Woman of a Certain Age

I woke up this morning…5:55 am to be exact to Rod Stewart wishing I be ‘Forever Young’…as I swung my arm over to bang the snooze alarm; I realized I was in the throes/throws of a blistering hot flash… I was throwing off sheets, blankets, the dog…yet, I had to smile and wish myself a happy birthday.

Last year, I was fifty.  This year I am in my fifties…a fine distinction, true, but as a woman of a certain “age” it is an important distinction.

As a woman of a certain age, I am now on my first daily dose prescription drug…ugh…got that early birthday present a couple of weeks ago.  After a cool winter, my hot flashes have returned, just in time for mood swings out on the golf course and this time around, not only do I have my own personal summer, I have my own personal, nighttime sauna…or flop-sweat as the case may be…beautiful.  Why is it that my flashes are so hot, rivulets of personal dew pour down every valley, channel or crevice and ear wax melts into pools in my ear, but I cannot burn away a few extra pounds?  It is a puzzlement!

Something else has happened since being 50 has become being in my 50’s…I have a confidence I have never known before this time…I am not so concerned with how much “time” I have left, but more,  what am I going to do with all this time…creativity has begun to bloom for this woman of this certain age.  Although my eyesight may be a bit blurry, my insight seems to be clearer than ever.  I have always been observant, but now  am keenly so…intuition has risen to a new high and with that, the spontaneity I used to fear, is not so much a bother…I am getting better at ebbing and flowing…. I still have work to do in that area of personal growth, but I am getting better.

I am going gray and kind of loving it.  Natural highlights, which my history and genes have given me.  When folks see my gray, some say something…nice, good, others not so good, but most look quizzically.  My goal is to make gray look great…to be the trendsetter!  I don’t want to be that woman who looks like she is trying too hard to be who she isn’t or wasn’t.  I want to look like a woman who has lived.

I realize that I will never be a size eight again.  I have healthy, curves…about 20 pounds more ample than I should be, and to lose that weight is an achievable and admirable goal.  My doctor tells me I am healthy…could be a bit more active and I want to be, but all the same, I am strong, I am invincible, I am woman of a certain age…apologies to Helen Reddy!  Okay, I am not invincible, but don’t get up all in my business...I am who I am.

The reality is, I have stopped worrying  so much about what other people think because, I don’t really know what they are thinking…for years I supposed I knew what people thought, I surmised, I speculated, I sweated the small stuff and I have come to realize that it wasn’t at all about what others thought of me, but what I was thinking of myself.  Well, that will continue to be the most likely scenario and I have decided to think better of myself…the gift of a certain age…

I am still on a quest for a purpose driven life, but in this past year of reflection, I have learned that part of the “purpose” is me.  I can be about, do and dream for me…that is what it means to be a woman of a certain age…I have earned it and I deserve it.  I am enhanced by my past but, I am not defined by it.  I am a work in progress, again…for me that is what it means to be a woman of a certain age.

Happy birthday to me.

Choice Words

I have a favorite curse word…Scheiße.  In the ten years since I began using it, I have not heard another person, outside of Germany, use it. I learned a remarkably versatile swear in French, but I mostly reserve that one for inner dialog!  I utter my favorite under my breath usually during sporting events, like when Tom Brady might throw an interception, or when JD Drew would come to the plate during a particularly clutch point in the game, swing at a pitch that EVERYone in the park knew was going to be high and outside.  Because my favorite cuss is in a foreign language, I don’t feel so nasty when I use it, but I use it sparingly, for my own satisfaction, never to assail someone else’s sensibilities.  I strongly believe there are a time, a place and a choice for such words.

I may let an expletive fly when I drop an egg on the counter, bark my shin on a table, or when the cat knocks the picture frames of the bookshelf…again.  But it is the very rare occasion when people hear me swear. This is so, by design and desire.  I was reared in a world where nice people choose their words and consider the consequences of those words.  I can count on two fingers the times I heard my parents utter a cuss other than “dammit” and that never in conjunction with the Lord’s name.  When frustrated or faced with some sort of horse hockey, Mom would say “Bilge water!”. I use that term, as do my children, to this day, as a preferred expletive.  But, once, my mother sliced her hand with a knife and she swore so loud and clear, it moved me to drive her quickly to the hospital.  The time my dad cursed was when he discovered that a suitcase, containing his entire summer’s military pay, tumbled off the top of the station wagon somewhere along the New Jersey turnpike, lost forever. When they cursed, it meant something. My mother died of Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma at the age of 51.  If there were ever a time when folks would accept and understand a few choice words, it was then…but she never swore and she was a pillar of dignity to her last breath.

Growing up at a time when swearing was a sign of ignorance, coarseness or perhaps rebellion,  I had heard about George Carlin’s comedy routine “The Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television” (aka Filthy Words).  I knew a few and had even tested social norms by using some in my tom-boy days and in tom-boy ways. I got spanked or my mouth washed out with soap when I got caught, too.  When I was old enough to listen to the sketch via my cousin's recording of it, I was a bit shocked. I was mortified that I may have sounded like that to others.  I resolved to do my best to never use those words.  I decided I was smarter and more creative than stooping to that baseness, that vulgarity. Carlin did me and, I think, most of America a favor by poking fun at the government’s regulation on obscenity. For me, I learned that those words have impact and meaning and should be treasured, locked away until utilized at an appropriate time, if at all.  Much like the Supreme Court’s opinion on obscenity, I know it when I see it, hear it or am subjected to it.  Somewhere, somehow, prime time and cable TV took away the security from being assailed and thus, in my humble opinion began the decline of American society. It seems that there are only three maybe, four words left that cannot be uttered over the airwaves. With each obscenity and profane word foisted on us whether we like it or not, we grow numb to their impact and akin to violence in visual media; we are rarely shocked. This abdication of our sense of right and wrong, our insouciance about social bounds or lack thereof stains our moral fiber and sense of decency.  With each thoughtless foul mouthed utterance, we become less than what we should be. 

As I have grown older, had children of my own, and served in a profession that seeks to inform and improve the mind, I often found myself challenging young people to stop swearing and THINK…explore their vocabulary and stop people in their tracks with an amazing array of words that clearly, meaningfully and perhaps most importantly, respectfully convey one’s position, thoughts and feelings.

I recall a time, just a few years ago, when I popped in up at Groton-Dunstable High School and grabbed a quick hug from two of my daughter’s friends as they left the building for the day.  As I moved to enter the building, I heard the young man say to his girlfriend, “Hurry up B----!”  I quickly turned on my heel, eyebrow arched painfully high, and asked him, “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?!”, and then turning to the young lady demanded that she never let him speak to her that way again.  She is a beautiful, intelligent, woman who should never be thought of that way, never mind being verbally assaulted especially by someone who claimed to love her.  They both apologized to me and him to her and I returned to my task at hand.  In all likelihood, they had a few choice words for me once I was out of earshot, but in the four years since then, they have never cursed in my presence.  I hope each time they get a hug from me, they recall that lesson, what I hope they recognize as a gift of civility.

My eldest daughter rarely swears.  She has taken her grandmother’s philosophy about language to heart.  So, when she does swear, she means it and people know she means it.  My youngest, however has a more casual relationship with colorful language!  I am forever bringing to attention that she seems to be using a particular four letter word starting with “s”, as a place holder, much like we used ‘um’ and ‘ like’ back in the day.  And today, the f-bomb is so prevalent in common vernacular, it has little or no impact on the younger generations.  I have to admit when I hear it used in mixed company, I blush and squirm in my discomfort.  

There is a popular TV show entitled Inside the Actor’s Studio.  The host, James Lipton utilizes a survey devised by French TV personality Bernard Pivot and based on Proust’s questionnaire.  Celebrities are asked a series of ten questions, one of which is, “What is your favorite curse word?”  I am usually, pleasantly surprised when most of the folks asked, pause, thinking long and hard, I hope with a modicum of embarrassment, before blurting it out…and it is almost always bleeped by the censors…but I can read lips.  The other thing I‘ve noticed is about half the people offer a rationalization of when and why they use their particular favorite and the other just let the word hang, speaking for itself.  In almost all cases, the audience roars with laughter and approval.  I have to admit, there are times when a well-chosen epithet, uttered with impeccable timing and oft improbable circumstance made me guffaw.  One of my favorites comes from a cute, little, romantic-comedy called “Return to Me”, starring David Duchovny, Minnie Driver and Bonnie Hunt, who also wrote and directed it.  In one scene, the character portrayed by co-star Jim Belushi, in a stage whisper, calls a  person as a “rat bastard”…and we don’t think much of it until…enter comedic timing and improbable circumstance… a his little “son” blurts out the same sardonic phrase, catching his screen parents and us off guard and we laugh. The scene and the language were not gratuitous…the discourse gave us a snapshot of a somewhat “normal” family and as the scene resolves with parents reacting, overreacting and left shaking their heads, we see that language matters and we do the best we can to shape our families to be better.

Free speech is often a common thread in discussions these days.  This week via NPR, I learned of a high school senior who was expelled for tweeting a sentenced laced with profanity. The incident is still being investigated, but the gist of the matter seems to beg the question, when is it appropriate or not for such language? I’ve been privy to folks engaged in the topic, who shared favorite curses, colorful epithets, vulgarities, indecent turns of phrase… and I choose not to engage in the conversation.  Honestly, I am not impressed with the arguments in favor of gutter language as a matter of social discourse.  Also, I feel like I am darned if I do and darned if I don’t speak my mind, so thus far, I err on the side of caution and held my tongue.

For some reason, I am able to be more forgiving of cussing on the page…I suppose it is because I am intelligent enough to see it coming and can edit it in my mind’s eye and ear.  For example, if the f-word shows up on the page, I read it as “f-word” or “f-bomb”, not the four letters spelled out…that is just my thing and it suits me fine. I can choose to stop reading if I don’t like it.   I am aware that profanity on the page usually requires thought as to how it will help establish a scene, mood or move the story along.  My frustration and angst arise when people are compelled to spew profanity and obscenity to titillate or self-gratify. “Oh, oh, look!” cried Mary, stabbing the air frantically with her crooked finger, “There is a child out on the ledge of that high-rise!”....and then her boob fell out of her blouse.”  Admit it, you’ve all read or seen some variation on the theme…for me it detracts from creativity, although my husband might argue he lives for that stuff…<sigh>.

When people choose to curse and exploit a situation or because as adults, it is the thing to do, I feel a transgression against civility and an assault against language itself is occurring. From over-paid athletes to political leaders oblivious to open mikes, the disregard for one’s place as a role model and public person is so commonplace that it almost feels wrong to be offended when these high profile types do swear.  However, I feel disrespected.  And this conundrum is not limited to the public sector.  Once, when I was with dear friends, and someone I consider family used what to me is the most despicable and deleterious four letter vulgarity every conceived, and before “tuh” of the last letter left his lips, my hand shot up and slapped the echo of that word from existence and left a bright red mark upon his cheek.  I immediately apologized for slapping him, but told him that the sting of my hand would go away soon enough, but the memory of him using that word was graffiti-ed in my mind and forever changed how I thought of him.

As the course of recent cuss word dissertations has continued, it’s made me think about Carlin’s Filthy Words.    One night, as I tossed and turned, perturbed by the day’s earlier confab, I came to a stark realization.  Most, not all, but most of the curse words are some sort of derogatory statement directed at or about women…whether as an action, a label or vulgar description of female anatomy.  No wonder I am uncomfortable.  I guess this is another good reason to not shut up and bear it.  How can a foul mouthed, cavalier orator know that I am offended and degraded by the power of words if I do not hold that person accountable for the choice of words expelled into a decent world?  I have to be prepared that that person may not care how words can hurt…or that they hurt me…but it is certain that if I do not speak my piece and peace, nothing will change.

Being a teacher of history and politics, I find the first amendment a marvel and a privilege granted the citizens of the US.  Freedom of speech is one of those tenets upon which we build a creative, free society. We have the right to pray, protest and be provocative.  We demonstrate, promote and promulgate.  We can stand up in a crowded theater and drop and F-bomb…but do not yell fire…you will find yourself violating other’s rights to be safe.  But, can’t one argue that when you use foul-mouthed bloviating to focus on self-interest, you are doing the first amendment and your fellow movie-goers a disservice?  I think so.  Using a profanity for the heck of it, or to shock people or worse, hurt people is protected speech, is your right, but is it correct…is it really the  best way one should communicate?  I find it sad and ironic that “society” is more upset when people pray in public, but if you start cussin’…meh, folks aren’t that bothered.  

Back to the recent discourse on filthy words, a couple of people indicated that the f-word was their favorite word…it’s so multi-faceted…could be used in so many interesting ways…so say they.  I find it overused, insipid and trite. More often than not, when I hear that type of language, I tune out.  You may think I am a prude…go right ahead, that’s your opinion…your judgment.  I have my opinion, my judgments too…this is the consequence of our choice words.

 My favorite word is annihilation, but it doesn’t really work as an alternate expletive, so I’ll often turn to another of my mother’s favorite words, phantasmagoric. How’s that for an “ph-bomb”?  Imagine using that in place of one of the seven words you cannot say on TV…. It may get people’s attention and start some thinking about what you have to convey.

When In The Course of Human Events...

I voted in the Presidential primary today.  It is my right to do so.  More importantly, it is my responsibility to do so.

Never in all my years have I found it so difficult to get out to vote.  I am sick, sick, sick over the vitriol and histrionics that resonate in politics today.  Statesmanship has been replaced by gamesmanship.  Personal opinions have usurped facts and a malevolent spread of spitefulness has eroded the virtue and value of perspective and point of view. 

I used to love friendly political debate and discussion...even with a level of heat...you know, passion.  I found that by having lively discourse, I learned and evolved as a political being.  That is the great gift of growing older...you never stop learning and teaching...well until recently.

I don't know if we can find the source of the hatred and insidiousness of our political rhetoric in the ashes of 9/11, but it seems to me that is when we became a nation divided...us versus them, rich versus poor,  left versus right...but in the decade plus since that awful day, I have felt like our representatives and to a great extent, the people around me are more interested in being right rather than doing right.

I don't talk about politics outside of my immediate family any more...not since I attend a  PBS based forum on race/ethnicity and history, back in 2008, at which I was characterized as a racist by a young woman who didn't know anything about me except for the fact that I did not vote for Barrack Obama...she did not care to understand my decision...didn't care to know who I did vote for and why...she just knew that because I did not make the same decision as she, I must be racist.  What hurt more than an eager, first time voter making a rash assumption was that in that room among my friends and neighbors, no one disputed her assertion...when I attempted to engage in a civil discussion, she declared I had nothing to say she wanted to hear; as a teacher, a little part of me broke...as a parent...another part was disappointed that a child would be so disrespectful in what was supposed to be a community forum...and as a historian...I began to fear that revisionist and politically correct lenses were skewing politics and civility in such a way that one was either right or wrong.

Somewhere and somehow in the past decade, politics, which is rife with problems became a theater of absolutes.  Long gone are bipartisan actions...compromise is dead.  And the old adage, "Let's agree to disagree", has fallen off the face of the planet.  I am right...you are wrong...that's the sentiment of the times.

George Washington must be rolling in his grave.  In his farewell address, announcing that he would not seek a third term as president, Washington asserted that "the alternate domination of one party over another and coinciding efforts to exact revenge upon their opponents have led to horrible atrocities", and "is itself a frightful despotism".  Washington was telling us, while understanding the fact that it is natural for people to organize and operate within groups like political parties, that every seated government sees opposing political parties as an enemy and has sought to repress them because of their tendency to seek more power  and take revenge on political opponents....so for 231 years, with the advent and evolution of each political party, we have seen the just call to public service morph into absolute power corrupting absolutely. 

Instead of a country of, by and for the people, we are a country of, by and for Super PACS, entitlements and too many people screaming, 'what's in it for me?"

Tip O'Neill once wrote, "All politics is local."  I think he meant that to freely and thoughtfully govern, public servants should  look from whence they came for the needs, necessity and direction of those asking to be governed.  Today it appears Alexander Hamilton's vision of the elected elite knowing what is best for the people is coming to light again...and this sentiment knows no party, but is the efflucence of many career politicians.

What else strikes me as painful during these times is the broad brush of "labels" that people use to characterize political opinion...if that jackass Rush Limbaugh makes a horrific and hurtful statement on his radio show, he speaks for all conservatives...he doesn't.  There is plenty of idiocy and asinine behavior all around and how you align yourself politically need not be a damnation of one's own personal character.   

I have been a student of politics and history most of my life...it is a passion.  And, as a reflection and result of how I was taught, I have found a spot on the political spectrum...and much like an octopus on roller skates, I find myself with feet all over the place when it comes to different issues...but mostly, I find myself in a new place on the spectrum as my family's needs and circumstances and my own person changes.

When it comes down to it, my political views started with a faith based lesson...if you give a man a fish, he eats for a day...if you teach him to fish, he eats for a lifetime...the goal is to see that no one is hungry.

So, I voted today...and as so many people point out...if you don't vote, don't complain...so I guess I have a license to whine for a while...

To people who are firm in their beliefs, convictions, causes...exercise your right to vote...each vote does count.  Be grateful to live in a country that grants this exercise of freedom.  Heed President Washington and don't condemn a person because we have become ensconced in this web of political labels...nothing is absolute.  Don't hate so much that you cannot hear what other people are saying...don't become so inflexible that growth stops...sometimes we have to walk before we can run...sometimes the common good needs to be addressed before personal liberty can be exercised...be patient, be productive... do the right thing...and do not measure a person until you have walked a mile in her shoes.

And...let's demand that politicians stop their sandbox squalling and stand up, lead and serve.

Tis the Season to be Thoughtful

I was having a discussion with my youngest the other day and she said she was having a hard time finding Christmas Spirit.  We talked and attributed some of this to the fact she is just finished with finals and she's got a bugger of a cold and ear infection...that's enough right there to knock the wind out of any holiday's sails...but there is something more...we both got a bit animated about what Christmas Spirit means...for her it is all the traditions that we've passed along and at the heart of Christmas for her, is family coming together, happily, to celebrate Christ's birth and the hopes and values of our faith. 

For years now, everyone has been complaining about the lack of Christ in Christmas...Santa is the great commerical  icon for the holiday...he's meant to be the secular equalizer...you can "believe" in Santa and Rudolph and Frosty without having a stake in any religion...even one of my favorite classics, Charles Dicken's A Christma Carol,  first published in 1843, takes a rather secular view of this holy season. So the struggle to find the true spirit of Christmas is an old one.

I guess it is up to each individual and family to keep Christmas in our own way...but we need to be mindful, thoughtful and patient with one another.  If celebrating Christmas is not your "thing", that is your choice, but if you so choose, please do not be put out by the traditions and celebration of others.

I am thrilled that this is a holiday season...Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanza ...there is even "Festivus for the Rest of Us"...thank to Frank  Costanza...it is wonderful to see the signs and symbols of all these celebrations.  It is wonderful to share and learn other faith and family traditions.  I see this as an opportunity to grow as community but sadly, more often than not, we hear story after story about public holiday displays and events marred by court orders, protests and complaints because there must be a separation of Church and State...God, prayer, thanksgiving, tradition and so on have no place being mixed up in schools, Town Hall or even on public commons...what??

Have we become so insensitive or overly sensitive, that we cannot find common ground?  Can't we share faith, hope and love without having to foster an agenda?

So I believe in Jesus Christ...I believe one should treat others as one would like others to treat oneself.   I believe and follow the Ten Commandments...and I seek forgiveness when I do wrong.  Each day I hope to leave the world a better place than when the day started.  These are some of the foundation of my faith tradition...how I choose to live my life...and if you are interested, I'd be happy to share my views and values with you...but I would never impose them upon you...the lights in my windows are there to remind me of my faith, my family, our traditions and to share our joy with our neighbors...we do not intend to offend...and yet, we cannot control how others feel...you have to own that one.

In A Christmas Carol, Scrooge awakens to find he has not missed Christmas and in his personal epiphany, he promises to keep Christmas in his heart and try to keep it all the year.  I try to live this way too...so perhaps that is why one of my character flaws pops up from time to time during the holidays... I get so impatient with people trying to cram kindness, charity and even religion into the 30 or so days between Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve.  Christmas is a holy day of celebration.  It is filled with  beautiful rites and rituals and a beautiful story of miracles and hope, which continues through the Epiphany in January.
For me, the story doesn't end...we need not close up the book (in this case the Bible) and tuck it back on the shelf until next Thanksgiving...no, the message of Christmas lives all year long...the ornaments and parties...they are kind of the exclamation point for the message...but the meaning is found in each person we meet in the days after...and the gifts we give ourselves are the relationships we form and share in those following days.

So back to finding Christmas Spirit...we're listening to holiday music...except for WHAM's Last Christmas...ugh...I've baked all the favorite cookies...we have friends stopping by for our annual Christmas Eve Open House...and we are bringing the Spirit...we are not looking for it...it is in us!

We came up with a list to help us be more thoughtful, avoid hurting feelings and honoring the meaning of all the holidays celebrated at this time of year...maybe our list will offer some holiday cheer to you!

• Keep your expectations real...we do not live in a Hallmark Holiday Special.
• Remember you can only control your own feelings and actions
• Be thoughtful and kind.  If someone wishes you Happy Holidays and not a Merry Christmas...accept the goodwill and do not seek injury where none is intended.
• Remember to say please and thank you...sometimes we are in such a rush, we forget to be polite!
• If you get an invitation to a party or gathering, let your host/s know if you will or won't be coming...a quick heads up either way is kind and if you are not attending...prevents worry, overbuying and waste for the host.
• Do not think that if someone makes a charitable donation in your honor, they "cheaped" you out of a  present...remember it is the thought that counts and the giver thought enough about you to include you in their goodwill.
• Write good old fashioned thank you notes...it is a wonderful tradition and again, demonstrates that it is the thought that counts!
• Christmas and I think it is fair to say the other holiday observances are NOT a competition.  We give gifts because we care and think about you...gifts are not a measure of worth...gifts are an expression of well wishes!
• Take time to pray or meditate.  It is a fact that the holidays are crazy...a fact we can only minimally control...prayer centers you again and refocuses your spiritual energy to deal with the crazy that is out of your control!
• Do not judge a person until you've walked a mile in his or her shoes...especially during the holidays!
• Remember that love is patient and kind...
• And if you cannot say anything nice, do not say anything at all.

Merry Christmas...Happy Holidays and Cheers to Peace and Happiness in 2012!

Take Back Thanksgiving!

For most of my adult life, Thanksgiving has been my favorite holiday…my husband’s too.  There is no question about why our family gathers this day.  We come together to count our blessings, do something to help those less fortunate and to enjoy the warm, sometimes kitschy  annual traditions which the more they change the more they stay the same!

For example, sometime during our early Groton years, we started hosting a pre-Thanksgiving High School Football Game breakfast….complete with the requisite Monkey Bread from my youth.  Over the years, the venue for the games changed; Groton-Dunstable broke away from Ayer High and created its own successful football program…then the impetus of the gathering changed as kids returning home from college used our Turkey Bowl breakfast as a chance to reconnect after a year away from former high school chums…and as was evident this year, the faces are the same…somewhat…older, thinner, facial hair, make-up…but those smiles, they will never change.  Go to the game, not this year,  let’s linger around the table a bit longer, savoring the stories, smiles and holding hands as we know the time to give the hug that must last a year draws near.

With the exception of a few Thanksgivings Interrupted over our 28 years as a family, most years Thanksgiving dinner is just about the four of us.  Just after Halloween, I start trolling for Turkey Day dinner requests…roasted carrots and stuffing for Emily, squash soup, string beans and no sausage in the stuffing for Carrie…Bill wants homemade cranberry sauce and extra of everything for sandwiches.  For me it is the hugs…I’d be happy  with PB&J as long as I get my extra-long hugs…and smiles…I am all about the Happy in Happy Thanksgiving.

I truly enjoy cooking for Thanksgiving.  Some years I challenge myself to make the meal for less the $50.  Sometimes the meal is over the top…but every year, I buy a bag of groceries to donate to our local food pantry.  I plan for weeks and I cook for days.  I know it is a successful workout when I feel that burn in my calves and dull ache in my lower back after standing by the stove, sink and food prep areas for hours.  I am trained to clean as I go, but at a certain point, the used pots and pans and of course the dishes catch up and it is then, that I, for the only time in the year, turn my kitchen over to my personal clean-up crew.  I grab a nap during the second half of whatever the second football game is on the TV.

Dessert isn’t a big deal for us…there are some cookies, Clementines , a pie and leftover Monkey Bread…we save room for our 9:30 pm sandwiches.  Sometime around 7pm, we put in the first of our holiday tradition movies…ELF…to be followed by HOME ALONE…I don’t know how or why these movies became our Thanksgiving “It’s Now OK to Start Thinking About Christmas” selections, but they are and we laugh just as hard each and every year.  Intermission brings out the sandwich fixin’s complete with squishy bread and many a “food baby” is conceived!

Friday means Mom is exhausted and free range foraging in the fridge is the rule of the day.  Pie for breakfast?...be my guest…Turkey Club sandwiches…Brilliant!  I read, blog or catch up with family far away…the rest of the family does their own thing…Bill and Emily break out the Christmas lights for the windows and tackle adjusting lights on a few trees out in the yard…Carrie heads out to the movies and a meal with her childhood best friend and travel buddy, Meghan.  No Black Friday mania here. 

I have a personal grudge against celebrating Christmas before Thanksgiving.  I don’t have a problem with people pulling a plan together for Christmas…that is actually a sane approach.  I already have a few Christmas presents and stocking stuffers tucked away here and there…you’ve got to take advantage of coupons and availability when possible…but the business about radio stations playing Christmas music (much of it crappy and depressing) starting in early November…wrong, wrong, wrong…my heart sank when I saw the Hershey’s Holiday Kisses “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” commercial during the October 30^th football game…wrong.

Thanksgiving is a great holiday…a NATIONAL holiday…it doesn’t rely on religion, commercialism or specified social convention, well except for the turkey thing…but if you want ham, duck or tofu…no one really cares about that…no matter who you are, you can and should stop to give thanks, count your blessings and share your blessings with those whom you love or who are less fortunate.

We know about the “first” Thanksgiving and the Pilgrims…or the Jamestown settlers…and Native Americans…it is where our turkey legend/ tradition finds its origins…but more importantly, it focuses on people thanking people, being grateful for the bounty of hard work, cooperation and understanding.  Later in our history, President Lincoln inspired by Sarah Hale’s campaign to focus on American unity during the Civil War, established a recurring, national day of Thanksgiving.  Americans were asked to pray for an end to the war and reconciliation between the states and even families.  It was a time to come together as Americans, humbly and thoughtfully.

In 1941, the 4^th Thursday of November was established as Thanksgiving Day by federal legislation.  President Franklin Roosevelt had originally wanted to set the date two weeks earlier, but coming out of a depression and in the midst of war, Congress saw the need to establish Thanksgiving later in November to…and here is what I call  “the historical rub”…promote economic stimulus…prior to Christmas…the more things change, the more they stay the same…

Nowadays, it seems that Thanksgiving is about football and preparing for… insert ominous music cue here…Black Friday.  Those of us blessed to live in the Northeast still have images of Plimoth Plantation (yes that is the correct spelling) and Sturbridge Village and Thanksgiving of yesteryear…our iconic white spired churches celebrate actual Thanksgiving prayer services…you know giving thanks to God, our communities and each other…in Massachusetts we still have Blue Laws prohibiting most businesses and stores from opening on Thanksgiving…honoring the true meaning of the day and allowing everyone to gather without reference to religion or ethnicity, and recognizing the “American-ness” of the day. 

But something…some new cultural insipidness…is threatening to minimize Thanksgiving as a national day of celebration…apparently buying a new  42” HD TV for $150, on a prescribed sales day, is more important than celebrating family and counting blessings…that standing on line for hours, maybe even days so you can buy one and get one free is more valuable than passing on family traditions or helping those who are in need…that spending money (and in many cases money you don’t have) is better for America than spending time with family and friends.  And don’t get me started about the trampling, crushing, punching, swiping from carts and new this year, pepper spraying…that now mark this infamous shop-a-looza.

I don’t think so!  If everyone else would acknowledge that I am queen of the world…or at least benevolent dictator, I would declare Black Friday illegal and make the Friday after Thanksgiving, Family Friday, a day of rest and fun focused on family, friends with perhaps a dash of community service, the law. 

As of today, there are 29 shopping days until Christmas…plenty in my book…and if you think about the old world traditions observing Advent, a time of prayer, reflection and making yourself ready for celebrating Christ…not Santa, who can be a wonderful role model and hero…you can celebrate 12 days of Christmas…and not be exhausted, disappointed and letdown when the commercialism of Christmas leaves you feeling flat.

Take back Thanksgiving…give time to those who matter, who need you and count those blessings.

Christmas is a magical season and it is a religious season…for those of us with a faith tradition, to quote a trite but true saying, “Jesus is the reason for the season.”   Let’s wait…observe quietly Advent and perhaps folks won’t be sick of Christmas by Christmas Eve and  be glad when it is over…but I am rushing that seasonal blog….Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Cinéma...Vérité ?

One of my favorite SNL skits comes from the minds of Amy Poelher and Seth Myers...they observe insane, inane stuff from current events and then posit..."Really?".  I have lifted this schticky behavior for my own amusement as I observe the world, but this weekend, it took on a darker, more serious note. Really...well you be the judge.

Bill and I opted to go to the movies rather than watch the Red Sox choke once again on Saturday.  Ironically, we went to see Moneyball, a movie about baseball, starring Brad Pitt.  Normally,  I am not a BP fan, but I love America's favorite pastime, (except when the Sox are in a nose dive in the standings) and Bill, who doesn't care what we see at the movies, really wanted to see this.

We went to the theater to catch a late afternoon show, with plans to go out to dinner afterward...yippee...date night!  We bought our tickets and entered Cinema 9, to a room  half filled with lots of middle aged couples...great..no talky teens with smart phones glowing in the dark.

After turning off our cell phones, we watched the coming attractions, making mental notes of things that look interesting...Hugh Jackman...always "interesting", wink, wink...Ben Stiller and Eddie Murphy...that could be really good...no, really.   Movie about cancer...not so much...The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo...for real I am going to see that!

I don't know about you, but when the lights come down and the coming attractions are on the screen, my movie going experience has begun.  I don't talk or whisper...I hold my husband's hand, give it a squeeze if I see something of note for later conversation and enjoy his company and whatever world to which I am about to be transported.

If I had some movie sound effects, this is where you would hear the screeching sound of a record being scratched as the needle mercilessly rips across its tracks...enter two 30-something ladies and a large brown paper bag...really?  Seating themselves in the two seats right behind us....really?  The theater is half full...you pick those seats...really?  Let me add an important side note here...I hate it when people walk behind me.  I shiver as if someone walked over my grave...you should see me at restaurants when waitstaff come up behind me...I practically jump out of my skin and well, the seats behind us...really?

I also believe I suffer from Misophonia...the visceral dislike of certain sounds.  Just ask my family what happens when they chew with their mouths open or God forbid, gulp.  It makes me ill...really.  There are some days when it gets so bad I have to leave the room for fear of snapping at someone.  So imagine my joy when 2 ladies and a brown paper bag break out smaller bags and open said brown shopping bag, filled with popcorn...and they started doling it out...talking all the while, really!  Not whispering...not quietly, but a full on conversation about popcorn and what does a dragon tattoo got to do with that movie?  Really!!??

Being the subtle sort, I gave the noisemakers a long glance over my shoulder...making note that the woman seated one seat over from me too was making a glance askance.  For a brief all knowing moment, our eyes locked and we telepathically observed., "REALLY???".

Moneyball is a movie about baseball.  Actually, it is about baseball management.  There is no overture or swelling soundtrack.  No car chases or crashes...just lots of dialogue.  There is baseball history and trivia contained therein as well.  And one popcorn CARR-unching, lipsmacking lady knew EVERYTHING about baseball. or so she thought..."Hatteberg...I didn't know he played for the Red Sox!"... really... and had to share it with the other bag wrinkling, popcorn snarfer, who only wanted to know which one is David Justice...because as everyone in earshot now knew he beat up Halle Berry when they were married....really.

So over the course of the first twenty minutes, I would tense up at the annoying sounds and think...I could bop these two...really.  Should I say something?   Should we move?  Move? Really? I don't think so.

I realized I was becoming my own nuisance when my dear husband, squeezed my hand, hard...really hard.  I then promised myself to offer it up. 

Things went along okay for a while and the story drew me in...until I came rushing back to reality when one of the brown baggers grabbed the back of my seat and the collar of my shirt as she hoisted herself up out of her chair and in the worst stage whisper ever, proclaimed she was going to the bathroom and then to get some drinks....really!?....I mean really?!

After what seemed too soon, she returned with two of the largest ice filled mega-gulps the concession stand provides.  And the noise began anew.  REEEally.

In short order, the beverage portion of the purchase was consumed.  I know because that gawd-awful sound a straw makes when there is nothing liquid left in a cup cascaded over my ears...so loudly that I actually missed some dialogue...really! And the shaking of the cup to assure oneself no liquid was available was akin to a rattle snake...which if there was one I would have begged it to bite someone to end the misery!   It could be too that the blood pounding headache that was forming in the back of my brain was ebbing through my eardrums further exacerbating my misophonia. I was on the edge..until...

God bless my husband...he started to laugh silently...you know, shoulders bouncing up and down, heading wagging from left to right and he pinching his nose so he wouldn't snort.  I looked over at him, in disbelief...you think this is funny?  Really? 

It was then I knew not only does my husband have a wicked sense of humor, but so does God and his timing is perfect...the woman seated one seat over whips her head over her shoulder and says, "Could you make some more noise?  I can still hear the movie!"  And get this, she finished by saying... "Really!!"...really!

I had to put my head between my knees to stifle the guffaw.

With one last shake of their ice, 2 ladies and a brown bag were quieted.  Really.

We enjoyed the movie.  We are probably going to catch it on pay-per-view...to see what we missed.

So, if you know someone like our popcorn nemesises, tell them of those of us who suffer from Misophonia and bring to light that if they like to talk through movies and munch popcorn like they are eating rocks, it would be a great kindness to please find a seat away from others, or better yet...stay home and rent a movie...really.

We Remember, We Celebrate, We Believe

We remember…we celebrate…we believe.                

The words in this post’s title are from a Catholic hymn written by Marty Haugen.  For some reason, probably because “Never Forget” is plastered on pictures, newspapers and social networking sites, this song has been the score to my life during the week leading up to today’s poignant anniversary.  In addition to being the soundtrack, it has also been my prayer.  I have thought a lot about that day and each time I see or hear the questions “do you remember what you were doing”…or “what image do you recall?”…this song quietly enters my thoughts and I remember…

It is the tenth anniversary of September 11^th.  I, like millions of Americans, remember exactly what I was doing that beautiful morning.  My husband and I had attended a before school meeting with our youngest daughter’s fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Kilroy, together, building a partnership and strategies for a successful year to come.

As we drove home from the local coffee shop we stopped in, after the appointment, we talked about how pleased we were and glad Emily was going to have such a wonderful influence in her life. When we turned the corner onto our street,  we waved to our neighbor Sharon who was sitting in her ginormous Yukon truck at the end of the road…we assumed she had just put her youngest on the bus for school.  It was the look on her face that made me question if everything was all right.  I pointed her out to Bill and was in the process of asking him to stop so we could check, but he told me had taken enough time off from his work day and needed to get to the office…so he raced on up the hill to our home and with a quick peck good-bye, dropped me at the doorstep.

I went in the kitchen and put the tea kettle on and thought about calling Sharon, asking her to stop in for tea.  I popped into the den to put the TV to keep me company while I tidied the kitchen.  As the image appeared, I could hear something vastly strange about Matt Lauer’s voice.  I was unable to process the image of smoke billowing out of the tower…and as his voice explained about the plane crash, I saw the second plane fly so deliberately into the second tower.  I screamed. 

Within seconds, the world turned upside down.  I knew why Sharon looked the way she did.  I ran to the phone to call her…to seek comfort as well as to offer comfort…no answer.  I ran to the door but turned around and stared at the TV hoping this was all a terrible joke.

 I called Bill, knowing he was in the car and left a voice mail that something awful was happening and to call me as soon as possible.

I was frozen, standing before the TV in the den.  The kettle whistled and I tore myself away from the images to turn it off.  I was afraid that if I stopped viewing something more horrid might happen.  I was willing all that was sacred to stop the madness…to prove to me that what I was witnessing wasn’t real.

For some reason, when Katie Couric spoke, I began to shake and I changed the channel to ABC.  Charlie Gibson…he would help me make sense of it. 

As the words terrorist attack, Al Qaeda, Bin Laden breached the September calm, I felt sick…so sick that I had to run to the bathroom to throw up.  And then I began shaking and crying and praying…

I called the elementary school as soon as I could catch my breath.  I asked the secretary if they all knew what was going on and if so what was going to happen with the children.  My first reaction was to get in the car and go get them but as I talked to Patty  R, I realized that until any of us knew what was what, the safest and most “normal” place for the kids to be was in their classrooms. 

I sent an email, (because by now the phone lines were jammed),  to a friend at the high school offering to come and help with my other daughter’s situation.  I knew that they would be more aware of the circumstances and have questions, fears and concerns.  I got a quick reply that I would be called if needed (and God, did I want to be needed!!) but that the superintendent had encouraged all district personnel to proceed through the day as normally as possible.  Parents showing up could make things worse.  After school activities had been cancelled and in the hours that lay before me, I was trying to process what I would say to my girls.

My sick vigil in front of the TV continued.  I prayed violently.  I paced and cried and struggled.  My dog Molly paced with me, looking up at me, knowing something was wrong but being a dog, could only match my strides.  When I finally sat down, she crawled on my lap and licked away the tears on my face…this only made me cry harder!!

When the reports about the Pentagon broke, I was frozen once again.  I thought of all the people my family knew through our Coast Guard and Air Force connections.  I called my dad, a retired Coast Guard Captain and not knowing what to say, I cried for a while, told him I loved him and I hung up. 

When the towers fell, I threw up again. 

After a while, I muted the TV.  I couldn’t listen to the reporters on site cramming down panic in order to report what they were seeing.  The images were saying enough.   But the silence in the house was scary…mostly because I could now hear my own ragged breathing…the sobbing.  I turned on the radio thinking I would hear my favorite classical music station, but there was only more reporting.  I put in a CD of classical guitar music and turned to put the tea kettle back on…but as I stretched my hand out to grab the teapot, I couldn’t stop it from shaking.  Turning the music off, I slowly walked back into the den to once again take up the vigil and listen to the details over and over again.

 I remember being out on the deck, looking up at the brilliant blue sky asking why when I heard through the slider door about the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania.  I was certain that I could take no more of this. 

Bill got to the office and with his colleagues watched the unfolding horror.  He called me and I begged him to come home, but he said that he needed to stay.  At the time I was crushed…I thought he would want to be with me, to take care of me…it was not until weeks later that I (finally unselfishly) realized that he was in no emotional shape to drive and that being at work was his “normal”.

Over the years, we have been told by journalists, analysts, talking heads and historians that 9/11 was the day the world changed forever.  We would know our modern history as, before 9/11 and after 9/11. 

That day, I changed forever.  I feel it deep in my bones.  For a long time, I felt defeat.  I felt  that despite the fact that the US was the most powerful and influential nation on earth and that as Americans we came together so uniquely unified to face this most heart aching tragedy, we let the world down.  How else could one explain such an attack?  Days or maybe it was weeks after 9/11, rumors, based on a book, soon to be released in Europe, started in France that the attacks on the US were not a terrorist plot, but a shrewd, cold-hearted plan exacted against our financial and government institutions by our own government.  I had read about this in the papers and again I was sickened…how could anyone believe this?  In October 2001, I was shocked to find out some colleagues from France, who were in Massachusetts for a business meeting, were buying this BS and actually had the gall to broach the subject over dinner.  If we had not been in a restaurant, I would have slapped both of them across their faces.  Bill and I told both men that if they valued any part of our friendship, they would never speak of that conspiracy again.  To this day, they never have.  Shortly after the bombings in London in 2005, one of these gentlemen apologized to me for his 9/11 remarks and that has been then end of that.

So this change in me…it has made me more tolerant and less tolerant…depending on my circumstance…I admit that when I am at the airport, I look for anything out of the ordinary…suspicious.  Immediately following the attacks, I “profiled”…and I pray that my prejudice would be unfounded, as it always has been, and I prayed for forgiveness for thinking the way I did... but I keep a watchful eye…for that which is suspicious.  But I cannot stand it when someone is sorted out because of appearance or custom.  While I lived in Paris, the French government was crafting laws that would make it illegal for a woman of faith to wear a burqa or veil covering all or part of her face.  The “French” felt this form of covering was oppressive to a woman’s rights and of course, it was not at all French in custom.  Being a First Amendment loving American in Paris, I often found myself asking my new French friends how they could support a law that did not allow someone to express their faith willingly.  Most of the time my friends believed that Muslim women are forced to wear a niqab veil and that they are afraid of the men in their lives…to which I suggested wouldn’t it be better to first identify those who are choosing to wear the niqab freely and support them while going after the men who are abusive…and somehow it would come back to the notion that that wouldn’t work because men have the right to manage their households…but if the burqa is illegal then the state wins…huh???  For a country that has so many churches, faith is not very French anymore.

This change has made me love my country even more…and question the choices our leaders are making.  I turn time and again to the words and examples of Washington, Jefferson, and Adams…to the ideals of Henry, Madison and Franklin…and to the inspiration of Lincoln and ask myself when and where did politics and governing become blurred?  Are these truths still self-evident?

The struggles we face today arise not from being affiliated with a party…they arise from a need to be right all the time...to win at all cost…and put one’s own interest ahead of the common good.  My goal is to teach my children and others I love that what makes us great, what makes us strong are liberty and justice for all.  If you exercise your rights, your opinion or your work to the end that someone else is not treated justly, then you have crushed liberty…for all.  Liberty is freedom from arbitrary controls or restrictions and with these freedoms, come responsibility and accountability…to oneself, one’s neighbors and fellow citizens…without judgment…save that for God and the Supreme Court.

This change in me has made me calmer…I am still a worry wart…but I do not rush to judgment as quickly as before 9/11…I have become pretty good at seeing the BIG picture and I never forget all that with which I am blessed.  I think about the Hanson family who died that terrible day…a beautiful little family, from my town…so full of life and potential…gone.  I thought of them each day I served as a volunteer in a school, on a committee or for a youth organization…I worked to make this place a place they would have been happy to thrive in.

This change in me has made me a less silly person.  I still have a strange, dark sense of humor and I laugh at goofy things; but I do not suffer fools well and I cannot stomach prejudice in the guise of a joke or rumor that one needs to check with Snopes regarding its veracity.  I do not have time to waste on people tearing others down because it makes them feel superior…as my friend Shua quoted from the Quran at an interfaith service today, I heard her say that superiority is not about where you come from, or how strong you are…rather superiority is God’s way of recognizing your character and your actions and how you support those who need you.

I thought the change in me had made me nostalgic…always looking back to simpler days…to the days before…what, I don’t know…to before Oklahoma City…or Waco…or Munich…Dallas…or Pearl Harbor?

Today I heard two things that just may have changed me again.  First, I heard Christianne Amanpour say that the 9/11 10^th anniversary was not about closure, it was about moving on.  I never thought about not finding closure…or in my mind justice.  But now I think, I will focus on moving on and that change as it will come in who knows what way, shape or form, is one force that will get me going…

The other thing I heard was the story of BC graduate Wells Crowther, a red bandanna wearing finance guy at the World Trade Center and how on that day he saved the lives of a dozen people and died trying to save many others.  It was recounted to me that he called out into the black, smoke up on the 78^th floor, “If you can stand, stand now.  If you can help others, do so.”

I can stand.  I can help others and I will do so.

God Bless America and you my dear friends.