It's a Small World

One of the things I enjoy most about blogging is meeting new people. There are so many interesting and talented people here in the Internet tubes.

Shortly after posting the 'Elephant In the Room' I got an e-mail from a lovely person named Robert. He linked me to a song he had written and recorded about his feelings while visiting a zoo. He urged me to keep up the good work.

I loved the song. I told Robert it had a doo wop 50s quality to it and was rewarded by his saying I had a good ear. I usually have a terrible time describing music beyond love it/hate it so that made me feel good.

Robert also shared with me a poem he wrote called 'Dog' - it's sad and hopeful, heartbreaking yet comforting.

You can hear the song HERE

and read the poem HERE

Thanks Robert for reaching out to encourage me to continue my work for animals and thank you for sharing your words and music.

The Arte y Pico Award

Twice in two days I’ve been presented with a lovely surprise.

First JENI and then PAGAN awarded me the ARTE Y PICO.

The award is given to recipients whose blogs exhibit creativity, design and interesting material and also for contributing to the blogging community. See the bottom of this post for the rest of the details.

Since I have two of them I decided to pass them on to two categories. I like categories and themes and symbolism. Keeps my chaos in check and helps me chose from a huge group of really talented folks that I adore.

The first category is young women I’d love to adopt. Smart, sassy, sexy, savvy women who I would be so proud to mother to death – in a healthy, non-obtrusive manner of course.

SNOOPMURPH – she adopted me! Poor kid, she didn’t read the fine print. Snoop’s blog is full of family and fun along with interesting posts about music and education and parenting. She is an astounding Mom and a good, sweet, supportive friend. Her children, her adorable handsome husband and her extended family are joyful to know.

TRANNY HEAD – another name I love! TH is irreverent to the nth degree. Her posts are hilarious. I always thought my son was a beautiful baby but you gotta get a look at her son! The Gerber Baby saw him and immediately arranged for plastic surgery. TH is a wonderful Mom while juggling law school and waiting for her hubby to come home from Iraq. I wish she wasn’t so far away; I’d love to offer free babysitting for life. I would also mention that she isn’t any where near as cynical and hard core as she likes to make out BUT she’d hurt me – so I won’t.

ETK – “I’m Just Sayin’” is part of her blog name and it fits perfectly. She shares her wonderful and often delightfully quirky observations. She shares them openly. etk is a whimsical soul and I love keeping up with her travels, her pink flamingo, her “baby” and all her other adventures of life.

LEIGHANN – more irreverence coupled with sexiness and sprinkled with lots of good momisms. I often call her ‘twisted sister’ but she’s younger than my son and I’d be proud to call her ‘twisted child’ and be a gorgeous granny to her “things”.

KNIGHT – she looks like a movie star and writes like a journalist. She’s interesting and open. She presents stories about her life and the world around her in a clear, no nonsense style while being a sweet and gentle person.

The second category is bloggers who have created and maintain projects. I often struggle to keep up with the blog so I have a lot of respect for those who extend their talents to reach out to and bring together fellow bloggers.

ANNA – her color related photo projects have made me appreciate so much more of my surroundings. Project Yellow was months ago and still I notice yellow wherever I go. She has made being stuck in traffic bearable! And when between projects her photos always inspire and awe.

ROGER – a very new blogger friend. His Creative Photography blog has only been up two weeks and already he has a good size circle of talented participants. When you visit the CP site make sure to check out the link to Roger’s main blog – great photos!!

MARY/the TEACH – I really don’t like the color red Mary LOL but wow have I found an appreciation for its place in a photo. Mary’s Ruby Tuesday project has brought so many great photographers together.

RAVEN – The Wordzzle Wonder Wiz! My vocabulary is better. My creative juices are juicier. My confidence in my writing feels more comfortable. All because of a hodge-podge of random words lovingly offered and tended to each week by a woman who should be published many times over.

Thank You JENI – grandma extraordinaire and keeper of the Bushisms.
Thank You PAGAN – artist, activist and soul mate.

Not all of us are into awards and less of us are into passing them on. It’s all good!
The blogging universe is populated by artists and heaven knows artists can not be tethered to rules or procedures.

Take the awards as they are intended. A nod to your talent and a small show of appreciation for who you are.

The rest of the award details are:
1) Pick five (5) blogs that you consider deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also for contributing to the blogging community, no matter what language.

2) Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone.

3) Each award winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award itself.

4) Award-winner and the one who has given the prize have to show the link of “Arte y Pico” blog.

Project Blue: Graduation Day

My niece graduated from college last month. I was just going through the photos and these two struck me as something to share for project blue.

I like all the hustle and bustle going on in the first shot. It was a couple of hours before the ceremony and family, friends, and graduates were all milling around - taking photos and looking for classmates and trying to cut the line for water.

I especially like the young man to the right, with his shorts and flip-flops under the gown. And the red-haired man leaning over - he was calling to a young child to come be in a photo. The little girl (out of camera range) was telling everyone she wanted to graduate too - her Mom said she would - in about 18 years - and the girl said "No! - that's too long! Today!"

The second photo was taken at the start of the ceremony, just as the graduates took their seats. I love the rows and rows of blue caps. Each one a person having one of the biggest days of their life - and each one of them connected to each other and to those in the audience.

I find it so bitter-sweet. Bitter because they deserve better than the state of the world today. Yet sweet - and hopeful - as each one of them is so young, so strong, so full of promise.

Make sure to stop by Anna’s Place and see more Project Blue.

100

I spent some time this weekend tidying up my “I Love To Read …” list. The sidebar was looking dusty and out of date. I’ve been meaning to do this for some time but I finally got crackin’ to mark my 100th post.

Yep, 100 and still kicking ass. At least I like to think so.

100 is such a fine number – it’s nice and round, easy to divide from, multiply to – hell I can even do percentage of without a calculator. Take that young people!

As I prepared to celebrate the one hundred-ness of my blog I had to stop and think why I was blogging.

Because I feel I have stuff to say? Yes.
And my friends and family are sick of listening to me? A little.

Because I live in a suburban environment where I have to drive miles to find the NY Times, a book store, a Democrat? Absolutely.

Because I think we all need to listen and learn, we all need to connect with the world around us; we need to keep our minds and hearts open and aware? Whoops! There it is!

I love to share – my thoughts, my feelings, my cooking, my home. I also realized in the past 100 posts that I love to receive. I love to receive praise, hugs, affirmation – well that’s human, that’s OK – see therapist, I am getting better.

And most of all I love our community. Full of wonderfully creative and talented people. People who share their dreams and their nightmares. People who share their photos – professional masterpieces or photos of the grandkids on a sled – each one a treasure because it represents people reaching out through the internet tubes to show themselves to others.

As I updated my ‘linky love’ list I smiled at each and every name. There is such diversity in the group.

There are women who have lost the loves of their lives yet they make monkeys dance and butterflies take flight.

There are moms and grandmothers – and dads too – who share their daily struggles. The price of gas, working and raising kids, getting funding for therapy, getting better education resources, help for autistic children. They share advice, accepting and acknowledging each other openly – with love and with grace.

There are comedians – naughty humor, silly jokes, and my personal favorite – rich and irreverent satire that you can absolutely keep on believing in. The kind of humor that makes you feel young again/still – where you’re one of the cool kids, cutting class and hiding your wine in a bag til you get to the boardwalk.

There are lots of hot women – some are like brushes of sunlight, some are twisted sisters with bodacious ta-tas and some are young women I would want as daughters. They share talk of their jobs, their lovers, their tattoos and their shoes.

And the guys – let’s hear it for the boys! Cynical bastards who are clever and huggable. Daily husbands who share warmth and support. Men who love their work, their dogs, their children. Madmen who are anything but.

Lord I have so many crushes I blush.

There are poets whose words travel across distance and hit me in the heart. Serious, brilliant writers who can also invent fun word games. Amazing women who can talk about menopause and plants in the same breath as politics and human rights. Equally amazing men who can talk about humanity and motherfuckers; who can make the connection between the sacred and the profane with ease.

There are photographers – their photos transport me to new places, make me smile at their pets, their gardens, the children in their lives.

So many dots that connect to create a wonderful world of thought and hilarity, a place of everyday kindness and relaxing silliness.

I hope I got everybody on the sidebar. I listed everyone the way I think of them, some by their blog name and some by their name name.

I have enjoyed every word, every photo and every comment over these past 100 posts and I thank you all. I hope you see yourself in this 100th post – you are all here.

The Virtual Break Room

One of things I miss about working in a large company is the camaraderie, the friends you make and the fun you have.

Back at the Evil Empire Corporation we would have ridiculous fun conversations in the break room. We’d go down to the lobby to have a smoke, or hide from an asshat and there was always someone else there to bitch and rant with; someone who was also having a crappy day or needing a silly break.

Before I started my blog I visited a few forums and I made some lovely friends there. The problem with forums is that they’re very subject specific so it’s not a place to just ramble. And they attract trolls. The last thing I want to do when taking a break from BS is to become engaged in BS with strangers.

When I started the blog I had no idea what to expect. I hoped I’d gain some confidence in my writing and I hoped I’d find some like minded people. I knew blogs weren’t instantly satisfying; they’re not as interactive as forums.

Well! Yesterday the best of all worlds came crashing together in a crescendo of fun and talented insanity.

The wonderful folks at ’You Just Keep On Believing That’ hosted a Peach Fest. Go on over and take a look at what it was all about. And then return there – often – they’re a lovely group of people. Their posts are fun and their readers are, as Tina Turner would sing, ‘Simply The Best’.

When the long hours of work in my luxurious basement office (hell hole under my house) make me feel isolated and cranky it’s nice to have a place to go.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name!

Cheers to YJKOBT!

"Getting to Know You" Meme

The lovely Raven tagged me for the “Get to know you” meme.

1. What was I doing 10 years ago?

I was living in the Motherland, the hood – Brooklyn. I was sharing office space with my brother. We had the second floor above a store on one of Bensonhurst’s busiest shopping vistas.

“Are ya goin’ to dah avinyou?” – “Yeah, why?” – “Pick me up some a dose tomatoes, ya know, dah big freakin’ ones dat Vinny on dah cornah has”

I had staff then – several students. Although everyone had a different schedule and there was more than a little bit of youngster drama, I loved having bright young people around and I loved teaching them.

Business was so much better then – but of course Bush wasn’t around yet to suck the life out of the country.

2. What are 5 Things on my To-Do List for today:

1 – call mortgage company – I’m a bit behind since clients don’t pay on time. I have one client who owes me thousand of dollars since the first of the year.
2 – e-mail a birthday card to a friend.
3 – try to get a little more editing done on all my photo directories – including the next Mia/Siren slideshow
4 – Water lawn, shrubs, plants – it’s almost 80 here today
5 – Put away winter clothes and find summer clothes – it’s almost 80 here today and I’m spritzing. Oy!

3. Snacks I Enjoy:
Chocolate – chocolate – chocolate! – cookies, candies, cake.
Corn chips – the big giant scoop ones – sometimes with cream cheese if I’m really good/bad
Cheese and crackers – of course the fatty cheese and the salty crackers

4. Things I would do if I were a Billionaire:

For myself – pay off my house. I love my house, my neighbors (even the Republicans) and my town. I don’t need or want fancy – I just want to not worry the first of every month. Then I’d travel a lot – a road trip across the country. An African safari. Paris. Scotland.
Oh - and I’d finally finish my dental work before I really do look like toothless white trash.

For others – buy a house for my son and his wife. Pay off homes and college for all the people I love – nieces, nephew, cousins and their kids, friends and their kids and so on.

For the world – a giant country estate where any and all abandoned creatures (this includes the four legged ones) could come and be safe and loved. This really qualifies as for me too!
I’d probably start a few foundations too – for abused kids, for single Moms, for poor kids to go to college.

5. Three Of My Bad Habits:

1 – I smoke. I know, I know. I smoke less and I often quit but I’m not gonna lie – I smoke.
2 – I get angry with or disappointed in people when they don’t give me what I need BUT I rarely ask for what I need. Quite the conundrum.
3 – Since I can be very moody I sometimes cancel plans with people at the last minute.

6. 5 Places I have Lived:

Different apartments in Brooklyn. A short stay at a really swanky place on the Upper East Side of Manhattan – now that’s a long and twisted story. And now my house in NJ.

7. Jobs I Have Had:
Today?

As a teenager I baby-sat and worked in a million different stores and offices. I have worked and contributed to supporting at least one other person since I was 13.

As a single Mom I was studying to be a social worker but ended up in market research because the pay was better. During the early days of my market research career I usually had at least one other job – I cleaned offices at night, I sold Weekly Reader subscriptions, I worked at Macys and many other jobs like that.

Then I became the big time Executive Vice President of the Evil Empire Corporation. Promoted up through the company from clerk (clark as the Brits would say) until I was on the Board of Directors. I ran all the Operations departments – had 20+ direct reports and hundreds of people under them. Almost killed me since my Norma Rae was always in direct conflict with meeting targets and looking at people as part of the gross margin. I was laid off after almost 20 years with the bastards after they sold out to a firm that moved everything off-shore.

And now I run my own market research operations consulting and processing firm. And of course I have at least one other job at all times. Life is nothing if not full circle.

The Rules:
1. The rules of the game get posted at the beginning.
I did it at the end - hehehe

2. Each player answers the questions about themselves.
That I could do

3. At the end of the post, the player then tags 5 or more people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they've been tagged and asking them to read your blog.
I just don’t tag people. It ruins my manicure. I could go to every blog I read and tell them I have NOT tagged them. Wouldn’t that be cool!?
Seriously though – I adore the people who visit me so if you haven’t done this please consider doing it – I’d love to know more about every single one of you.

4. Let the person who tagged you know when you've posted your answers.
That was easy – I visit Raven every day.

The image from a production of 'The King and I' came from HERE

Sunday Morning Chats with Aunt Pat

My Aunt called me Sunday morning, early Sunday morning. She likes to call early, I think she feels it gives her the advantage, catch me when I’m sleepy and I might say something that will provoke the response.

“You really should show some respect …”

So the phone rings – did I mention it was early.

“Charlton Heston died”

“Hello? Aunt Pat? Is everything OK!? Who died?”

“I told you, Charlton Heston died” she sounds annoyed yet strangely amused. My spider senses are awakening.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear about that”

“Don’t you watch the news?”

“Yes I watch the news but not yet today, it’s very early you know”

“Well I thought I’d call before I went to church”. I’m awake now. Anytime Auntie can get death and church into the first 30 seconds of a conversation I know it’s time for a full alert. When I was a teen we argued over everything – clothes, politics, music, movies, and most of all religion. When my multi-racial son was born we added race to the line-up.

Aunt Pat is in her 80s. I think. There is much mystery surrounding my Mother and her siblings. I didn’t know until my Mom died that she had actually been born two years earlier than we had been told, and on a different day. To this day no one has come up with an explanation for that. To honor their Mother, my beloved Nana, I learned as I got older to not sweat the details. “Born, schmorn” Nana would have said. “You’re here aren’t you!?”

Another one of Nana’s pearls was – “What a shame to get older and not be any wiser”. She would say that as we sat in the old neighborhood park where she was routinely snubbed by the other ladies because she was Jewish and had married a Christian. I think free-spirited living skips a generation in my family. Nana – open to all, embracing the world in all its colors and religions and opinions. Her children – closed and cautious and suspicious of the world. Then came me – the only grandchild she lived to know, the one she called “Schmutz Face” and the one she swore she had known in a previous life. And now I watch my son become somewhat prudish and I see him roll his eyes at some of my opinions, much the way my aunts and uncles did with Nana. My grandchildren are going to be a blast!

“You always hated Charlton Heston”.

“Are you talking about when I was a kid? That was 40 years ago, how do you remember that?”. “Plus I never hated him, he scared me, he gave me the creeps and you always made me watch his movies”.

“The man was a saint”. I am frantically trying to recall whether Aunt Pat and I have ever had a discussion (argument) about guns and the NRA. Damn the early hour. I need coffee for this.

“I’m going to light a candle for him this morning”. “Do you know the candles are $10 now! That new pastor raised the price, he’s a thief”. I want to remind her that I have always said that the church is far too materialistic but I want to avoid – “you really should show some respect”. That never leads to any place good.

I tell her that I think it’s lovely that she will be lighting the candle for Heston.

“He’s in heaven now” she assures me. “Where he belongs”. “I know you don’t believe in heaven but I do”, her tone gets a little cranky and my nerve endings are screaming for coffee and a way out. I try, for the umpteenth time, to tell her that it’s not a problem that we don’t believe the same things.

“So, you still believe in reincarnation? Like the Buddhists and the Communists?”

I fight the urge to mention the Hindus and I let the Communist label slide. “I don’t know if you can call it reincarnation exactly. I believe that all forms of life have energy attached to them and that energy never dies, it takes new forms”.

I entertain myself by imagining Charlton Heston’s energy come back as a small bird at an elite hunting club or maybe as a terrorized child hiding under a desk while gunshots scream around him.

“Are you listening to me!”

“I am, I am, just a little sleepy, where were we?”

“Charlton Heston and you being scared of him, I watched his movies all night. I have all of them on DVD, in a beautiful gift box” she speaks so lovingly of her collection.

“I know you do” and I don’t bother telling her the DVD’s were a Mother’s Day gift from me. I put them in a giant hat box covered in tulips. It was the closest thing I could find to the hat box Nana treasured for years and years.

“Took you forever to find that hat box didn’t it?” – Aunt Pat has an incredible knack for being in my head at times. I laugh and tell her it did but it was worth it. I can hear her smiling.

“What’s that noise” she barks, never one to leave a nice moment alone.

“It’s the new cat” I tell her, “she’s crying for breakfast”. “It is very early you know”.

“Another rescue huh?” “You were always like that, finding things and animals and riff-raff , you had to save everything and everyone”. “Your Grandmother was like that”.

Memories are flowing back and forth across the phone lines, across the miles and across the generations.

“Nana was special” I say quietly and Auntie agrees. She tells me she needs to get going for church, she has to make the earliest mass otherwise she gets confused and might end up in the Spanish mass again.

“It’s full of those Mexicans” she tells me. Let it slide, let it slide.

“OK, enjoy mass and light the candle; it will make you feel better”.

“How do you know I need to feel better?” – she sounds surprised and annoyed. I didn’t know I knew she needed to feel better until I did so of course I can’t explain.

“Just figured you were upset about Charlton Heston” – it sounded lame even to me.

“Well he was Moses you know” she laughs, pleased with her sarcasm. “I just got to thinking about your Grandmother and that made me think of you and I was feeling old and out of touch”.

“You are old and out of touch” I laugh back, “I’m old so you’d have to be very, very old wouldn’t you?”

“You really should show some respect” and we both laugh. And I tell her I love her and she tells me I am a good girl, a pain in the “tush”, but a good girl.

“I’m going to be late for church”.

“OK, I’ll call you next Sunday, early!. Have fun at church and tell God I said hello”

“You really should show some … I Love You, Bye”.

Love You Too Auntie.

I’m so glad this was one of the posts I started and then dropped. Originally it was all about Heston and guns and the NRA and my old arguments with my Aunt. I became exhausted by writing it and it didn’t feel right.

If it doesn’t feel right don’t do it – that’s what I always say. Actually I have never said that but I’m going to start.

So I left it alone and then I had a dream about Nana. Nothing spectacular or earth shattering, just a sense of Nana’s smile, I heard her voice – thick with her Russian/Yiddish accent, I could smell her – she always smelled like flowers and cookies. She didn’t garden or bake so go figure. I felt her feeling at peace. And I heard her say my aunt’s Russian name.

Nana would be so pleased that I didn’t argue with Aunt Pat. I think it was Nana who made me know that Auntie needed to feel better.

I’m going to call Aunt Pat every Sunday morning – early!

Note: the image is of a painting by ‘Harriet Wiseman’ that I found here
It looks a bit like us.

Wrapped in Buttery Gratitude

I have about half a dozen posts started but between jobs and still recovering from one Friday night of fun I’m not pleased with any of them. They’re just not worthy of you – my lovely readers.

I was going to just plunge back into work and leave blogging for a clearer day but of course I decided to visit a few blogs first. I really needed a laugh so I went over to Jay, the hilarious cynical bastard, and there was no new post, I mean really! I need to laugh, how could he not know that. I did giggle at his response to my last comment so all was not lost. While checking out the results of Jay’s last poll (Go Animal!) I saw his most recent award, it’s more like a sweet gift actually. I scanned over it and saw it was from the lovely Jo so I headed over to see what it was all about.

There is all kinds of givin’ and gettin’ goin’ on at Jo’s.

She has received her third Excellent blog award in just two weeks! Richly deserved, there are not enough E’s out there for Jo. I was enjoying book-marking the people she was passing the award on to – a couple of new ones to me – and I was loving all the great colors she concocted when I spied Jay’s award. Jo made it herself. It’s a lovely heart shaped pat of butter inscribed with “Better than Butter”. I was so pleased for Jay. He is better than butter! He’s like the popcorn that goes with the butter, the yummy English Muffin that the butter cuddles into – he’s all that butter and a bag of chips. I’ve never known what that means but I use it anyway.

As I scrolled down to other ‘Better than Butter’ folks I almost missed my own name! Yes – I am ‘Better than Butter’. Personally I always thought I was cottage cheese but that may be because of my thighs. Since Jo is far kinder to me than I am I will totally believe that I AM ‘Better than Butter’.

Thanks Jo! I don’t know how to describe how your words made me feel. Delicious comes to mind. I just know that I am so grateful.

And speaking of grateful …

My good friend Raven gave me this “Gratitude is Attitude” award. In describing the award she quoted its creator: please see Raven’s site for full quote and more Gratitude is Attitude recipients.






“Gratitude …. It is not about giving in, lying down or accepting everybody else’s rules it’s about making your own rules!... Gratitude IS Attitude!"

I’m certainly grateful to know Raven. If I was a museum she would be the curator. An art gallery she would be the master of restoration. If I was a zoo (remember now, I was raised by wolves) then Raven would be the naturalist, the wolf whisperer. Raven is a healing presence in a sometimes hurtful world.

I’d like to pass the ‘Gratitude is Attitude’ award on to:

Leighann – if I was still in school Leighann is the one I’d want to hang out with. She is smart, funny, and tough. You have to read Leighann’s blog for at least a week to even begin to get a sense of all there is to her. She’ll one day sound like a crazy, sexy wanton woman. Next day comes along and she is Mommy of the Year, rushing to the aid of any one of her lovely children. She will then Wow you with a wonderful work of fiction. Leighann always makes me feel like I’m one of the cool kids.

Bobbie – a calm and steady voice. Bobbie writes about old friends and family with love and reverence. She also has a great take on current events and politics.

Odat – she often makes me smile, especially on Monkey Monday. Odat can also pierce your heart and soul with her honest and open posts on her own life and love and struggle.

tt – talk about a good soul. tt is a caring and empathetic person. She writes about worrying about an elderly driver she encountered for a moment with as much feeling as she writes about her Dad. She makes you feel you could (and should) tell her anything.

Isn’t it lovely to have so many people to be grateful for!?

Now I must finish a project for the morning and then off to a dinner of popcorn with extra butter. Good Times!

We Are All Unique

I’ve been thinking a lot about a wonderful friend of mine and I’d like to tell you a bit about him. I always think of J more this time of year than any other. We see each other a lot during the spring and summer. During the winter he and his family are busy with school and work and the days are short. J doesn’t like driving at night, neither do I actually, especially now that my older eyes play tricks on me. I remember one time when we had to drive after dark, a bunch of us were stuck at J’s brother’s baseball game later than usual. We all divided up into various cars and J decided to come with me. I had to put the overhead light on for him and that got us pulled over by Highway Patrol, it is a bit distracting to drive with lights on inside the car. Luckily the officer was immediately soothed by J’s explanation.

J is an artist. During the winter he faxes me wonderful little drawings to let me know he’s thinking of me. When we’re together he loves to encourage me to draw. He’s the only person who can. I am terrible at it. We once did an exercise where everybody drew a picture of the animal they were most like, there was a list of animals and their attributes and I chose a bear. In my attempts to make the bear’s legs full and fuzzy I created what looked like a tooth with a smiling head. My nieces made fun of me and we all laughed at me and my bear but J was not amused. He disappeared for a bit and when he returned he had with him a giant gold star that he glued to my picture. And he hugged me. A tiny, quick hug but a hug full of love and acceptance. Ordinarily J is not much of a hugger. He prefers to have his own personal space, a small bubble of air around him. I get it. I often feel the same way and I’ve never understood why people think it’s OK to grab and lift and touch other people without knowing if it’s OK with them. I remember when I was pregnant people would just pat the baby bump, in my case the baby boulder, and it drove me nuts.

Back when I first met J I sensed that he didn’t mind closeness if you asked first. So I always ask. Usually we sit shoulder to shoulder; often he will eventually stroke my hand. He loves to point out when my nails are a mess, you know – the terrible day before the manicure you should have had last week. Once he touched my thumb and mentioned that “brown is not a good color”. He was, as usual, right. He has an artist’s eye. I always try to have a fresh manicure when I see J. I love to present my neatly colored fingers to him and wait for a thumbs up. His cousin and I sometimes get our nails done together and we always inspect the colors, looking for one that will be “J approved”.

J has many other interests. He used to be intimidated by weather; dark gathering storm clouds would ruin his day. He doesn’t like the unexpected. I found a meteorology kit online and got it for J. On the day I gave it to him there was about 6 adults there and several kids ranging in age from 3 to 17. None of us could figure out how to set the damn thing up. J wasn’t aware of what it was yet so he didn’t share our frustration. Since I was the one who brought the offending object into our midst I was left to figure it out. At one point I had to walk away from it for a few minutes. My hands were literally itching with annoyance at too many parts and instructions that didn’t make sense. Before I left the room J asked me what the object was. I told him it was supposed to be like a weather station, when assembled it would tell him what was going on in the clouds and the air. I apologized to him for it being so complicated; it had looked so cool on the website. I promised him that I would figure it out even if it killed me; I just had to take a little break. When I came back the weather thingie was almost fully assembled and J greeted me with a smile and bestowed upon me the honor of sticking on all the cool decals. He checks it every morning and has become really good at forecasting the weather. And he lovingly named the device – “that thing that Dianne couldn’t do”.

J is kind and gentle. J is clever and creative. His brothers and sisters are better people because of him; they are more accepting of diversity and far more considerate of others than most people.

J is everything you would want in a friend. Oh yes, and J is autistic.

Today is World Autism Awareness Day.






April is Autism Awareness Month – I hope you’ll take a moment here and there to watch a documentary about autism or read some articles. I also encourage you to check out my friends:

Casdock – her blog is serenity. The images in this post and on my sidebar came from her site. She is generous that way. I had to stop myself or my sidebar would be the twin of her sidebar – so go check out the rest over there and read a bit about her and her son.

Jeni – Grandmother extraordinaire. I love to read about the escapades of Maya and Kurtis, not to mention the cats. My favorite Maya story is when she glued her works of art to the wall. Oh and the way she proclaimed the arrival of visiting cat Nina – “the Neener is here, the Neener is here”. We should all be greeted with such enthusiasm. My favorite image of Kurtis is the one of him falling asleep while eating some kind of cereal – I think it was whole wheat and peanut butter morsels. If only Jeni could fall asleep so easily.

Linda aka Snoopmurph– I love her name so I always include it. Linda’s son Connor has a place in my heart because he loves Siren’s photo so much. Siren is often difficult to love – he’s complicated and carries with him a giant load of issues. I wonder if Connor can sense that when he gazes at Si’s photo. Wouldn’t surprise me if he did. Connor’s brother Ian is a very entertaining fellow. He appears in one of my all time favorite vlogs. He is quite the star. Linda and her family are what I wish all children had. Actually I wish they’d adopt me.

Michelle – her entry for today is, as I commented to her, “perfect, simply perfect”. And check out the poem from the previous post. You will most likely want to spend some time there.

Each of these blogs will also link you to other blogs and sites. Places where you can learn and understand.

Through J I have become convinced that it only takes a moment of understanding to gain a lifetime of joy. It is his gift to me.

Everyday Kindness: I Am the Village

My son was 3 when I left his father. He drank and rarely worked, he was violent and abusive – I had left MY father only to take up with his double. Amazing how that happens.

I tried to create an environment where my son could have a relationship with his father. I even gave up on court proceedings for child support – I knew the money wasn’t ever going to come and dragging my ex into court just made him crazier. I arranged supervised visits, I tried to get him help for his drinking, and I begged him to show just a tiny bit of the love he swore he had for his child.

When my son was 9 – he sat, with the court appointed child advocate, at the mall for hours, waiting for his Dad. He was wearing his Little League baseball uniform and wanted to tell his Dad that he had been made pitcher. The coach said he had a great arm – strong and powerful, he had focus and was going to be a great ballplayer. His Dad was supposed to be there at 11. He never called, he never showed up. It was after 6 when the advocate, with me on the other end of a payphone, (Lord a cell phone would have been a blessing back then), finally convinced him to come home.

Drunken, threatening phone calls in the middle of the night was all my ex could come up with after that.

My son was so angry for so long – it was my fault his Dad “hated” him. I knew this was his way of deflecting the hurt and I worked like a demon to help him. I was young and surrounded by a chaotic family that I’d been dragging through life since I was a child myself. I turned to school counselors who babbled, pediatricians who wanted to medicate and psychologists who wanted to administer all the new learning disability tests – dyslexia was the big one back then. I had no problem with making sure my son had no additional issues BUT I had a huge problem with no one listening to HIM and to HIS MOTHER. You know – the people WITH the issue, the people LIVING inside the puzzle.

I finally found a wonderful child psychologist who specialized in anger management among children from abusive and neglectful homes. Of course he wasn’t covered by any form of insurance I had but the third job had been inevitable anyway. He helped us immensely by actually listening.

My son hated his Middle School music class – I thought that was odd since he loved music; he strummed the guitar I bought him; he fiddled with the old record player I gave him – “making like a DJ”. Turns out that his music teacher had labeled my son a “troublemaker” and had decided he was “dangerous”. Family folk lore now refers to this point in our history as “The Cello Bow Incident”

During music class my son sat in front of a little girl who loved to “mess with him” – she poked him with her cello bow and giggled. This went on class after class after class until the day my son took the cello bow away from her and threw it into the closet. He was immediately pulled out of class and sent to the office where he was given detention and told he needed to learn how to “control himself”. The school didn’t contact me about this and matters got worse. The music teacher told other teachers and parents that my son was “dangerous” and labeled him “anti-Semitic”. Seems the little girl with the cello bow was Jewish and my son, being very tall and dark (his father is African-American), must hate Jews – right!? makes sense!?. Talk about projecting your own prejudices and ignorance onto others! Onto children who look to you for guidance. Children who are told not to question you. Children who aren’t allowed to explain themselves.

I was feeling my son’s anger and isolation issues creeping back into our lives and all my spider senses were at full alert when he asked me what a “Semitic” was. It took a while to put the whole story together and then it was time to visit the school. “Don’t make a scene” was my son’s only comment on this incident. After relentless, exhausting discussions with school officials who all clustered around each other against the crazy parent I uncovered the truth. Little girl with cello bow had a crush on tall, good looking boy with brilliant smile. Boy didn’t want to be poked with cello bow anymore, girl was sorry she had gotten him into trouble. She didn’t know his color mattered – she thought he was “gorgeous”. He didn’t know what her religion was – he thought she was “cute and annoying”.

I threatened to call the local news unless this teacher was disciplined and counseled. I demanded and (eventually) got a public apology for my son. “Don’t make a scene Ma” was still his only comment. Other parents called me to tell me their children had similar experiences. It was always the boys – the taller and darker they were, the more trouble they seemed to be put into. Finally the entire school staff was ordered to receive diversity training. I never did tell my son that I had almost been thrown out of the district office while “requesting” this training. “Don’t make a scene Ma”

I don’t often think about either of these episodes. The image I have of my son, in his baseball uniform, waiting for his father still makes me catch my breath. The “Cello Bow Incident” was a small victory in a lifelong battle against prejudice, ignorance, fear and stereotypes. A battle that still wages on today – brought back to the forefront by my son’s in-laws, who I feel are racist, and by my hopes for and concerns about future grandchildren.

I usually feel alone when I think about these moments but yesterday I read a powerful piece. Please check out Michelle at Full-Soul-Ahead - she has a strong, clear voice and is an advocate not just for her child but for all children. She responded to my e-mail asking her permission to link her post by saying “we’re all in this together”.

And we are. Had I not found the right psychologist at the right time … What if I hadn’t been able to fight the school system?

There is a young man who passes my house a few times a day – on his way to school, on his skateboard, walking his dog. He always looks angry. He’s sullen, often rude, and when he’s with his friends he’s downright intimidating. Neighbors shake their heads about him – his family is “white trash”, he’s an “explosion waiting to happen”. I met his eyes one morning and he smiled! I smiled back but was too pre-occupied to do more. I’m going to make sure I talk to him – I’m going to tell him I love his vintage tees – I actually went to a Def Leppard concert. I’m going to ask him about his dog. I’m going to pay attention. If we get far enough, this angry young man and I, I’m going to tell him some stories of my old days and ask him to tell me his.

It does “take a village” but only if the villagers actually do something. And it starts with me.

Be Kind Out There

I found the image I used here

"Trust Makes Anything Possible"

The Kitten and the Crow at Raven’s blog

Check this out.
I was waiting for my morning coffee to kick in and checking some of my favorite blogs when I came across the most wonderful video.

It made me smile.

I just had a frustrating conversation with a client and was going for the cookie box but watched the video instead. It is just lovely and makes ya happy.

Thanks to Raven for letting me share!

Empathy, Connection, and Loose Threads

I view the world as a tapestry - different colors and shapes and textures - interwoven and connected. Loose threads weaken and can destroy a tapestry.

This morning I attended the funeral of a man I didn't know . He was my daughter-in-law's uncle, his daughter is a sweet, smart young woman that I am very fond of - she was a bridesmaid at my son's wedding. His sister is a strong and kind woman - the kind of person who grasps your hands when she meets you and looks you in the eye. I first met her at a gathering of this very large, often exclusive family. She met my eyes and immediately came over to me. She exudes warmth and calm surrounds her.

I had some time to adjust to this man's passing - I had comforted my daughter-in-law, offered support and help as we all do at these times.

And so this morning I thought I was attending the funeral out of obligation and respect. Not bad motivators but incomplete - doing nothing for the soul.

As soon as I saw these two women - the dazed young daughter, looking small and pale - and her aunt, exhausted from all the arrangements but solid and dignified - I realized I was there out of love and what I felt at that moment was grief born from empathy.

Empathy is defined (in part) as "the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another". Without empathy it is impossible to connect to others and without connection the tapestry develops loose threads.

I experienced this morning how much this man was loved. He was a father, a brother, an uncle. He worked hard - long hours at a difficult job. Every Sunday morning he loaded the trunk of his car with small gifts for his family and made the drive north to Brooklyn to visit. To keep the tapestry tight. To connect with those he loved and who loved him.

This past Sunday he was violently murdered during a petty robbery gone horribly wrong. With the help of an anonymous tip his killers were captured on Tuesday. They had his jacket, his wallet and a few other articles. A life gone for less than $200 of material possesions. A thread pulled loose that can never be fully mended.

His killers are young - both under 25. One of them has a record of violent acts going back to his 14th year on this planet. What happened to these two men? How did they lose their connection to humanity? How loose is the thread that connects them to others that they could do what they did?

I don't think I believe in pure evil. I think every action has a story behind it. Sociopaths (an out of date term for anti-social personality disorder) usually exhibit their disease around 15. They are unable to connect. They have no empathy. They are often violent. Is it possible these two young men are mentally ill? Did they fall through the cracks of an overloaded and often uncaring system? It is easier for me to ask these questions. I did not lose a father, a brother, an uncle.

The people closest to him will need to find their way through all the stages of grief and I fear anger will be a hard one to overcome. There are newspaper stories to try not to read - full of horrible details. There are online news reports where anonymous people feel they have the right to post hurtful erroneous assumptions, where they entertain themselves in abstract discussions of real pain. Examples of their lack of empathy, of their losing their connection, of their being cowardly partcipants in pulling more threads loose.

I share this story not to make you sad or angry - each day the news is full of people shaking their heads and saying they don't know what the world is coming to, you don't need reminding. Instead I tell this story to assure you (and myself) that any small thing you do for one another is important. Every connection you make is critical. Every thread you strengthen keeps the tapestry intact.

The death of an ordinary person goes unnoticed by the world. Had this man had a heart attack or a car accident he wouldn't be news worthy. So I choose to make his passing note worthy in my small way. Not by how he died but by how he lived. A father, a brother, an uncle. He was a small but strong thread in a giant tapestry. And on the day of his funeral he connected us all in empathy.

In all of the news coverage of this tragedy there is but one sentence worth repeating ...

"He was loved" said his daughter .

Be Kind Out There

Living History

I got a wonderful e-mail in response to my Dr. King post.

My newest adopted daughter, a friend of my daughter-in-law, is a teacher. She asked me if she could share my childhood story of Martin with her students. One of her kids had mentioned that "without Dr. King you wouldn't be able to teach here". I guess she saw this click in her kids and wanted to encourage them to think about history and relate to it on a personal level.

And it got me thinking ...

I was seated behind two young girls during "Hairspray - the Movie" and they didn't believe that black kids and white kids were not allowed to dance together in the early days of American Bandstand. They thought it was just part of the storyline - a "way to give Queen Latifah something to sing about". When the house lights came on we smiled at one another and I assured them it was true, hard as it was for them to identify with, it was true. We had a nice conversation about then and now - I think they learned a little from me, I certainly gained new perspective from them.

And that got me thinking ...

I was in NYC's Greenwich Village a few years ago and I noticed a group of teens. They were a little rowdy, one had an open beer bottle, the others were just a bit too loud - and one couple was making out - on my car! Figures - the one time I find a free parking spot on the streets of NY. Even a few years ago my car was junky and I was going to walk on when a male couple passed holding hands. The teens got louder - mostly giggling and gasping and jostling each other and again I was going to walk on - kids will be kids. Then the male of the make-out couple said the "F" word and the female made some kissing noises and said she was "disgusted" and well - my inner "Norma Rae" came to life. As I walked over to the teens, under the pretext of opening my car, I mentioned to them that they should lose the beer bottle, there was a cop on the corner and I was sure he'd noticed them since they were so loud. I also told them that they were getting a lot of unwanted attention with the use of the "F" word. My plan worked, my looking out for them gained me their attention and appreciation. They apologized for being all over my car, I shrugged, said it was a piece of crap - no harm done. I asked the male of the make-out couple (he was black) whether he knew that, not that long ago, he would have been arrested (or worse) for kissing a white girl. "Well not today" he exclaimed - looking shocked and confused. True, true I told him, "and isn't that wonderful!" - "People fought and died for those civil rights". To his credit he caught on. "So the "F" word is as bad as the "N" word" he remarked. I told him I didn't know how to measure the words, they were all repugnant to me. I wasn't going to lecture (I really wanted to) - I was just asking him, all of them, if they had ever considered their place in a greater world. A world where other people didn't have the same rights as they did. A world where it was dangerous to show who you loved. "Never thought of that" - "My father says the "F" word all the time" - "We call each other gay". I don't know how much of a difference I made with those kids.

But I got them thinking ...

I had very negative role models in my parents. I often tell people I was "raised by wolves". One of the things that saved me was other adults - my Grandmother, the nosy but loving neighbor, a few inspiring teachers, Dr. King. By sharing themselves, by talking to me as a person they laid the foundation for a free thinking adult. They showed me my place in a greater world. They made something click for me by being there - being part of my history.

And so I realized ...

I followed their lead all these years. I rarely judge young people. I often try to share a moment, a tid-bit of my experience - to show them their place in a greater world - to hopefully make them feel how we are all connected and to give them, if even for a moment, the confidence and security to think outside the box of their homes, their schools, their friends, their environment.

There are so few tangible perks to getting older - the joints ache, the eyes get tired, stuff sags. BUT - the value of our place in the living history of younger folks can be immeasurable. I see it in the eyes of my VFW buddies - how good they feel when they share their stories with me and see me click on something I never considered before. Makes them feel young and important - makes me still see, at my ripe old age, how we all never stop learning.

Creating a Moment to Live In

I am having a hell of a day. Having, not even had and it's almost 10PM - do you know where your last nerve is!?

I have a deadline that's killing me. The project is huge and complicated and my heart just isn't in it but I love my house and the bank is funny about mortgage payments. Plus the money from this project will keep from needing to get a 3rd job come February.

I have this nasty habit of projecting - and when I project I panic. I take not meeting a deadline (I'll probably meet it anyway - I always do) and project it all the way to financial ruin and living like a troll under a bridge. I pull up stuff from my past, mix it with fears of the future, add a dash of today's annoyances and voila - one crazy cocktail.

So I'm down here in the hole - uh - luxurious basement office and I'm telling myself to live in the moment. Except at the moment I'm trying to fix the paper tray for my very expensive, fancy schmancy laser printer. It keeps telling me the paper isn't legal - I swear I paid for the paper with US currency on American soil. WTF!? Does my paper need papers.

And then it dawns on me - I cleaned the paper tray and maybe the little green paper guide thingie isn't aligned - so I grab the thingie and I gently tug at it - and it comes off in my hand, not even a clean break, there isn't a glue crazy enough to fix this mother.

I need a different moment to live in.

As I sit down to calmly and professionally ponder my situation by crying I instantly remember a lady I met a few weeks ago at Job #2. - the big-ass retail store.

"We have to do what we have to do" she told me the day I met her. "Even if we're not doing too good at the moment" she continued.

She had come into the store to buy herself a new sweater. I guess she's in her 70s - she looked so fragile but I made her smile and laugh (my favorite part of the job). I even convinced her to pick a bright color that matched her lipstick.

She handed me an expired credit card which led us into a search of her purse that was a lot like traveling through time. She had dozens of credit cards in there - from old and expired to new and unactivated. Most of them weren't signed. I was about to say this was a problem when I saw how nervous she was so I asked her if we could spend a few moments together. Thank goodness the department was empty! If somebody behind her had complained I mighta, hadda killed them.

We lined up all the cards - destroyed the old ones, she signed the new ones and we called and activated them. While in the purse we found a coupon for 20% off the sweater - score! as my son would say. We also found coupons for brands that don't exist anymore.

She thanked me a million times and left.

A few minutes later I was headed outside for my break when I ran into my new friend in TVs. She looked so happy to see me! She said she felt so good about her cards being in order that she was going to get a new TV. The one she had now was very old and snowy and she wanted to get cable - plus she had been watching the Price is Right for days before realizing Bob Barker had become Drew Carey - she giggled just like my Grandmother used to.

We picked out a TV together, I arranged for it to be delivered and we walked to her car. She told me I was a "sweet girl" - I love being called a girl, especially since I was born fully grown. As she was getting into her car she told me she had started out thinking it was going to be a bad day, a day she wouldn't be able to handle - her husband had passed away a few weeks earlier and this was the first time she was venturing out on her own. They had done everything together and she felt she couldn't manage alone.

And "now look" she beamed - "I have a beautiful sweater, a new TV and my purse isn't crazy anymore" - Oh she reminded me of Nana.

I gave her my number and told her to call me if she needed anything. She said she would but I shouldn't worry - she felt good, she felt stronger.

She hasn't called for help but she does call to ask me how I'm doing and to tell me I'm a "good girl" and to talk about all the new shows she's discovering. In January I'm going to teach her how to use the DVR.

At the moment that I decided to connect with her I had created a moment I could live in later. As Nana used to say - "Who knew!?"

Off to find the crazy glue! I feel stronger.