President Obama has now appeared (yet again) on The View. He chose a show, he said, "that Michele watches." Uhhh... okaaay... please tell me you're not buying that. A man in his position is going to use milk toast criteria to influence a stainless steel strategy? Wait, maybe he's simply keen on pleasing his wife in an attempt to compensate for breaking his two-year-old promise to her that he would stop smoking!
He is, if anything, razor sharp when it comes to campaigning, and he is forever campaigning because it's what he does best -- so why would he deviate? No, he chose a venue where (a) he would reach lots of ... women... which is the category showing the greatest decline in supporters and (b) he would be surrounded by... women... most of whom were very obviously predisposed to behave adoringly. At least he is channeling his charm in a different direction than did Bill Clinton!
What do you have on your i-pod? Do you know Lindsay Lohan is in jail? Do you know who Snookie is? OMG, what an insult to all View-ers with triple digit IQs. I wasn't surprised, I was disappointed. Elisabeth tossed out the one question with substance, and then let him skate when he answered. As far as the panel goes, she was my one hope, but she has been growing increasingly docile and now, it seems, has gone over to the dark side -- no pun intended. And I'm talking about gushers, BTW, not Democrats. I won't be View-ing future seasons of The View after the farce that was aired yesterday.
To be honest I was getting pretty tired of fluffy celebrities hawking their tell all book, latest movie, or just released CD. Tired of affordable fashions and ditzy diet fads. Tired of Whoopie peering out from behind her floppy dreadlocks. Tired of the top heavy Sherry stuck chest deep on her divorce, her kid, her galavanting and herself -- not necessarily in that order. Tired of Barbara's faux humility. But more than anything else, I was SICK and tired of Joy's vitriol. What a bitter and pathetic excuse for a comedianne. If I had to choose who to toss out of a boat into shark infested water and it was between Joy Bahar and Nancy Pelosi, I swear I'd either find a way to toss them both, or I'd leave them behind and I'd jump!
But back to the president. I first became aware of Barak Obama when he spoke years ago at the Democratic convention, and I admit I was in absolute awe. What a presence! When we elected him as our first black president, I was proud of us as a nation, and hopeful that he would keep his campaign promises to unite rather than divide. Well, at least he kept one promise... he is transforming America. Regardless of what the majority of the people want, he is getting what he wants,and has definitely fooled some of the people most of the time.
Oh. Did you know the audience of The View that day was made up solely of the show's staff members, crew and favored friends? Not much chance of a heckler that way. And did you know he chose appearing on the popular daytime talk show over an invitation to the celebration of the 100th anniversary of the Boy Scouts of America? Way to go, Mr. President. Way to honor our most precious natural resource, the youth of our land, the face of our nation's future (rather than your own). And he did so without apology. Then, after charming the ladies of The View, he traveled to an event where he addressed teachers and complained to them about the frivolity the female panel had displayed. We have more important matters to discuss, he admonished. OMG. The nerve of the man. Love 'em and leave 'em... in the dust.
I didn't vote for Obama but when he won I wanted to support him and I tried to believe in him and now I wish I could trust him. But I don't. I'll take integrity over charisma any day of the week, but that's hard to find in politics. Come November, our president may find a change he wasn't bargaining for. Can more Republicans level the playing field? Who knows. Maybe it's six one way and half a... dirty... dozen the other.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Shirley Sherrod and The Secret
What has happened recently to Shirley Sherrod is interesting, ironic, and discouraging. We should be able to trust the media to get it right, and to remain objective in their coverage; but those days are apparently gone for good.
When we finally learned Ms. Sherrod was quoted out of context to come across as racist, what occurred to me is (1) how many times I've been misquoted by the press simply due to lazy reporting, and (2) how the technique of "words out of context" can be used deliberately as a weapon against the speaker.
Or to mislead others.
And this brings to my mind the research Frank and I did when The Secret (Rhonda Byrne's huge money maker) became all the rage. For starters, Ms. Byrne attributed a self-serving quote to Ralph Waldo Emerson: "The secret is the answer to all that has been, all that is, and all that ever will be." According to the Emerson Society (authentic experts and thorough in their knowledge of all things Emerson), no such statement (or anything close to it)ever existed. But here's the tactic used by Byrne that correlates to the Shirley Shirrod fiasco:
In The Secret Ms Byrne quotes Winston Churchill as saying: "You create your own universe as you go along." This statement appears IN CONTEXT as follows (in caps so that it's easier to spot).
“Some of my cousins who had the great advantage of University education used to tease me with arguments to prove that nothing has any existence except what we think of it. The whole creation is but a dream; all phenomena are imaginary. YOU CREATE YOUR OWN UNIVERSE AS YOU GO ALONG. The stronger your imagination, the more variegated your universe. When you leave off dreaming, the universe ceases to exist.
"These amusing mental acrobatics are all right to play with. They are PERFECTLY HARMLESS and PERFECTLY USELESS. I warn my younger readers only to treat them as a game. The metaphysicians will have the last word and defy you to disprove their absurd propositions.”
The quote Byrne attributes to Churchill actually represents the point of view of his COUSINS, with whom Churchuill did NOT agree! In fact, in his own words he declares such "mental acrobatics" to be "perfectly useless."
I have studied ancient philosopy, metaphysics and quantum physics. In all fairness, much of what The Secret teaches is valid; however, some of it is not; and the fact that Byrne felt it necessary to resort to shoddy misrepresentations to support her work, (a) detracts from her credibility and (b) disturbs me. Her public deserves better.
I disagree with Churchill's pronouncement that gullibility in this area is "harmless." Byrne sells the snake oil and includes the caveat that if it doesn't work, it's the fault of the person who bought it, not the person who sold it. She places full responsibiity on each of us as individuals, with no recognition of a divine force superior to man, with the power to intervene in our course of actions. Furthermore, victims such as those devestated by Hurricane Katrina or the 9/11 tragedy, for example, brought it on themselves, she says... giving no recognition either to the negative polarity that exists in our universe.
Her claims are not harmless. Indeed they inflict harm on those gullible enough to believe that, should they fall short of success following her teachings, their failure is their own fault.
Apparently the secret discovered by Ms. Byrne is actually how to make a lot of money selling a little truth wrapped up in a lot of b.s. Maybe she learned this from the modern day media. Or did they learn it from her?
When we finally learned Ms. Sherrod was quoted out of context to come across as racist, what occurred to me is (1) how many times I've been misquoted by the press simply due to lazy reporting, and (2) how the technique of "words out of context" can be used deliberately as a weapon against the speaker.
Or to mislead others.
And this brings to my mind the research Frank and I did when The Secret (Rhonda Byrne's huge money maker) became all the rage. For starters, Ms. Byrne attributed a self-serving quote to Ralph Waldo Emerson: "The secret is the answer to all that has been, all that is, and all that ever will be." According to the Emerson Society (authentic experts and thorough in their knowledge of all things Emerson), no such statement (or anything close to it)ever existed. But here's the tactic used by Byrne that correlates to the Shirley Shirrod fiasco:
In The Secret Ms Byrne quotes Winston Churchill as saying: "You create your own universe as you go along." This statement appears IN CONTEXT as follows (in caps so that it's easier to spot).
“Some of my cousins who had the great advantage of University education used to tease me with arguments to prove that nothing has any existence except what we think of it. The whole creation is but a dream; all phenomena are imaginary. YOU CREATE YOUR OWN UNIVERSE AS YOU GO ALONG. The stronger your imagination, the more variegated your universe. When you leave off dreaming, the universe ceases to exist.
"These amusing mental acrobatics are all right to play with. They are PERFECTLY HARMLESS and PERFECTLY USELESS. I warn my younger readers only to treat them as a game. The metaphysicians will have the last word and defy you to disprove their absurd propositions.”
The quote Byrne attributes to Churchill actually represents the point of view of his COUSINS, with whom Churchuill did NOT agree! In fact, in his own words he declares such "mental acrobatics" to be "perfectly useless."
I have studied ancient philosopy, metaphysics and quantum physics. In all fairness, much of what The Secret teaches is valid; however, some of it is not; and the fact that Byrne felt it necessary to resort to shoddy misrepresentations to support her work, (a) detracts from her credibility and (b) disturbs me. Her public deserves better.
I disagree with Churchill's pronouncement that gullibility in this area is "harmless." Byrne sells the snake oil and includes the caveat that if it doesn't work, it's the fault of the person who bought it, not the person who sold it. She places full responsibiity on each of us as individuals, with no recognition of a divine force superior to man, with the power to intervene in our course of actions. Furthermore, victims such as those devestated by Hurricane Katrina or the 9/11 tragedy, for example, brought it on themselves, she says... giving no recognition either to the negative polarity that exists in our universe.
Her claims are not harmless. Indeed they inflict harm on those gullible enough to believe that, should they fall short of success following her teachings, their failure is their own fault.
Apparently the secret discovered by Ms. Byrne is actually how to make a lot of money selling a little truth wrapped up in a lot of b.s. Maybe she learned this from the modern day media. Or did they learn it from her?
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Electronic Overload
As if I wasn't already confused enough, now that I'm blogging AND FaceBooking AND sending an occasional newsletter e-blast to nearly 2,ooo people, I have to sit in front of my monitor for a few minutes to decide where it is I'm supposed to be going with my fingers on the keyboard, and to do what? And why? And after I push the right buttons, what do I do next, to get there from here?
It's like reaching for my Blackberry to change the channel on the TV, or trying to answer the remote control when I hear something ring.
Which brings me to a pet peeve. I understand the reasoning (sort of) behind hiring workers in foreign countries to do telemarketing. But when I hear someone on the line who trips over their own tongue trying to pronounce the name of my business, and when they give their own name (Nancy or Susan or Robert or Jake, for example) and you have to ask them to repeat it three times before you can penetrate their accent, I lose patience. And they lose me. Click. It seems that our country is paying them not only to pester us incessantly, but also to practice their English on us when they've had few if any actual lessons. Then I feel guilty. Maybe I should have helped them out, like a teacher's aide does in our school system. "Were you trying to say pul-eeze or po-leese? Are you being polite or is this some sort of emergency?"
And what about those stupid calls when you run like mad to answer the phone and the line is dead or you hear some weird signal that isn't even a person. Next thing you know it happens again. Apparently there are machines that call us to find out when the best time is to have a non-machine call us. Or to fax us. Or whatever. Sometimes I make a pretty good guess at it when I see a weird number on my caller ID, but I've been wrong more than once and when I discover it's actually a client calling, I have to immediately switch from my "Why don't you just leave me the blank alone" voice to my "Oh! Great to hear from you" voice. This takes some amount of skill.
Yes, I've put my number on all the "do not call" lists I'm aware of, but this doesn't seem to help. I think it may actually be a scheme whereby your number is sold to other companies so they have more people to pester.
You know it's getting bad when you pull up a chair in front of the microwave and point your cordless mouse at its door, click away, and wonder what's wrong with your reception now, or when you push the button on your mattress warmer control expecting the ceiling fan to accelerate.
But worst of all is when you're talking to your husband about the chores you need him to do, and he points his electronic car key at you, trying to find the mute button.
It's like reaching for my Blackberry to change the channel on the TV, or trying to answer the remote control when I hear something ring.
Which brings me to a pet peeve. I understand the reasoning (sort of) behind hiring workers in foreign countries to do telemarketing. But when I hear someone on the line who trips over their own tongue trying to pronounce the name of my business, and when they give their own name (Nancy or Susan or Robert or Jake, for example) and you have to ask them to repeat it three times before you can penetrate their accent, I lose patience. And they lose me. Click. It seems that our country is paying them not only to pester us incessantly, but also to practice their English on us when they've had few if any actual lessons. Then I feel guilty. Maybe I should have helped them out, like a teacher's aide does in our school system. "Were you trying to say pul-eeze or po-leese? Are you being polite or is this some sort of emergency?"
And what about those stupid calls when you run like mad to answer the phone and the line is dead or you hear some weird signal that isn't even a person. Next thing you know it happens again. Apparently there are machines that call us to find out when the best time is to have a non-machine call us. Or to fax us. Or whatever. Sometimes I make a pretty good guess at it when I see a weird number on my caller ID, but I've been wrong more than once and when I discover it's actually a client calling, I have to immediately switch from my "Why don't you just leave me the blank alone" voice to my "Oh! Great to hear from you" voice. This takes some amount of skill.
Yes, I've put my number on all the "do not call" lists I'm aware of, but this doesn't seem to help. I think it may actually be a scheme whereby your number is sold to other companies so they have more people to pester.
You know it's getting bad when you pull up a chair in front of the microwave and point your cordless mouse at its door, click away, and wonder what's wrong with your reception now, or when you push the button on your mattress warmer control expecting the ceiling fan to accelerate.
But worst of all is when you're talking to your husband about the chores you need him to do, and he points his electronic car key at you, trying to find the mute button.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Happy This & Happy That
It all began a year or so ago when the girls -- Annabella (almost 6) and Evelyn (almost 4) came to visit and I said, "Oh, Gramma's eyes are so happy to see you!"
Then a few months back when they were getting a little loud while we were driving in the car. I said, "Girls, it makes Gramma's ears very unhappy when you are too loud." So they quieted down. Later they began to get a little snitty with each other. I said, "Oh-oh. Gramma's ears are unhappy again." So they changed their attitude. Of course it makes my ears happy when they hear the girls saying please and thank you and playing nicely with each other.
Then I told them once when we were hugging, "This makes Gramma's arms sooooo happy." Now when they see me they come running with their arms open wide, singing, "Happy arms! Happy arms!"
I tell them brushing their teeth makes their teeth happy, and of course we have to keep their hair happy too. Wearing their pink cowboy boots with the silver and stone decorations, makes for happy feet. Drinking anything out of a grown up (stem) glass makes their hands happy, and they tell me whipped cream and marshmallows make their tummies happy.
What I'm trying to figure out is how to get them to feel happy about their first swimming lesson this afternoon. They like to play in the water with an assortment of floating devices, but they do NOT like putting their faces in the water. And simply mentioning the upcoming lesson results in a heartbreaking look of sheer horror that makes me cry. So I'm not mentioning it again.
Their mother will be here soon to take them to the swim class. I'll wait, and let HER explain why they're getting in the car with their swimsuits on, and not jumping in the pool in Gramma's back yard to make all those floaty devices happy.
Then a few months back when they were getting a little loud while we were driving in the car. I said, "Girls, it makes Gramma's ears very unhappy when you are too loud." So they quieted down. Later they began to get a little snitty with each other. I said, "Oh-oh. Gramma's ears are unhappy again." So they changed their attitude. Of course it makes my ears happy when they hear the girls saying please and thank you and playing nicely with each other.
Then I told them once when we were hugging, "This makes Gramma's arms sooooo happy." Now when they see me they come running with their arms open wide, singing, "Happy arms! Happy arms!"
I tell them brushing their teeth makes their teeth happy, and of course we have to keep their hair happy too. Wearing their pink cowboy boots with the silver and stone decorations, makes for happy feet. Drinking anything out of a grown up (stem) glass makes their hands happy, and they tell me whipped cream and marshmallows make their tummies happy.
What I'm trying to figure out is how to get them to feel happy about their first swimming lesson this afternoon. They like to play in the water with an assortment of floating devices, but they do NOT like putting their faces in the water. And simply mentioning the upcoming lesson results in a heartbreaking look of sheer horror that makes me cry. So I'm not mentioning it again.
Their mother will be here soon to take them to the swim class. I'll wait, and let HER explain why they're getting in the car with their swimsuits on, and not jumping in the pool in Gramma's back yard to make all those floaty devices happy.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Here, There and Everywhere
I understand the concept of living "in the moment," and yes, there's a lot to be said for it. However, there are also times to revisit the past and skip forward to the future. Sometimes the last thing you want or need is to "be here now." When you're having a blood test or getting an injection, for example. Excellent time to leave the scene, mentally. Come back when it's over.
If we're always here now, isn't that like driving down the freeway and never looking in the rearview mirror, or checking out what lies ahead of you to anticipate and avoid whatever? I believe it's about balance. Look around you, Grasshopper, to see the sights, take in the smells, and get the feel of here now, but occasionally shift your focus so that you can (a) learn from the past in order to avoid repeating mistakes OR to draw upon an experience that is enriching; and (b) project into the future to (a) create an image of how you hope your life will be (remember it's written in the Bible that where there is no vision, the people perish) OR to consider options and make informed choices in advance. This is called being organized.
I leave for Alaska in 25 days. I'm pleased to say I've been there before (with Frank), so remembering my past trips makes me very happy, and anticipating the upcoming trip (with my daughter-in-law) excites me and motivates me to make calls, send e-mails, etc., to put our itinerary in order. (When I talk to someone on the phone who is in Alaska, I mentally travel there, which is a lot more fun that sitting at my desk.)
I've also calendared every Jennifer Lind / New Christy Minstrels performance I can get to through the end of the year, I'm expecting another granddaughter early September, I'm jazzed about a Horse Trail Trial ride I'm doing in October, and in November I'll be in Hawaii with my son who's turning 50, along with some other family members. The idea is to have things TO look forward to! A monk in a monestary is ensconced in routine, with every day being virtually the same as the one before it. Nice place to visit but wouldn't want to live there. In my world I want to skip around in time. And eat meat.
I feel very, very sad for the cows, chickens, sheep, etc. But I also feel bad when I pick a zucchini from my garden, bring it in, cut it up, put it in a salad or a frying pan, then eat it. Perhaps it isn't a "sentient being," but do we know that for sure? I mean, vegetation may have its own standard for setting the value of life. I think we have to ask, "What is the purpose of a cow? A Zucchini?" Maybe when we consume them for energy, we are helping them fulfill their destiny? Perhaps the best we can do is to maintain an attitude of appreciation and reverence. A little sensitivity...
On my way out to Brandi's pasture at the ranch I pass an old white horse named Isabella, who is literally skin and bone, dying of cancer. It just breaks my heart. I always glance that way to see if she's still there, knowing one day she won't be. Sometimes I stop and give her a carrot. Frank reminds me that in the wild, she would have been long gone. Food for the wolves. It isn't always a pretty world...
BUT! ALASKA IS BEAUTIFUL! This is me bringing myself back UP! See how it works? Looking back, looking ahead, visiting another place in our minds -- I believe we've been given this ability for a reason. And I'm here now making it a point to focus on the plans I just made to zipline in Skagway, for example, rather than dwelling on the fact that I'll be away from Frank for 14 days. Oooops.
ALASKA IS BEAUTIFUL. That's me, bringing myself up again.
If we're always here now, isn't that like driving down the freeway and never looking in the rearview mirror, or checking out what lies ahead of you to anticipate and avoid whatever? I believe it's about balance. Look around you, Grasshopper, to see the sights, take in the smells, and get the feel of here now, but occasionally shift your focus so that you can (a) learn from the past in order to avoid repeating mistakes OR to draw upon an experience that is enriching; and (b) project into the future to (a) create an image of how you hope your life will be (remember it's written in the Bible that where there is no vision, the people perish) OR to consider options and make informed choices in advance. This is called being organized.
I leave for Alaska in 25 days. I'm pleased to say I've been there before (with Frank), so remembering my past trips makes me very happy, and anticipating the upcoming trip (with my daughter-in-law) excites me and motivates me to make calls, send e-mails, etc., to put our itinerary in order. (When I talk to someone on the phone who is in Alaska, I mentally travel there, which is a lot more fun that sitting at my desk.)
I've also calendared every Jennifer Lind / New Christy Minstrels performance I can get to through the end of the year, I'm expecting another granddaughter early September, I'm jazzed about a Horse Trail Trial ride I'm doing in October, and in November I'll be in Hawaii with my son who's turning 50, along with some other family members. The idea is to have things TO look forward to! A monk in a monestary is ensconced in routine, with every day being virtually the same as the one before it. Nice place to visit but wouldn't want to live there. In my world I want to skip around in time. And eat meat.
I feel very, very sad for the cows, chickens, sheep, etc. But I also feel bad when I pick a zucchini from my garden, bring it in, cut it up, put it in a salad or a frying pan, then eat it. Perhaps it isn't a "sentient being," but do we know that for sure? I mean, vegetation may have its own standard for setting the value of life. I think we have to ask, "What is the purpose of a cow? A Zucchini?" Maybe when we consume them for energy, we are helping them fulfill their destiny? Perhaps the best we can do is to maintain an attitude of appreciation and reverence. A little sensitivity...
On my way out to Brandi's pasture at the ranch I pass an old white horse named Isabella, who is literally skin and bone, dying of cancer. It just breaks my heart. I always glance that way to see if she's still there, knowing one day she won't be. Sometimes I stop and give her a carrot. Frank reminds me that in the wild, she would have been long gone. Food for the wolves. It isn't always a pretty world...
BUT! ALASKA IS BEAUTIFUL! This is me bringing myself back UP! See how it works? Looking back, looking ahead, visiting another place in our minds -- I believe we've been given this ability for a reason. And I'm here now making it a point to focus on the plans I just made to zipline in Skagway, for example, rather than dwelling on the fact that I'll be away from Frank for 14 days. Oooops.
ALASKA IS BEAUTIFUL. That's me, bringing myself up again.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
A Night To Remember
Last night we went to a fundraiser at Micke Grove Zoo. It was a highlight in my life for many reasons.
1) We arrived early to get a good seat, only to learn that Jennifer Lind had reserved a place for us with her family. What an honor! VIP seating! And I was right next to her mom, which was a delight in itself. It was fun to bask in the glow of maternal pride, and to hear stories of Jennifer's childhood (over a very tasty steak dinner).
2) I was not only in the presence of a legend -- Randy Sparks -- but we all had the privilege and pleasure of singing Happy Birthday to him. (How many people can say they have sung to Randy Sparks?!) He's turning 77 this week. He doesn't look it. He can still charm an audience with his wonderful wit, clever lyrics, and distinctive voice. They don't make 'em like Randy Sparks anymore. I smiled so much that this morning my cheeks hurt. Driving home last night my palms were tingling from all the clapping.
3) Jennifer was on top of her game. She sang a solo love song to her husband that made my heart skip a beat. God, I love her voice. It's like none other I've ever heard. Becky Jo has a a scene-stealing stage presence, but oh, that Jennifer. I'm not sure but there may be a halo that appears when she sings. Well, you can hear it more than see it, but there it is, perched at an interesting little angle, almost touching one cute little ear.
4) We came out on top of the bidding with one out of three items we were interested in, and won the only drawing prize I was really hoping for. All this while feeling really cool that our money was going to a worthy cause (feeding the critters at the zoo). Which brings to mind Randy's remarks about charities. He so pushed my buttons! This was the fifth year that he has performed at this particular fundraiser, and it's his policy to do so on his own terms -- that every cent go to the cause... not 90% to "administration" and 10% to help out, as is so often the case. Way to go, Randy!
I've said it before but I'm going on the record with it here and now. Jennifer Lind is going places. On a selfish note (no pun intended), when she reaches the top I'll be able to say I knew her on her way up. I hope she's aware of the Zen concept: "When you reach the top of the mountain, keep climbing!"
1) We arrived early to get a good seat, only to learn that Jennifer Lind had reserved a place for us with her family. What an honor! VIP seating! And I was right next to her mom, which was a delight in itself. It was fun to bask in the glow of maternal pride, and to hear stories of Jennifer's childhood (over a very tasty steak dinner).
2) I was not only in the presence of a legend -- Randy Sparks -- but we all had the privilege and pleasure of singing Happy Birthday to him. (How many people can say they have sung to Randy Sparks?!) He's turning 77 this week. He doesn't look it. He can still charm an audience with his wonderful wit, clever lyrics, and distinctive voice. They don't make 'em like Randy Sparks anymore. I smiled so much that this morning my cheeks hurt. Driving home last night my palms were tingling from all the clapping.
3) Jennifer was on top of her game. She sang a solo love song to her husband that made my heart skip a beat. God, I love her voice. It's like none other I've ever heard. Becky Jo has a a scene-stealing stage presence, but oh, that Jennifer. I'm not sure but there may be a halo that appears when she sings. Well, you can hear it more than see it, but there it is, perched at an interesting little angle, almost touching one cute little ear.
4) We came out on top of the bidding with one out of three items we were interested in, and won the only drawing prize I was really hoping for. All this while feeling really cool that our money was going to a worthy cause (feeding the critters at the zoo). Which brings to mind Randy's remarks about charities. He so pushed my buttons! This was the fifth year that he has performed at this particular fundraiser, and it's his policy to do so on his own terms -- that every cent go to the cause... not 90% to "administration" and 10% to help out, as is so often the case. Way to go, Randy!
I've said it before but I'm going on the record with it here and now. Jennifer Lind is going places. On a selfish note (no pun intended), when she reaches the top I'll be able to say I knew her on her way up. I hope she's aware of the Zen concept: "When you reach the top of the mountain, keep climbing!"
Saturday, July 17, 2010
I'ts the Old Yin/Yang Thing Again
So. My grandson, who is a professional bull rider and bronc rider -- living out his cowboy dreams in Texas -- is back in California. Has been for nearly a week. Do I know this because he called, texted or came to see me?
No. I found out on FaceBook.
When I asked my granddaughter about this I discovered that yes, young Craig has seen his Dad (Craig the elder). And even though (a) I spent part of last night with Craig the Elder walking around together at Lincoln Center Live (an event he enjoys, I don't, but his wife couldn't go and he didn't want to go alone so I was happy to fill in), and even though (b) I always ask, "What do you hear from the kids? How are they doing?" and even though (c) I offered this morning to let my granddaughter use my truck till she can buy a car, and even though (d) I left a message on a couple of machines saying "I hear Young Craig is in California -- still, somehow, no one thought to mention to me that they have seen him! Meaning he has been, most likely, within five minutes of my house.
Hmmm...
Are my feelings hurt?
Maybe.
At the same time, I can look back on when I lived in San Jose and there were times I came to Stockton and didn't go to see my grandmother. Or even call her. So I understand. Priorities are priorities, and Young Craig is about having a good time, not about stopping by an old lady's house to give her a hug.
It doesn't matter that I used to change his diapers. It doesn't matter that from the time he started walking until he lost interest, every year on his birthday we drove him to The Broken Arrow Western Store on the outskirts of town to let him pick out his own little cowboy boots. It doesn't matter that I taught him in grammar school a neat way to learn his spelling words. It doesn't matter that we went to his rodeos when his father wouldn't, and watched him hit the ground and hit the fence and be hit by various parts of an irate bull. Over and over again. It doesn't matter that we bought him his first chaps, so he didn't have to borrow someone else's, or that we slipped him 20-40 bucks everytime we saw him, to help pay for gas. It doesn't matter that I am absolutely certain he found time to visit his other set of grandparents (his mother would see to that).
What matters is that I was deliberately left out of the loop on this visit, and not just by him.
It's the old Yin and Yang thing. In all good there is bad and in all bad there is good. Getting old is a good thing when you consider the alternative, and knowing that your kids, grandkids and great grandkids love you is a good thing too, but a bad thing when you're the only one reminding yourself of that.
This is the way I see it: When you're a parent, it's like you're driving the car and your kids are passengers. Then they start driving, but you get to sit up front. Then they start picking up other passengers, and you're moved to the back seat. Then the inside of the car fills up, and you're put in the trunk.
Need I talk about "kicked to the curb" being next?
As my almost-six-year-old granddaughter Annabella told me a year or so ago, "It's all a part of life, Gramma." I think she was talking about a broken crayon, and I was impressed with the philosophy lesson, taught to her by my daughter, no doubt.
I'm sorry now for the times I didn't phone or visit my grandmother. I think it's because my mother treated her badly, and I learned by osmosis to also deem her unimportant. That was also back when I was still trying to win my mother's approval, by being as much like her as possible (though I didn't realize this at the time. And, by the way, it didn't work. I never won her approval.) But my gramma lived alone, and I was the baby of the family. Now, in looking back, I'm ashamed of myself. I hope I made up for it later in life, when she lived her last year with me and my family in a nice home in the country, and I spoiled her all I could.
I don't live alone though, as she did, so less harm done. And speaking of looking back, my Honey is taking me to the fundraiser tonight at Micke Grove Zoo, where I'm hoping Jennifer Lind and Randy Sparks will sing their duet, "Looking Back." It's my favorite.
Maybe for awhile I can get lost in their music, and forget about being "forgotten" -- so to speak.
No. I found out on FaceBook.
When I asked my granddaughter about this I discovered that yes, young Craig has seen his Dad (Craig the elder). And even though (a) I spent part of last night with Craig the Elder walking around together at Lincoln Center Live (an event he enjoys, I don't, but his wife couldn't go and he didn't want to go alone so I was happy to fill in), and even though (b) I always ask, "What do you hear from the kids? How are they doing?" and even though (c) I offered this morning to let my granddaughter use my truck till she can buy a car, and even though (d) I left a message on a couple of machines saying "I hear Young Craig is in California -- still, somehow, no one thought to mention to me that they have seen him! Meaning he has been, most likely, within five minutes of my house.
Hmmm...
Are my feelings hurt?
Maybe.
At the same time, I can look back on when I lived in San Jose and there were times I came to Stockton and didn't go to see my grandmother. Or even call her. So I understand. Priorities are priorities, and Young Craig is about having a good time, not about stopping by an old lady's house to give her a hug.
It doesn't matter that I used to change his diapers. It doesn't matter that from the time he started walking until he lost interest, every year on his birthday we drove him to The Broken Arrow Western Store on the outskirts of town to let him pick out his own little cowboy boots. It doesn't matter that I taught him in grammar school a neat way to learn his spelling words. It doesn't matter that we went to his rodeos when his father wouldn't, and watched him hit the ground and hit the fence and be hit by various parts of an irate bull. Over and over again. It doesn't matter that we bought him his first chaps, so he didn't have to borrow someone else's, or that we slipped him 20-40 bucks everytime we saw him, to help pay for gas. It doesn't matter that I am absolutely certain he found time to visit his other set of grandparents (his mother would see to that).
What matters is that I was deliberately left out of the loop on this visit, and not just by him.
It's the old Yin and Yang thing. In all good there is bad and in all bad there is good. Getting old is a good thing when you consider the alternative, and knowing that your kids, grandkids and great grandkids love you is a good thing too, but a bad thing when you're the only one reminding yourself of that.
This is the way I see it: When you're a parent, it's like you're driving the car and your kids are passengers. Then they start driving, but you get to sit up front. Then they start picking up other passengers, and you're moved to the back seat. Then the inside of the car fills up, and you're put in the trunk.
Need I talk about "kicked to the curb" being next?
As my almost-six-year-old granddaughter Annabella told me a year or so ago, "It's all a part of life, Gramma." I think she was talking about a broken crayon, and I was impressed with the philosophy lesson, taught to her by my daughter, no doubt.
I'm sorry now for the times I didn't phone or visit my grandmother. I think it's because my mother treated her badly, and I learned by osmosis to also deem her unimportant. That was also back when I was still trying to win my mother's approval, by being as much like her as possible (though I didn't realize this at the time. And, by the way, it didn't work. I never won her approval.) But my gramma lived alone, and I was the baby of the family. Now, in looking back, I'm ashamed of myself. I hope I made up for it later in life, when she lived her last year with me and my family in a nice home in the country, and I spoiled her all I could.
I don't live alone though, as she did, so less harm done. And speaking of looking back, my Honey is taking me to the fundraiser tonight at Micke Grove Zoo, where I'm hoping Jennifer Lind and Randy Sparks will sing their duet, "Looking Back." It's my favorite.
Maybe for awhile I can get lost in their music, and forget about being "forgotten" -- so to speak.
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