Hatred: Can't we all just get along?

I've been away because the last 18 months have been horrible. People say to write when you're stressed, it's supposed to help. But for me, in those times writing is very difficult. I just didn't have it, but I'll tell you what I did have....Hate.

I've never actually hated anyone before. Not my friends in junior high when everyone formed a club and I wasn't invited. Not my parents, even though I thought "I hate you!" Not even the two men who, at different periods of my life, assaulted me. In those times I was sad, scared, lonely, angry, furious, betrayed. I had many feelings but never that white hot searing hatred that makes you see red and raises your blood pressure to stratospheric heights.

I liked hating. It gave me energy and focus. It made me feel, not like a bug caught in a web, but like the spider, sitting, watching, waiting for just the right moment. My hatred fantasies made me smile. Blood, knives, shaming, standing up for myself powerful and strong. Taking action. Doing something to change the situation. For the first time in my life I understood the desire for revenge and the need to hurt those who have hurt you. The carnage in the Middle East and Africa, the death penalty, gang "payback" all made sense.

But after a while, a funny thing happened. I started to realize that hatred doesn't only empower, it exhausts. It detracts. It lowers the hater to the lowest level possible. It didn't accomplish anything and it made me feel terrible. It's like bad sex, all build-up but nothing in the end. I still understand it. I can't say I'm free of it. There are times when I find myself going back there, wrapping myself in its protection, feeling it, wanting it. Yet nothing is better when I've hated and in the end, I suspect it's a sham. It's the devil whispering lies. A sweet addiction that leads no where. I hope I can remember that the next time it raises its dirty head. I wish the rest of the world knew it as well.

Taxes for Us

Needless to say it's tax time so the media and social networking sites are full of comments about taxes. Although I understand the moaning about high tax rates, government programs, etc., I think we're looking at it all wrong. It shouldn't be about how high our taxes are but, rather, what kind of a country do we want to be?

A country needs money to run. Programs and services need money to run. Money comes from taxes. Where do you think the money comes from to fix those roads you've been complaining about, or to extend the sewer system to your township so you don't have to use wells and you have sewers, or to help install that high speed commuter rail system so you can avoid traffic on your way to work? Taxes.

What kind of a country do we want to be? One with pitted roads, inadequate sewers and polluted rivers? Is that our vision for our environment? What about our people? What do we want for them? Or are we all about what we want for ourselves, and once we "have" we don't particularly care about those who don't have? The problem with that attitude is two-fold.

The first is short-term thinking. I would gladly pay $10, or $40 or $100 more in taxes to pay for daycare or a breakfast program that helps a poor child because the long-term benefits outweigh that small amount of money. If that child doesn't eat or get a good start at learning, ultimately we as a society will be paying anyway ... for jail, or for increased medical care because the child won't be healthy, or by receiving less taxes because the child isn't educated enough to earn a decent living and thus pay higher taxes.

The second problem with the "I-got-mine-too-bad-you-ain't-got-yours" mindset is that ultimately most of us wind up needing government services of some kind. My parents always said "We worked for our money." Yet who collected Social Security when he retired? When my mother was ill, who paid for her medical expenses? Their insurance, with a huge supplement from Medicare. Her meds were covered, to a point; but what they paid out of pocket was substantial. They were not happy and complained about what Medicare didn't cover. So much for never needing government help. Their response was that they had contributed to these systems via taxes, so they were merely collecting what was theirs. I don't disagree with that viewpoint. But isn't an investment in more educated, less hungry, less poor, happier citizens and a cleaner, healthier environment "collecting" back on their taxes?

I spent years listening to my mother complain about resenting the amount of taxes she had to pay while "they" didn't pay. I never asked but always wanted to, "What don't you have that you need? What is paying those taxes taking away from you?" Another trip? Another dinner out or a beautiful dress? It's not that she didn't "deserve" these things. But couldn't she do without one dress, one dinner or make a trip a little less luxurious and graciously pay taxes, knowing there is a mother somewhere receiving food stamps who can buy cheese that actually tastes like cheese and has some nutritional value as a result of taxes? Or that her grandchildren and great-grandchildren will not have to be afraid to play outside because of air pollution?

We're a country known for our individualism. Taxes go directly against that value. Taxes are about the collective, the group. We may be individualistic as a country; but humans, as a species, are group-bound. For once, let's look beyond ourselves and to the group. How about this year, as you pay your taxes, you not grumble. Rather, think about the little frog you just saved that is critical to the ecosystem that purifies the water that runs by the school that provides a hands-on learning experience for the doctors and teachers and, yes, even the politicians of the future. And as you pay, smile and think, "This one is for us!"

I Love Facebook - No Really I Do

A plea to support a fundraising ball for a horrific genetic disease, a joyful engagement announcement, cheers for a hockey victory and frustration at a loss, "here is my lunch, yum!" These are some of the postings on my Facebook page.

I joined FB two years ago to see if it was useful as a way to create "communities of practice" for people who have attended classes at my work. At first I was overwhelmed with the postings, invitations, games, groups, announcements about "Mafia Wars" and the request for "eggs." How could this possibility be useful to anyone? My time was being sucked away by reading "Jerry Lewis has become friends with Matt Damon." And I care, why? Gradually, however, my opinion has changed.

At Christmas, my cousin's daughter posted pictures of the kids making cookies. I could almost smell them. My niece announced she was changing schools...moving from Florida. Florida? When did she get there? One day I read, "X is not so useful today (ok, I helped some people...this morning, but I bumbled a class today.) Within minutes there were three postings telling her she was going to get through it and people really admired her. Instant therapy of the most sincere loving kind.

Sure there are problems with security. (Note to everyone...nothing on the internet is completely secure.) I don't always want to know what my colleague had to eat or what movie my cousin hates. I don't care that you won a war, found a white kitty, planted a veggie or found an egg. FB can cut down on face-to-face interactions. One day three of us, in the same house, were communicating via FB postings. All we had to do was get up and walk 10 feet each and we could have communicated in person.

But there is something wonderful about introducing your bridemaids to each other via a group and having them share dress ideas; or seeing pictures of your new nephew moments after he's born; or knowing that you're not the only Olympics geek ... people you actually know are also watching curling. (Curling? I know that many people who watch curling?) People I may not see for years (my cousins) now can contact me on a regular basis. And the things I find out about colleagues!

No it's not a replacement for meeting and talking face-to-face. But Facebook is a fine way to get a conversation going, or continuing a connection after the tear-filled good-byes. It's brought me closer to my family and made me smile and laugh. That's not such a bad thing. Now excuse me please, I have to check my FB page before I sign off this evening.

Parenting Boys, Mothers and Fathers

We all know that men and women think differently. No big news there. Men and women show their love for their children differently, but I guess I thought the way we feel about our children is basically the same. I'm not so sure anymore.

From the time a woman finds she's pregnant, her whole life changes. It's not just the birth itself, as people tend to assume. "Giving birth is such an amazing experience!" Somehow, that answer seems not quite enough. It's more because everything becomes about the baby. Can I eat this? Can I do this? Is this safe for my child? We're tired, our bodies do things we've never felt before. We cry or get angry when we used to be even tempered and cheerful. Things that used to taste good make us sick and things we hated we suddenly crave. Something is kicking our gut, something is squirming around in us. We have a hard time walking and sleep becomes a thing of the past. What the hell? Oh yeah, the baby. For nine months it's all about the baby. It's there every single minute of every single day.

On the other hand, life is...well, life....for dad. He may be excited or anxious. He may be sharing in the mood, food and sleep shifts of mom. But he can walk away. He can still sleep at night without being kicked, he can still eat what he wants. He can boogie the night away and bungee jump the next morning without having to think about anyone else but himself.

Things even out a bit when the baby is born, but it's still pretty lopsided. Dad may do diapers or childcare but if mom is nursing, she's still in high demand. She has to watch what she eats (so it doesn't affect the milk) and going far away for long is impossible. It's still all about the baby.

Fast forward a few years. The baby, now a boy, falls and hurts himself. Mom offers kisses, dad offers manly advice, "Suck it up. This won't be the last time you fall. Don't be a sissy. Be a man." Or something similar. Fast forward 18 years when Son has enlisted in the service. Mom is in a panic, dad says, "He's a man, he can make his own decisions." Huh? Where is that gut retching fear that runs from your toes to your head and that sits in a lump in your stomach like gluten free bread? Of course he's a man but does that make him immune to death or dreams of war which forever close off a part of his memory to everyone but his comrades-in-arm? This is our baby. How can you feel that way?

As I write I admit I'm angry at a father who chooses to play golf while his son moves alone. Son says, "It's ok. He can help when he gets done." But me? In my world his father should forget golf and help his son. What if he falls carrying the mattress down the stairs himself? What if he can't get the dresser around the corner alone? But maybe I'm expecting too much. I'm used to sighing and getting up to get my sons something to drink. I've been trained since I became pregnant with son #1. After 3, it's pretty much automatic. Apparently if you kick me in my sleep and make me throw up, I'll be in your debt forever.

I laughed at my grandma when she called Uncle Art her baby. I thought she was saying he was the youngest of her four sons. Today I realize I was wrong. She was literally saying he was her baby. When my sons struggle, there is still a part of me that remembers a two year old bravely dragging a chair across the floor...alone, trying so hard to be a man. No matter what he has accomplished, I still remember the saddest, most haunted eyes I've ever seen, the eyes of my 3 year old. Moms love the kind, gentle, tough, rough, stupid, intelligent men their boys become. But in our hearts, there is still the memory of his little arms reaching for us and our total dedication to his care and safety. And that's the way moms love.

Age Ain't Nothin But A Number

Two weeks ago my cousin called and told me her father had died. It's not that we weren't expecting it...he had been ill and going downhill for some time. Expectation and reality are often not the same, however. I could hear the grief and shock in her voice. When my mother died, my cousin was there for me, so I had to be there for her. I would go to Texas for the funeral.

My brother and I talked.  What about dad? Al was his next closest brother in age, the one he grew up with. But dad is 91 and, although a world traveler in the past, he has pretty much given up airplanes. We decided I would drive to Buffalo where dad lives and then fly with him to San Antonio. When I arrived in Buffalo, dad was his typical self. He lugged a rather large suitcase up from the basement and was busy laying out clothes. He called the taxi company to arrange for pickup the next morning at 4 am. By the time we went to bed, he had made arrangements for the paper and had methodically gone around the house and disconnected all the electronic devices in case of storms. In the taxi, he told the driver the route to take to the airport and kept a hawk-like eye on the meter to make sure we weren't being overcharged. 

And then we hit the airport. Dad is a small man...dapper and good looking with an amazingly beautiful head of wavy grey hair. His main problem is he has a difficult time walking long distances because of problems with his feet. Not knowing how far we had to walk between gates, I had ordered a wheelchair for him. Apparently wheelchair = invisible. Wheelchair and elderly = invisible and stupid.  Although not an actual conversation, our interactions with airline personnel, wait staff, taxi drivers and other random people went something like this. 

Looking at me. "Do you want a wheelchair?"

Me, looking at them. "I don't know, ask him." 

Them, still looking at me. "You ordered a wheelchair.  Do you want it?"  

Me (annoyed now), "I don't know.  Why don't you ask him? He's the one who's going to use it!"

Then, finally looking at him. "SIR!" "DO.....YOU....WANT....A.....WHEELCHAIR?"

When he replied, "No" once again, I was the one consulted.  "He said no. Do you want the wheelchair?"

My father is 91 with bad feet.  He's not stupid nor invisible. 

I realize my father is rather extraordinary. He's learned how to use a computer within the last 6 or so years.  He drives and lives alone. He can talk science, politics or wines with the best of them and he should have his own night time talk show, he's so funny. Most people, especially the elderly, aren't up to his speed.  However, it's the assumption I saw people making that ticked me off. That assumption is that because he needs assistance getting around, or because he is older, he is incapable of speaking for himself. Seeing people's reactions to him when they finally did "see" him and let him talk was hilarious. Partially it's because he's so funny but also because they realized he could talk for himself. Once that happened, he was no longer invisible and they treated him as the capable person he is.

My question is, why did he have to face that level of disrespect first, merely because of his age? (We could also ask that same question about anyone who faces the same treatment because of race, religion, sexual orientation, etc.)  Why do people assume that once someone reaches a particular age (and what age might that be?) that he or she has become childlike? A loss of hearing or a slow walk or bent back or poor feet don't immediately equate to a loss of intelligence or self-awareness.  

So this is what I ask.  The next time you interact with an elderly person, don't assume anything. Speak up if need be, slow down if need be (this is true whenever you're interacting with someone with a hearing loss....or who may not speak your language as a native). Assist them as they move, if need be. But don't equate loss of physical agility with loss of mental capability. What you're seeing at that moment may represent only a small fraction of who that person is and what she or he is capable of doing. If that's not enough to convince you, remember with some luck you'll be there soon enough yourself....how do you want to be treated? 

Life: Is It All About Loss?

I've been thinking about losses a lot. It seems I'm surrounded by losses. The loss of a child (three of them within a few months); loss of a job leading to a loss of a sense of identity; the loss of colleagues;  the loss of a relationship that you thought would go on forever; loss of memory; the loss of one's ability to be independent. These are all situations faced by people I know personally. On the world stage, the loss of freedom, cultural icons, the ability to return home. The most recent is an announcement made by the president of a professional organization I belong to about the arrest of the husband of a colleague. We may, at some point, find out where he is and how he is.

Recently I've found myself asking if this is how it was supposed to be. Aren't we, at some point, supposed to be settling into old age, relatively secure, surrounded by grandchildren?  How the hell did it get this difficult? And then I wonder, how did we get to the point where we believe it is our right to be happy, to not have to face the cold truth that life is about struggle and loss, as well as winning and love?

Have we, in our cultural blindness...in our absolute certainty that we can control or fix it all...have we deluded ourselves about what life is really like?  We've been known to mock cultures that are fatalistic where people believe what happens happens and they have no control over it. It's in God's hands. Yet, when it comes right down to it, isn't that the real truth? If they no longer love you, if the heart stops beating, if there is truly no more money and no more jobs, isn't it in someone else's hands, not our own? What's the difference?

Sometimes lately I've felt that life is just too heavy, too much.  I want to curl up in my bed and hide my head and yell, "Get me when it gets better!!!!" The thing is, it doesn't get better. Or does it? I told someone today that I find myself living either in the past or the future, not the present. Thinking about what "was" is depressing. Worrying about what "will be" is crazy-making. What does that leave us? Now? 

This morning I went for a walk with a beloved friend and then we sat and talked for a long time. I had the rest of some killer dirty rice we made for dinner four days ago. My mouth danced when the sausage hit the taste buds. Now I'm going to take a hot shower and go to sleep...two things I love doing. Maybe that's what we need to do amongst all these losses...focus in on what's happening this moment...the one piece of beauty or joy in this moment.  Maybe then these losses we all seem to be carrying will become lighter. They won't go away because I think I'm finally learning that life really is hard, brutal and often cold, but lighter is good. "Lighter" I may be able to survive with my humor and sense of hope at least partially intact. I'm trying anyway. I'll let you know how it goes. 

Torn Between Two Worlds, Or Am I?

I've spent the last month off-line working in two worlds, the face-to-face classroom and learning more about social networking. I continue to be excited about both. To me, there is nothing better than students who are fully engaged in a live discussion/argument/debate/dialogue. When someone gets up and starts to walk around because they just can't contain their energy, I know I've got them.

Likewise, the abandonment with which people engage in Facebook, Twitter, Ning, MySpace, etc., creates whole new exciting educational possibilities that didn't exist a few years ago. I recently read the fastest growing group of people on Facebook are women over 40. Forget the NetGen, we're all living-on-line.

However, I'm seeing something troublesome begin to happen. It appears to be the assumption that some of us are either too old, not techie enough or just not interested in the online or "modern" environment. I've seen it with computer skills but most recently in an assumption that a traditional pipe organist cannot or will not, learn to play non-traditional church music on electronic keyboards. The problem is that the parties involved aren't being asked if they have the interest to learn. An assumption is made, action is taken and that's it.

We all have preferred ways of doing things. In the public section it's called WIIFM.."What's in it for me?" Very few of us move out of our comfort zones unless we can see something in it for ourselves. WIIFM could be new friends, a new skill, greater happiness, a more healthy life or a benefit for the community. Whatever it is, it has to have meaning for the people we're asking to change.

Most people don't immediately jump into whatever is new. That's for the cutting edge junkies. Something comes into wide-spread use when people begin to see how it can positively impact their lives. I remember telling a friend I thought phones with cameras in them were stupid. Then I found myself on vacation and camera-less but with a phone. You better believe the next phone I got had a camera. My point is this...if you are a person who is leading a technology change, don't assume those who say things like "Twitter is stupid" are not on board and never will be. Give them a chance by helping them see the possibilities.

1. Help them by teaching them or by leading them to the resources so they can teach themselves. The more someone uses something the more comfortable they become.
2. Remember the "learner's mind," that is, how confusing something new is to someone who knows nothing about it.
3. Ask them if they have an interest in learning about non-traditional music played on an electronic instrument or in understanding what an RSS feed is and does. Don't assume and then make decisions based upon your assumptions.
4. If after all of that, you decide the person really isn't going to be able to adapt, be kind to them. They deserve more than "you no longer fit our organization."

What's in it for you? How about living the values that demonstrate great leadership? Those don't change, no matter what world you inhabit.