maybe tomorrow

You know, I will never get used to being a slob. It is almost 3 in the afternoon and I haven't even finished laundry in order to pack for my vacation. There are other things I really need to get done. And yet ... not doing them!

I'm lazy when it comes to cleaning and straightening. I live alone and I just don't care all that much. I know that my spirits are brighter when my surroundings are clean and clear. But making myself do anything is hard.

Maybe tomorrow ...

leaving room

When I give my coffee order, I ask the person pouring to "leave room at the top", so I can add sweet cream to the coffee. We are peculiar creatures when it comes to coffee. Each of us learns to like it in a unique way. Some of the orders I hear when I'm standing in line at Starbuck's leave me shaking my head in wonder. Are they successful because their coffee is good? Or are they making millions by nodding their heads in approval to every weirdo who has a specific coffee order that requires a multitude of syllables to request? By handing over a cup of coffee made to the exact specifications of the patron, aren't they saying, "Pay no attention to anyone else, you are NOT weird, you are UNIQUE."

Well, I like cream in my coffee - or half & half - or milk. There is nothing more depressing than to be stuck with 2% milk when stirring up a cup of coffee. You can put in a quart and you will never achieve that perfect coffee color and flavor. I love cream. So I leave room at the top. When I get coffee from McDonald's or Burger King, I am usually in the drive-thru. As soon as I am away from the building, I roll down my car window and pour off the top inch or so of coffee so I can add the cream.

I was reflecting this morning that there must be a similar "leaving room at the top" for life. As Americans, we are often guilty of over-scheduling our lives, especially if we have school aged children. We work hard and we take care of other people and we forget to add the cream - the moments that are just for us. Or if a moment presents itself, we are too tired to take advantage of it!

I hereby resolve to pursue the cream in life! How about you?

what do you have to teach me today?

WARNING for my readers who don't like cuss words OR who are religious to the point of intolerance towards religious beliefs that are different from your own OR who are squeamish about body parts & bodily emissions: You should skip this blog entry! Don't say that I didn't warn you.

This morning, I was watching a wonderful documentary called "Everest Rocks", which chronicles a 14 day trek through Everest country to benefit The Nepal Cancer Relief Society. The trekkers were cancer survivors from various countries and musicians such as Mike Peters (The Alarm), Slim Jim Phantom (The Stray Cats), Glenn Tillbrook (Squeeze), Nick Harper (legendary UK folk artist), Cy Curnin and Jamie West-Oram (The Fixx) and local Nepalese artists. The documentary was produced by Alex Coletti (the acclaimed producer of MTV’s ‘Unplugged’ series).

The documentary detailed not just the trek, but the personal stories of the trekkers. And at each stop, the guitars came out and various musicians performed well-known pieces from their careers, as well as other songs, known and unknown. The Nepalese Sherpa and porters clearly enjoyed the music. Scattered throughout the documentary is, of course, the spectacular scenery. Wow! There are several serendipitous moments during the trek, where you feel the hand of God (or some may say Fate) on the shoulders of the trekkers - or on the shoulders of people they meet along the way.

I was particularly moved by the stories told by the cancer survivors. A common theme was "getting through it", taking one step at a time with a determination to survive. One woman spoke of seeing her cancer as a blessing from God. Each speaker spoke of survival in different terms, depending on his or her religious beliefs (or lack thereof). This was particularly moving to me because I have always been very relaxed about multiple people believing different things and have always been deeply offended by religious groups that demand that their way is the only way. Here, I thought, was a bird's eye view of my thoughts - different people handling the difficulties that came their way - with the widest possible variety of belief systems, all going through this trekking experience together. It made me smile!

As I was watching the documentary, my old cat (Joe) was sitting in my lap. At one point, Joe jumped down to pursue whatever was next on his agenda. I glanced down and spotted something on my pants leg. I leaned over to get a closer look. It was a tiny piece of shit, which must have come from Joe's hindquarters. GROSS!!!!! I grabbed the bottom of the pants leg so I could lift up that portion without touching it, limped into the bathroom and deposited it into the toilet. Joe's litterbox is in the bathroom, so I also noticed that I needed to police it, which I absolutely HATE doing. Then I went to my bedroom to change my pants! As I changed pants, I was muttering to myself that this is the LAST animal I will ever have because I am sick of dealing with shit!!!

But the recent viewing of that documentary on cancer survival inspired me to change direction with my thinking. EVERY relationship and EVERY circumstance comes with some shit! I changed diapers for my son - shit. I clean litter boxes - shit. I walked my dogs - shit. And what about metaphorical shit? My boyfriend is always late - shit. My mother is never satisfied with my choices - shit. My brother is a recluse - shit. A friend over-reacts to everything - shit. My boss questions my decisions - shit. My car won't start - shit.

So, initial logic would guide you to avoid shit. But maybe the answer is to welcome it. Because without it, life isn't happening. And since we know that shit can also be fertilizer, maybe we look at each appearance of shit to guide us to new growth. Welcome, shit, what do you have to teach me today??? I know, I'm crazy again. But since I have already learned to embrace my lunacy, I'm going with this! (But that doesn't mean I won't be checking Joe's hindquarters the next time he jumps up to sit in my lap.)

Namaste!

fire train (fiction)

Betty Ann

Fire train rumbles by, waking me up from a dream about a dog. That dog was crying cause he couldn't find his supper dish. He was rooting around the kitchen floor, sure he had it there a while ago, but now it was gone. His mournful little whine was the sound of my dream, slipping rapidly away as my eyes come open.

I don't have a dog.

My nightgown is sticking to me, like my hair to my forehead. A full moon lights up the bedroom and I see that Frank hasn't come back yet. I look at the wind-up clock sitting on the table. It's 12:11 a.m. Well, maybe he went to drink some beers with his buddies. That's alright.

The smell of something rotten drifts into my nose. I should have taken that garbage out back. I sit up, swing my legs over the side of the big brass bed and feel around the floor for my slippers. My right foot finds a slipper. Now where is - there. I stand up, feeling an ache in my lower back. I lay one hand against my lower back and dig in a bit with my fingers as I shuffle through to the kitchen.

Sure enough, that smell is last night's fish supper. The heat has gotten to it and it's smelling up the place. I draw the bag up out of the plastic trash can and pull the ties to close it up tight. I tie those in a knot and open the back door. Out on the porch, I listen as the last of the train clanks around the bend and fades away. The big outdoor trashcan is just a few steps away and I head that way with the bag. I'm setting the bag down in the can when I see him.

He's taken a folding lawn chair and carried it down to the side of the lake. I can't tell if he is sleeping or just sitting. I call out to him, quiet-like. "Frank?" He doesn't move. I take a few steps in his direction. I speak a little louder. "Frank?" He turns his head towards me. "Hey, Baby." He reaches out a hand to me, beckoning me to come closer. I walk towards him. When I get there, I take his hand and he squeezes, but he is staring out over the water. He's still dressed in the clothes he had on when he left the house a while ago.

"What are you doin out here, Frank?" I ask him, worried he's still angry about the words we exchanged at the supper table. It was a stupid fight and I'm sorry that I brought the subject up at all.

Out on the lake, a fish jumps up and splashes back into the water. Maybe the moon has fooled that fish into thinking it's daytime. Frank pulls me over until I'm standing in front of him. A welcome breeze blows lightly across our bodies. The night sounds are all around us. I hear a dog barking way away from us. Is that why I was dreaming about a dog? Frank looks at my face and smiles. "I love you.", he says, and I watch as one tear leaks out of the corner of his eye and slides down his face.

wear pink!

There were over a thousand women in the room at the Atlantic City Conference Center. We came in every possible size, shape, age, stage of life, career, etc. We were all there to attend the 2011 New Jersey Governor's Conference for Women.

I ate my continental breakfast with two women I was meeting for the first time because I had not yet located the five work colleagues I was meeting up with at the conference. We shared information and chatted about what had brought each of us to this event. In a lull in the conversation, I marveled at the sound of all of those women's voices. It was such a beautiful sound to me. Women are so powerful and strong, I thought. I smiled.

Our speaker at the breakfast was Kim Guadagno, Lieutenant Governor of New Jersey. Her message for the day was "wear pink". I'm still not sure what she was getting at. She also told us to wear high heels. Apparently when she was a Sheriff, she was told that she really shouldn't wear pink or heels and it got on her nerves. Maybe she was trying to tell us to be true to ourselves and to be feminine, even if we were in traditionally male roles? Anyway, she was cheerful for an early morning speaker!

I found my colleagues and we spent a few minutes looking over the program, deciding who would go to what session and chatting about work. All five of these women are strong and caring people. We all have very different personalities. But we all care about our students and are very loyal to our company. It was a joy to spend even a little bit of time with them. I know that they would do anything for me and I would do the same for them! What a wonderful feeling!

My first session was entitled, "Release the Entrepreneur Within". There were three speakers and a moderator. The speaker who REALLY stood out was Barbara Smith O'Neal, Regional Director of the New Jersey City University Small Business Development Center. Barbara clearly knows what she is doing and did a marvelous job outlining some of the more important aspects of starting your own business. (Full disclosure: I really misunderstood the intent of the workshop, probably because I did not read the description! I was expecting a talk about keeping your entrepreneurial spirit alive despite the fact that you may be working for someone else. Clearly, I was mistaken! I have no desire to open my own business!!! That is hard!)

The best speaker of the day, at least for me, was Trisha Meili. She is the woman who came to be known as "The Central Park Jogger" in 1989 after she was brutally attacked while out for a run in Central Park. This session was entitled, "Resilience". Every chair in the room was filled and many people (including me) sat on the floor or stood along the walls. Trisha started us off with some breathing exercises, which was an interesting touch. (It made me want to investigate meditation.) After that, she simply told her story and the many blessings she had encountered along the road to recovery from her injuries, both physical and emotional. Hers is an incredibly inspiring story. She tells it in a soothing voice that is very easy to listen to.

Our luncheon speaker was the amazing Star Jones. I was prepared to dislike her based on how she has been presented on this season of The Apprentice. I should have known better than to trust any edited image on television. She was very humble, but she made it clear that she has high standards for herself and for others. Star spoke about reinventing yourself when the need arises to do so. She called it "Plan B". She spoke about women's remarkable ability to bounce back from adversity or disappointment. She used examples from her own life. I really appreciated her message. And yes, she alluded to the troubles she had with NeNe! It was pretty funny, actually.

My last session was "Retirement Can Work For You!". Again, I should have read the description. This session was about NOT retiring!!! People are living to be much older these days and often start whole new careers after they retire from the first one. I cannot imagine anything worse!!! I didn't stay the whole time.

All in all, it was a great experience! I hope to return next year.

There was one embarrassing moment. (How could I avoid it???) I caught the heel of my right shoe on the hemline of my left pants leg and fell on my butt in front of my colleagues! Leave it to me. They hoisted me to my feet and I shook it off. But hours later, I am really feeling where parts of my body made contact with the sidewalk. Ouch! I'm worried that I am going to be even more sore tomorrow. Time will tell!

osama bin laden is dead

From the comments section on a CNN report of Osama bin Laden's death: It wasn't him. We need to see a picture. Obama interrupted Celebrity Apprentice on purpose to make Trump mad. Obama is making the whole story up to try to get re-elected. Obama had nothing to do with this victory. It's suspicious that they 'buried' him so quickly. Obama is taking credit for what the military did. We want a DNA test result. Etc. Soon, Trump (or Palin or Bachman) will be suggesting a conspiracy theory - or simply an anti-Obama message - that will echo some or all of these ideas.

I never cease to be amazed at some people's need to demonize or minimize our sitting president. It seems that there is nothing he can do that is right. Often, these are the same people who suggested that criticism of Dubyah was 'unpatriotic' because we were at war and we should all support our president when we are at war. Right. Now, it's patriotic to disagree with the sitting president because we are in America, where we can freely disagree!!!

I'm glad that Osama bin Laden is dead and buried. I'm proud that President Obama gave the order to take him out. I'm proud of the Navy Seals who pulled off this mission, and the many service men and women who put their lives on the line every single day. I'm proud to be an American!!!

the nesting dolls

The oddest items, events or scents can trigger powerful memories of my childhood in Nishinomiya, Japan. The family was home on furlough when I was born in 1958 and we returned to Japan in 1959 when I was about ten months old. I'm told that I learned to walk on board the ship as it crossed the ocean. Maybe that's why I don't get seasick?

Sometimes it is as simple as hearing the Japanese language spoken. Hearing it makes me smile. I spoke fluent Japanese as a small child. My English, however, was atrocious. That created problems when we returned to the States - more about that later.

Today, the trigger for memories of Japan were some kokeshi (Japanese wooden dolls). I came across them as I unpacked one of the last boxes I brought to Pennsylvania in late July. These kokeshi were painted red and green, one nesting doll set was boys, the other was girls. The Japanese celebrate Boy's Day, which is coming up on May 5th, and Girl's Day, which just passed on March 3rd. There are many, many boy/girl doll sets in Japan.

The dolls I came across this morning were nesting dolls, which means if you opened one up, a smaller doll was inside. As I handled them, the old paint flaked off just a bit. This flaking of paint made me feel very tender inside. I immediately had the thought that my own paint was starting to flake a bit too.

Sometimes I wonder how much of my personality was shaped by those early years in Japan. Yamada-san was an older Japanese lady who lived in a small house attached to our slightly larger house. Her adult daughter and grandson lived there with her. Yamada-san took care of me, her grandson and my sister. All three of us were born within the same 10 month period, so it was like having triplets, I'm sure. How did she do it? She fed us Japanese food. To this day, the scent of soy sauce or the taste of ginger brings a warm, satisfied feeling to my soul. She must have loved us very much.

I put the dolls on the secretary where I could see them every day. They'll make me smile, I know, each time they catch my eye.

ready for spring!

The heat didn't kick on during the night and I felt no need to bump up the thermostat when I woke up this morning. Could this be a sign of impending spring-like activities? Punxsutawney Phil did say that we can expect an early spring. Oh, I hope that is true!!!

snow delay

This morning, I got up at about 4:15 a.m. so I could begin the process of determining whether I should close my campus for the day, have a delayed start or just open as usual. I have employees and students who must be at the campus by 7:00 a.m., so I try to make the decision no later than 5:15 a.m. This gives me time to record a message on our Inclement Weather Hotline and contact the local television and radio stations. Getting that done early allows the commuters to avoid driving to the campus, then turning around and driving home.

Here is my process:

Step One: Turn on the television and check the three major networks and the weather channel to hear the weather reports and see if there are any school closing reports. This morning, the news reports indicated that all public schools were delayed and that main roads were pretty clear, but the secondary roads were still dangerous. I knew right away that we would open, so now the decision would be whether to have a delayed start or not.

Step Two: If possible, get in my car and drive to the main road, which is about a half mile away from my apartment building. This morning, the snowplow had not gotten to my section of the complex. But I could hear the scraping noise of the plow, so I walked around the side of the building and watched as the plow made a long, slow first pass in front of the long building next to mine. It was quite a sight. There was a beautiful spray of snow that flew up through the air on either side of the machine, so it looked like it was snowing again. He actually stopped the machine when he was close to me and got out to make some kind of adjustment. I waved to him and he came over. I asked him when he thought I might be able to drive up and look at the highway. He said he would clear a path for me next. I wanted to ask if I could ride in or drive the snowplow, but I instantly had a fantasy photo montage in my head of me driving the snowplow over a row of cars and into the Schuylkill River. Maybe not.

Step Three: Back inside, I climbed the stairs to my loft where my office is. I started up the computer and checked myfoxphilly.com to see what all of the other private colleges were doing. This morning, all that were listed were announcing delays, most until 10 a.m. The University of Phoenix was actually announcing an 11 a.m. start.

Step Four: Compose message for Inclement Weather Hotline. I always type this on my computer and read it into the phone when I call to record the message. That way, it will sound smooth and I will only have to record it once. But I don't record it yet. I want to consult with colleagues first.

Step Five: Text my counterpart at my sister school in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. We like to compare notes and we typically take the same action. This morning, she was having an in-service, which meant a later start with no students in the building. I was on my own this time.

Step Six: Drive up to the highway. I just like to look at Highway 422 to see how the road looks and to see how many cars are out there on the roads. This morning, 422 looked pretty good. The plows were still clearing, but cars were beginning to get through.

Step Seven: Check myfoxphilly.com again. This time, more schools had posted delays. I made the decision to go ahead with the delay.

Step Eight: Text my supervisor with my decision. This gives him an opportunity to weigh in on my decision. This morning I waited a while, but did not hear from my supervisor. It was getting close to 5:30 a.m., so I went ahead with the delay.

Step Nine: Call Fox news and go through the automated process to announce our delay. Usually this takes a while because everyone is calling in at once. I usually get a busy signal the first 3-5 times I call. This morning it was more like 7 times! But I finally got through.

Step Ten: Call our own Inclement Weather Hotline and record a message. This morning, I changed my message slightly because our students got a little confused last time.

Step Eleven: Call all managers, just as a courtesy. This is not strictly necessary, since we have the Hotline, but I like to do it just to make sure. Some of them like to call their employees, so I call them to let them know.

At this point, it is about 5:45 a.m., sometimes closer to 6 a.m. I am wide awake, so I go downstairs to make breakfast. That first cup of coffee is wonderful after all of this activity.

I have to say that this is a process that I absolutely HATE. I would love to abdicate the decision to someone else, but that really isn't an option. It is really impossible to make everyone happy. A closure or delay makes some people happy and other people furious. NOT closing or delaying makes some people happy and other people furious. It is simply a no-win situation. And no matter what you decide, multiple people always step up to question your decision and tell you that they would have done something differently. But then, that is the description of all leadership decisions, I suppose! But I will admit that it is very hard to listen to the criticism of any snow day decision! It makes me want to punch people in the nose! I always think that if they knew what I go through that they would just shut up!

All over the country, there are school administrators that are faced with this decision when there is bad weather. I truly sympathize with them, especially public school (K-12) administrators. They get the worst feedback. Like me, they simply can not make everyone happy. But again, it goes with the territory.

But let's end on a beautiful note. Here is a lovely photo of the Schuylkill River in the snow. This is the view from my apartment complex. Isn't it gorgeous? It makes me hate snow just a little less - but not much!!! Stay warm, everyone!

Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

In 1985, I accepted a job as a Human Resource Technician, Sr., at a mental health center in South Georgia. My job was to meet with mental health clients and make an assessment as to how they were doing on their current regimen of medication. There were four of us at the mental health center; a woman who served as the center director, a woman who provided day treatment activities, a woman who performed secretarial duties and me. All three of my co-workers were natives of the small South Georgia town.

On Tuesdays of each week, I conducted intake appointments with brand new clients. Theoretically, we had an M.D. on staff, but in truth we had a retired, hard-of-hearing, elderly doctor (age 91), who really depended on us to diagnose and determine starting dosages of the psychotropic medicines available at that time.

I had a great big Physician’s Desk Reference (PDR) on my desk, along with a Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM). I was given a list of the most common psychotropic drugs and told how to determine starting dosages for the most common mental disorders. I would meet with a client and run through a barrage of questions designed to determine what their problem was. Sometimes I had a little information before I met with them. (“Johnny exposes himself to the grocery clerks at the Piggly Wiggly. He says Jesus tells him to do it.”) Sometimes I didn’t know a thing.

After I had met with the client, I would go to see the doctor. I would present the information I knew, in a very loud voice, along with a suggested diagnosis and a suggested medication and starting dosage. The doctor would say, “That sounds fine”, and then he would sign my case notes in the client’s file and sign the prescription that I had written up.

All of this seemed very reasonable to me. Years later, when I was working on my graduate degree, I realized that I could have killed someone, or that a misdiagnosis or an inadequate dosage could have caused the client to go do something terrible, which could have caused harm to someone or to themselves. But I didn’t think about any of that at the time. I was just following directives given to me by the director. It didn’t occur to me that she might be being stupid herself. She was a LOT older than me and had been working in the mental health field for a long time. She seemed very confident in my abilities and I stupidly allowed her confidence to persuade me that all of this was quite normal.

I was so unconcerned about what I was doing that if I had talked about my 15 months working there any time within the first two years following my departure, I would not even have mentioned the fact that I was diagnosing patients without the benefit of any training beyond a Bachelor of Arts in Social Work. No, what I would have talked about is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.

You see, the three women I worked with at the mental health center all used the N-word with ease. To them, all African-Americans were called the N-word without hesitation. They weren’t angry or being combative when they used the word. That was just what they called people who were African-American.

My parents raised their children to believe in the equality of the races. They worked very hard to ensure that we understood the importance of race relations and they made sure that they taught us to be keenly aware of racism and the insidious nature of inequality. By the time I was working at this mental health center, I had lived in North Carolina, Japan, Massachusetts and Georgia. I had spent quite a bit of time in Virginia as well. I had seen racism and I had heard people say shocking things and I had seen people do shocking things.

But these three women purported to be professionals in the field of mental health. So I was shocked! I made a critical error when I spoke up about how I felt. I specifically asked that they not use the N-word around me ever again. I said that I was deeply offended and would appreciate their cooperation. But they saw me for the unarmed, inexperienced woman that I was. My request simply incited them to do everything in their power to annoy and offend me.

That brings me to the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday of 1987. My boss told me that although that Monday was a holiday, that they would all three be coming to work and that I needed to be there too because it was a stupid thing to be taking a day off to celebrate the birthday of that n!&&@$. The other two women laughed when my boss said this to me. I summoned up enough courage to say that I would not be in and not to look for me. They harassed me up until the minute I left the office that Friday afternoon. “See you Monday!”, one of them yelled out as I exited the building. I could hear them laughing behind me.

Like I had on so many other days, I went home and cried on my husband’s shoulder. I was five months pregnant with my son and I’m sure my hormones were a wreck, but the situation created enormous stress. I would cry and cry when I got home. Then we would fix dinner, eat, watch TV, and then go to bed. I would wake up during the night and cry some more. This pattern continued for the entire length of my pregnancy.

I didn’t go to work on that Monday. Instead, I attended the MLK Day event at a local university. The speakers focused on perseverance and doing right and God’s expectation that we treat each other with dignity and respect. Sitting in that auditorium, in the midst of men and women who were celebrating justice and good, I felt so empowered and comforted. My battle was such a small one. I knew that I would survive and that things would get better for me.

Things did get better. My healthy son was born three weeks early in April. I used all of my sick leave and all of my vacation time. Then I quit. I was never so happy to leave a job, before or since! Within the next six months, I started a new job at that same local university where I had attended the MLK event. I would be working with high school students, many of whom would go on to be the first in their family to go to college. Those students lifted my heart almost every day. Many are still my friends today.

So, for me, MLK Day is symbolic of embracing the lessons of the past, both small and global, and letting my heart be filled again with the hope that there will be better days ahead. This lesson never ceases to be fresh for me. I need to learn it over and over again! So I thank Martin Luther King, Jr., for teaching that lesson to me. Happy Birthday, Dr. King!

Martin Luther King, Jr.
by Gwendolyn Brooks

A man went forth with gifts.

He was a prose poem.
He was a tragic grace.
He was a warm music.

He tried to heal the vivid volcanoes.
His ashes are
reading the world.

His Dream still wishes to anoint
the barricades of faith and of control.

His word still burns the center of the sun,
above the thousands and the
hundred thousands.

The word was Justice. It was spoken.

So it shall be spoken.
So it shall be done.