddy, haven’t you had enough of this?  Would you like us to just smother you with a pillow, or slip something in your Coke?”  He’d laugh, and explain that sometimes he felt ready to go, and other times he didn’t.  He finally ‘fessed up that he was staying alive for his children.  I explained, and knew this to be true, that not ONE of us was enjoying seeing him suffer.  We’re all adults with our own lives and families, and he didn’t need to stay for us.  As the years plodded along, we three siblings had to accept the fact that he could hold on like this for 5 more years, or he could go the next day.  There was no way of predicting it, but it was clear it was going to happen and he was not going to recover. This realization was torturous, and every time the phone rang from LA, I cringed.  

It got to the point where he really couldn’t handle a visit or a phone conversation much longer than 30 minutes, because he wouldn’t have enough breath to talk, and wouldn’t have enough oxygen in his brain to maintain an adequate amount of focus.  He was, at one time, on 37 different medications, the side effects of which often appeared worse than what they were trying to treat.  For example, a steroid he was taking resulted in his appearing as though he’d been beaten severely, or was masquerading as a very clever, graphic Halloween decoration.   A solid pattern of purple and blue bruising was present up and down his legs and arms, and I was afraid to touch him.  He preferred for visitors to sit on the left side of his hospital bed, which unfortunately also held the bag of urine from his catheter. He’d also be gripped by coughing fits that would produce unspeakable stuff.  It wasn’t pleasant. For this man, who had always taken great pride in his appearance, all of this was hard for him to take.  The last time I saw him in person, about 2 weeks before he passed, he lamented to me, “Honey, I look like a cadaver!”  I responded with, “Well, dad…yeah, you kinda do!”  And we both laughed.

Near the end, he’d said on several occasions that he just wanted to make it to 80.  He also wanted to see the recording of his younger brother’s memorial, who’d passed in October of 2009, but dad wasn’t able to attend.   He finally saw the video with my sister, and turned 80 on January 21, 2010.  A month to the day, he ate his lunch, took a nap, and peacefully passed in his sleep on February 21, 2010. 

The weeks that followed were a blur of preparation and planning. He’d made it clear that he wanted the reception after the service to take place in his home.  As a matter of fact, he attempted to plan it himself until I pointed out, "Daddy, you're going to be dead.  We got it." We took care of the remains, arranged his memorial at church, called over 90 people to inform them of his passing, and tried to contact as many alumni as possible in a little less than two months.  Dad taught speech and debate in high school for 37 years.  He was a revered, absolutely beloved teacher, and in reaching out via Facebook, I was overwhelmed with the responses. His old students came out of the woodwork, many of whom graduated from high school before I was even born.  “King was the reason…I’m an attorney, I’m a public speaker, I didn’t commit suicide, I knew I had someone who would listen…”   When the time came for his memorial, his home was it was in no shape for visitors.  Cleaners were hired, but did a lousy job, so my brother, husband, and I spent hours the day before the service re-cleaning the house.  The bed he’d died in had been removed by then, but the hardwood floor underneath the bed was covered in goo, the origin of which I don’t even want to think too much about.  However, as I was down on my hands and knees, scrubbing away the last of my father, it truly didn’t bother me.  In fact, it struck me the same way it does when you have a young child who vomits on you.  In the back of your mind it’s disgusting, but what’s more important is caring for that ill child.  The putrid nature of what I was scrubbing away did cross my mind, but what was overwhelmingly more important was making sure that his house, his castle, would sparkle the next day to honor him amongst his friends and family. The day of his memorial came, I spoke, I wore a great dress he would’ve loved, and I lived through it. It remains a blur.  One thing that I will never forget is the crowd of my friends who emerged to be there that day.  These dear people, many of whom traveled from different states, were undoubtedly there to support me. But they were also there because they loved HIM. That’s the kind of person he was.

My dad gave me my love of the theatre, my sense of humor and ability to laugh at absurdities, and loved me unconditionally.  He taught me the joy of laughter and being silly, and the importance of listening.  He taught me courage by example, by facing up to personal truths about himself that most are afraid to admit to themselves, let alone others. My dad picked fresh flowers from his garden and put them in my room when I visited from college.  My dad called me "darling." We adored each other, and what’s even better is that we both knew it.

At the age of 41, I believe I now understand the meaning of love.  Love isn’t all flowery and beautiful,  loving someone can be gruesome.  Love is doing anything for someone who needs you. Love is present every day.  Most incredibly, love is something you can feel, and it remains, even when the physical being is no longer here.  I miss him terribly, but I feel his love every day.  What’s more,  I know it’s real.

Rest in peace, Daddy.

No resolutions!

Complete and total credit for this idea goes to my old friend and amazing author, Liza Palmer.  Recently on Facebook, she pointed out that we’re always so hard on ourselves with the New Year looming, and we all try to make resolutions to correct whatever we’ve done wrong during the year.  Instead, she suggests, why don’t we celebrate the things that we’ve accomplished during the year that’s about to end?  Whoa…what a concept.

2011-THINGS I’VE DONE!

• On January 13, 2011, I began this blog. I’ve loved to write as far back as I can remember.  As a matter of fact, I recently found a story I’d written for my father when I was about 8 or 9, titled, “The Cat Who Meowed Backwards”.  This poor cat expressed itself by saying, “Woem.”  I digress.  I have journals that go back to age 10.  I have a folder of little essays I wrote in college on my word processor.  I’d never done anything with any of it. I was always too scared to let the personal information that is my writing out into the world.  It felt risky to me, as some of the things that I have written about are pretty raw, and some of the people in my life may not fully appreciate it. However, after losing my father, I got the guts to just try it.  I don’t know if anything will come of it, but people are reading what I write now.  Just a handful, perhaps, but that wasn’t the point.  The point was to no longer be afraid to put myself out there, and I’m not anymore.  This has been huge step for me.  I also submitted something for the first time, an essay contest for a major magazine.  I won’t know until January if I even got an honorable mention.  Sure, it’d be amazing to win, but I do not think that my life is THAT charmed. It was more a bravery thing for me, sending a very personal bit of myself out into the stratosphere, to have total strangers read. We shall see.

• This year, I’ve learned to authentically set up  much-needed boundaries with people in my life.  Pedestals have been toppled, and they were very much overdue. I went through some very painful, hurtful stuff this year, but have come out better for it on the other side.  It’s interesting to me how pain affects different people.  Everyone experiences heartache and loss.  I’ve seen some people internalize it and shut people out completely, or turn to self-destruction, or lash out horribly at people they care for.  Conversely, I’ve seen other people experience horrible pain, and turn it into something good. Strength, confidence, generosity, and gratitude…these are all things that can come out of pain. I can’t say that I’m one of these perfect self-actualized people who have gained nothing but positive things out of painful experiences, a lot of it sucked!  There were some months in 2011 that I don’t ever want to re-live, but now I can accept how completely essential and necessary it was that I experienced it. I do feel stronger, and I am most definitely more grateful for the life I have than I had been before my conflicts happened.

• This could easily be tagged onto what I’ve written above, but I want to separate it. I learned to let crap GO.  No one has done everything perfectly, there is no flawless parent or childhood.  I’d be lying if I said I’ve learned to never go back and dwell on the past, but I’m getting a lot better at not going there.  Forward.  Let’s go forward.

• Spring was rough, and two souls left this earth way too soon.  One was a very close family childhood friend, and his service was brutal.  I feel as though I’m still processing it.  He was 40, and he shouldn’t be gone. Another was also way too young, and the circumstances were tragic.  What I learned from both of these losses was both substantial and meaningful.  The most important thing I learned is that being there for people when they need you is a no-brainer.  There is no meeting more important, they can be rescheduled. There is no plane ticket that’s “too expensive”, that’s what credit cards are for.  When people you love need you, you GO.  I’m so very glad that I did, in both cases. Through this loss, I reconnected with one of my oldest and closest friends.  We hadn’t lost touch, per se, but our lives are just so different that months would go by without us talking.  We didn’t know as much about each other’s day to day lives.  Now we’re in touch nearly every day, and it’s been a total Godsend, for both of us. We’ve both gotten stronger, and learned a ton from each other.  I’m proud of that.  Tell people how much you love them, and do it TODAY.

• This summer, I finally passed my exam for my LEP license.  This stands for Licensed Educational Psychologist.  I’d taken the exam the year before, and FAILED IT.  That somewhat leveled me at the time, as it didn’t even occur to me that I could fail it.  It’s not as though I hadn’t studied, and I consider myself to be very good in my profession.  In any case…some humility was undoubtedly good for me.  I studied again this summer, pretty damn hard, and passed my exam.  Whoo hoo!  More silly letters to put behind my name! 

• Also this summer, I had the longest vacation I'd had in 7 years. I had six whole weeks off, three of which I had to myself, as my kids were back in school.  This was unprecedented.  We didn’t take any major vacations, or travel anywhere.  I spent a lot of time out by the pool, listening to music and reading.  I wish I could pinpoint the day, but there was a DAY this summer that I was just hit with all of the blessings I have in my life.  It was like a ton of bricks.  Several song lyrics played a part in this realization, as did the time I had to reflect on the people we’d lost.  All of the sudden it just occurred to me…I not only love, but I really like my husband.  My children are healthy and smart, and are lovely people.  We live in a nice house in a safe neighborhood.  I’m healthy.  I have a meaningful, albeit stressful job in which I know I'm helping people. I have amazing, loyal, wonderful friends. This is HEAVEN.  I feel like I regained my ability to enjoy myself. I learned how to laugh again, and not just a chuckle.  This year I’ve had more stomach aching, tears streaming, not breathing laughter fits than I can count. It’d been quite awhile.  I truly feel as though God and my father's spirit flipped a switch in me, and everything became more vivid.

• This year, I was able to rediscover how much I love going to concerts, and not just Justin Bieber this time!  I saw Sade in Oakland in August with my dear friend from college, and enjoyed myself more than I had in a very long time. We’re going to see the Red Hot Chili Peppers in February, a band I’ve loved since I was 19 years old.  I am more than happy to curtail the shopping for clothes in favor of going to see amazing artists play.  It’s just totally worth it.  Experiences are more valuable than stuff

• This year, I got three tattoos.  Holy smokes, were all of these this year?  It appears that this was indeed the case. I got an West African symbol that means "God is King" with the word "love" beneath it in my dad's handwriting, an angel on my back/shoulder, and a quote from a play/movie on my ribs.  This will dismay many.  Sorry, y'all.  It was something I wanted to do...so I did. Am I having a mid-life crisis?  Maybe a little one.  I'm having fun though, so I don't really care.

• Last month, I celebrated 15 years of marriage. Yes, this is a great milestone, but what makes it even cooler is the fact that I genuinely enjoy my husband’s company.  Yes, he’s an amazing dad and incredible cook, but he also makes me laugh my ass off.  We have so much fun doing ordinary, stupid things, like going to Costco. We find humor everywhere.  He’s gotten my crazy, crabby self through the last two years of my life, no doubt about it.  We took a cruise to the Caribbean for our anniversary several weeks back and we had an absolute blast. We snorkeled at all three islands we went to, and saw the most amazing fish ever, it was like being in Finding Nemo.  However, the highlight for me were the adolescent sea turtles we got to swim with in St. Thomas.  The turtles are old enough to be away from their mothers, but are still in a protected cove and aren’t full grown yet or ready to venture out into the open ocean.  They calmly graze on the sea grass that grows on the bottom like tiny cows, and then surface every once and awhile to take a breath.  They’re used to people, and they aren’t really scared. More than once, a little turtle head would pop up a couple of yards away from me, and I'd want to greet them, “What’s up, homie?”  They’d look around and then swim back down, as gracefully as angels.  I’m proud to say that I’ve had the opportunity to swim with sea turtles twice in my life now.  It’s one of the coolest things I have ever done, and I’d highly recommend it to anyone who is able.

• I continue to be in total awe of my children. I have no idea what we’ve done to deserve them, but we are lucky as hell. I don’t consider either of them to be accomplishments of mine.  Regardless, they continue to be ridiculously brilliant jewels in my life that fill me with a level of joy and love I never knew was possible.

Over the past few days, when I’ve been thinking about 2011 as a whole, it’s seemed pretty rough.  It’s a year that I was thinking that I wouldn’t be that sad to see end.  However, when inspired to look at it through this lens, my perspective has changed. This year was really important in my life.  I got to do some incredible things, and accomplished some major things, both internal and tangible.  Everything is a lesson, and I’m incredibly lucky.

Happy New Year’s to all, and God bless.  2012, bring it on!

My Incredible Girl

My beautiful first born turned 11 a couple of days ago.  The kind of young lady that she is turning into is difficult to put into words.  I suppose I’ll start with the typical, braggy stuff that parents who get on my nerves tend to do in excess.  Let's just get that out of the way.

Madeline is in the 5^th grade and has all A’s.  She scored fantastically on the state academic tests. She recently received an award at the district level for a poster she designed in our district’s attendance campaign.  She’s a Girl Scout.  She’s in student council. She’s currently a brown belt in karate and has recently taken it upon herself to try out for the basketball team, and made it.  These are all wonderful things, and I’d be lying if I said that these accomplishments didn’t fill me with pride. However, these accomplishments are far from the most amazing things about her, or the most precious. 

My daughter is fearless.  I have no idea where her confidence has emerged from, but it’s truly wonderful to behold.  This child had never seen a game of basketball in her life, as her father and I aren’t really sports enthusiasts.  She didn’t know the rules of the game, she had no idea how it’s played.  However, she called me on my cell phone one afternoon and asked if she could try out for the team at her school.  I thought to myself, “Sure, she should be given the chance.  She probably won’t make it, but that would be a good experience for her as well.”  Well, she made the team.  They haven’t played a game yet, and she bellyaches a little about the workouts, but she’s sticking with it.  I have no idea if this will become something she loves, but the point is that she wasn’t scared to try. When she was in 1^st or 2^nd grade, she took part in a school wide fund raising run.  It was just around the track on the campus, nothing marathon worthy or overly challenging.  However, while she was running, she tripped and fell flat on her face.  As a result of her fall, several children ran over her while Mike and I stood on the other side of the field and watched. She was a little thing, probably 7 years old.  Did she stop and run across the field to us?  Nope.  She did cry, as she legitimately got hurt.  However, she stood up, dusted herself off, and kept running, finishing the run with tears streaming across her face.  This child is not afraid of anything, and has this incredible perseverance.  First time snorkeling at age 8?  Not a problem, she dove into the ocean with her daddy and saw everything there was to see.  When I was 10 and 11 years old, I remember feeling afraid of everything.  I’ve spent a good portion of my life thinking of all the reasons why I shouldn’t try new things.  I truly have no idea where this fearlessness of hers comes from.

My daughter is a rule follower and has a crazy, intense sense of right and wrong. Sometimes she takes it too far, but I admire her steadfastness in this area.  While at the movies for her birthday, she walked down a couple rows to inform me that her friends would not stop talking.  I reassured her that it was still the previews, and it would be fine.  When the movie was over, she and another friend came up and informed me, outraged, that someone in front of them had been recording the entire movie on their phone.  “Should we call the police?” they asked.  Well, no.  I doubt that a pirated copy of the newest Chipmunks film, shoddily recorded from the back row would give the police a major cause for concern.  They have bigger fish to fry this time of year. Recently, she came home from a neighborhood birthday party that she attended with her little brother.  Another party guest, an 8 year old, said something incredibly inappropriate to her, of a sexual nature.  She was upset when she came home, and told us about it immediately.  We asked how she handled it, and she said that she told him he was too young to be speaking that way, and told the adult in charge.  I told her she handled it perfectly.  She said, “I don’t get it.  Why does he even know what that is, he’s only 8!”  I explained that some parents don’t care what their kids watch on TV and don’t take the time to teach them appropriate manners.  She shook her head in dismay and said, “Well, I’m sure glad that YOU guys did!” 

My daughter is an entrepreneur and is incredibly creative. Her love of animals has been there since day one, and that may be one thing she’s gotten from me.  But she’s taken it a step further.  She decided to start her own pet-sitting service, and has business cards, t-shirts, and a hat.  She designed the logo and the cards herself, in addition to her company slogan, “Making your pets happy, one paw at a time.”  She has a few clients.  When she helped to dog-sit for a good friend of mine and was finished with the job, she didn’t just leave a bill, she left a behavioral chart!  This chart had how the dog behaved, illustrated by happy faces, what the dog’s activities were, and what he ate and drank, as well as how much.  It cracked me up, but also left me in a state of awe.  Yes, I use behavioral charts and plans at work all the time, but I rarely bring those home or talk about them.  She came up with all of this on her own.

My daughter has incredible faith and compassion.  With this, I’m not even sure where to begin.  Regarding the faith, we’ve taken her to church since she was a baby. However, we don’t force it down her throat.  I’ve always felt strongly about laying the foundation with our children, but ultimately they need to come to God in their own way.  It’s a personal thing, and it’s our job to expose them, share our own experiences, and encourage them to share theirs.  As adults, it will be up to them to ultimately decide what they believe and how they’ll lead their life.  However, at least so far, Madeline gets it. She prays, she thinks a lot about people who have less than she does, and she wants to make the world a better place.  She recently went on an excursion with her girl scout troop to bring food to a needy couple.  The couple was elderly, and only spoke Spanish.  The wife was incredibly appreciative, and told them all that she thanks God for the girls.  Once that was translated into English, Madeline burst into tears.  Several months back, she wanted to volunteer at a concert our church was involved in, which is helping to build and fund a home for girls rescued from sex trafficking.  She is mature for her age, and does understand what that is.  When the songs were performed and a video was shown, she cried buckets and absolutely CLUNG to me.  On the way home, she kept saying, “I don’t understand why anyone would want to hurt a little girl.”  I explained that most people who do that are sick, and were probably hurt themselves at some point.  Without missing a beat, she said, “Then we should pray for them too, right?”  I was absolutely floored by this.  “Yes, honey.  They need it to.” About a month ago, she shared with me that a friend of hers was having a hard time with her parents being divorced.  In addition to this, her friend shared that her father was gay, and wanted to know if Madeline thought that was “weird.”  Madeline asked her if her daddy was a good man and if he was nice to her.  The answer to this was “yes.”  She replied, “Then it doesn’t matter if he’s gay. My Poppa was gay, but he was a good daddy.  All that matters is that your dad loves you.”  WOW. 

This morning, I’m sitting around in my pajamas, kinda crabby for my own reasons.  She approached me a little while ago and said, “Am I old enough to volunteer?”  Of course you are!  She talked about helping at the animal shelter, or taking clothes to kids who don’t have enough.  We have to plan for this, I explained, we can’t just show up at the SPCA or grab a bell for the Salvation Army.  I promised her we would figure something out.  She said, “I just keep getting the feeling that I’m supposed to help.  I wake up in the morning thinking about it.”  WHERE did this child come from??

This is not to say that she isn’t the typical pre-teen. She does her fair share of whining, rolling her eyes, and bursting into inexplicable moody tears.  She tortures her younger brother.  She complained at length when I wouldn’t let her download music onto her new Ipod that’s unfamiliar to me without previewing the lyrics first.  “God, mom!  I’m 11 years old, I can handle it!”  Mmmm, no you can’t.  I’m doing my job, and don’t need you listening to filth any sooner than you need to.  Soon enough, this editing of her life and protecting her from things will start to wane.  I won’t be able to control everything, my days are numbered in a way. 

In my profession, I always attribute a child’s success to their parents and their teachers.  It’s a natural thing, and I say it with total conviction.  However, when it comes to our own child, I’m less sure.  She HAS had top notch teachers, and I know that’s helped tremendously.  We have a wonderful extended family.  However, is she this incredible creature because of us?  It just can’t be. At 11, I was smart, I was mature…that’s about where I see the similarities ceasing.  I had no confidence, motivation, leadership skills, or creativity. I was generally afraid of most things and always confused about the world around me. Thus far, we’ve managed to raise a girl who is the exact opposite. I can't even imagine what she'll become as she grows older. Our job for the next decade or so will be to support her in all of her endeavors and to try to make sure she has as many opportunities to try new things as possible, while keeping her grounded.  

I don’t know what we did to become blessed by this girl, but I’ll accept it!  I don’t take it for granted, and I thank Jesus every day for my beautiful girl.  There is no better gift than that.

My cruise-inspired health epiphany.

We've just returned from a week long cruise to the Caribbean for our 15th anniversary. Well, we haven't returned, we're actually sitting in the Miami airport at the moment. I'd never been on a cruise and had no idea what to expect exactly.  I'd pictured a lot of overweight, glutton-ready Americans, stuffing their faces and hanging out in the casinos.  They were there for sure, but the variety of people was truly interesting and they were from all over the world.  The difference between American body image and seemingly, the rest of the globe, definitely stood out.  Guess what?  People don't give a crap what you look like.  There were some truly beautiful, perfect looking people, both on the ship and the ports.  However, most of the people looked like...people.  Fat and skinny, tan and pale, old and young. And not one of them was looking cross eyed at anyone else.  If they were, they were pretty damn discreet about it. There were a few women there sporting  g-string bikinis that at least I would think were ill advised. In fact, I find g-string bikinis to be uncalled for in general, but who am I to judge? The European idea of beauty and what is acceptable is clearly different than our screwed up American culture. Hell, I don't even know that all those people were European, I just know they weren't American.

I will admit that the food available and the eating that took place on the ship was mighty impressive. There were people who appeared to never become full. I only over-ate on one evening, at the Japanese joint on the ship. The seafood was fresh and drenched in garlic and butter and soy sauce and I couldn't help myself. I still left that evening feeling guilty that I didn't finish all my scallops. That night, I did feel sick from eating too much, but that was the only time. I ate more than I do at home, but mostly because of the convenience and the time that was available. Overall, I ate until I was full and then I stopped. That wasn't so hard. It'll be interesting to see what the scale says when we get home tonight, but I  don't think I gained much weight, if any. I eat well at home, and in a healthy manner. That is something I'm proud of, and fast food and lots of sweets taste horrible to me now. I'm also incredibly blessed to have a husband who makes amazing meals for us, so I don't have to try that hard.


Aside from the appearance of the people, what truly became foremost in my mind on this trip was the importance of health. I'm 41 years old now, and while I am indeed pretty skinny at this juncture of my life, I am most certainly out of shape. Granted, I've never been a good swimmer. While on  St.Martin, one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen, we were to swim a short distance from our catamaran to the beach and back, if we wanted to go to the beach.  I did.  I had fins, which help a little. Getting to the beach wasn't bad at all, we've had bigger waves in our pool. I still flopped onto the sand, carried by the tiny waves and struggled to get my fins off so I could stand up. When I was able to stand up, I was completely breaded in sand. The beach itself looked like something out of a James Bond movie, but my "beaching" probably resembled a Saturday Night Live skit of a "Bond girl", thrashing about without an ounce of grace. It didn't matter, no one was watching and no one cared. Getting back to the boat was a tad more challenging, what with the four inch surf and all. I, apparently, kick like I'm dying when I swim. Mike likened it to looking as though I was trying to swim across the English channel. I have old friends who have told me that watching me swim is like watching someone throw a cat into a swimming pool. I will admit that another fellow traveler did comment on my swimming prowess with a hearty, "You were KICKING!"  Yikes. This was the calmest, clearest water I'd ever seen in my life, and I had to swim an entire 50 yards. By the time I reached the ladder, I was completely out of breath and huffing and puffing like an asthmatic senior citizen. This is unacceptable. On the same excursion, we were taken to another almost absurdly gorgeous swim spot. A very sweet, largely overweight young woman threw caution to the wind and jumped into the ocean with everything she had. The splash was absolutely immense. But honestly, it was a beautiful thing. She was there to experience this beautiful spot on God's planet and she frankly did not give a rip what she looked like. I admire her. In the pictures taken of us on that trip, I was wearing my bikini top. I am sucking my breath in so much that my ribs stick out. What the hell is up with that? I have to angle my body and suck in my "gut" to appear as cute as possible, apparently. However, I was so worn out by my "swimming", that I couldn't catch my breath for several minutes. What is wrong with this picture?

I'd been thinking over Thanksgiving about how much I take for granted health wise. I'm grateful for every breath that I take with ease after watching my dad struggle with almost every breath for four years. I'm grateful for the ability to walk, as he couldn't near the end of his life. On the cruise ship, we could take the stairs and not wait for the elevators if we didn't want to. The older gentleman in the wheelchair with one leg didn't have that option. Neither could several other passengers we traveled with.  I'm still youngish. I'm not overweight. And yet, I have very little physical stamina. My life at home consists of a whole lot of sitting, in offices, in meetings, on my couch. It's time for this to change. The time to take care of my health is before something goes wrong. I know so many folks who have had to deal with health issues which were NOT their fault or due to any negligence on their part. Unfortunately, they just drew the short straw and have had to undergo surgeries, chemotherapy, and chronic, unbelievable pain. These folks are my age and younger. They have families, just like me. They have careers, just like me. What some of them don't have, is the ability to improve their health, simply by choice and action. This is a choice I do have. It's time to get my lazy ass off the couch and move. I can walk, run, "swim", and enjoy this beautiful life that I've been blessed with. In order to give this life the true honor and appreciation that it deserves, it's time to make the effort to take better care of myself and not let a tiny swim freak me out or bug my eyes out in terror at the mere mention of kayaking. There is absolutely no reason not to. There's a yoga schedule in my car I've been carrying around for about 8 months now. Perhaps now is the time to walk inside.