September 11th.
Even saying the date, causes a pang of anguish deep in my heart. Amazing how one powerful date can be the harbinger of such twisted emotion and raw grief, now twelve years past.
I've been monitoring various social media outlets this morning, watching the manners of remembrance. Hundreds of lengthy Facebook posts announcing their 'I remember that day all too well! I was at .....". Eighty-five character tweets followed by multiple hashtags #911, #NYC and #wherewereyou, and #neverforget. Pinterest boards. Google+ discussion groups. Instagram photo galleries.
I remember too. I remember having an utter meltdown my office, and hour and a half from my home, husband and children. I remember tortuous live video feeds on every news channel of brave souls preferring a long, suicidal jump to their death over the surety of burning alive. I remember the looks of confusion and terror and dust on the faces of those on the street, in shock that not only had this happened but that they had, by the Grace of God and the the FDNY, managed to survive it. I remember the unified aspect of the rescue personnel - all business, harried, and resolute. The faces of true heroes.
The week of 9/11, I had crumpled into a mess of sorrow, shock, pity, fear and neurosis. I was afraid for my children. If these militant, crazy people could get to us at the heart of the country, then we were doomed. Should I teach my children to fire weapons, defend themselves, fend for themselves? Just in case? Was that our new reality?
And then, ever my anchoring voice of reason and safety, my husband gently took my hands. "You're being overly dramatic - this isn't you. If you act like this,if you fall apart - they win. This is what they want, what they are hoping for - to send a shock wave of fear throughout the country. The United States of America does NOT shake in it's boots. Ever." Eric was former military - he understood far better than I could.
And then, after a solid week of watching the news broadcasts virtually nonstop - I turned the television off and stepped back.
I vowed to hug my family a little tighter and lot more often. I thanked the universe that I had my children and husband, while so many had lost theirs. I hoped the knowledge that the country shared their pain would somehow lighten the agony of loss so many people felt; yet intrinsically knowing it could not. I vowed to stand tall, swallow my fear and doubt, and stare resolute in the face of those who would cause us harm. We are The United States. In that moment, I promised to do my best to live my life to the fullest I could, knowing that every day counts. I pledged to teach my children to be the best men they could be - THAT would be the antithesis to this attack on our soil, on our families, on our way of life.
And here I stand, twelve years later.
I have succeeded at some and failed at others. I experienced the ups and downs of life that we all go through - I have lived. In the end, there has been more positive than negative, and for that I am grateful. I have wonderful children, and an amazing grandson. I have a terrific husband, who has grown and matured right alongside me. I have friends, family and extended family who are loving, special and unique. I have cleansed my life of people who caused more grief than smiles. I have tried to be the most genuine person I am capable of being.
There will always be another fight, another bully, another war. There will be people who feel that they can force their beliefs, desires, ideas and economies onto others, without defense or repercussion. Sadly, there will always be another dictator, tyrant, leader who feels they can eliminate other human beings - brutally, cruelly, and without remorse.
But we will stand here, unshaken and stoic. We will be the dark statues standing resolute and whole when the dust clears and chaos reigns. We will grow our children to not know hate and discontent, but instead to have patience, acceptance, gratitude, and humanity. We will teach them to guard their conscience as well as we guard our borders, to stand tall over the world, protecting those who are unable.
This is what 9/11 has come to mean to me.
I am issuing a challenge to myself - call it "The Better U.S. Challenge".
Beginning right now - today - I will endeavor to improve the lives of those around me in some small way. Complete strangers, family, friends, all walks of this crazy, short life. Once a day, I will do something small, to make someone's life a wee bit easier, gentler, less stressful. Maybe it's dropping a quarter in a meter about to expire. Maybe it's buying a coffee for the distressed mother of three behind me at the coffee shop. Maybe it's a simple phone call to someone who's experienced fear or loss recently. Maybe it's just a simple, "Wow! You look great!" or a "What an amazing job you did!". Maybe it's a straightforward, "Do you know how much I love you?" or "I really appreciate everything you do for me!"
I believe, we get so caught up in ourselves, our lives, our unique little solitary universes that we forget. We forget the shared reciprocity that make us whole. We forget that, aside from times of cataclysmic events, we can and should be there for each other every day. It only makes us stronger, wiser and truly united.
What is your challenge? Will you join me?
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Monday, September 9, 2013
Fall and Coliseums
Fall is my favorite time of year. The weather cools, crops are harvested, frozen and canned, and everyone busily begins their preparations for Winter hibernation. Oh yes - and FOOTBALL. We cannot forget the football season begins anew!
I like football. I don't know much about how the game is played - in fact, damn little. It fascinates me in the same way that Mixed Martial Arts fighting captivates me. I'm transfixed by the primal aspect of it.
At it's core, football is a great battle. A primitive urge to protect your own and conquer others a resounding theme. Coliseums, filled with roaring and bloodthirsty fans, are built and filled to capacity. The owners of the teams are the emperors of battle - reassigning and sacrificing their players as chess pieces here and there, in order to produce the best army with which to beat all others. Head coaches are generals in battle - providing direction and recourse throughout the epic event. And the players! The good players are the savage and bloodthirsty ones - the ones who give everything on the battlefield. They are the ones who make the game exciting, the ones who demand blood if you expect to get past them. They look forward to the surety of violation and the resonance of self-sacrifice, these gladiators.
And we watch. Oh boy, do we ever! We argue, and wage, and drink and eat, and watch some more. We celebrate their victories. We mourn their losses. We are the epitome of Roman spectators, seated by class and stature, cheering and jeering, getting intoxicated, with an occasional throwing of something (or someone) or youthfully exuberant streakers. I couldn't even begin to comprehend the amount of time and money spent on the pursuit of football dreams and passions! We even have 'pretend' leagues - the "Dungeons and Dragons" of the grown-up, jock world. I wonder what the Romans would think of today's version of coliseum battles?
I like football. I don't know much about how the game is played - in fact, damn little. It fascinates me in the same way that Mixed Martial Arts fighting captivates me. I'm transfixed by the primal aspect of it.
At it's core, football is a great battle. A primitive urge to protect your own and conquer others a resounding theme. Coliseums, filled with roaring and bloodthirsty fans, are built and filled to capacity. The owners of the teams are the emperors of battle - reassigning and sacrificing their players as chess pieces here and there, in order to produce the best army with which to beat all others. Head coaches are generals in battle - providing direction and recourse throughout the epic event. And the players! The good players are the savage and bloodthirsty ones - the ones who give everything on the battlefield. They are the ones who make the game exciting, the ones who demand blood if you expect to get past them. They look forward to the surety of violation and the resonance of self-sacrifice, these gladiators.
And we watch. Oh boy, do we ever! We argue, and wage, and drink and eat, and watch some more. We celebrate their victories. We mourn their losses. We are the epitome of Roman spectators, seated by class and stature, cheering and jeering, getting intoxicated, with an occasional throwing of something (or someone) or youthfully exuberant streakers. I couldn't even begin to comprehend the amount of time and money spent on the pursuit of football dreams and passions! We even have 'pretend' leagues - the "Dungeons and Dragons" of the grown-up, jock world. I wonder what the Romans would think of today's version of coliseum battles?
A Library Trip and Revelation
I took my daughter to the library today. I love the library. It's rooms full of dust and possibility and impending knowledge. And people of all walks of life.
Our local library is small, but comfortable. They've strategically placed overstuffed wingback chairs, loveseats and sofas throughout. It's clean, save for a small amount of dust on the books and shelves here and there. My only complaints are a limited selected, and periodically, unruly children.
Today was one of those days. There are two small children running slipshod back and forth from the childrens room to the 'tween' room, full of chapter and audio books. They look to be about two and three, with piles of unruly mocha locks, steel blue eyes and chubby red cheeks. They are squealing with delight, playing tag/peekaboo behind the bookstacks and librarian's unused desk. The older of the two, a girl in a well-worn pink sundress, stops dead in her tracks and squeezes the younger one in a death-grip hug, and gently kisses him on the top of his unkempt head. Their caretaker - a young woman in her early twenties - is ensconced in her cell phone, and amazingly oblivious to their activities and vocalizations. I am disheartened - not only because I love the quiet deliberation of the library - but because she is missing out on the magnitude of the moment I, as stranger, witnessed and appreciated in her stead.
I worked in technology for 20 years. I understand the desire, the ease and time saver these expensive instruments can provide. We gain added minutes - but for what? If we are using that 'freed up' time to addle about on Facebook, post our arrival on Foursquare, Tweet while watching Big Brother...are we really gaining value?
I've made a decided effort to put down my cell phone. When I am at the dinner table, the cell phone is in the other room. When I go for my evening stroll with my husband, the cell phone is left at home. I am one of those folks that if I am meeting you for coffee, I will put my phone on vibrate and look you in the eyes when speaking. I will pay attention. There is great significance and worth in human contact - even eye contact. You cannot get a glow, a sense of wonder - from a text. I realized I was missing the moments.
There has to be balance in all things.
Our local library is small, but comfortable. They've strategically placed overstuffed wingback chairs, loveseats and sofas throughout. It's clean, save for a small amount of dust on the books and shelves here and there. My only complaints are a limited selected, and periodically, unruly children.
Today was one of those days. There are two small children running slipshod back and forth from the childrens room to the 'tween' room, full of chapter and audio books. They look to be about two and three, with piles of unruly mocha locks, steel blue eyes and chubby red cheeks. They are squealing with delight, playing tag/peekaboo behind the bookstacks and librarian's unused desk. The older of the two, a girl in a well-worn pink sundress, stops dead in her tracks and squeezes the younger one in a death-grip hug, and gently kisses him on the top of his unkempt head. Their caretaker - a young woman in her early twenties - is ensconced in her cell phone, and amazingly oblivious to their activities and vocalizations. I am disheartened - not only because I love the quiet deliberation of the library - but because she is missing out on the magnitude of the moment I, as stranger, witnessed and appreciated in her stead.
I worked in technology for 20 years. I understand the desire, the ease and time saver these expensive instruments can provide. We gain added minutes - but for what? If we are using that 'freed up' time to addle about on Facebook, post our arrival on Foursquare, Tweet while watching Big Brother...are we really gaining value?
I've made a decided effort to put down my cell phone. When I am at the dinner table, the cell phone is in the other room. When I go for my evening stroll with my husband, the cell phone is left at home. I am one of those folks that if I am meeting you for coffee, I will put my phone on vibrate and look you in the eyes when speaking. I will pay attention. There is great significance and worth in human contact - even eye contact. You cannot get a glow, a sense of wonder - from a text. I realized I was missing the moments.
There has to be balance in all things.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Blurred Lines?
I've been alternating between chuckling and shaking my head in disgust at the outpouring of sentiment since the airing of MTV's recent Video Music Awards.
Miley Cyrus is twenty years old. She is, for all intents and purposes, an adult. If she wants to appear on stage, in front of an international audience and flaunt her mostly-naked goods for the camera, I have to assume it was a well-thought out business decision.
She is a singer, dancer, actress - an artist. Her career is valued by the number of times her name is spoken, typed, tweeted and Facebooked. How do you suppose she is doing this week? It seems to me, quite often a young singer/actress whose image is that of the 'good girl/girl next door", tries to break out of that image in her late teens and early twenties. Madonna already opened these door years ago - this is nothing new. "There's no such thing as bad press!" It's just business, people.
Here is what I find most interesting in this whole scenario: Robin Thicke is rarely mentioned. I saw the video. While he was completely covered in a Beetlejuice-esque suit, he certainly was not innocently standing by, in shock at Miss Cyrus' behavior. Why is it acceptable for a man to gyrate and feign sexual acts on stage, but not acceptable when a woman does it? Was she simply aligning herself with the perception that women are sexual playthings, or - was she taking charge of her own sexuality and flaunting it?
By the way - the actual songs themselves - did anyone listen? The words to Miley's song include:
It's our party we can do what we want
It's our party we can say what we want
It's our party we can love who we want
We can kiss who we want
We can sing what we want
Red cups and sweaty bodies everywhere
Hands in the air like we don't care
'Cause we came to have so much fun now
Bet somebody here might get some now"
and Robin's song (a favorite of mine, actually!) is quite...adulterous (I don't even feel comfortable posting them!). What did everyone think they would see during the performance? Waltzing?
I also read the angry verbiage from parents toward MTV. An excerpt from a statement issued by Director of Public Policy, Dan Isett :
"MTV continues to sexually exploit young women by promoting acts that incorporate 'twerking' in a nude-colored bikini. How is this image of former child star Miley Cyrus appropriate for 14-year-olds? How is it appropriate for children to watch Lady Gaga strip down to a bikini in the opening act?"
Miss Cyrus is no longer a 'child star' - stop treating her like one. She is a college-aged woman. Would you take your fourteen year old to a frat house? This wasn't a daytime awards show on Nickelodeon - it was prime time on MTV. Is there seriously a parent alive today that believes MTV to be appropriate for any fourteen year old - or younger? These are the producers of such iconic gems as "Jersey Shore", "Teen Mom", "Snooki & JWoww", "Tila Tequila", "Jackass" and the infamous "Spring Break". I wouldn't let me mother-in-law watch them, so pretty sure they are out of the question for my ten year old daughter.
What happened to being accountable and responsible for your own life and family? It's not MTV's responsibility to make the determination about what you think is appropriate for your tween to eyeball - it yours. Just as it's not up to me to decide what Miley Cyrus should do at her next performance, her next career move or what her father should/shouldn't be telling her. If someone's outfit, actions or music is not appropriate for your family - don't permit it in your house. If it comes on unexpectedly - turn the station.
I don't particularly care for this type of display - therefore, I accept responsibility for my own tastes - and I don't watch it. I do, however, like the music for myself. I don't permit my daughter to watch anything on MTV - here's the kicker - because it's not what I consider appropriate for a ten year old girl.
Miss Cyrus has every right to dance anyway she sees fit, to steer her career in any direction she darn well chooses to go. She's a grown-up. She will do just what the rest of us did and will do - she will experience life, make great decisions, make really bad ones, and learn from them, regret them and grow from them. And she is entitled to it. Just as you have every right to decide what is well-suited for your family and what is not.
Enough righteous indignation - it's only effective when you are actually right.
Miley Cyrus is twenty years old. She is, for all intents and purposes, an adult. If she wants to appear on stage, in front of an international audience and flaunt her mostly-naked goods for the camera, I have to assume it was a well-thought out business decision.
She is a singer, dancer, actress - an artist. Her career is valued by the number of times her name is spoken, typed, tweeted and Facebooked. How do you suppose she is doing this week? It seems to me, quite often a young singer/actress whose image is that of the 'good girl/girl next door", tries to break out of that image in her late teens and early twenties. Madonna already opened these door years ago - this is nothing new. "There's no such thing as bad press!" It's just business, people.
Here is what I find most interesting in this whole scenario: Robin Thicke is rarely mentioned. I saw the video. While he was completely covered in a Beetlejuice-esque suit, he certainly was not innocently standing by, in shock at Miss Cyrus' behavior. Why is it acceptable for a man to gyrate and feign sexual acts on stage, but not acceptable when a woman does it? Was she simply aligning herself with the perception that women are sexual playthings, or - was she taking charge of her own sexuality and flaunting it?
By the way - the actual songs themselves - did anyone listen? The words to Miley's song include:
It's our party we can do what we want
It's our party we can say what we want
It's our party we can love who we want
We can kiss who we want
We can sing what we want
Red cups and sweaty bodies everywhere
Hands in the air like we don't care
'Cause we came to have so much fun now
Bet somebody here might get some now"
and Robin's song (a favorite of mine, actually!) is quite...adulterous (I don't even feel comfortable posting them!). What did everyone think they would see during the performance? Waltzing?
I also read the angry verbiage from parents toward MTV. An excerpt from a statement issued by Director of Public Policy, Dan Isett :
"MTV continues to sexually exploit young women by promoting acts that incorporate 'twerking' in a nude-colored bikini. How is this image of former child star Miley Cyrus appropriate for 14-year-olds? How is it appropriate for children to watch Lady Gaga strip down to a bikini in the opening act?"
Miss Cyrus is no longer a 'child star' - stop treating her like one. She is a college-aged woman. Would you take your fourteen year old to a frat house? This wasn't a daytime awards show on Nickelodeon - it was prime time on MTV. Is there seriously a parent alive today that believes MTV to be appropriate for any fourteen year old - or younger? These are the producers of such iconic gems as "Jersey Shore", "Teen Mom", "Snooki & JWoww", "Tila Tequila", "Jackass" and the infamous "Spring Break". I wouldn't let me mother-in-law watch them, so pretty sure they are out of the question for my ten year old daughter.
What happened to being accountable and responsible for your own life and family? It's not MTV's responsibility to make the determination about what you think is appropriate for your tween to eyeball - it yours. Just as it's not up to me to decide what Miley Cyrus should do at her next performance, her next career move or what her father should/shouldn't be telling her. If someone's outfit, actions or music is not appropriate for your family - don't permit it in your house. If it comes on unexpectedly - turn the station.
I don't particularly care for this type of display - therefore, I accept responsibility for my own tastes - and I don't watch it. I do, however, like the music for myself. I don't permit my daughter to watch anything on MTV - here's the kicker - because it's not what I consider appropriate for a ten year old girl.
Miss Cyrus has every right to dance anyway she sees fit, to steer her career in any direction she darn well chooses to go. She's a grown-up. She will do just what the rest of us did and will do - she will experience life, make great decisions, make really bad ones, and learn from them, regret them and grow from them. And she is entitled to it. Just as you have every right to decide what is well-suited for your family and what is not.
Enough righteous indignation - it's only effective when you are actually right.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Dusty Books and Coffee
There are some things in this life that I am unable to compromise on. Call me rigid or spoiled; maybe I just have OCD. Books, butter, knowledge, coffee and manners (not necessarily in that order).
I've worked in technology fields for over twenty years. Nonetheless - there is no touch, no smell, no experience you can get from a computer, Kindle, smartphone or tablet that is remotely close to the gifts bestowed on an experienced reader of actual books. I love books. Real books. I love the feel and smell of well-worn, antique books that have been handed down to younger generations after decades of use. I'm tactile - I love the feel of turning the pages, the comforting and accomplished sound of traveling further into the profoundness of each character. I derive a surreptitious pleasure from amassing a collection of 'already read' books, only to read them again when the mood strikes. No digital edition can elicit such feelings or commitment.
Butter. There's no substitute. Margarine? Come onnnn. It's not even real food. No competition. Margarine is a prime example of everything that is wrong with this country.
Knowledge. Lack of education is rampant in this country and many others, but ignorance is an active choice. With education and experience comes knowledge and understanding.
Ipsa scientia potestas est.
Coffee is the liquor of the gods. I could subsist on coffee alone, I believe, but I would not survive without it. Or perhaps - those in my inner-circle would not..? Great coffee is a luscious treasure; poorly made coffee is swine borscht.
Manners - they define us from the wild animals (both creature and human). Social edicts are the keystone to civility and respect in our culture. Disregarding them thoroughly is impertinent and patently rude. It also takes great skill to be able to tell someone to go to hell politely, and with a smile on your face, and to do it so well that they don't realize what's been said until they are home. True story - I walked out on a date some years ago because my escort had zero table manners.
I've worked in technology fields for over twenty years. Nonetheless - there is no touch, no smell, no experience you can get from a computer, Kindle, smartphone or tablet that is remotely close to the gifts bestowed on an experienced reader of actual books. I love books. Real books. I love the feel and smell of well-worn, antique books that have been handed down to younger generations after decades of use. I'm tactile - I love the feel of turning the pages, the comforting and accomplished sound of traveling further into the profoundness of each character. I derive a surreptitious pleasure from amassing a collection of 'already read' books, only to read them again when the mood strikes. No digital edition can elicit such feelings or commitment.
Butter. There's no substitute. Margarine? Come onnnn. It's not even real food. No competition. Margarine is a prime example of everything that is wrong with this country.
Knowledge. Lack of education is rampant in this country and many others, but ignorance is an active choice. With education and experience comes knowledge and understanding.
Ipsa scientia potestas est.
Coffee is the liquor of the gods. I could subsist on coffee alone, I believe, but I would not survive without it. Or perhaps - those in my inner-circle would not..? Great coffee is a luscious treasure; poorly made coffee is swine borscht.
Manners - they define us from the wild animals (both creature and human). Social edicts are the keystone to civility and respect in our culture. Disregarding them thoroughly is impertinent and patently rude. It also takes great skill to be able to tell someone to go to hell politely, and with a smile on your face, and to do it so well that they don't realize what's been said until they are home. True story - I walked out on a date some years ago because my escort had zero table manners.
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