My name is Jackie and I am a procrastinator.
Procrastination sounds like a dirty word to me, something you might whisper but not say out loud. It should have a 12-step support group based on it: “I admit I am powerless over my procrastination and my life has become unmanageable.” I would probably have a lot of company.
Okay, I mention procrastination (hey, lower your voice when you say that) mostly because I put off writing this column. But this brings up the valuable idea of the moral inventory.
The concept of 12-Step groups is that first you have to admit you have a weakness or addiction, and then you practice hope, faith, willingness to change, acceptance of help, and other steps that can lead you to a healthier life.
I believe 12-Step programs can be used for a variety of issues. One doesn’t have to fall into a specific category in order to benefit from the steps, but there does have to be a commitment to change and a willingness to look at oneself, the “fearless moral inventory.”
From observations and anecdotal evidence told to me by others, I believe that not enough of us are fearlessly taking inventory of our moral and societal values to notice where we have room for growth.
Every time I see or hear of the crazy, lazy, or thoughtless things people do, I have to remember that I can only change myself, and not to get too upset about the behavior of others. But believe me, it’s a challenge.
My friend, Rick, manages a retail store in Toledo. Recently he observed a family get out of their vehicle in the parking lot, apparently fresh from lunch because one of the children held a large fast-food bag in his hand. While the parents watched, the kid dropped the bag on the pavement and kicked it under the car next to theirs. Then they all held hands and walked toward the nearest store.
I ask that family, who is going to pick up after you, if not you? And please don’t complain that your children have no respect when you have not taught them how to be respectful of others.
With all the people looking for work right now, employers get swamped with applications for a single job opening. But when an interviewer says he or she will call to let you know whether you got the job or not, then doesn’t, that highlights the place as somewhere that is lacking in honest communication.
Manners still count, even if it’s unpleasant to call someone with disappointing news. When an employer neglects to call me back, I know it’s just as well I didn’t get the job, since the frustration of dealing with faulty communication issues tends to be a major cause of stress.
When my sons were in elementary school, one of my neighbors came home late one summer night with a friend and engaged in a loud conversation outside.
Although the conversation woke me, it was the sound of breaking glass that really got me out of bed. I walked out on my front porch and saw shiny glass shards all over my driveway. I asked the young man visiting my neighbor how the glass got there. He said a car had driven past and thrown out the bottle.
There had been no traffic, so I told him I thought he had thrown the bottle and that I had two young children who might cut their feet on that glass. Then I said I would get a paper bag and he could pick it up. I went inside, found a bag, and gave it to him. He picked up the glass and apologized.
Maybe I was too sleepy to worry about how things might have otherwise turned out, but I was so angry about the glass in my driveway that I didn’t think about that. I did think about the lesson of responsibility and respect that I wanted that young man to gain.
I’m willing to work on my bad habits, such as procrastination. I’m willing to admit when I’m wrong, and when I have room for growth. A fearless moral inventory and a willingness to change – those steps can be a path to behavior that makes life better for us all.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on April 21, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Curing Rudeness
I’m starting a new campaign to promote politeness. I call it “Courtesy by Walking Around.”
I was in a drugstore a couple of weeks ago, standing in line at the checkout. The man in front of me was on his cell phone, having a conversation with someone about her grandmotherly instincts. I wasn’t eavesdropping, but there was no way I couldn’t hear what he was saying.
When he got to the register he continued the conversation while answering the clerk’s questions. I wanted to kick him in the behind for being so rude, but he was a lot bigger than me, and kicking is not polite either. So I did nothing, but I imagined throwing a bottle of body wash at him and knocking the phone out of his hand. Just imagining, of course.
Untimely phone use has become so common that some businesses have signs asking folks to please end their cell phone conversations before coming to the counter. Do we really need to tell adults not to talk on the phone with one person while trying to do business with another? Why don’t they know this already?
What if all the clerks who were faced with cell phone users decided to say, “I’ll wait until you’re done with your conversation,” and then went on to help the next customer in line? Would the phone-lovers wise up, or would they just accuse the clerk of poor customer service and complain to the manager? I’d like to think they’d gain an understanding of their bad behavior, but I think complaining is more likely.
There have been numerous stories in the media about technology rudeness, but I don’t think technology causes it. It gives rudeness an outlet, and it gives people an excuse to shut themselves off from others by putting up an electronic force-field that says, “I’m busy, don’t bother me.”
In an office supply store I saw a woman with one of those phone devices attached to her ear. I’m seeing more of those, and I think they're strange. Having that thing on the ear makes a person look like they’ve been assimilated by the Borg on Star Trek: The Next Generation (“Resistance is futile. We are the Borg.”) and need to find Dr. Crusher in order to break free from the collective. Don’t try to understand if you’re not up on Star Trek story lines – that would also be futile.
I’ve tried to start a conversation with someone using an MP3 player, not knowing he had the device on because his hair hid the earphone wires. When he didn’t answer, I assumed he was being rude by not talking to me, or that he was going deaf at a young age. I’m not naming any names here, but it doesn’t matter whether it’s a teenager or an adult, those things still keep people at a distance by reducing the chance for verbal interaction.
My rant wouldn’t be complete without mentioning rude drivers, like the one who was in a great hurry (not to mention crazy) and passed me and several other cars in a no-passing zone. And store clerks who gather and chat, ignoring customers and only breaking from their huddle when it’s time to collect payment.
Recently, after spending so much time thinking about bad behavior, it seemed I was turning into an old geezer-ette. (“Back in the old days people were more polite!”) I didn’t want to feel old, so I went for a hike on the trail. It was a warm day and lots of other people were out walking.
Every person I passed said hello. What friendliness! No rudeness, just smiling, pleasant people! Perhaps we all just need more walking in fresh air and sunshine. There is hope. Get outside!
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan, on April 7, 2007
I was in a drugstore a couple of weeks ago, standing in line at the checkout. The man in front of me was on his cell phone, having a conversation with someone about her grandmotherly instincts. I wasn’t eavesdropping, but there was no way I couldn’t hear what he was saying.
When he got to the register he continued the conversation while answering the clerk’s questions. I wanted to kick him in the behind for being so rude, but he was a lot bigger than me, and kicking is not polite either. So I did nothing, but I imagined throwing a bottle of body wash at him and knocking the phone out of his hand. Just imagining, of course.
Untimely phone use has become so common that some businesses have signs asking folks to please end their cell phone conversations before coming to the counter. Do we really need to tell adults not to talk on the phone with one person while trying to do business with another? Why don’t they know this already?
What if all the clerks who were faced with cell phone users decided to say, “I’ll wait until you’re done with your conversation,” and then went on to help the next customer in line? Would the phone-lovers wise up, or would they just accuse the clerk of poor customer service and complain to the manager? I’d like to think they’d gain an understanding of their bad behavior, but I think complaining is more likely.
There have been numerous stories in the media about technology rudeness, but I don’t think technology causes it. It gives rudeness an outlet, and it gives people an excuse to shut themselves off from others by putting up an electronic force-field that says, “I’m busy, don’t bother me.”
In an office supply store I saw a woman with one of those phone devices attached to her ear. I’m seeing more of those, and I think they're strange. Having that thing on the ear makes a person look like they’ve been assimilated by the Borg on Star Trek: The Next Generation (“Resistance is futile. We are the Borg.”) and need to find Dr. Crusher in order to break free from the collective. Don’t try to understand if you’re not up on Star Trek story lines – that would also be futile.
I’ve tried to start a conversation with someone using an MP3 player, not knowing he had the device on because his hair hid the earphone wires. When he didn’t answer, I assumed he was being rude by not talking to me, or that he was going deaf at a young age. I’m not naming any names here, but it doesn’t matter whether it’s a teenager or an adult, those things still keep people at a distance by reducing the chance for verbal interaction.
My rant wouldn’t be complete without mentioning rude drivers, like the one who was in a great hurry (not to mention crazy) and passed me and several other cars in a no-passing zone. And store clerks who gather and chat, ignoring customers and only breaking from their huddle when it’s time to collect payment.
Recently, after spending so much time thinking about bad behavior, it seemed I was turning into an old geezer-ette. (“Back in the old days people were more polite!”) I didn’t want to feel old, so I went for a hike on the trail. It was a warm day and lots of other people were out walking.
Every person I passed said hello. What friendliness! No rudeness, just smiling, pleasant people! Perhaps we all just need more walking in fresh air and sunshine. There is hope. Get outside!
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan, on April 7, 2007
Expecting the Best
“Whatever you focus on expands.”
This popular phrase probably started out in a self-help book. I know I’ve read it many times in different types of literature. The idea is that when you focus your thought-energy, emotional energy, or physical energy on something, that aspect of your life will become more and more prominent.
I believe this is true for everyone, although most folks don’t know the extent of this phenomenon. Some toss it off as nonsense, disregarding the common-sense aspects of how it works.
For example, weight-loss experts urge those who want to get in shape to think and act like a slim person. The resulting behavior usually involves eating less and exercising, not with the attitude of “I’m fat and I have to do this,” but rather with the thought of, “I have a healthy, slim lifestyle.”
Changing thought patterns results in lifestyle changes, not just a temporary fix for a problem.
I have always been a worrier. To worry is to not only to be anxious or nervous about something, it is also described as “to seize by the teeth and shake”. Obviously, I’ve been looking up words on dictionary.com again.
When I worry, I am essentially seizing an idea with my (mental) teeth and shaking it, without letting go. I am the pit-bull of worrying. Sometimes I think about all the things that could go wrong, even the worst possible scenario, so that I can perhaps be prepared to deal with the issue if it ever comes up.
The thing is, most of what I worry about never happens. As a worrier I spend so much energy on anticipating bad things that I lose out on the good things that are happening right under my nose. Until the good jumps up and smacks me in the face with enthusiasm, like a dog that’s happy I’ve come home.
Spending precious brainpower and emotions on troublesome thoughts only promotes more troublesome thoughts. It’s a bad habit, it doesn’t do any good, and usually doesn’t prepare me all that much, because none of us can ever know for sure what’s coming around the bend.
I never worried about my gall bladder until a five-day episode eleven years ago that led to emergency surgery. I got through the recovery just fine without having prior knowledge of how I would deal with this unexpected event. That’s how most of life works: we deal with things as they happen.
The other day my worry habit came up and bit me when I wasn’t looking. One of my sons mentioned that he didn’t think what he wanted was going to happen, and when I told him that was a negative way of thinking, he said that if he expected the worst and something good happened, then he would be happy. But if the worst happened, then at least he wouldn’t be disappointed.
My first thought was, “Did he learn that from ME?” I was dismayed. How could I be an example of positive thinking to my children if they witnessed my worry habit on a regular basis? Focusing on worry only served to expand my worry – and gave my kids the idea that expecting good things to happen was foolish.
After that revelation, I vowed to show gratitude for everything in my life, and to speak of that gratitude more than I speak of my worries. I figure that giving thanks is always more uplifting that lamenting your troubles.
The day after I had the conversation with my son about expectations, a wonderful thing happened for him, something so great that neither one of us could have seen it coming. I told him that we have to believe there are good things out there waiting for us, even though we may not see them clearly at the time.
I’m not saying that my vow of gratitude caused the good fortune to come to my son, but who knows? We’re certainly not going to dispute it. We will just say “thank you.”
I do believe that whatever I focus on expands, so I’ve put the muzzle on worry. There’s a new dog in town, and it’s called “patient and grateful.”
And like an exuberant puppy, it makes me smile.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan, on March 17, 2006
This popular phrase probably started out in a self-help book. I know I’ve read it many times in different types of literature. The idea is that when you focus your thought-energy, emotional energy, or physical energy on something, that aspect of your life will become more and more prominent.
I believe this is true for everyone, although most folks don’t know the extent of this phenomenon. Some toss it off as nonsense, disregarding the common-sense aspects of how it works.
For example, weight-loss experts urge those who want to get in shape to think and act like a slim person. The resulting behavior usually involves eating less and exercising, not with the attitude of “I’m fat and I have to do this,” but rather with the thought of, “I have a healthy, slim lifestyle.”
Changing thought patterns results in lifestyle changes, not just a temporary fix for a problem.
I have always been a worrier. To worry is to not only to be anxious or nervous about something, it is also described as “to seize by the teeth and shake”. Obviously, I’ve been looking up words on dictionary.com again.
When I worry, I am essentially seizing an idea with my (mental) teeth and shaking it, without letting go. I am the pit-bull of worrying. Sometimes I think about all the things that could go wrong, even the worst possible scenario, so that I can perhaps be prepared to deal with the issue if it ever comes up.
The thing is, most of what I worry about never happens. As a worrier I spend so much energy on anticipating bad things that I lose out on the good things that are happening right under my nose. Until the good jumps up and smacks me in the face with enthusiasm, like a dog that’s happy I’ve come home.
Spending precious brainpower and emotions on troublesome thoughts only promotes more troublesome thoughts. It’s a bad habit, it doesn’t do any good, and usually doesn’t prepare me all that much, because none of us can ever know for sure what’s coming around the bend.
I never worried about my gall bladder until a five-day episode eleven years ago that led to emergency surgery. I got through the recovery just fine without having prior knowledge of how I would deal with this unexpected event. That’s how most of life works: we deal with things as they happen.
The other day my worry habit came up and bit me when I wasn’t looking. One of my sons mentioned that he didn’t think what he wanted was going to happen, and when I told him that was a negative way of thinking, he said that if he expected the worst and something good happened, then he would be happy. But if the worst happened, then at least he wouldn’t be disappointed.
My first thought was, “Did he learn that from ME?” I was dismayed. How could I be an example of positive thinking to my children if they witnessed my worry habit on a regular basis? Focusing on worry only served to expand my worry – and gave my kids the idea that expecting good things to happen was foolish.
After that revelation, I vowed to show gratitude for everything in my life, and to speak of that gratitude more than I speak of my worries. I figure that giving thanks is always more uplifting that lamenting your troubles.
The day after I had the conversation with my son about expectations, a wonderful thing happened for him, something so great that neither one of us could have seen it coming. I told him that we have to believe there are good things out there waiting for us, even though we may not see them clearly at the time.
I’m not saying that my vow of gratitude caused the good fortune to come to my son, but who knows? We’re certainly not going to dispute it. We will just say “thank you.”
I do believe that whatever I focus on expands, so I’ve put the muzzle on worry. There’s a new dog in town, and it’s called “patient and grateful.”
And like an exuberant puppy, it makes me smile.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan, on March 17, 2006
It's Not Easy Being Green
On the Muppet Show, Kermit the Frog once sang “It’s Not Easy Being Green.”
Perhaps the fine frog had a premonition about the future. True, sometimes it’s not easy “being green”, but a lot of worthwhile endeavors are not easy.
Being green encompasses many activities, all aimed at protecting the earth from further decline. I’m sure some people have heard about the movie “An Inconvenient Truth” and can’t figure out what the fuss is all about. Maybe they think they will most likely be gone from this planet by the time any real problems show up, so it doesn’t matter if they conserve energy or prevent pollution.
That’s kind of like making a provision in your will that your children will inherit your home when you’re gone – then letting the house fall into disrepair so that it’s no longer inhabitable. Who would want to inherit that?
It’s not a matter of being a tree-hugger or not. It’s a matter of maintaining what we have, rather than being sloppy and careless. It’s a matter of paying attention and doing what we can, even if it’s not always convenient.
I see a lot of people lining up on Saturday mornings to recycle materials at the Adrian drop-off site. Apparently there are many of us who are getting the message that we can’t continue to bury every item we can’t find a use for. Landfills can only take so much, and then there will be a need for more space. Will it be in a field near you?
On Monday mornings in Adrian, you can drive the streets and see which homes do not “Reduce, reuse, recycle.” There are big trash bags that obviously contain plastic, glass, and metal recyclables, piles of cardboard boxes, furniture and household items that are simply no longer wanted.
With all the options for disposing of items, why do folks just toss these things on the curb? Most likely they do it because it’s easy. Or maybe they don’t know any better and can’t figure out who would want their discards.
If you have useful home improvement items to get rid of, Habitat for Humanity’s ReStore in Adrian will take many of them. All you have to do is call and ask if they can use what you’ve got.
You can call the Lenawee County Solid Waste Department and ask for information about recycling and hazardous waste disposal, and you will receive an abundance of options for keeping “green”.
Several non-profit agencies will take donations of good used clothing, furniture, and household items. Check out Goodwill and the Salvation Army thrift stores, but don’t overlook Associated Charities, which gives useful items to those in need. And Lenawee Freecycle, an online Yahoo group, links givers with folks who are looking for items.
In my quest to live a greener life, I’ve started using compact fluorescent light bulbs instead of incandescent. They use much less energy. When I had to replace my car, I found one that was smaller and more fuel-efficient.
I would like to buy more organic food, since having pesticides, fertilizers and hormones in and on my food conflicts with my desire to be healthy, and pollutes the earth further. But a lot of organic food comes from across or out of the country, so the fuel burned to transport it seems to negate the benefits of reduced chemicals, at least where the earth is concerned.
So I vow to buy my food locally as much as possible. There are many food-producing companies based in the Midwest, and I support Eden Foods of Clinton as a source of organic choices.
Needle-Lane Farms on Tipton Highway provides vegetables grown organically (www.needlelanefarms.com), and Skow’s Berry Farm on Ogden Highway has such a wide variety of fruits and vegetables that it’s my favorite farm stand. There are many famers' markets in the area, too. I can’t wait for spring and fresh, locally grown lettuce and peas.
I know I’m not perfect. I sometimes take long showers, using water and the fuel to heat it. When it’s really cold outside, I turn my thermostat up to 70 degrees instead of the usual 68. Sometimes, when it’s very gray and dark out, I turn on several lights in my house to make it seem more cheery.
I don’t expect to live my life completely green, but I know I will do what I can, where I can. It’s not always easy being green, but I think about my children, and their future children, and I know I want to leave them a “home” they can feel safe in.
How green are you?
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on March 3, 2007
Perhaps the fine frog had a premonition about the future. True, sometimes it’s not easy “being green”, but a lot of worthwhile endeavors are not easy.
Being green encompasses many activities, all aimed at protecting the earth from further decline. I’m sure some people have heard about the movie “An Inconvenient Truth” and can’t figure out what the fuss is all about. Maybe they think they will most likely be gone from this planet by the time any real problems show up, so it doesn’t matter if they conserve energy or prevent pollution.
That’s kind of like making a provision in your will that your children will inherit your home when you’re gone – then letting the house fall into disrepair so that it’s no longer inhabitable. Who would want to inherit that?
It’s not a matter of being a tree-hugger or not. It’s a matter of maintaining what we have, rather than being sloppy and careless. It’s a matter of paying attention and doing what we can, even if it’s not always convenient.
I see a lot of people lining up on Saturday mornings to recycle materials at the Adrian drop-off site. Apparently there are many of us who are getting the message that we can’t continue to bury every item we can’t find a use for. Landfills can only take so much, and then there will be a need for more space. Will it be in a field near you?
On Monday mornings in Adrian, you can drive the streets and see which homes do not “Reduce, reuse, recycle.” There are big trash bags that obviously contain plastic, glass, and metal recyclables, piles of cardboard boxes, furniture and household items that are simply no longer wanted.
With all the options for disposing of items, why do folks just toss these things on the curb? Most likely they do it because it’s easy. Or maybe they don’t know any better and can’t figure out who would want their discards.
If you have useful home improvement items to get rid of, Habitat for Humanity’s ReStore in Adrian will take many of them. All you have to do is call and ask if they can use what you’ve got.
You can call the Lenawee County Solid Waste Department and ask for information about recycling and hazardous waste disposal, and you will receive an abundance of options for keeping “green”.
Several non-profit agencies will take donations of good used clothing, furniture, and household items. Check out Goodwill and the Salvation Army thrift stores, but don’t overlook Associated Charities, which gives useful items to those in need. And Lenawee Freecycle, an online Yahoo group, links givers with folks who are looking for items.
In my quest to live a greener life, I’ve started using compact fluorescent light bulbs instead of incandescent. They use much less energy. When I had to replace my car, I found one that was smaller and more fuel-efficient.
I would like to buy more organic food, since having pesticides, fertilizers and hormones in and on my food conflicts with my desire to be healthy, and pollutes the earth further. But a lot of organic food comes from across or out of the country, so the fuel burned to transport it seems to negate the benefits of reduced chemicals, at least where the earth is concerned.
So I vow to buy my food locally as much as possible. There are many food-producing companies based in the Midwest, and I support Eden Foods of Clinton as a source of organic choices.
Needle-Lane Farms on Tipton Highway provides vegetables grown organically (www.needlelanefarms.com), and Skow’s Berry Farm on Ogden Highway has such a wide variety of fruits and vegetables that it’s my favorite farm stand. There are many famers' markets in the area, too. I can’t wait for spring and fresh, locally grown lettuce and peas.
I know I’m not perfect. I sometimes take long showers, using water and the fuel to heat it. When it’s really cold outside, I turn my thermostat up to 70 degrees instead of the usual 68. Sometimes, when it’s very gray and dark out, I turn on several lights in my house to make it seem more cheery.
I don’t expect to live my life completely green, but I know I will do what I can, where I can. It’s not always easy being green, but I think about my children, and their future children, and I know I want to leave them a “home” they can feel safe in.
How green are you?
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on March 3, 2007
Cabin Fever
I think cabin fever has set in. After four months of captivity, a lack of sun, and close quarters, my family is starting to show signs of the strain. We all want to get outside and move freely, but the extremely cold weather and recent snows have kept us hovering near the heat sources. And the computer.
My sons have been spending a lot of time instant-messaging their friends, sometimes hogging my computer until I pry them off the keyboard and send them out of my room. Then I get online and amuse myself by visiting odd websites.
If you have a baby or toddler, you can buy your little sweetie-pie a wig at BabyToupee.com. There are four styles to choose from: The Bob (Marley), with dreadlocks and a rainbow-colored knit cap; The Donald, an upswept Trump-style do; The Lil Kim, with long pink locks; and The Samuel L, with lots of curls.
I first found BabyToupee when I was on a discussion website, where members were posting comments about how awful it was that parents felt they had to cover up their babies’ bald heads.
I had to see for myself, and when I did I laughed at the idea that anyone took the wigs seriously. They were obviously meant to be goofy, not to be worn as a daily cover-up. I’m sure they are a hazard to the babies, though, and should be taken off the market in case one of them gets a hair wrapped around a little finger. Some parents are so irresponsible about the safety of their children!
In recent news, on February 12th a tractor-trailer overturned on a major interstate in northern Virginia, spilling 165,000 eggs that were destined to become chickens that would be sold at fast-food restaurants. That’s a lot of nuggets. Perhaps we should be thinking of other menu options for when that nugget and chicken finger shortage hits our area. Be prepared!
Over in China, a hillside that was once mined as a quarry has been painted a lovely shade of aquamarine at a cost of $60,000. The villagers questioned the painters and were told the paint was to improve the hill’s feng shui, the Chinese practice of creating harmonious surroundings to balance yin and yang.
Although there was no confirmation from the forestry department that ordered the hill painted, it seems possible that the feng shui reasoning is accurate. If Beijing city officials could paint brown lawns green to impress Olympic officials deciding on the 2008 site, then a painted rock hill seems to follow the same logic. Cover it with paint! That’s what Sherwin Williams has been telling us all along.
Perhaps the cabin fever has affected my sense of humor, but I am starting to find that there are a lot of funny things going on out in the world. Usually it’s the subtle things that get to me the most, the things I’m not expecting.
After going to a couple of movies using knock-you-over-the-head-with-it humor, I have come to appreciate subtle. Or maybe I have gotten older and find the need to laugh more at all areas of my life. Laughing is good for you, I have heard, so I can say that it’s for my health.
At any rate, spring will be here soon and I will be able to get outside, away from the cabin and breathing the fresh air, laughing all the way. If you see me, just smile and nod. Perhaps you need to improve your health, too? Just laugh. It works for me.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on February 17, 2007
My sons have been spending a lot of time instant-messaging their friends, sometimes hogging my computer until I pry them off the keyboard and send them out of my room. Then I get online and amuse myself by visiting odd websites.
If you have a baby or toddler, you can buy your little sweetie-pie a wig at BabyToupee.com. There are four styles to choose from: The Bob (Marley), with dreadlocks and a rainbow-colored knit cap; The Donald, an upswept Trump-style do; The Lil Kim, with long pink locks; and The Samuel L, with lots of curls.
I first found BabyToupee when I was on a discussion website, where members were posting comments about how awful it was that parents felt they had to cover up their babies’ bald heads.
I had to see for myself, and when I did I laughed at the idea that anyone took the wigs seriously. They were obviously meant to be goofy, not to be worn as a daily cover-up. I’m sure they are a hazard to the babies, though, and should be taken off the market in case one of them gets a hair wrapped around a little finger. Some parents are so irresponsible about the safety of their children!
In recent news, on February 12th a tractor-trailer overturned on a major interstate in northern Virginia, spilling 165,000 eggs that were destined to become chickens that would be sold at fast-food restaurants. That’s a lot of nuggets. Perhaps we should be thinking of other menu options for when that nugget and chicken finger shortage hits our area. Be prepared!
Over in China, a hillside that was once mined as a quarry has been painted a lovely shade of aquamarine at a cost of $60,000. The villagers questioned the painters and were told the paint was to improve the hill’s feng shui, the Chinese practice of creating harmonious surroundings to balance yin and yang.
Although there was no confirmation from the forestry department that ordered the hill painted, it seems possible that the feng shui reasoning is accurate. If Beijing city officials could paint brown lawns green to impress Olympic officials deciding on the 2008 site, then a painted rock hill seems to follow the same logic. Cover it with paint! That’s what Sherwin Williams has been telling us all along.
Perhaps the cabin fever has affected my sense of humor, but I am starting to find that there are a lot of funny things going on out in the world. Usually it’s the subtle things that get to me the most, the things I’m not expecting.
After going to a couple of movies using knock-you-over-the-head-with-it humor, I have come to appreciate subtle. Or maybe I have gotten older and find the need to laugh more at all areas of my life. Laughing is good for you, I have heard, so I can say that it’s for my health.
At any rate, spring will be here soon and I will be able to get outside, away from the cabin and breathing the fresh air, laughing all the way. If you see me, just smile and nod. Perhaps you need to improve your health, too? Just laugh. It works for me.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on February 17, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
Being Nice Isn't All That Pleasant
I was once a nice person.
For the first half of my life, I did what I could to be nice. It wasn’t hard, because niceness was simple - it meant keeping quiet.
In keeping quiet I followed these guidelines: Don’t express your opinion if it is contrary to someone else’s, don’t speak up about something that’s bothering you, and don’t make anyone else uncomfortable even if they are doing something wrong.
I have a feeling that many of us were like that as children. Before we form our own opinions, before we have strong decision-making ability, it is common to keep quiet because we don’t know for sure what we know.
When we are uncertain, we don’t want to look dumb by opening our mouths and saying something that could be met with disapproval or ridicule. And there are lots of chances to be ridiculed or discounted when we are youthful and still learning how to think for ourselves.
But often, keeping quiet continues into adulthood, when we are faced with many choices and trials, and we need to make firm decisions about how our lives will be lived. Without the ability to stand up for what we believe is right, we are battered about by the needs and whims of others.
I looked up the word “nice” on www.dictionary.com, and found that the word originated between 1250 and 1300, and meant “foolish, stupid, silly, simple, ignorant or incapable.” How did such a word get changed to mean something pleasant?
Perhaps the pleasantry comes from the fact that niceness does not challenge anyone. Now that I know the true meaning of the word, I am glad I’m no longer a nice person. I would rather be smart, opinionated, and capable.
In my opinion, niceness is part of the reason people put up with abuse in relationships and jobs. It’s why we sometimes go along with what others want, even if it hurts us in some way.
Of course we can still be kind, compassionate, and loving. We can care about others while still expressing ourselves.
One of my sons has a t-shirt that says, in part, “War Sucks.” I don’t know if he really has thought about that, or if he just likes the shirt, but I want my children to be able to speak their minds when they have opinions. We all need to. I also think war sucks, and I am angry about the deceit, and that the cost of the war so far for Lenawee County is more than $102 million.
I’m unhappy that profit has become more important than integrity in a lot of businesses. I hate being lied to. And I won’t keep quiet about injustice.
As author Anna Quindlen says, “We want things to be easy for our children, and we know from sad experience that the world can be unkind to girls who do not please, who speak out, who go their own way. But we know from experience, too, that the role of the good girl can be a hollow one, with nothing at the center except other people's expectations where your character might have been.”
I’m not nice anymore. I’d rather be authentic, passionate, and outspoken. Here’s to character and the qualities it can inspire – may it thrive.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on February 3, 2007
For the first half of my life, I did what I could to be nice. It wasn’t hard, because niceness was simple - it meant keeping quiet.
In keeping quiet I followed these guidelines: Don’t express your opinion if it is contrary to someone else’s, don’t speak up about something that’s bothering you, and don’t make anyone else uncomfortable even if they are doing something wrong.
I have a feeling that many of us were like that as children. Before we form our own opinions, before we have strong decision-making ability, it is common to keep quiet because we don’t know for sure what we know.
When we are uncertain, we don’t want to look dumb by opening our mouths and saying something that could be met with disapproval or ridicule. And there are lots of chances to be ridiculed or discounted when we are youthful and still learning how to think for ourselves.
But often, keeping quiet continues into adulthood, when we are faced with many choices and trials, and we need to make firm decisions about how our lives will be lived. Without the ability to stand up for what we believe is right, we are battered about by the needs and whims of others.
I looked up the word “nice” on www.dictionary.com, and found that the word originated between 1250 and 1300, and meant “foolish, stupid, silly, simple, ignorant or incapable.” How did such a word get changed to mean something pleasant?
Perhaps the pleasantry comes from the fact that niceness does not challenge anyone. Now that I know the true meaning of the word, I am glad I’m no longer a nice person. I would rather be smart, opinionated, and capable.
In my opinion, niceness is part of the reason people put up with abuse in relationships and jobs. It’s why we sometimes go along with what others want, even if it hurts us in some way.
Of course we can still be kind, compassionate, and loving. We can care about others while still expressing ourselves.
One of my sons has a t-shirt that says, in part, “War Sucks.” I don’t know if he really has thought about that, or if he just likes the shirt, but I want my children to be able to speak their minds when they have opinions. We all need to. I also think war sucks, and I am angry about the deceit, and that the cost of the war so far for Lenawee County is more than $102 million.
I’m unhappy that profit has become more important than integrity in a lot of businesses. I hate being lied to. And I won’t keep quiet about injustice.
As author Anna Quindlen says, “We want things to be easy for our children, and we know from sad experience that the world can be unkind to girls who do not please, who speak out, who go their own way. But we know from experience, too, that the role of the good girl can be a hollow one, with nothing at the center except other people's expectations where your character might have been.”
I’m not nice anymore. I’d rather be authentic, passionate, and outspoken. Here’s to character and the qualities it can inspire – may it thrive.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on February 3, 2007
Letting Go Brings In The New
This story is true. And this is the last time I’m telling it. Really. For now, anyway.
A few days before Christmas, I hit a concrete divider behind my place of employment and popped one of my tires. This was actually the universe looking out for me, as I found out later.
The front tires were old and worn, and I’d been putting off spending the money for replacements. But the weather was getting colder and I really needed some tread in order to navigate the snow and ice to come.
I had to take action. Since I needed to hold down the fort at the store, my friend Connie took my car, with the tiny spare on it, to get two new front tires.
I kept busy at work, and finally, Connie returned. She gave me a look of sympathy normally reserved for funerals.
Because I was on the phone, I couldn’t ask her what was up, but I did notice the plastic bag in her hand that contained two black rubbery-looking objects. Car parts. And then she said, “I’m so sorry.”
I got off the phone as quickly as possible and started asking questions. Did she have an accident? Was she all right? What happened?
“The engine fell out of your car in the street in front of my house,” she said.
My jaw almost hit the floor. I did the only thing I could do at that point.
I laughed. She laughed with me. This was one of those absurd events that requires a sense of humor.
We discussed how lucky we were that the engine didn’t take a dive while doing 55 miles per hour, and how me hitting the concrete had probably jarred it loose from its rusted moorings, saving me from possible tragedy – I had been planning a trip to Toledo the next day.
Connie took me to her house so we could wait for the tow truck to haul off my car and its parts. I was in a weird state of disbelief, with a “What else can happen?” kind of attitude. (Note: Never ask yourself that question.)
That’s when I remembered that our employer had called me earlier and had asked me to call him back. So I did.
“I hear you’re not having a good day,” he said. No, I told him, I wasn’t, but I was doing all right. I didn’t tell him that I had just turned down a cup of hot tea in favor of bourbon on the rocks – an unusual choice for me, but in this case it helped mellow me for the next thing that happened.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, but we’re closing the store for good as of 5:00 today,” he said.
“Okay,” I said. What else could I do? The trifecta of negative events was happening to me all in one day, so I could get it over with and get on with the positive stuff.
You didn’t think I would end this without a positive twist, did you?
One of my favorite quotes is from author Cheryl Richardson, who reminds us to ask ourselves, “What do I need to let go of in order to welcome in the new life I desire?”
Apparently I needed to let go of my job and my car. But I have what’s important. I have good friends and family, and a great partner who has been a pillar of strength. And I have the determination to experience the “new life I desire.”
Any day is a good day to start fresh. My new life has already started. I’ll just let the universe point me in the right direction.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on January 20, 2007
A few days before Christmas, I hit a concrete divider behind my place of employment and popped one of my tires. This was actually the universe looking out for me, as I found out later.
The front tires were old and worn, and I’d been putting off spending the money for replacements. But the weather was getting colder and I really needed some tread in order to navigate the snow and ice to come.
I had to take action. Since I needed to hold down the fort at the store, my friend Connie took my car, with the tiny spare on it, to get two new front tires.
I kept busy at work, and finally, Connie returned. She gave me a look of sympathy normally reserved for funerals.
Because I was on the phone, I couldn’t ask her what was up, but I did notice the plastic bag in her hand that contained two black rubbery-looking objects. Car parts. And then she said, “I’m so sorry.”
I got off the phone as quickly as possible and started asking questions. Did she have an accident? Was she all right? What happened?
“The engine fell out of your car in the street in front of my house,” she said.
My jaw almost hit the floor. I did the only thing I could do at that point.
I laughed. She laughed with me. This was one of those absurd events that requires a sense of humor.
We discussed how lucky we were that the engine didn’t take a dive while doing 55 miles per hour, and how me hitting the concrete had probably jarred it loose from its rusted moorings, saving me from possible tragedy – I had been planning a trip to Toledo the next day.
Connie took me to her house so we could wait for the tow truck to haul off my car and its parts. I was in a weird state of disbelief, with a “What else can happen?” kind of attitude. (Note: Never ask yourself that question.)
That’s when I remembered that our employer had called me earlier and had asked me to call him back. So I did.
“I hear you’re not having a good day,” he said. No, I told him, I wasn’t, but I was doing all right. I didn’t tell him that I had just turned down a cup of hot tea in favor of bourbon on the rocks – an unusual choice for me, but in this case it helped mellow me for the next thing that happened.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, but we’re closing the store for good as of 5:00 today,” he said.
“Okay,” I said. What else could I do? The trifecta of negative events was happening to me all in one day, so I could get it over with and get on with the positive stuff.
You didn’t think I would end this without a positive twist, did you?
One of my favorite quotes is from author Cheryl Richardson, who reminds us to ask ourselves, “What do I need to let go of in order to welcome in the new life I desire?”
Apparently I needed to let go of my job and my car. But I have what’s important. I have good friends and family, and a great partner who has been a pillar of strength. And I have the determination to experience the “new life I desire.”
Any day is a good day to start fresh. My new life has already started. I’ll just let the universe point me in the right direction.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on January 20, 2007
A New Day
I get out of bed, feed the dogs, let them out. The morning is a purplish gray and the house is quiet. Today there is no school, so I expect to have the living space to myself for a while. Teenagers with no good reason to get up will sleep long into the morning.
In a small house, storage is at a premium. Today I will sort through our possessions, clearing out some of the past to make room for the present and the future. It is an ongoing project. Two weeks ago I filled several trash bags with unusable junk, and then several grocery bags with good things to donate. It felt good to let these things go.
It’s the end of the old year, and the beginning of the new. I always get introspective at this time. It seems natural to think about the past twelve months, what they meant to me, what I learned, and how I grew. I don’t know how many others do this kind of thing, but my guess is that a lot of people silently evaluate and then try to start the year fresh.
Life is good, I have determined. Of course, the alternative would be not living, but that is not my point. What I mean is that life is very good, lovely, precious. Even though seemingly bad things happen, and sometimes sadness, anger, frustration, and heartbreak dominate our lives for a while, we have the capacity, always, to change the way we look at things and decide not to suffer. Every moment holds a possibility for appreciation, gratitude, and grace. I am breathing, my heart beats, I have family and friends to love, and I have a mind that can decide every day to appreciate all that.
It’s not easy. The human brain and body are more suited to react in fear than to act in love. Our survival instincts tell us that we need to be wary of the huge dark monster that could be around the corner, waiting to eat us. We look for danger, try to prevent it, insure ourselves against it, and stop ourselves from living and loving because of our fear of it. In varying degrees, we deaden ourselves in the name of protection, so that we can live longer in this state of half-life and reach a ripe old age by being safe.
I have to brainwash myself to clear out the accumulated junk in my mind that cuts into my joy. Like little sticky notes attached to my gray matter, the junk messages say, “Be careful, you might get hurt,” “I don’t know if you should do that – you might fail,” “Withhold your trust – you don’t want to be made a fool,” and on and on.
My brainwashing includes taking action by forging ahead in spite of the possibility of rejection, failure, or the dishonesty of others. It’s the only way I can feel I am doing justice to the gift of my life. Of course I haven’t eliminated my fears, but I make myself aware of them and try to minimize them whenever possible. It is my life’s work, and it will continue until I take my last breath.
These may seem like heavy thoughts for an early winter morning, but they are actually the lightest of ideas. The reminder that I can replace fear with love, and caution with joy, appeals to me so much that I want to jump up and hug someone. I hug the dogs. My children will get theirs when they stumble out of their beds.
The purple light of the morning has turned to white, and my heart is full of the joy that is potential. I will greet it bravely. It is a new day.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on December 30, 2006
In a small house, storage is at a premium. Today I will sort through our possessions, clearing out some of the past to make room for the present and the future. It is an ongoing project. Two weeks ago I filled several trash bags with unusable junk, and then several grocery bags with good things to donate. It felt good to let these things go.
It’s the end of the old year, and the beginning of the new. I always get introspective at this time. It seems natural to think about the past twelve months, what they meant to me, what I learned, and how I grew. I don’t know how many others do this kind of thing, but my guess is that a lot of people silently evaluate and then try to start the year fresh.
Life is good, I have determined. Of course, the alternative would be not living, but that is not my point. What I mean is that life is very good, lovely, precious. Even though seemingly bad things happen, and sometimes sadness, anger, frustration, and heartbreak dominate our lives for a while, we have the capacity, always, to change the way we look at things and decide not to suffer. Every moment holds a possibility for appreciation, gratitude, and grace. I am breathing, my heart beats, I have family and friends to love, and I have a mind that can decide every day to appreciate all that.
It’s not easy. The human brain and body are more suited to react in fear than to act in love. Our survival instincts tell us that we need to be wary of the huge dark monster that could be around the corner, waiting to eat us. We look for danger, try to prevent it, insure ourselves against it, and stop ourselves from living and loving because of our fear of it. In varying degrees, we deaden ourselves in the name of protection, so that we can live longer in this state of half-life and reach a ripe old age by being safe.
I have to brainwash myself to clear out the accumulated junk in my mind that cuts into my joy. Like little sticky notes attached to my gray matter, the junk messages say, “Be careful, you might get hurt,” “I don’t know if you should do that – you might fail,” “Withhold your trust – you don’t want to be made a fool,” and on and on.
My brainwashing includes taking action by forging ahead in spite of the possibility of rejection, failure, or the dishonesty of others. It’s the only way I can feel I am doing justice to the gift of my life. Of course I haven’t eliminated my fears, but I make myself aware of them and try to minimize them whenever possible. It is my life’s work, and it will continue until I take my last breath.
These may seem like heavy thoughts for an early winter morning, but they are actually the lightest of ideas. The reminder that I can replace fear with love, and caution with joy, appeals to me so much that I want to jump up and hug someone. I hug the dogs. My children will get theirs when they stumble out of their beds.
The purple light of the morning has turned to white, and my heart is full of the joy that is potential. I will greet it bravely. It is a new day.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on December 30, 2006
Prevention Starts With Common Sense
“An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” I looked up this proverb in The New Dictionary of Cultural Literacy, (Third Edition), and it said, “A little precaution before a crisis occurs is preferable to a lot of fixing up afterward.”
Not everything can be considered a crisis, but events that could be prevented can be downright irritating and inconvenient. One of my goals in life is to cut down on the irritating and inconvenient, so this fits in well with my “mission statement.”
The other day I went to a local library. There were signs touting the library’s “Food For Fines” program that runs between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and since I had recently dropped a book in the book return that was overdue, I took in a couple of cans of food to pay my fine.
I hadn’t wanted to throw the chili (with beans) and sweet peas in the book drop, first of all because, how would they know they were from me? And also, because they might have frozen, and I didn’t think frozen food cans exploding in the book drop was a good way to start a library worker’s day.
The library lady sternly told me that she couldn’t accept my food for fines, because I had already returned the book and didn’t have it in my hand. But, I explained, I just returned it two days ago, in the book drop, when the library was closed. There had been no way to pay the fine at the time.
She was unmoved by my story and refused the canned goods. Since she didn’t want my food I left the place and took the cans with me. Then I went to the city library and gave it to their “Food For Fines” box. I didn’t even have any fines there, but the library lady was kind and I felt like giving the food to someone who might need it.
In this case prevention would have worked. I could have returned the book earlier, thus avoiding a fine and the need for a canned goods standoff. The library could have clearly advertised their policy on needing to have “book in hand” when paying fines with chili or peas or creamed corn. Or the library lady could have made a decision to accept the canned food on the principle that my return was indeed made during the “Food For Fines” period.
I love it when I come up with these brilliant solutions. If only the world worked in the ways I devise, things would run much smoother!
Now I am trying to alert the public to avoid unnecessary purchases, by way of prevention. I was spurred to do this by a display I saw in a store for a “junk mail shredder” that Takes Care of Your Junk Mail Problems!
Of course, the easiest way to take care of your junk mail problems is to type “stop junk mail” in an Internet search engine, or go to www.newdream.org and use their tools to stop the mail. I haven’t had junk mail for years; therefore, I don’t need to buy a shredder for it.
I have yet to figure out whether some forms of prevention really work, or if they are simply highly advertised ways to get our hard-earned money. For example, vitamins – I know they are supposed to be good for you, but I still have the suspicion that those tablets are really compressed colored cardboard, and the capsules are plastic orbs filled with yellow goo, topped off with some preservative that makes us look and feel like we are healthier. My investigation is not complete! Stay tuned.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan, on December 16, 2006
Not everything can be considered a crisis, but events that could be prevented can be downright irritating and inconvenient. One of my goals in life is to cut down on the irritating and inconvenient, so this fits in well with my “mission statement.”
The other day I went to a local library. There were signs touting the library’s “Food For Fines” program that runs between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and since I had recently dropped a book in the book return that was overdue, I took in a couple of cans of food to pay my fine.
I hadn’t wanted to throw the chili (with beans) and sweet peas in the book drop, first of all because, how would they know they were from me? And also, because they might have frozen, and I didn’t think frozen food cans exploding in the book drop was a good way to start a library worker’s day.
The library lady sternly told me that she couldn’t accept my food for fines, because I had already returned the book and didn’t have it in my hand. But, I explained, I just returned it two days ago, in the book drop, when the library was closed. There had been no way to pay the fine at the time.
She was unmoved by my story and refused the canned goods. Since she didn’t want my food I left the place and took the cans with me. Then I went to the city library and gave it to their “Food For Fines” box. I didn’t even have any fines there, but the library lady was kind and I felt like giving the food to someone who might need it.
In this case prevention would have worked. I could have returned the book earlier, thus avoiding a fine and the need for a canned goods standoff. The library could have clearly advertised their policy on needing to have “book in hand” when paying fines with chili or peas or creamed corn. Or the library lady could have made a decision to accept the canned food on the principle that my return was indeed made during the “Food For Fines” period.
I love it when I come up with these brilliant solutions. If only the world worked in the ways I devise, things would run much smoother!
Now I am trying to alert the public to avoid unnecessary purchases, by way of prevention. I was spurred to do this by a display I saw in a store for a “junk mail shredder” that Takes Care of Your Junk Mail Problems!
Of course, the easiest way to take care of your junk mail problems is to type “stop junk mail” in an Internet search engine, or go to www.newdream.org and use their tools to stop the mail. I haven’t had junk mail for years; therefore, I don’t need to buy a shredder for it.
I have yet to figure out whether some forms of prevention really work, or if they are simply highly advertised ways to get our hard-earned money. For example, vitamins – I know they are supposed to be good for you, but I still have the suspicion that those tablets are really compressed colored cardboard, and the capsules are plastic orbs filled with yellow goo, topped off with some preservative that makes us look and feel like we are healthier. My investigation is not complete! Stay tuned.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan, on December 16, 2006
Holiday Boycott Changes My Tune
I loved December when I was a kid. The beginning of the month marked the end of November, which had only Thanksgiving’s food consumption and the extra two days off school as redeeming qualities. I couldn’t wait for December to begin.
December was exciting. There was the possibility of snow, which meant staging snowball fights, making forts, sledding, and getting a pretty white frosting on the otherwise dingy landscape.
Another perk of December was the two-week break from school. It was heaven to look forward to staying home, sleeping later, and not having to work on composing complete sentences, learning about Brazil, and memorizing “times tables”.
I’m not sure that mom was crazy about those two weeks, but we kids certainly were. The main reason the two-week vacation was so great was because of Christmas. During the days before the holiday we waited in anxious anticipation, and in the days after we tested out our new presents.
In the glorious month of December we also had the benefit of my mother’s candy and cookie-making expertise. Mom was a one-woman confectionery shop, churning out pounds of fudge, piles of chocolates, stacks of toffee, towers of peanut brittle, and mounds of various specialty cookies. We were in sugar-sweetened ecstasy.
Mom made those goodies for family and visitors, friends, my dad’s co-workers, the mailman, and the newspaper delivery person. I wonder sometimes how she survived those Decembers, when all three of us kids were hopped up on sweets and she was trying to maintain order in the house, while still getting all the holiday preparations done.
We had our traditions. Dad always put up the Christmas lights outside, and we cut down our own Christmas tree at a farm. In the week before the holiday we went for a long drive on a snowy night, looking at all the outside decorations. It was a great way to enjoy the month of December.
But sometime during my adulthood I lost enthusiasm for December and Christmas. Perhaps it was the loss of innocence, the realization that someone had to put in a lot of work to make it all happen. I got tired.
I was fed up with holiday music and decorations in the stores before Thanksgiving. I was through with the stress of impossible expectations. It seemed like Christmas was more of a retail event than anything else, and that didn’t sit well with me.
So last year, I gave it up. We had a tiny tree, but no other decorations. I got presents for my kids, but otherwise I was absent from the holiday. I think it was more than just tiredness. I wanted the innocence back. I wanted all of my holidays, heck, I wanted all of my ordinary days, to be genuinely joyful. I was shooting high, I know, but you’ve gotta aim somewhere.
I turns out that my holiday boycott of last year set me free. After giving up my expectations, I now feel like I can enjoy December any way I wish. I asked my kids what activities they like most about Christmas, so we will do the things that make us all happy, and not one thing more.
I feel like the Grinch in the Dr. Suess tale, after he was enlightened. I have room now in my heart for the spirit of Christmas. I love that. December is here. Let the joyfulness begin.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan, on December 2, 2006
December was exciting. There was the possibility of snow, which meant staging snowball fights, making forts, sledding, and getting a pretty white frosting on the otherwise dingy landscape.
Another perk of December was the two-week break from school. It was heaven to look forward to staying home, sleeping later, and not having to work on composing complete sentences, learning about Brazil, and memorizing “times tables”.
I’m not sure that mom was crazy about those two weeks, but we kids certainly were. The main reason the two-week vacation was so great was because of Christmas. During the days before the holiday we waited in anxious anticipation, and in the days after we tested out our new presents.
In the glorious month of December we also had the benefit of my mother’s candy and cookie-making expertise. Mom was a one-woman confectionery shop, churning out pounds of fudge, piles of chocolates, stacks of toffee, towers of peanut brittle, and mounds of various specialty cookies. We were in sugar-sweetened ecstasy.
Mom made those goodies for family and visitors, friends, my dad’s co-workers, the mailman, and the newspaper delivery person. I wonder sometimes how she survived those Decembers, when all three of us kids were hopped up on sweets and she was trying to maintain order in the house, while still getting all the holiday preparations done.
We had our traditions. Dad always put up the Christmas lights outside, and we cut down our own Christmas tree at a farm. In the week before the holiday we went for a long drive on a snowy night, looking at all the outside decorations. It was a great way to enjoy the month of December.
But sometime during my adulthood I lost enthusiasm for December and Christmas. Perhaps it was the loss of innocence, the realization that someone had to put in a lot of work to make it all happen. I got tired.
I was fed up with holiday music and decorations in the stores before Thanksgiving. I was through with the stress of impossible expectations. It seemed like Christmas was more of a retail event than anything else, and that didn’t sit well with me.
So last year, I gave it up. We had a tiny tree, but no other decorations. I got presents for my kids, but otherwise I was absent from the holiday. I think it was more than just tiredness. I wanted the innocence back. I wanted all of my holidays, heck, I wanted all of my ordinary days, to be genuinely joyful. I was shooting high, I know, but you’ve gotta aim somewhere.
I turns out that my holiday boycott of last year set me free. After giving up my expectations, I now feel like I can enjoy December any way I wish. I asked my kids what activities they like most about Christmas, so we will do the things that make us all happy, and not one thing more.
I feel like the Grinch in the Dr. Suess tale, after he was enlightened. I have room now in my heart for the spirit of Christmas. I love that. December is here. Let the joyfulness begin.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan, on December 2, 2006
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Art Takes Many Forms
I’ve always wanted to be an artist.
When I was a little girl I liked drawing and painting and any creative activity. In high school I took every art class I could. As an adult I signed up for college art classes and learned various crafts.
I never called myself an artist, but I kept wishing for that title. It was as if I couldn’t be an artist unless someone else said I was good enough to be called that, good enough to not be considered an amateur.
I never got to that point. I think that most times, it is perseverance that makes a success of something; perseverance added to whatever talent is already present in an individual. But if the talent is there and the determination to keep working at it isn’t, then the talent is wasted.
I can’t say that I have a tremendous amount of artistic talent, but I think the potential was always there. It’s probably that way for a lot of people – they were once interested in something enough to pursue it, and had an aptitude for it, but other things like responsibilities and perceived practicality got in the way and pushed the dream aside. It was the same for me.
So instead I found ways to be connected to creativity in my work, as well as in my hobbies. I worked at a photography studio, a camera store, a frame shop, a one-hour photo store, a rubber-stamp and scrapbooking store, and now an art gallery.
I learned desktop publishing, computer graphics, newspaper layout, and advertising design. I volunteered to make newsletters, flyers, and signs. I did calligraphy. I wrote poems.
Recently I took a trip to the Toledo Museum of Art. For some reason, the pieces displayed had a greater impact on me than the last time I visited there. I think it is because I now realize how much thought, time effort, and dedication it takes to become good at your craft.
Now I understand the worth of a piece of art. It is an extension of the person who made it, part of who they are and what they think. It is one-of-a-kind, not the sum of an assembly-line production. It is precious and unique
But we are all artists, in our way. We all have those things that we do well, that we make with our hands or with our minds or with our hearts. It is an art to lovingly cook a meal that nourishes your family, to fix a broken chair, to sew a curtain. It is an art to sit and listen when someone needs an ear. It is an art to love someone when they are acting in unlovable ways, or to treat someone kindly when they are unpleasant.
Perhaps if we look at what we do with a fresh outlook, we will see the art there. We all can find ways to be artists, because possibilities for creativity are everywhere, in everyday life.
I don’t draw anymore, but somehow, I learned how to write. Sometimes things work out just the way they need to. And there is a certain beauty in that.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on November 18, 2006
When I was a little girl I liked drawing and painting and any creative activity. In high school I took every art class I could. As an adult I signed up for college art classes and learned various crafts.
I never called myself an artist, but I kept wishing for that title. It was as if I couldn’t be an artist unless someone else said I was good enough to be called that, good enough to not be considered an amateur.
I never got to that point. I think that most times, it is perseverance that makes a success of something; perseverance added to whatever talent is already present in an individual. But if the talent is there and the determination to keep working at it isn’t, then the talent is wasted.
I can’t say that I have a tremendous amount of artistic talent, but I think the potential was always there. It’s probably that way for a lot of people – they were once interested in something enough to pursue it, and had an aptitude for it, but other things like responsibilities and perceived practicality got in the way and pushed the dream aside. It was the same for me.
So instead I found ways to be connected to creativity in my work, as well as in my hobbies. I worked at a photography studio, a camera store, a frame shop, a one-hour photo store, a rubber-stamp and scrapbooking store, and now an art gallery.
I learned desktop publishing, computer graphics, newspaper layout, and advertising design. I volunteered to make newsletters, flyers, and signs. I did calligraphy. I wrote poems.
Recently I took a trip to the Toledo Museum of Art. For some reason, the pieces displayed had a greater impact on me than the last time I visited there. I think it is because I now realize how much thought, time effort, and dedication it takes to become good at your craft.
Now I understand the worth of a piece of art. It is an extension of the person who made it, part of who they are and what they think. It is one-of-a-kind, not the sum of an assembly-line production. It is precious and unique
But we are all artists, in our way. We all have those things that we do well, that we make with our hands or with our minds or with our hearts. It is an art to lovingly cook a meal that nourishes your family, to fix a broken chair, to sew a curtain. It is an art to sit and listen when someone needs an ear. It is an art to love someone when they are acting in unlovable ways, or to treat someone kindly when they are unpleasant.
Perhaps if we look at what we do with a fresh outlook, we will see the art there. We all can find ways to be artists, because possibilities for creativity are everywhere, in everyday life.
I don’t draw anymore, but somehow, I learned how to write. Sometimes things work out just the way they need to. And there is a certain beauty in that.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on November 18, 2006
Multi-tasking Should Be Banned From the Dictionary
I’m in a hurry to slow down.
It seems like those two would cancel each other out, but actually it makes sense. Well, it makes sense to me. And in my world, that’s what matters.
First let’s ponder the term “multi-tasking”. This expression was conjured up by employers who needed another word to describe “chaotic-stressful-work overload” or “typing with one hand while answering the phone with another and taking messages with a smile on your face and a song in your heart.” Or at least they hoped for the smile and the song, even if you had to fake it.
Multi-tasking was seen for many years as a positive attribute, one that would make a job-seeker one of the top candidates for a job. Now it seems that “studies have shown” (don’t ask me which studies, I just read these things on the internet and of course they must be true) that multi-tasking is actually not all that great.
Spending your time skipping from one task to another, while trying to get many things accomplished, actually cuts into your productivity. You get more results by focusing on one task and doing it well, minimizing your interruptions. Or so the studies say. I have suspected this all along. They should have just asked me.
Of course, many jobs require you to work on more than one task at a time. You have to answer the phone, greet someone, take a message, go back to your work. Fine. I can accept that as long as each task gets the attention it needs, while it is being done. The dizzying pace of too many projects at once only dilutes the quality of effort put into them.
I’d like to strike the word “multi-tasking” from the vocabulary, please. Who can I talk to about that? The word has been responsible for many a burned-out worker who can’t seem to understand why it’s so hard to keep up and make any real progress.
Okay, now we get to the personal part. No, I’m not going to reveal to you my deepest, darkest secrets. You’ll have to wait for the memoir for that.
But in my personal life, as perhaps in yours, the expectation of doing many things at once, and well, can be the cause of much stress and anxiety. How did we get to this point? Why do we think we can split our brains to pay attention to many things at once, and who convinced us this was a good thing?
As children we were focused on a single thing at a time. Just try to get a soup ladle out of the hands of a two year-old when he is fascinated with it. He may want to sleep with the darn ladle, he thinks it is so fantastic. He has to carry it around with him. He thoroughly explores what this thing called a ladle is, until he has it all figured out. Then he goes on to the next thing.
I am at a point in my life where I’d like to focus my energy on those things that are most important to me. A slowing down, if you will, of any frantic activity that does not serve my life well. I don’t know when I got to this point, and I’m sure I resisted it for a while because it seemed to herald a certain “mature” attitude that I was not ready to admit. In this case, mature means “not young,” and God forbid I would admit that I am not young. But being mature brings with it some knowledge, and hopefully wisdom, that can be useful.
So impatient am I to slow down, that I will put the brakes on an activity as soon as it appears that it is not worth the stress it will produce. It takes some discernment to be able to spot what needs to be tossed out, but with time it has become easier. And this has served me well, and brought me more peace.
As for recreation, I will admit to now enjoying doing the newspaper crossword puzzle more than going to a movie. I like reading better than watching television, with its fast, flashy commercials and dopey dramas that make me laugh at their attempt to be serious. When I talk to someone, I want to give that person my full attention, rather than be in a hurry to go back to multi-tasking.
I guess I’ve realized that I am mortal, that wasting my time on something not good for me is actually wasting a part of my life. Life is precious and time should not be wasted. I knew that all along, but now I truly see it.
And although I can’t slow down time, I can use it to enjoy and appreciate the life that I have, one task, one person, one experience at a time.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on November 4, 2006
It seems like those two would cancel each other out, but actually it makes sense. Well, it makes sense to me. And in my world, that’s what matters.
First let’s ponder the term “multi-tasking”. This expression was conjured up by employers who needed another word to describe “chaotic-stressful-work overload” or “typing with one hand while answering the phone with another and taking messages with a smile on your face and a song in your heart.” Or at least they hoped for the smile and the song, even if you had to fake it.
Multi-tasking was seen for many years as a positive attribute, one that would make a job-seeker one of the top candidates for a job. Now it seems that “studies have shown” (don’t ask me which studies, I just read these things on the internet and of course they must be true) that multi-tasking is actually not all that great.
Spending your time skipping from one task to another, while trying to get many things accomplished, actually cuts into your productivity. You get more results by focusing on one task and doing it well, minimizing your interruptions. Or so the studies say. I have suspected this all along. They should have just asked me.
Of course, many jobs require you to work on more than one task at a time. You have to answer the phone, greet someone, take a message, go back to your work. Fine. I can accept that as long as each task gets the attention it needs, while it is being done. The dizzying pace of too many projects at once only dilutes the quality of effort put into them.
I’d like to strike the word “multi-tasking” from the vocabulary, please. Who can I talk to about that? The word has been responsible for many a burned-out worker who can’t seem to understand why it’s so hard to keep up and make any real progress.
Okay, now we get to the personal part. No, I’m not going to reveal to you my deepest, darkest secrets. You’ll have to wait for the memoir for that.
But in my personal life, as perhaps in yours, the expectation of doing many things at once, and well, can be the cause of much stress and anxiety. How did we get to this point? Why do we think we can split our brains to pay attention to many things at once, and who convinced us this was a good thing?
As children we were focused on a single thing at a time. Just try to get a soup ladle out of the hands of a two year-old when he is fascinated with it. He may want to sleep with the darn ladle, he thinks it is so fantastic. He has to carry it around with him. He thoroughly explores what this thing called a ladle is, until he has it all figured out. Then he goes on to the next thing.
I am at a point in my life where I’d like to focus my energy on those things that are most important to me. A slowing down, if you will, of any frantic activity that does not serve my life well. I don’t know when I got to this point, and I’m sure I resisted it for a while because it seemed to herald a certain “mature” attitude that I was not ready to admit. In this case, mature means “not young,” and God forbid I would admit that I am not young. But being mature brings with it some knowledge, and hopefully wisdom, that can be useful.
So impatient am I to slow down, that I will put the brakes on an activity as soon as it appears that it is not worth the stress it will produce. It takes some discernment to be able to spot what needs to be tossed out, but with time it has become easier. And this has served me well, and brought me more peace.
As for recreation, I will admit to now enjoying doing the newspaper crossword puzzle more than going to a movie. I like reading better than watching television, with its fast, flashy commercials and dopey dramas that make me laugh at their attempt to be serious. When I talk to someone, I want to give that person my full attention, rather than be in a hurry to go back to multi-tasking.
I guess I’ve realized that I am mortal, that wasting my time on something not good for me is actually wasting a part of my life. Life is precious and time should not be wasted. I knew that all along, but now I truly see it.
And although I can’t slow down time, I can use it to enjoy and appreciate the life that I have, one task, one person, one experience at a time.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on November 4, 2006
So You Think You've Got It Bad?
It could be worse.
That’s what I tell myself whenever I think I’m in a bad situation. It’s like when my parents used to tell me that a starving child in China would love to have the food that I was leaving on my plate. Usually the meal involved liver, or fried eggplant, or hominy, none of which tickled my taste buds with delight. And what is hominy, anyway? I know it starts out as corn, but whatever is done to it renders it strange and mysterious, not to mention icky. But, I digress.
There are lots of people unemployed right now. From my experience as an unemployed person, after a few weeks of filling out applications, mailing resumes, waiting for phone calls, hoping for interviews, and trying to fill the space that a job once held, it’s easy to get frustrated and discouraged. This can lead to couch-sitting, watching daytime television, and eating potato chips, three activities that do nothing good for one’s energy level, intellect, or waistline.
My parents had a motto of sorts, which was, “If you don’t feel good, get up and do something. You’ll feel better.” Now, this obviously doesn’t work if you have an illness that prevents you from getting up. But there are a lot of “don’t feel good” episodes that are mostly mental, which suggests a need for a slight attitude adjustment.
I checked out a book from the library, called “Material World: A Global Family Portrait.” In it are profiles of thirty families from around the world, with most of their possessions set in front of their dwelling, a comparative exercise that would shock most compassionate Americans into silence about what they feel they lack.
Some of the most interesting comparisons were the pages with “Meals of the World” and “Toilets of the World.” When it comes to the basics of life, in this country we do have a lot more than most. Even those of us temporarily without work are still very privileged, if we have a home, skills, good health, transportation, and the freedom to do as we wish.
So maybe it’s not so bad after all. We all are born with different gifts, abilities, and opportunities. If you are reading this right now, you are blessed with sight and literacy. If you have too much time on your hands while you’re waiting for something good to happen, go to the library, check out a book, and learn something new. Make something good happen.
While you’re at it, don’t forget that Make a Difference Day is coming up on Saturday, October 28th. Wouldn’t this be a good time to plan a project? You still have time. You could gather others together and clean up your neighborhood. You could donate warm clothing or coats you no longer need to an agency that will give them to those who need them. You could watch a single parent’s children for a while, so he or she can get a much-needed break.
When you’re doing something to help someone else, you have less time to worry about what you lack, and since worry does nothing but cause tension, you will be helping yourself if you cut that out. The sense of compassion and accomplishment you gain will shine through in the next job interview, the next task you take on, the next opportunity. You will be a better person, and it won’t cost you a thing but your time. And after all, it could be worse. You could be eating hominy.
Get up and do something. You’ll feel better.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on October 7, 2006
That’s what I tell myself whenever I think I’m in a bad situation. It’s like when my parents used to tell me that a starving child in China would love to have the food that I was leaving on my plate. Usually the meal involved liver, or fried eggplant, or hominy, none of which tickled my taste buds with delight. And what is hominy, anyway? I know it starts out as corn, but whatever is done to it renders it strange and mysterious, not to mention icky. But, I digress.
There are lots of people unemployed right now. From my experience as an unemployed person, after a few weeks of filling out applications, mailing resumes, waiting for phone calls, hoping for interviews, and trying to fill the space that a job once held, it’s easy to get frustrated and discouraged. This can lead to couch-sitting, watching daytime television, and eating potato chips, three activities that do nothing good for one’s energy level, intellect, or waistline.
My parents had a motto of sorts, which was, “If you don’t feel good, get up and do something. You’ll feel better.” Now, this obviously doesn’t work if you have an illness that prevents you from getting up. But there are a lot of “don’t feel good” episodes that are mostly mental, which suggests a need for a slight attitude adjustment.
I checked out a book from the library, called “Material World: A Global Family Portrait.” In it are profiles of thirty families from around the world, with most of their possessions set in front of their dwelling, a comparative exercise that would shock most compassionate Americans into silence about what they feel they lack.
Some of the most interesting comparisons were the pages with “Meals of the World” and “Toilets of the World.” When it comes to the basics of life, in this country we do have a lot more than most. Even those of us temporarily without work are still very privileged, if we have a home, skills, good health, transportation, and the freedom to do as we wish.
So maybe it’s not so bad after all. We all are born with different gifts, abilities, and opportunities. If you are reading this right now, you are blessed with sight and literacy. If you have too much time on your hands while you’re waiting for something good to happen, go to the library, check out a book, and learn something new. Make something good happen.
While you’re at it, don’t forget that Make a Difference Day is coming up on Saturday, October 28th. Wouldn’t this be a good time to plan a project? You still have time. You could gather others together and clean up your neighborhood. You could donate warm clothing or coats you no longer need to an agency that will give them to those who need them. You could watch a single parent’s children for a while, so he or she can get a much-needed break.
When you’re doing something to help someone else, you have less time to worry about what you lack, and since worry does nothing but cause tension, you will be helping yourself if you cut that out. The sense of compassion and accomplishment you gain will shine through in the next job interview, the next task you take on, the next opportunity. You will be a better person, and it won’t cost you a thing but your time. And after all, it could be worse. You could be eating hominy.
Get up and do something. You’ll feel better.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on October 7, 2006
Things Are Not Always What They Seem
Things are not always what they seem.
A few nights ago I was getting ready for bed and turned off the lamp on my dresser. Although most of the room was dark, I could see a bit of light on the wall that shone from the window.
I noticed that I could see the light with my left eye, but not with my right. I closed my right eye and saw the light. I closed my left eye, with my right eye open, and everything was dark. Was I losing my sight in my right eye?
Since I have had poor vision all of my life, just losing my glasses causes quite a bit of anxiety, so I was understandably concerned about this apparent visual change. I sat up and turned on the light.
That’s when I noticed that my hair was hanging over my right eye, blocking my sight like a curtain. How embarrassing. I can see the ads now, “Hair Causes Vision Loss” with experts from salons and optometrist offices filling us in on what can be done to stop this terrible malady.
This just goes to show that “seeing is believing” is not always a good rule of thumb. If we were to believe what we see in television advertising, we would be convinced that we would be happier, healthier, well-adjusted and successful if only we would buy a particular product. I understand that as adults we should know better, and we are equipped to use logic to make rational consumer decisions.
But children are not capable of making the same rational decisions that adults can manage. Advertising to children is a big business, and getting bigger all the time. When I was a child, commercials showed happy children playing with their new toys, and I would hound my parents for the coveted plaything that would make my life complete.
Increase the advertising exposure and you have children convinced that they NEED these things to be happy, which makes a parent’s job that much harder when teaching a child values. Kids hear things on TV like “A super kid deserves a super toy” with the word “deserves” being the trigger that starts a chain reaction of children begging for what they think they have earned.
Advertising is even in our school systems. First there was Channel One, the satellite television program that targets middle and high school students with a mix of news and ads. Schools receive equipment free in exchange for showing the program, and advertisers pay up to $200,000 to get a 30-second spot geared toward gaining those students as customers.
Now BusRadio is working on another captive audience, the students who have to ride a bus to school. BusRadio is starting in Massachusetts, but by September 2007 plans to go nationwide. A combination of music, safety messages, contests and advertisements, BusRadio uses the argument that bus riding is safer when kids are pacified by their programming. It also provides major corporations with another way to reach millions of young consumers.
The Institute of Medicine released a report in 2004, saying that schools should strive to be “as advertising-free as possible.” And according to the The Center for a New American Dream (http://www.newdream.org/), a organization devoted to helping Americans consume responsibly, research suggests that aggressive marketing to children contributes to excessive materialism and psychological and behavioral problems.
If there needs to be any kind of message sent to kids in school, I think rather than having advertisements, we need to promote healthy attitudes. I would endorse announcements that say, “Respect your parents,” “Respect yourself and others,” “Pursue your dreams,” and “Do your best.” Wouldn’t that be great? They don’t call me Pollyanna for nothing!
I’m getting the hair out of my eyes so I can see more clearly. How about you? Don’t let advertisers undermine your attempts to teach your children values. Your kids deserve the best.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on October 21, 2006
A few nights ago I was getting ready for bed and turned off the lamp on my dresser. Although most of the room was dark, I could see a bit of light on the wall that shone from the window.
I noticed that I could see the light with my left eye, but not with my right. I closed my right eye and saw the light. I closed my left eye, with my right eye open, and everything was dark. Was I losing my sight in my right eye?
Since I have had poor vision all of my life, just losing my glasses causes quite a bit of anxiety, so I was understandably concerned about this apparent visual change. I sat up and turned on the light.
That’s when I noticed that my hair was hanging over my right eye, blocking my sight like a curtain. How embarrassing. I can see the ads now, “Hair Causes Vision Loss” with experts from salons and optometrist offices filling us in on what can be done to stop this terrible malady.
This just goes to show that “seeing is believing” is not always a good rule of thumb. If we were to believe what we see in television advertising, we would be convinced that we would be happier, healthier, well-adjusted and successful if only we would buy a particular product. I understand that as adults we should know better, and we are equipped to use logic to make rational consumer decisions.
But children are not capable of making the same rational decisions that adults can manage. Advertising to children is a big business, and getting bigger all the time. When I was a child, commercials showed happy children playing with their new toys, and I would hound my parents for the coveted plaything that would make my life complete.
Increase the advertising exposure and you have children convinced that they NEED these things to be happy, which makes a parent’s job that much harder when teaching a child values. Kids hear things on TV like “A super kid deserves a super toy” with the word “deserves” being the trigger that starts a chain reaction of children begging for what they think they have earned.
Advertising is even in our school systems. First there was Channel One, the satellite television program that targets middle and high school students with a mix of news and ads. Schools receive equipment free in exchange for showing the program, and advertisers pay up to $200,000 to get a 30-second spot geared toward gaining those students as customers.
Now BusRadio is working on another captive audience, the students who have to ride a bus to school. BusRadio is starting in Massachusetts, but by September 2007 plans to go nationwide. A combination of music, safety messages, contests and advertisements, BusRadio uses the argument that bus riding is safer when kids are pacified by their programming. It also provides major corporations with another way to reach millions of young consumers.
The Institute of Medicine released a report in 2004, saying that schools should strive to be “as advertising-free as possible.” And according to the The Center for a New American Dream (http://www.newdream.org/), a organization devoted to helping Americans consume responsibly, research suggests that aggressive marketing to children contributes to excessive materialism and psychological and behavioral problems.
If there needs to be any kind of message sent to kids in school, I think rather than having advertisements, we need to promote healthy attitudes. I would endorse announcements that say, “Respect your parents,” “Respect yourself and others,” “Pursue your dreams,” and “Do your best.” Wouldn’t that be great? They don’t call me Pollyanna for nothing!
I’m getting the hair out of my eyes so I can see more clearly. How about you? Don’t let advertisers undermine your attempts to teach your children values. Your kids deserve the best.
Published in The Daily Telegram, Adrian, Michigan on October 21, 2006
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