It’s year five of my taking the Grateful Challenge! Inspired by Spin Sucks, the goal is to set a timer for 10 minutes and try to list 99 things you’re grateful for. (Here are the previous installments: 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014.)
All the time I spent as a freelancer at my new job, before becoming a full-time employee
Everyone at my job who has taken the time to explain things to me, support me, help me figure out the ropes
All the freelancers who I now work with
Backing up to the “mom” section — all the time we had with her between her initial hospitalization in early December 2017 and her death in February — just sitting in a hospital room, time that obviously was a gift (in retrospect)
My house — the memories we have here as we prepare to move out
All the lessons I learned from three years of caregiving
All the lessons I learned between leaving Healthy Kids in May 2014 and starting my full-time job in September 2018 — freelancing for different places
Toastmasters — even though I’m not active now, using the lessons from it every day
People who take the time to give me specific feedback about how to improve (at work and in the broader world)
A great therapist, the opportunity to have help working through things
Coffee dates with friends
Not that it’s a “good” thing, but the fact that working through a less-than-optimal credit rating has made me hustle harder (and hopefully will lead to my kids being freakishly careful about money)
If “success” is reaching 99 items, then this year is a bust! Maybe it’s a function of being in survival mode for much of the year. Maybe I’m writing this while tired. I tend to think it’s more a function of this year falling into a few huge chunks of “life” instead of many small fragments.
What I know, but didn’t necessarily convey in the 38 items listed, is that I am so fortunate … to be doing work I love and to have the opportunity to work from home. To have celebrated a 26th wedding anniversary and to have spent this evening with my two grown children, reassured by them to an extent that they feel pretty good about their childhoods.
I know I have probably left people out, but I guess the beautiful thing is that I can make it a point to express my gratitude in person, in writing, or with a phone call any time I choose.
Want to Join?
It’s never too late to spend ten minutes focusing on gratitude! Let me know if you do the challenge!
I haven’t been on a true “vacation” since Wayne and I went to his Aunt Mary’s 90th birthday in April 2017. I haven’t been on a “vacation” where I didn’t have to simultaneously stress about losing freelance income in four years (I recently took a full-time job, so that particular stressor is gone at last). And although the itinerary of my trip to Chicago for the Type A Conference was a little end-loaded with stress because I arrived on Wednesday and didn’t present until Saturday (the day I left … sigh), it was still the most vacation-related period of time I have had in years.
Okay – stay with me here – Paula (city lover!) in Chicago (a particular fave) with a few chunks of time in which to explore and do city-specific things. So many options beckoned:
For a period of about six months, I had a part in helping put together a tolling industry newsletter.* One topic that was covered several times was the fact that Illinois’ tollway oases (structures that cross the tollway, allowing travelers going opposite directions to access snacks, leg-stretching time, restrooms and more) are going away, partially to make room for road expansions and partially for safety reasons.
The Illinois Tollway system began building oases in 1958, with the number eventually growing to seven. The Des Plaines Oasis was the first to be inactivated (in 2014). It did not go down without a fight and a significant amount of nostalgia, though.
“On the Friday before Memorial Day weekend in 1979, an engine fell off a DC-10 that was taking off from O’Hare airport (American Airlines Flight 191). The plane crashed in a field about 1/4 mile from the DesPlaines Oasis, between Touhy Ave and the Tollway. The runway points almost directly toward the Oasis. The plane was headed for Los Angeles, and had a full load of fuel.” Via Panix.
“Two movies have scenes that were filmed at the oases. “The Blues Brothers” has a scene that takes place in the parking lot of the DesPlaines Oasis (with Carrie Fisher and the flamethrower). “Thief”, starring James Caan, has a scene that is supposed to take place in the dining room of the O’Hare Oasis (it was actually filmed in the hallway on the opposite side of the building, next to the windows).” Via Panix.
But Still, an Oasis instead of a Museum or the Theater?
Here’s the thing … every time I would read one of these stories to include it in the newsletter, I would think about my handful of trips to Chicago, and driving under the oases in a taxi or rental car, and wondering about what exactly happened up there.
(I know, I know — what “happens” is junk food, going to the restroom and stocking up on snacks, but it seemed like a big mystery from my perspective as someone else’s passenger, looking up.)
Being able to get help with tolling issues (if I had had any, of course!) from a real bona fide human being instead of having to try to connect through a screen and a keyboard felt a little more … real.
Digging Deeper Matters
It has been a bit of a blessing and a curse throughout my career that I get so fascinated by the topics with which I work (because it is easy to lose sight of the big picture by focusing too intently on the minutiae). But trying to picture yourself in the shoes of the people living the things you write about matters, in my opinion (although please for the love of all things holy let’s exempt that whole conception story…).
It’s why I went to (and wrote about) a Farmers’ Roundtable when I had a role in an agricultural newsletter.* It made a difference to be seated five feet from the Congressman whose name I typed weekly. More importantly, it made a difference to hear farmers expand on the topics discussed in the newsletter, and to hear how their livelihoods were affected by policy changes.
And as to my curiosity about the oases, they touch on some sentiment about how travel has changed since my childhood. Oases once had sit-down restaurants.
Back in the day, when folks took Sunday drives, it was a destination point for suburbanites with a Fred Harvey sit-down restaurant. The Daily Herald
I think it’s somehow about yet another loss of an opportunity to slow down, along with a nod to the mesmerizing nature of travel (sorry this video is vertical – I blame Snapchat!).
I doubt I’ll pay another (cough cough amount not disclosed) amount of Uber fees to get to and from an Oasis again. But I don’t regret the choice for a minute. It’s a fortunate thing to like your work enough to do more than the minimum.
Now if there were only a “Broadway plays” newsletter!
I wrote this post in response to a Kat Bouska prompt: Write a blog post inspired by the word: change.
*This blog is purely my opinion; I don’t represent either organization.
“Procrasticleaning” is not something I can recall ever experiencing:
However, I procrastinate in other ways. We all have the activities we turn to when avoiding life’s bigger and more intimidating projects.
A weekly prompt from the Poets & Writers site references a Philip Roth quote:
Now I can have a glass of orange juice in the morning and read the newspaper.
Apparently Roth wrote this upon his retirement as a fiction writer. The prompt directs the writers to, “Write a personal essay about the simple, everyday things you wish you had more time to do, that are often sacrificed to a busy schedule,” and asks, “How are these activities enticing in a way that is different from the excitement of grander plans?”
Let the orange juice flow; here are my thoughts on the intersection of putting things off and finding alternate rewards along the way.
As I formally wrap up more than four years as a freelancer (more on that toward the end of this post), it would be easy to reflect on the things I could have done better or more efficiently.
The year after my father-in-law died, especially, was free of many of the distractions (logistical and emotional) that came with being part of a marriage in which both of us were primary caregivers to my father-in-law.
With different time management, I could potentially have:
-Used the roughly 52,000 words I have written in weekly Sunday blog posts and weekly Five Minute Friday posts to make progress on the book about Camp Gordon Johnston I have been saying for years I plan to write
-Helped the family bottom line more by ramping up pitches for paid freelance writing
-Helped the family bottom line even more by becoming a transcriber earlier and buckling down to accumulate more hours of paid transcription
My procrastination that got in the way of those types of things was characterized mostly by time on social media that didn’t have an immediately obvious positive effect on my pocketbook, productivity or general outlook on life. I sure didn’t (as mentioned at the top) clean house better.
However, there is a certain amount of processing involved in adjusting once a loved one is gone, and once all the responsibilities and constant vigilance of taking care of someone with short-term memory disorder (and two occurrences of cancer) involves. We also became a true empty nest when my son moved out to go to school, which also was an adjustment. I am choosing to give myself grace for that.
If Time Were No Object
Since the prompt asked, here are the small(ish) things I could make a higher priority and why they matter to me.
Let’s just get this one out of the way. I wish I could be one of those people who say, “I had a sponsored post due at 5 p.m. yesterday, so of course my floors were sparkling and there wasn’t a speck of dust in the house by 3:55.” I’m not that type of human, as I’ve discussed previously. It does matter, though, because I hate living in a cluttered, untidy house as much as the next person.
Such a mixed bag here. I don’t need to make it a higher priority. If anything, it is too high now. I do wish I had time to delve deeper into some people’s shares. I know I owe people in some of my groups a thorough reading of their posts, a sharing of their content, and a thoughtful comment. They’ve certainly done that for me without much reciprocity on my end. Social media is one of my primary outlets for connecting, especially since I work from home. I think the key is using it more judiciously, not necessarily making a drastic cut in the quantity of time I spend there.
The last counted cross stitch project I did took roughly three years to complete! However, every time I touched it, I was reminded of the comforting rhythm of doing something you can hold in your hands (that isn’t a smartphone). I also realized why my mom said “it just bothers my eyes” as she got older. The tiny work is not as much fun as it used to be for me, either. But the repetitive nature, seeing a design come together, knowing the project is a way to convey my affection for the recipient — those are all positives.
This doesn’t showcase the incredible job the framer did; I forgot to take a pic before it was packaged. Also: Censored for being NSFW — it’s a bit of an inside joke!
I have finally gotten back into an exercise groove (yay), but I am still fitting in what to me is a bare minimum. I would love to find a new/different class, walk a different route, join a friend for some type of fitness experiment.
Coffee With Friends
This isn’t really that small in the long run, but I sure could happily put off some things in favor of time spent chatting with friends over coffee (or wine — I’m flexible!). I know that I have tended to say what I really mean through my writing more than my voice in recent years — and I need the real-time reactions and thoughts of people who know me well. I also need to give back to them by being a sounding board. It works differently eye to eye than it does in Facebook messenger.
Get Lost in a Project
I feel a little ridiculous admitting how much relaxation and joy I got from creating things with Smarties. I love the candy itself but I also really love gluing it together to design an image.
I guess Smarties Art kind of ties in to some of the other things I mentioned above — doing projects with my hands, seeing a vision come to life (even if it’s silly chickens!), spending time away from a screen, giving people conversation starters.
I think that was Philip Roth’s point: each individual would probably choose something different if time were not constrained. The prompt asks about the small things, not the big bucket list things. I’ve always felt that less monumental actions and conversations are the adhesive that binds our lives together (I especially feel that way about parenting), and this is what I would do with mine.
How about you?
Here’s How Things are Changing for Me
My period of time working solely as a freelancer is coming to a close, as I mentioned above. This may leave less time for needlework, Smarties Art and cleaning (um…not a worry!), but this is a welcome change and a career transition that allows me to be a bigger part of an organization that has grown in significance to me, both its product and its people, since I began as a freelancer in January 2017.
I will be a full-time editor at SmartBrief starting tomorrow, editing email newsletters such as the Social Work SmartBrief. Please visit the main site here and subscribe to any of the newsletters that appeal to you (there’s something for everyone).
Full disclosure before you read more: this is a curmudgeon post, not my usual sunshine and rainbows. It’s just how I feel. I support everyone’s choices (okay, maybe not the one with the live alligator, but I’m getting ahead of myself…)
9 Reasons Gender Reveals Make Me Uneasy
Many of them involve contraptions that emit pink or blue smoke. It’s dramatic (which is cool and makes for great pictures) but (and I realize this is a bit of an optical illusion) it appears to suffocate all the celebrants.
The “shooting” imagery weirds me out. This is often part of the “smoke” gender reveals (but also part of the “confetti” gender reveals). Sometimes, the father-to-be is pointing the shooting mechanism that is going to emit the smoke or the confetti at the pregnant woman. What’s up with that?
The sharp objects involved are so … evil-looking. Especially with those ubiquitous black balloons filled with pink or blue mini-balloons, someone has to wield a sharp object to pop the thing. It’s strange to me. (Related: one gender reveal I saw had a complicated (and, honestly, very cool-looking) balloon creation that replicated the mother. The gender reveal was done by inserting a sharp object into the balloon “belly,” which then released the gender-disclosing balloons. It was seriously disturbing to watch the real mom plunge the sharp implement into the balloon belly.)
They are pretentious. Not all gender reveals are pretentious. Some are simple and elegant at the same time. But the extravagant productions make me scratch my head. Some are so over the top.
They freak the siblings out. I have seen multiple gender reveal videos where a toddler is totally intimidated by the smoke, the general hullabaloo, or the sight of their parents jumping around like lunatics in celebration. (While, of course, the photographer hired to document the occasion tries to capture the picture-perfect shot that captures the family’s bliss and glee.)
Something could go wrong. Granted, this is just the way I think about the world (despite my Optimism Light persona). But what if the vendor packed pink balloons instead of blue? What if someone is allergic to tinted smoke? What if the sharp implement slips? What if the car with the special burnout packet designed to emit tinted smoke has an accident or runs into a participant? My list goes on and on. In addition, unless people get a chromosomal analysis, ultrasounds have been wrong.
“Flaming balls”? There’s a particular type of firework that emits “flaming balls.” Here’s an example I saw on Instagram.
“Shoots flaming balls.” What could possibly go wrong?
The mixed messages are off-putting. I love a good theme as much as the next person, but some of the messages (and the way they are implemented) make me want to wash my hands). Specifically, there’s an entire genre of “here for the sex” products and themes. One Gender Reveal video I saw showed the mom, dad and a sibling who appeared to be around 9 years old cutting into an “I’m here for the sex” cake. How did they explain what “here for the sex” means?
Our society is at a different place about gender norms. A few popular themes include “quarterback or cheerleader,” “boots or bows,” “staches or lashes” and “cupcake or stud muffin.” You can peruse many more through this link. It would be dishonest of me to say that my expectations during my pregnancies didn’t align pretty much with traditional “pink or blue” and “ballerina or ball player” thoughts. My kids are both cisgender and my daughter is a ballerina while my son is a car guy, but something about these themes seems at odds with an increasing awareness of intersectionality and the growing acknowledgement in society that many people don’t identify as strictly male or female. I suppose it’s a topic for a different post (or, honestly, coffee in person — gender fluidity is something that takes nuance and diplomacy, in my opinion) but I suppose ultimately what I would rather a reveal predict is “this kid is going to be an amazing, compassionate, capable human being who makes the world a better place!”
I’m going to pull myself out of curmudgeon land for a moment to say this: Sometimes a gender reveal is the right thing to do and brings joy to everyone around. I may differ on how people choose to share details as their pregnancies progress (one wish I have regarding mine is that I had waited to be surprised regarding the gender of one of my children, honestly), but ultimately whether someone finds out at all, chooses to share the information, posts a simple picture to Instagram or puts on a lavish party, a new baby brings hope. The biggest thing a Gender Reveal shows is that we can all put aside the pessimism so predominant in our world today for a moment to celebrate new beginnings.
Here’s one that doesn’t get a complete curmudgeon vote from me. I admire this family for finding a way to celebrate their new arrival even though they are physically separated*:
*And I acknowledge that this gender reveal leaves some people (including me) with a not-so-great feeling because it implies the gender (male) is what the dad prefers. Otherwise, it makes me happy.
I am linking this post with Kat Bouska’s blog this week, for the prompt “Write a blog post in exactly 9 lines.” I fudged a bit but there are nine specific lines here about my topic!
What did you do the summer after you graduated from high school? Take a vacation? Go to summer school? Work a summer job?
I spent the summer hours away from home, serving as a Southern Baptist Convention summer missionary. I was 17 and felt called to save the world*.
Here are some things (from the perspective of 35 years later) that I no longer am:
A recent high school graduate
As a 53-year-old with a few more degrees and a certificate (somewhere) verifying I am a confirmed Episcopalian, this is what that summer looks in retrospect:
Door-to-door is an introvert’s worst nightmare
First, let me say that I think the definition of “introvert” has become a bit contorted as it has taken hold in the public mindset (although I trust most everything Jennifer Kahnweiler has written about it). For me, the most salient part is the fact that I recharge more by being alone than I do with being in room full of people (this is the case with my husband — ask me how it works out when two people in a marriage recharge in different ways!).
Despite the fact that my religious beliefs at the time and my concern for my fellow man led me to apply to be a summer missionary and to accept an assignment in Fort Pierce/Port St. Lucie, FL (hours from home), that hunger to serve did not make it any easier to knock on strangers’ doors and try to get them to accept the gospel.
I would stand there at the door, playing mental games with myself (“If they don’t answer by the time I count to 10, I can leave” … that kind of thing).
Staying at host homes is an eye opener
Staying in host homes was probably a burden for the homes (and a joy, I know), but it was one of the most growth-inducing parts of this summer experience for me. I had a lot of growing up to do, and figuring out how to function in other people’s homes helped with that.
I’ve lost touch with most of my hosts, but am still in touch to this day with one. Her daughter was 3 then and she has her own kids now. Time moves on.
Lack of clarity about roles
Something happened during my summer as a missionary that has repeated itself in other areas of my life subsequently.
One of the churches (we moved around — I think we were at 5 churches in 10 weeks — also 5 different host homes) was sending its puppet ministry to a workshop in Orlando. I asked if we could go. I am pretty sure they hadn’t budgeted to send two summer missionaries to this workshop, but they let us go.
We weren’t *this* creative but here is an example Christian puppetry at its finest — in the form of BETHLEHEMian Rhapsody:
The reason I say this repeated itself later is … I was presenting to our board at Healthy Kids once. I was situating the screen so the presentation’s graphics could be shown and I was angling it toward the audience. Our Executive Director somewhat dramatically indicated that the screen needed to face the BOARD not the audience of hangers-on there to observe the meeting.
One of the biggest memories of that summer has to do with a day that we were out knocking on doors (sigh…) with a minister. I think this particular home visit consisted of the minister, another missionary and me. We talked at length with a woman, discussing her life and her spiritual needs.
She said she had a void in her life, and the minister walked her though confessing her faith in Christ and accepting Him as her savior. (The follow-up steps would ostensibly be her seeking out a local church and following through with baptism.)
When we got to the car — no lie — this minister pumped his fist and said (paraphrasing a bit — it was 35+ years ago!) “YES! IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME!” It became clear that he was keeping count and (more importantly) that as a minister he felt there was some type of quota he was expected to reach.
Now that I have more life experience behind me, I see in that woman’s “void” something maybe a little less spiritual and a little more human — she was a woman isolated in a suburb of Orlando (because yes we had driven to Orlando to expand our soul-saving activities), needing someone to talk to. We offered companionship and a promise of more warm fuzzies, not to mention eternal security.
I can’t say denominations don’t hold their clergy and evangelists to “scoreboards.” Any business, even the business of providing religious support/education/worship, runs on metrics. But something about that moment in time —- he was more excited to have another tick mark than to know that she had had a genuine change that would benefit her —- has always stuck in my head.
I have peeked into some deeper evangelical things and …. I’m glad my path went a different direction
I can’t say that the things I was exposed to this summer were the first time I experienced some of the activities that are more aligned with expressions of evangelicalism like speaking in tongues, talk of demonic influence and being afraid of secular influences. I still can’t listen to “My Sweet Lord” without hearing the hour-long audio lecture I heard in a high-school Bible Study about backmasking and that “My Sweet Lord’s” insidious Hare Krishna messages.
We went skating once — most of the summer missionaries and the children of our host family — just to have the mom come back about half an hour later to make us leave early, “convicted” that the secular music we were listening to at the rink was somehow corrupting us and leading us astray.
That summer was the first time I saw the fear of demons be manifested in an actual demon exorcism (picture a middle class living room and a chair, not anything you’ve seen in movies).
And although I think this actually tracks back to some camp I went to, and not my summer missionary experience, that time in my life definitely carried a heavy (very) set of messaging around purity. Even “fingerprints” (ahem) were to be avoided (more about how I evolved past that particular phobia here).
Faith evolves…and did I mention there’s no scoreboard?
There’s also no script.
Don’t get me wrong…I know there are “scoreboards.”
And I know there are scripts. I scored a 100 on my “Certified Witness Training” test (this was after the summer missionary period, to be clear) that demonstrated I knew exactly what to say to try to get someone to recognize their “void,” the verses to parrot to help them know Jesus is what they needed to fill the “void,” and the steps to take to notch another score on the “scoreboard.”
However, I have evolved as a human and a person of faith.
In a nutshell, at this point I think the way I live my life — including trying to work my way out of messes and mistakes and the times I’ve offended others — says more than any script I’ve ever memorized. God will choose whether that added to His (or Her) scoreboard, not me.
Does faith ever call for a pause?
This is a bit of an abrupt diversion from talking about me (but YAY LET’S PLEASE MOVE ON FROM ME…..).
The #CallToPause was created by Lisa Sharon Harper. Among other things it posits that, “Judge Kavanaugh’s nomination poses grave danger to the rights and protections of historically marginalized communities.” This is what Sarah writes about it:
Dozens of high-profile evangelical leaders have joined the #CalltoPause. And hundreds of others have signed the #PledgetoPause, committing to fasting and praying for American Christians to return to what God’s called us to: kindness, mercy, compassion and love.
While I don’t plan to sign the pledge (I’m too pro-choice to be comfortable doing that), I have to admire the people who are. They may have spent a lifetime in the environment I encountered during my 17-year-old summer, telling people there was only one way to avoid a life of damnation and being scared that a note of music or pursuing any hint of personal pleasure was a failing. And yet they are willing to confront “why the right-wing culture wars began in the first place: racism.”
In my opinion, talking to each other about a middle ground and placing more emphasis on “kindness, mercy, compassion and love” is the kind of thing where it would be fine to keep score, as long as the scoreboard goes to infinity.
I have linked this post with the Kat Bouska prompt “Who needs a vacation when you can spend your summer doing this…”
*I suppose some would argue I still feel compelled to save the world. Hopefully my attempts these days are a little less heavy-handed.
Here’s something that is hazy in my future plan that needs to be much, much clearer: the status of the book I haven’t written.
Here’s something that was crystal clear when I was talking about that stalled dream when talking with Caytha Jentis and Artist Thornton about disrupting myths about aging (for example: at a certain age you shouldn’t bother trying to write a book): the way they vigorously shook their heads in disagreement that it is too late. (See for yourself at the 0:22 mark in this video.)
Besides the incredible bond the three of us developed over a few emails/Facebook messages/test videos and the actual video here, I gained several takeaways that apply both to my book-writing goal and to this stage of my life in general.
Don’t Underestimate the Power of Curiosity
Curiosity is one of the qualities Caytha mentioned during our talk. She’s right. I’m sure that’s one of the factors that led her to produce movies and create The Other F Word (check it out on The Girlfriend!).
One of the mental barriers I have had (ridiculous as it is) to writing this book is this: I envision it as an Unbroken-type book: meticulously researched yet beautifully told. I doubt my research skills (but feel I could take a crack at the beautiful telling part….). My internal dialogue has been for years “but you can’t do it like Laura Hillenbrand.”
A bit of reading led me to find out that (voila!) Laura Hillenbrand has succeeded wildly as a writer by being curious, even though her health limitations made it difficult to do field study of her topics. A Flavorwire article about her approach, How ‘Unbroken’s’ Laura Hillenbrand Writes Her Epic Nonfiction, says this:
What you need is endless curiosity…
Rejection is Inevitable, But How Crazy is it When We Reject Ourselves?
Caytha has experienced her share of rejection in the challenging world of production. Artist is making a go of it in a competitive New York restaurant scene with his place, SpaHa Soul. Neither industry is exactly gentle on dreamers.
“If you don’t try, you already have rejection,” said Caytha (i.e., what do you have to lose from trying?). That led me to say “you’re essentially rejecting yourself.” I’ve done my share of that and I don’t recommend it, people.
Cry, then move on
One of my favorite parts of our conversation was the segment about overcoming obstacles. When I asked Caytha about that, I expected her to say something along the lines of “I overcame them because I’m a badass!” yet her first response was “I cry.”
I can’t say I cry over rejection but I do something equally destructive and insidious: tell myself “of course you didn’t [insert goal here] because clearly the other people who do that are better. Really, why did you even try?”
However, beyond the crying is the boxing match. You heard me right: the boxing match.
Embrace rejection and look at it as a boxing match, Caytha said: go the full round. Not every idea is to be executed — that’s valid. I had a business plan and had to be crafty and find ways to make things happen. Once I went to midlife bloggers, figured out there was an audience, learned how to engage them and tapped into the power of working together as entrepreneurs, it’s like we become part of a larger thing — squaring not doubling – it’s how we become strong and viable.
This is my personal soapbox and I will espouse this viewpoint/approach, always (even though I execute it imperfectly). During our discussion on Facebook live, we talked about how we tend to be more generous by this stage in our lives; we have figured out that is where the true power lies.
I will admit this is a struggle for me, because my competitive nature is always right under the surface, sometimes undetectable, and the insecurities that plague many of us lead me to worry about losing out on many opportunities, employment-wise and life-wise, I know that ultimately lifting others up always lifts us up too.
(The Facebook Live I share above is a perfect example of that. I sought out many other people in the process of looking for someone to participate in a FB live about midlife and busting myths. I specifically wanted to make sure LGBT issues were addressed. While I certainly accept the fact that some people just didn’t get back to me at all — we are all bombarded with “opportunities” and can’t do everything, I am giddy with happiness that Caytha and Artist said yes, even though it was a little crazy figure out how to get three people on a FB live at once (thank you, BeLive.tv, for making it happen). These are the people I was meant to do this with, and their generosity of spirit showed throughout the whole thing.)
Back to Laura Hillenbrand
I’m glad I found the article I referenced above, which links to a longer New York Times Magazine piece. Reading about Laura Hillenbrand helps me realize that there is no “one perfect way” to write a book. When her illness forced her to stay home almost exclusively, she had items brought to her so she could understand them (such as World War II bombing artifacts).
I love the idea in the Flavorwire article that Hillenbrand “excels in a particular sort of intimacy, and that intimacy drags you into the story.” It’s certainly one of the many qualities that led me to love Seabiscuit and (primarily) Unbroken — which tied in my love of the running community and Louis Zamperini’s heroic story as well as the World War II theme.
She wrote her book. Her way. With intensive effort and creative workarounds. Maybe this is possible for me also.
Keep Dreams Alive
Throughout my post and Facebook Live about Disrupting Myths, I’ve used the “keep dreams alive” idea consistently but there’s something about it that never sat perfectly with me. For me, it’s not that the dreams need to be kept alive (because they just won’t die….) but that I need to give my dream (the book) structure and priority.
Although I went to great pains in my last blog post on this topic to convince myself that I don’t have to be Laura Hillenbrand to do this (that, in fact, the more important thing is to be *me* with my passion about Camp Gordon Johnston), I was struck by this comment by Jonathan Karp, who bought the rights to Seabiscuit for $100,000 when he was with Random House (extreme diversion to a barely related side note here — I spent a few years as a freelance proofreader for Ballantine Books, which was the Random House paperback imprint at the time).
Anyway, Karp said this: “I keep waiting for somebody to do what Laura did.”
Although doing “what Laura did” needs to be done with my individual touch, maybe once the haze clears, it’ll be me.
I linked this post to the Kat Bouska site for the prompt “write a blog post based on the word ‘hazy.'”
The Facebook Live that led to the video I embedded here was done in conjunction with Women Online and AARP. All opinions are my own.
I only know of one way to physically become younger. Sorry to break it to you all, but it’s pretty complicated, involves significant risk, entails a significant selection process, and only happens to people named Scott Kelly.
I don’t know about you, but it’s easy to let small ideas erode our sense of wellbeing nudge that perceived age upwards. The thing is, some of these small ideas that grow into large threats are not even true! They are myths, and they deserve to be busted.
Here are a few examples, courtesy of the bloggers participating in the #DisruptAging campaign:
What if you have a big (really big!) dream? Is it too late?
Many of you who know me or have read the blog know that I want to write a book about Camp Gordon Johnston. I’ll admit to the voices in my head nibbling away at my confidence about that (they mainly say “you’re no Laura Hillenbrand” (I love her writing and research)) while I know that the world doesn’t need another Laura Hillenbrand. The world (and the legacy of Camp Gordon Johnston) needs me (okay that sounds egotistical — but my point is other people besides Laura Hillenbrand can do this story justice. She should be my model, not my barrier.
It’s not always the formal “learning opportunities” that inspire us the most.
I went to an interesting workshop on Thursday: Lead with Influence: Training Our Talent. It was helpful in the way it motivated us to try to figure how how to change behavior by getting to the motivations behind people’s choices.
Ironically, however, a blog outline popped into my head rapidly as I sat through roughly 45 minutes of Bingo when I met Wayne afterwards at Corner Pocket. (Our house was being shown, so we decided to grab a bite to eat there. It was Thursday, therefore it was Bingo night.)
This is what I saw. (And maybe it’s just that I haven’t ever played organized Bingo. Maybe it’s always this compelling. But it made an impression on me.)
The players were prepared
The regulars (and there are numerous regulars) showed up ready to play, with their special Bingo marker pens (pardon me — apparently I mean Bingo Daubers).
We settled for (wait for it) a humble big green pen (I happened to have one (or 10)) on me, but now that I know Bingo Daubers are a thing, I have my eye on green glitter!
These people were happy to be doing what they were doing. Their excitement created its own energy. People chatted at tables between rounds; they celebrated each other’s success. They were collectively in that desirable space of savoring the moment while looking ahead to the future with anticipation.
They balanced individual goal-directedness with concern for team welfare
Some people huddled over their own cards, looking for the “down,” “across,” “X,” or “H” that would pay off for them. My husband and I shared a card. One group pooled their money, played all the cards they bought, and then shared the winnings if there were any. I’m not sure what the math of implementing that last plan yields, but it seems that if everyone stands to benefit from the cards at play, there is redoubled attention to marking the cards correctly.
They had shared rituals
Imagine attending a college football game as an impartial attendee. Not knowing any team’s special traditions (for instance, there was a Florida State player once whose nickname was “Pooh.” Whenever he did something noteworthy, the FSU fans would yell “POOOHHHHHH!” but it sounded like “BOO!!!!!” It would be confusing for the uninitiated.)
This Bingo crowd has its traditions:
For B-11: “B 11, BB 11!” they would chant.
One of the “B” numbers was designated for Bree, one of the callers. There were several “special” traditions. (There’s also a group reaction for “O-69” — I’ll leave that one to your imagination!)
They helped newbies
Wayne asked several questions of the table next to us, populated by a group of regulars. They answered his questions immediately and thoroughly. Not that they wouldn’t anyway, but I believe when you love something, you tend toward generosity in how you help others acclimate.
This applies so much in business, I think. If you truly feel engaged with the mission and included in the team, there’s no reason to withhold information or encouragement from someone who is your peer, subordinate, or supervisor. Even if you ostensibly may be in a position at some point to be in head-to-head competition with someone for a promotion or other status change, clarify the email, say a word of support, be the first to answer their question.
It speaks to your character and team spirit if you are liberal in your willingness to help so that the organization looks good and clients are delighted. Karma, I hope, takes care of the long term.
(Side note: I love Caitie Whelan’s brief Lightning Notes essay on the value of “Learn it, share it.” She writes, “The business of living is not a solo sport. We rise and fall relative to our ability to walk beside each other. And when we share generously, abundantly of our learnings, experience, imagination, we help smooth the path alongside us.” Lots of truth here, in bingo or in business.)
Their motivation showed
The moment one round ended, the line to buy new bingo cards would materialize around the host table. (I suppose Charles DuHigg, author of The Power of Habit, would contend this is habit rather than motivation. Perhaps it’s both.) No one had to remind them to line up or incentivize them to do so. It mattered to them, therefore they lined up.
Bingo … Business … Life
I thought when I enrolled in the “Lead with Influence” training that I would leave with the material for a blog post. Besides the awesome opportunity to spend time with my friend Colleen, the chance to get some professional development for free (thanks, Tallahassee-Leon County Office of Economic Vitality), and the motivation to leave the house (something I don’t do often enough), I thought “great — this will make for an easy blog post.”
I did enjoy the workshop and was motivated by the reminder that change can indeed become the “path of least resistance” when we thoroughly evaluate the personal, social and structural contributors when trying to solve to problems.
Honestly, though, the most direct line to realizing how outstanding outcomes are the result of behavioral choices and group unison came from a few rounds of Bingo in a bar.
This, however, is what I recall from what I read (in bold) with the Tallahassee counterpoint below in italics:
The Appalachian Trail was started around 1930, the result of an initiative by regional planner Benton MacKaye that began in 1921 for a “utopian” hiking trail.
I suppose you could say Tallahassee was begun in its earliest periods (the Native Americans who first lived here, the Spanish people who established missions here in the 1960s) more out of need than of recreation. However, I suspect those settlers had an appreciation for our region’s abundance and natural beauty.
The AT was the first national scenic trail established by law (in 1968, with a largely unpublicized assist apparently from First Lady Ladybird Johnson).
This is the aspect of the AT I most want to see for myself. The books I’ve read about it paint lovely pictures and it would be incredible to see them in person. Tallahassee, too, is FULL of beauty. We are so fortunate.
The trail is full of difficulty.
Tallahassee has its challenges too (spend time here in August and you’ll see what I mean!). We have our own hurdles to overcome — intrinsic issues with hunger, especially among children; too much crime, urban planning challenges.
People go to the trail for different reasons, but it all boils down to the fact that they are searching for something.
Many people are in Tallahassee for the same reason I am — they came to school and then ended up staying. No matter the reason we arrive here, and no matter how much we love it, all of us are on our own quest to either find ourselves, find bliss, or both.
People on the trail have to depend on the kindness of strangers.
One thing I always thought when reading about hiking the AT is “I’m not sure I’d be able to hitchhike or ask for things.” I suppose I would go hungry many times! We need each other here in Tallahassee, too. Just check out the annual Fill-a-Truck to fill food pantries for the summer, how we all made sure to share power and coffee and generator time after our hurricanes, how we are banding together right now to help our neighbors in Eastpoint affected by a terrible fire.
The trail is ever-changing.
Even if a hiker visits the same exact spot annually on the same day, it will never be the same. Vegetation will change; weather conditions will vary; soil will have eroded. Tallahassee, too, evolves all the time. Businesses come and go; politicians gain (and lose) power. But the heat and the inability of anyone to use a traffic signal will go on forever!
It is an accomplishment to achieve your goals on the AT.
My hat is off to anyone who can hike the entire AT. This is not an easy task at all. My hat is also off to all of the incredible people who make Tallahassee such a great place to live.
In thinking through why the president may have been confused between the Appalachian Trail and the (non-existent) Tallahassee Trail, I tried to draw some conclusions (even though I suspect the reason may have just been ignorance. After thinking through the categories above, it strikes me that he was especially off due to these three factors:
Everyone belongs on the AT
Anyone can walk the AT with the right physical conditioning and willpower. Furthermore, there are NO WALLS intended to keep people out. Everyone is welcome.
Our city paved the way for civil rights for everyone, as commemorated by a trail that is much shorter than the AT (it’s about half a mile) but long on reverence for our history as a community growing together toward improving civil rights for all. It’s the Tallahassee-Leon County Civil Rights Heritage Walk.
Image credit: Florida State University
Finally, an image that comes to mind is actually from Wild, by Cheryl Strayed. She walked the Pacific Crest Trail rather than the Appalachian trail, but the image applies.
In her book, Strayed talks about her decision to walk the trail. She lived in the midwest somewhere at the time (I think), and went to her local REI to stock up on everything she would need. She bought all the “right” things — right backpack, the perfect sleeping bag, everything the books said she would need.
Her bag was so heavy she couldn’t even put it on!
Maybe the president was confused because he went into this presidency as unprepared for the realities and responsibilities as Cheryl Strayed struggling under the crushing weight of things people told her she should have but that she didn’t have enough experience to reject.
Running a country sure isn’t a time to be winging it.
I have not perfectly demonstrated this belief over the years, but it is something I owe my fellow female professionals (and just my fellow women in general):
But when it comes to this one woman…
My work schedule right now is front-loaded in the (much) earlier part of the day, so I often find myself able to watch the daily press briefing.
As I watch, I think “I feel so angry at this woman” as I watch Press Secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders (SHS).
I can’t figure this out.
Some of my strong emotional reaction I can diagnose …..it boils down to the fact that I don’t believe it is professional to demean the journalism professionals present so openly nor to speak in such a hostile way about people and organizations that disagree with the leaders of the Executive branch.
I start watching/listening to most daily briefings with an attitude of “I probably won’t agree with most of what she says but it is important to not stick my head in the sand.”
I usually make it about 10 minutes before tweeting out my frustration and trying not to hurl shoes at the television.
I know I will probably never actually be invited to have coffee with her. I’ll never face the White House press corps. I’ll never be in the audience at the annual White House Correspondents Dinner, knowing my boss and I are surely going to be the butt of jokes.
But if I did have an opportunity to chat, I would tell her no job is worth abandoning your own voice to be the mouthpiece of anger and vitriol. I don’t think that is what the press secretary role is about.
Not the she necessarily sees Melinda Gates as a role model, but I’m with Melinda.
I would tell her that I think in time she is going to look back at this period of her life and wish she had taken a different approach.
Watching one briefing does not a thorough analysis make, but I was struck by a few things:
McClellan’s calm tone (even when he was refusing to answer questions)
How he emphasized the fact that he valued his relationship with the press corps (yes, he may have been blowing smoke up their butts, but he made the effort)
His tendency to explain rather than attack
BUT SHS has done some things right
SHS has done one thing that did not (in my opinion) occur under Sean Spicer. She has brought a semblance of order to the process. I admire her for that because keeping conversations within the rails has to be hard.
Larry Karem of CNN and Playboy pressed SHS over and over (and over) again, eventually asking … as she began to ignore him and pointedly called on another reporter … “Don’t you have any empathy for what they go through?”
(At the time, all I could think was about my time at Healthy Kids. In my customer service capacity, I talked to countless parents who were upset about their children’s accounts being cancelled for late payment and other reasons. Inevitably, they would say, “do YOU have kids?” One parent said, “I’ve looked you up on Facebook. I know all about your kids.” Nice. It is hard to separate out your compassion and empathy as a parent with the rules you have to enforce as an employee. Therefore, I did feel empathy for SHS as the reporter screamed at her, prefacing his question about empathy with, “You’re a parent. You’re a parent of young children.”)
Ultimately, I side Larry.
If I had coffee with Sarah, I would encourage her to listen to her own voice.
I know a bit about her ideological background, so it’s unlikely that her “own voice” has that much in common with mine.
But if we were going to be in the same tribe together, and she was at all receptive to my attempt to lift her up, my advice would come with an admonition to consider listening to her own voice more closely instead of resorting to hostilely defending someone else’s while denigrating people who are (for the most part) trying to do their jobs.
*Note: One question I have asked myself while thinking through this post is whether I would feel the same if SHS were a man. I’m not sure. I think at the heart of my personal reaction to her approach is the idea that young women considering careers in communications are taking their cues from her, not just about professionalism but about how to mix being a professional with being a parent, and the message she sends should be longer on professionalism and shorter on mean-spiritedness.