Being Zen

Happy 2014!  I'm so excited to do a new exercise this year.  No, not that kind of exercise, more of a pursuit.  Let me explain...I hate making New Year's Resolution because I don't like to be disappointed with myself.  In fact, I can't remember the last time I even bothered to try.  But this year, I found about this great concept called #oneword365.  Basically, you choose a word that you aspire to embody throughout the next 365 days.

I chose the word Zen because I wanted so many different words to represent; I want tranquility, peace, happiness, contentedness, courage and fulfillment.  When I think of all those words, I think Zen sums it up.  In my pursuit of Zen, I will commit to looking at things in a peaceful and tranquil way, dispelling my constant worries and what ifs and just be in the moment.  I will be on my iPhone less and in the moment, enjoying my children and husband more.  I will be concentrate on my whole being and what I'm putting in and getting out of my time on Earth.  That will be my goal for 2014.  Ahhhh...I feel more Zen already.

Check out this concept at oneword365.com and join me or your own tribe!

Reflections on Summer 2013

A little late to post here on my blog, but with the doldrums of winter starting already, I thought I'd post my reflections on Summer 2013 (written in September)...

“Dinner is served!”, Mom proclaimed as she placed a meal of chicken casserole, sweet potatoes and her version of salad on the table.  We all gathered around and I started the conversation off.  “Well, before we get into how everyone’s day was, I have some things I’d like to ask,” I began.  “I need to write my annual piece on how my summer was but instead of MY memories, I want YOUR memories.”  

“Dad,” I continued, “Why don’t you start?  What is one word that you would use to describe your summer?”  My dad pondered for a second, at first a little blankly and then with finger pointing to the air he said, “MAAHH-velous”.  Jake rolled his eyes and said, “Mine was Supercallifragilistic!”.  I surveyed the rest, my Mom said, “Short!” to which Ron exclaimed, “I was going to say LONG – I had the kids all day every day!” and Emma finished us with, “Funtasticalious!”

“Ok everyone, what about your favorite memories from Summer 2013?” I asked a new question.  The answers began pouring in.  “Going to Florida with Ron.  We could golf every day,” Dad said.  Ron answered, “How many times did we actually golf, though?”  Dad laughingly replied, “I said we COULD golf everyday”.  My Dad was really thinking about this and kept going, “We had such a nice time on that trip, good food, good project work, it was cool every day.”  I said, “I notice you didn’t say good company.” To which we all laughed.  

My Mom said her favorite memory was the Cedar Point trip she and my Dad took with the Grandkids and my sister.  Emma said her favorite memory was watching her brother play baseball, and of course riding her bike.  Ron said our Pool Party with all our friends was his best memory and Jake summed it all up with “getting fro-yo at Yo Bubbs!”.

 

By this point, the group was ready for a new question and much to my surprise, ready to participate.  So I asked, “What are you going to miss the most about summer?”  My Mom promptly replied, “Seeing my Grandkids and my Kids, including my kids in law, Ron.”  Emma said she’d miss the long days and sunshine, to which my Dad replied, “Yes that and the heat!”  Ron said he was going to miss shirking his responsibilities and Jake said he would miss swimming the most.

I didn’t share my thoughts and feelings as the interviewer but I will in my final report.  I started the summer with one goal, to enjoy every moment.  I feel like the summer of 2013 brought me the most simple joy that I’ve had in a summer in quite some time.  I slowed down, worked less, paid more attention.  I listened to my kids more and tried to reach out to friends as much as I could.  I went for day trips to visit people we’d been promising to come see for years and made each day count.  The weather was beautiful and each day I was reminded that these are my good old days.

All in all, I think the summer of 2013 was about spending time with family and friends and when we all summed it up over a meal, it felt right, if not a little bittersweet to say goodbye to it for a few cold months.  Now, to make the most of autumn…

The Incidental Writer

     I have proved this year that I am not a very faithful blogger.  I clearly have long gaps between my posts, but it is not because of a lack of desire to be a good and steady blogger.  I think about writing and what I might write all the time, possibly too much.  But the act of writing is often a luxury I don't afford myself.  If only I could have my thoughts recorded instantly like a cartoon bubble that forms above my head.  But alas, that kind of inter-brain technology is likely a few years away.  
     Recently, to prepare for my writer's group, I needed to rely on the pen to paper method and produce an essay.  After all, it is a writer's group and not an "I think about writing" group.  Below is my offering and, in all truth, an example of why I am the Incidental Writer these days.

     I decided today's writing would be fictional. Mind you, not a loosely based fiction about a wearied working mom, either.  Today's writing will not be about my every day life.  I am more than the day to day.  I have stories to tell!  I have ideas to jot!
     "Hey Mom, can I play the computer?," my son chirps loudly.  "Yes, now go, I am writing a story," I answer.  He smiles broadly like he just won a battle and as he's skipping toward the computer I remember why.  "HEY!  WAIT!  Go do your homework first," I remind him. 
     He frowns.  "But Mooooommm, I did my homework," he's protesting this barrier to video gaming loudly.  "Let me see it, " I say as I push my notebook aside.  I check his homework, which is actually done.  He asks for food while I finish looking at the homework so I send him in to wash his hands before getting a snack.  As he does that, he sings everything he says, "I'm washin' my hands...and Mom is wriiitinggg...I.am.gonna.play.Miiiiinnneeecraftttt and then we.will.eat.".  Mind you, this is all at the top of his lungs.  My husband, who has been quietly reading, notices my son's loud singing and tries to offer an intervention by saying louder than my son is singing, "HEY!  MOM IS WRITING!  GIVE HER A BREAK, BUDDY!"
    Enter my daughter, "Mom, I forgot to ask you, can you take me to deliver the orders for my band fundraiser really quickly?  I told them I could come right away." I run my fingers through my hair like Reverend Jim from 'Taxi' or Kramer from 'Seinfeld'.  My husband asks, "How's it going?" and I begin to laugh.  The joke is on me, I guess.  My commitment to write something other than my usual commentary on my little sliver of this world ain't gonna fly today.  I wasn't feeling sorry for myself, I actually think I am really lucky.
     Right before my eyes I have such great characters.  I could write volumes about my daughter, Emma, and her stubborn, silly, smart ways or about my hilarious son, Jake, who although his first year of his life he hardly made a noise, is quite possibly the loudest person I now know.  Or I could write about my husband, Ron, whose one-liners keep me laughing when I might otherwise cry and whose devotion makes me feel secure and loved without measure.  
     I try so hard to think of entertaining fictional stories that don't involve the every day but today, I will breathe in and settle back while the story unfolds with some of the most interesting characters I know.

The Long Way

As I said goodbye in the early morning hours, I had my trip roughly planned out.  I was leaving Boothbay Harbor, Maine at about 3:45 am in early August 1998.  The road was dark and windy.  Driving along coastal Maine is a series of hairpin turns and two way traffic, although considered a highway.  As I left coastal Maine and made my way to the interstate, I had just a few more of these twists and turns before the straight shot toward Boston.  Just as I began to relax and settle in to the drivers’ seat, I turned right and my headlights caught a large, brown object in the road in front of me.  I slammed on my brakes and the giant moose crossed the road.  I was thankful he (or she) didn’t stop and was now fully awake for my drive. 

I was making great time that morning; cruising down through Maine and into Massachusetts.  I decided as I had a fast breakfast at a Highway Oasis that I would take a slight detour in New York.  It was August, after all, and my brother-in-law Mark’s birthday was coming up.  Mark and I have a special relationship.  He and I are good friends; I consider him the brother I never had.  We have always had a good relationship – he is funny and kind, quirky in the very best ways, and we always laugh together thoroughly.  There was a time, early in his marriage to my sister, that I lived with them in Grand Rapids and on more than one occasion, Mark and I ganged up on Lisa in some creative little inside joke.  She’s very good natured about being called “the General” because she would order us both around for cleaning and things like that. 

Because of my love of my brother-in-law, I decided that even though it was a 17 or 18 hour drive, I would take the long way home to Michigan via Cooperstown, NY.  Mark loves baseball, so I decided for his birthday, I would get him a gift from the Baseball Hall of Fame.  I was pretty cocky, too, arriving around at the Cooperstown exit off the expressway at around 11am.  I had no idea that I was a full hour from Cooperstown at that point – this was waaay before GPS had been made mainstream.  I just followed the signs and enjoyed the drive.  And the drive was memorable, that part of New York is just beautiful – rolling hills, farms and green everywhere you look.  The main road into Cooperstown is just as lovely; the downtown looks like something right out of a Norman Rockwell picture.  I arrived at the Hall of Fame feeling really great – although surprised at how far out Cooperstown was from the highway.  I looked around and tried to find something that spoke to me for Mark’s gift. 

As I perused the gift shop I saw this great section of vintage baseball hats.  In that section, I saw a hat that said, “Jersey City Giants”.  I picked it up, put it down and kept moving.  But that hat kept calling to me.  Mark is from New Jersey, and of course, New Jersey does not have a major league team of their own. So I asked the clerk about the hat.  I found out a whole story about the minor league team called the “Jersey City Giants” which was the farm team for the New York Giants in the 30’s to the 50’s.  The hat was so cool and I just knew that Mark would love it.  I had found my piece of Americana for his birthday.

I was feeling pretty great about my day so far; so I headed back out to the expressway thinking I’d still be home pretty early.  I had planned on being home by about 7pm that night.  The New York landscape was just as beautiful on the way back, I even stopped at a Louisville Slugger outlet before heading on to the highway.  I realized when I got back to the main route just how far out of my way I had gone.  I really started to feel it about 7:00 that night when I was still nearly three hours from home.  I had been awake since 3:00 in the morning, drove all by myself and was in the middle of Michigan on my way to Grand Rapids. 

When I finally reached home, I was, quite literally, exhausted.  But I had a great trip, including the side trip to Cooperstown.  That was fifteen years ago, and just the other day, Mark said to me that I have given him some of the most memorable and thoughtful gifts any one in his life has ever gotten him.  He mentioned that hat; and I had to laugh when I said, “Mark, you got the hat – but I got the adventure.”  And I truly meant it – what a great day, a great trip, one I’ll never forget; all in the hopes of finding a good gift.  And fifteen years later, we’re both pretty happy I took the long way.

To Life

Often in my blog, I write because I am moved by something.  This year I have been moved by the beauty of life, the struggle of raising children, the joy of births, the sadness and sometimes celebration of deaths after a life well-lived and day to day living.  I write because I observe something but usually it is because I am wrought with emotion about what I have observed.  This post exemplifies that process.

Today, I attended another funeral, or as they are generally known, a Celebration of Life.  But this funeral was not for an elderly relative who lived fully and saw generations come up behind him or her.  Rather, this was the funeral of a co-worker who succumbed to a brave and ferocious battle with cancer.  She was only 46 years old; just four years older than I am now.  And while I am moved by her life and the person that she was, I am completely and utterly angry about her death.  I know that there is a plan and universe has its reasons for plucking someone from us at such an early time but it is hard for me to celebrate a life cut short. 

She was an amazing person, loved by many, never an unkind word and while I appreciated knowing her the little that I did at work, I was even more amazed by her courageous battle she raged for the last three years.  And yet, I am left with a pit of sorrow because she should have won that battle.  She did everything she could, everything she should; she followed all the instructions.  She had a positive attitude and used humor as well as all the medical treatments.  She really gave her all.  And all is what the cancer took from her. 

Not fair!!!  Not fair that her teenage son is without her, not fair that her husband who loves her so much is now a widower, not fair that her parents outlived their child.  I’m not celebrating that.  I’m incited over it.  As I was listening to the pastor telling us to turn to God, I have to admit I took comfort in the reminder that we are small in the scheme of the universe.  But as I was leaving, my sadness over the loss turned towards anger.  I celebrate the woman, but I’m not happy about losing such a soul. 

Death is such a scary and dark place to think about; when will it all end, how will it end, will it hurt, is there a heaven?  And so in the face of death, I will turn to life.  I vowed in my sad anger that I will love more fully and be more present.  I will put my iPhone down more often and listen more to my kids and husband.  I will DVR less and dance in the living room a little more.  I will take more vacation days and give myself a break about the house not being clean.  So even though I am angry that Deb was taken too young, I learned some things from her death. 

1. Take pictures of yourself with your loved ones and friends; I am often trying to not be in front of the camera because of my battles with my weight but no more  - I want people to be able to see my laughter after I’m gone
2. Live in the moment; I think anyone who is taken from us after a battle with an illness knows that life is fleeting.  We need to be present and act today; not with reckless abandon – but definitely standard-issue abandon. 
3.  Love openly and feel deeply – don’t leave room for doubt or distance.  Don’t let your loved ones question how you felt – make it known. 
4.  Be brave; in the face of life, be brave, bold and dare to dream your best dream.

After leaving the funeral, I called my husband and asked him to bring the kids for a lunch with me.  I needed to see them.  My sadness and anger about the death of this young soul was lingering over me and I needed to turn to my life and start to make the changes I just mentioned.  What I got was so much better than I had hoped for – my children ran to me with genuine happiness to see me; my husband gave me a giant smooch and told me he missed me all day.  I mean, honestly, just when I am mad at the Universe – I get a dose of love big enough to fill any void.  How can one be mad after that?

So as you can see I have run the gamut of emotion today; I wept over the loss of a truly wonderful person, I got angry at the Universe and beings higher than myself for taking a mother from her son, a wife from her husband and a daughter from her parents; I felt happiness when I gazed onto my adoring and adored family as they met me for a much needed family lunch after the funeral.  But these emotions I have felt do not make me feel tired or empty but rather I feel full of life, however fleeting, I feel full of LIFE.  Now you, my dear reader, go LIVE….

Hate is a waste of time

In my life, I have the unfortunate situation that I know a hater, a true meanie.  Now, this person - we'll call her Person X - is not a close friend of mine.  She is someone that I only know through others.  But she is mean and nasty.  Every time, without exception, that I have been in her presence or heard about an exchange that someone else has had with her has been full of her venom.  She never a nice thing to say about anyone; she is always the victim - everyone is a horrible person and she a saint among saints.  She will tell how she's been ripped off, abused, taken advantage of, walked upon, etc.  Yet it is she that claims income from two different ex-husbands, and has her bills paid by her current, this poor soul who never gets treated right.  She rarely lifts a finger for herself but instead has her children running her household for her - cooking and cleaning.  She'd cuss you out just to look at you.  Person X is not someone that you'd want in your life.


Now, I'm lucky, I don't have to deal with her often nor be in her presence much but she is someone that I have known for the past decade and a half and will probably have to come across her through our mutual connections once or twice more in my life.  And while I have no interest in being a close personal friend of Person X, I will say she has taught me something.  Through her vile ugliness of a disposition, I have learned that hate and anger is a total waste of time and energy.  You could match her hatefulness toe-to-toe, word for word and I guarantee you that she can out ugly you.  It isn't pretty when you have to be in the presence of such a person; it is a drain on your life.  I've seen her scars on people - the people that I know that have to deal with her much more regularly.  They are beat down, worn out by her nastiness.  All the while she's beating them with her sharp tongue, she's telling them it is their fault and not hers - that hers is the sorry lot in life.  I have expressed to our common friends that they are not to blame and should not take on that burden of her meanness.  There is no sense or purpose to her hatred - she hates everyone equally and is mean and nasty about it.


And so, she has taught me that it is far better to hold your tongue and say nothing when you have nothing but hatred to speak.  It does only damage to be mean and nasty to people.  I say, be kind - or be silent.  Spewing hate and making people feel terrible serves no purpose here.  If you seek only to hurt those around you, your life is empty and meaningless.  I can say I am not and will not ever be this way; and for that I am so glad.  My only wish is that I could help those she has hurt more than I can; I wish they did not have to deal with her at all, but it isn't within my control.  All I can do is send out my loving prayers that they have peace in their lives, despite Person X and that they can one day realize that her hatred, while hurtful to them is a waste of time just the same.  I hope one day they can be free of it and that I never have to lay eyes on Person X again.

Lest We Forget

This weekend in our little town of St. Joseph, Michigan, we have a really cool event happening.  The Lest We Forget (www.lestweforgetusa.org) organization is doing WWII re-enactments; including taking the beach along Lake Michigan.  My son, Jake, and I stopped by our regional airport to check out the campgrounds and we took a few pictures.  


I wasn't sure what to expect but honestly, it was like walking back in time in many ways.  I'm always trying to have a teaching moment with my kids and this was no exception.  I quizzed Jake on the name of the British Flag (the Union Jack) and we talked about the issues during WWII.  All the while, Jake was asking if the airport where the re-enactors, their tents, gear, guns, food, and vehicles including trucks, jeeps, planes and helicopters are parked, has Wi Fi access so he can play some games on his iPod touch.  I just shook my head and tried again; we saw the Allied Camp; US and Britain well represented there.  Across the way were the German and Japanese camps; Jake liked the story we heard about a little boy wandering in to the Japanese camp and having the soldiers there shoo him out for having gone into enemy territory.  


This event puts at the top of mind all the sacrifice and honor of our soldiers and veterans.  I am amazed at the camps that have been recreated with authentic WWII gear; I can't imagine living in such a small space for months or a year at a time; and yet thousands of soldiers have done this and sacrificed for centuries.  These men and women are truly incredible.  I have a grandfather (now deceased) who was a WWII Veteran.  He served at Iwo Jima; which they are re-enacting tomorrow.  Ron has two grandfathers (also now deceased) that were WWII Vets; we believe one was at the battle of Pearl Harbor.  My Dad was in the Marine Reserves during Vietnam and my father-in-law was in the Military Police at Leavenworth.   With that family history in mind, it makes seeing an event like this even more special.


I feel so blessed at being able to walk through such a great, living reminder of our soldiers.  I can't wait to see what we can do at tomorrow's events.  Thank you, Lest We Forget, for reminding us.

Allied Camp

Jake with one of the vintage motorcycles

WWII Jeep

US Camp

Jake was asking about WiFi at this point

One of the larger tents with cots.