Category: Uncategorized

Shutdown or paid vacation?

This is my small, public service announcement–

Did you know whenever we have a government shutdown, whether the president is a Democrat or Republican, all the workers sent home are given back pay when the budget passes? Your tax dollars fund two, three and maybe four week vacations for federal employees. I am sure you are aware that federal employees already have a tremendously generous amount of vacation days and holidays.

Granted, it is never easy to have to make all your bill payments when your biweekly check isn’t deposited on time. Hopefully, these federal employees have grown accustomed to these threats of government shutdowns and keep money set aside for the next one. Perhaps, if the shutdowns occur on a regular enough annual basis, these public servants can start planning their vacations around them.

Wouldn’t it be great if inaction among members of Congress paid for you to take a vacation? Can you even imagine your boss saying, “I can’t get the numbers to work on the budget. Go on home. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back for all your time off, once I get this budget done?”

Is intellectual bullying as bad as physical bullying?

Last night, I had dinner with some really brilliant and accomplished women. These are women who just get stuff done. The conversations were fascinating, challenging, thought provoking, and more than anything, they were fast. We buzzed through topics and covered so much territory, with each person offering something, an idea or observation, that really made you think and stirred your beliefs and opinions.
I have enjoyed many conversations like this with my female friends. Some of them may appear to others to be arguments but it is really almost a form of intellectual sparring—someone brings up an opinion about a controversial topic, another person counters quickly with an example from history that illustrates the other’s opinion is flawed; that person comes back with a retort explaining how that time in history was different in due to X, Y and Z. It’s fast, it is fact filled, and there are no shrinking violets.
I have worked with, and am now the mother to, males who don’t participate in this form of discussion. The men I worked with were very smart. My sons are very smart. They think differently than these female friends of mine; they think slower. They process information at a different pace. This is especially true if it is a particularly emotional topic for them.
While I want to talk (who’s kidding who, I want to argue,) about things in the moment, these slower thinkers—which doesn’t in any way diminish their thoughts, need more time to digest things. They need a period in which to examine the input before creating any output. My younger son is kind of famous for his notes under our bedroom door. If my husband and I were angry with him, he said nothing; speech didn’t seem available to him. Always, there would be the most thoughtful and thought provoking letter left for us to read in the morning.
It has caused me to wonder if perhaps, with these men, and at times with my sons, I have been an intellectual bully.
I remember there being court cases against professional athletes, I think there was a boxer, who got into a fight with some guy on the street. The basis of the case was that this boxer wasn’t just getting into a street fight like any old person; his fists were highly trained tools. It was a completely unfair fight. We are very hard on men who hit women, and rightly so, women, for the most part, are not in a position to defend themselves against a man. Big kids are not supposed to pick on little kids on the school bus. We are an anti-bullying society.
You are not supposed to use your physical strength as an unfair advantage to beat a physically weaker person. What is it called when you use your faster mental processing skills to win an argument with someone who is probably your intellectual equal, but is just not in a position to defend their views on the spot–someone who needs time to process?
Certainly, there are many men who are very fast at processing information, and there are women who are slower at processing information, but from my experience, women, even young girls, are at a great advantage in their processing abilities. Maybe this goes back to the rape and pillage culture. Men were entering villages to rape women—those women had to make split second decisions to determine any options to keep themselves safe, while men only had to think of one thing.
Please know my awareness of my bullying through processing speed doesn’t mean anything has changed much. I want to go right into verbal battle about something, while my sons want to some time to think. I guess I have been thinking about future daughters’ in-law and how it would be painful for me to see my sons receiving this type of intellectual bullying from their quick processing wives. I hope and pray they marry women who say, “Do you want to think about this and either write your thoughts down or talk about it tomorrow?”
We have taught our sons to never, ever strike a woman, even if a woman hits them. What are the parents of these fast processing types telling their kids? Go for the jugular, get the win?

Borders around a Christian nation?

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For years, my older son said the same thing every time he called:

“Hello, this is Ethan Carey, your black son.”

We told him over and over that we knew his voice. We knew it was him. He could just say, “it’s Ethan.” It became a family joke. He still does it when he leaves messages just for fun.

We know him. We will always know him. I mention this because sometimes we hear talk about America being a Christian nation or how we have to return to our Christian values. I think of my faith and my values as I watch anti-immigrant news stories and I wonder, ‘if we are a Christian nation with Christian values, shouldn’t we all feel deep pain and sadness about our immigration crisis?

Regardless of how we feel about our borders, people being here undocumented, and whether they should stay or go, shouldn’t we be examining the issue of these peoples’ lives with great compassion, respect and concern?

When someone talks about “illegals” do they realize they are talking about a child of God–whom He knows? Do they know He knows their name, their life story and every hair on their head?

I wonder how my fellow Christians reconcile their faith with the very harsh language being spoken about immigrants. I wonder what Jesus would say about borders around a Christian nation. It is strange to even write–borders around a Christian nation.

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We’re all fat

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Women, we are all fat.  Fat is just the first line of attack.  If you aren’t fat, then you might be too skinny.  Or have a flat chest.  Or too big of a chest.  No thigh gap.  No butt.  No eyebrows.  Bushy eyebrows.

If a man or “women hating woman,” wants to shut you down, put you in your place, get you to stop talking or acting in a manner in which they don’t agree, they will go for a physical feature.  It’s cheap.  It’s easy, and it works.

Several sexist pigs, who represent and work with women, decided to go for the easy jab these past few days.  Here are a few of the highlights-

Judge Bailey Mosely in Texas called the marchers, “a million fat women.” (You can call his office by clicking on the word Judge for the number. I did and told the woman I was sorry she had to work in such a hostile environment.  She seemed very appreciative of the support.)

J. R. Doporto from New Mexico kept the fat joke rolling when he posted a meme about fat women marching. (Click on the link for his number)

Mike Causey @gocausey2012, N.C. Insurance Commissioner, also posted a meme about fat women marching.  Original, these guys.

First, a moment of silence for their poor wives and daughters.

Great, now that that’s done let’s talk about this form of controlling behavior and how we can confront it and let it wither away.

First, we all have something that can be attacked.  All of us, every single one of us.  I know what you are saying, “But Mary, Gisele, what about Gisele?”  Yes, Gisele meets all the requirements for being pleasing to a man’s eyes.  For now.  Today.  The unfortunate problem is, God willing, Gisele gets older.  And then, what will they say? (I know you know how to answer this)

“Have you seen Gisele?”

“The model, yeah.  She certainly went downhill.” (burp)

“I know.  She used to be so hot.  Now, she looks like hell.  All old and stuff.”

Or, if Gisele, attempts to deal with society’s pressure for her not to age-

“Have you seen the work Gisele’s had done?”

“Yeah. she looks ridiculous with those lips and all.” (burp)

Do you see my point?  There will always be something.  Maybe not today, but one day all women will have had to stand before a man and be judged.

We need to see it for what it is, an attack to keep us quiet, in the corner, not sayng upsetting things.

Second, we need to call it out when we see it, and we need to teach our daughters to do the same.  When we hear men say, “Look at Kathie Lee’s face!” and even though Kathie Lee is on the TV and not in the room with us, and we may not even like her very much, we need to say, “Why do you feel you are in a position to judge someone’s appearance?”

It’s just a question.

Let the silence envelop the room.  It’s your first time doing this; people are not going to react well.  Ask again.  If you get anything but a reaction of remorse for being so rude, then you gotta go for the jugular.  I’m sorry.  It must be done so they can understand how hurtful their behavior is.  Here is an example:

“I’m just curious why you, with that receding hairline, roll of digested Krispy Kreme’s sitting on your belt and nachos in your mustache make you feel you are in a position to judge her.”

Mean, I know.  Sometimes you have to experience it to understand it.

Finally, please tell me you aren’t one of those Judgey McJudgerson’s who makes themselves feel better by thinking how good they look in comparison to other women, and then I hate to even write it, please tell me you don’t say those nasty thoughts out loud.

Never talk about a woman’s appearance, ever, except in positive tones.  Always.  Everywhere.  Everyday.  Remember, you will have your day, and we’ll have your back.  Or backside.  Or nose.  Whatever they decide to criticize, we are going to be all over their ugliness.

 

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The good old days are real

I just spent an incredible weekend with friends I have had since I was eighteen years old.  Our early years together had problems;  we worried about exams, bad haircuts, boys who didn’t call and possibly missing out on a really fun party.

In our twenties, we worried about whether we were on the right career path and how to afford the clothes, apartments and vacations we wanted.  We were either dating, engaged or getting married so bad haircuts remained an outlying concern.

Our thirties were a bit more grounded with long term partners or husbands.  Kids had arrived, days were hectic and late night parties were part of our history. There were also issues with our families of origin that had always been there but became less tolerable for us.  Sometimes, when we asked about siblings or parents, the answer was, “I don’t know.  We don’t speak.”

And then came the forties.  Yowza.  That decade needs to come with a warning.  Nobody, and I mean nobody, gets out of their forties without at least one crisis.  If you don’t believe me, work really, really hard at being trustworthy, someone a friend knows will never divulge their secrets or problems to, and you too will know of the agony of the forties.

This is what I have learned — nobody gets out trouble free.  If it isn’t your marriage, it’s your kids, if it s neither of them, it’s your finances, your parents, your job, your health or a loved one’s health.

These are trying times for everyone.  What adds to the suffering is believing you are alone in your challenge.  You are not alone, but if you feel alone, maybe you do one of three things-

  1.  You share secrets.  Don’t do that.  It hurts really badly.  If someone is telling you something about their marriage, family, kids, job or health, take it to the grave.
  2. You don’t want to “contain.”  When we have a burden on our back, we want to share it.  It lightens the load, makes us feel better and sometimes nothing makes things better but a good listener helps.  You can’t cure cancer, pay someone’s mortgage or improve their marriage, but you can listen.  If it is too much to hear someone’s challenges, you might deflect them with platitudes like, “I’m sure things will turn around,” or “that happened to a friend of mine, and she…”  Just listen.
  3. You aren’t an active listener–ding, ding, ding, this is me, my problem, something I am resolving to fix.  When a friend shares financial struggles, don’t do what I do, and start bringing up news stories about how incomes have remained flat.  When someone shares their husband’s infidelity with you, don’t offer advice or suggestions about what they can do.  The very best people in the world, whom I am very lucky to know, say these two things:  “I am so sorry.” and “That is so difficult.”  They say them over and over again as you tell your story, “I’m so sorry you are going through such a difficult time.”  They can say it ten times, and all ten times it feels really good — like they really care and are just letting you have your moment when you just want to feel sad.  Tomorrow, you will get to fixing it.  Today, you just want to be sad.

One thing I have learned that seems so counter intuitive is, if someone starts crying, don’t put your arm around them.  Don’t sit next to them.  You can hand them a box of tissues.  That’s it.  Apparently, the other gestures are our way of saying, “Okay, you can stop now.  I need you to stop crying now.”  I know, it seems weird, but a good cry is a good cry, and who wants to interrupt someone’s good cry?

If you are in your forties or know someone who is, buy the four pack of tissues. I just turned fifty and wish I could go back to caring about my hair.

 

 

Save Me from You- Small Talk at Holiday Parties

Save me from you this holiday season, or my argument why everyone should have to go through sorority or fraternity rush to attend a cocktail party:

We may meet over these next couple of weeks, and I would like to prevent any possible awkwardness.  I want to help you become absolutely scintillating for three minutes or less and then have the option to fade away.  Yes, I am talking about holiday party small talk with strangers.

We can do this together, and I promise, it can be painless.

First, don’t avoid eye contact.  It is so obvious when we are standing near each other and then you decide you want to know what type of crown molding our hosts chose for their dining room.  It’s okay, you can look at me.  I won’t bite.

Because of our close proximity, I may say, “Hi, I’m Mary.”  I may even extend my hand to shake yours.  The appropriate response is not, “Oh.”  It is, “Hi Mary, I’m Jane, Steve,” or whatever your name is.

So now, we are making eye contact and know each other’s names.

You may be panicking about what comes next, I promise it is not rocket science.

Here are some common next sentences:

“This dip is delicious”

“Their decorations are beautiful.”

“How do you know (hosts names)?”

“Do you live in this neighborhood?”

“Have you tried the cocktail they are featuring?”

“Those are great shoes.”

“That is a great tie.”

These are some sentences to avoid:

“I’m not much for parties.”

“So, who did you vote for?”

“I don’t know these people.  My spouse made me come.”

“I can’t eat anything here because I am dairy, soy, gluten, protein, and carbohydrate intolerant.”

“Do you think it’s too early to leave?”

So, going with one of those first, common sentences, I may respond in agreement with you.  I may introduce you to my husband.  He may use one of those sentences, or, because he has a life, he may say, “So, where do you work?”

These sentences may set off a chain reaction of more sentences, thus leading to a conversation, or they may lead us to a dead end.  It will be a pleasant dead end where we have met, exchanged some pleasantries and done our parts as good holiday party guests.

I learned this three-minute conversation technique while going through four years of sorority rush.  It can be exhausting, but it can also lead to meeting some really great people.

I may even meet you.

From whom does my help come?

When I was a little girl, maybe six or seven years old, my family and I visited some relatives in Philadelphia, PA.  I was upstairs with my brothers and cousins and developed a nose bleed.  I was upset at the sight of blood and went downstairs, running to a relative for help.  Upon seeing me, this relative reared back her hand and slapped me hard across the face.

Others at the table where she sat were taken aback by her reaction, as was I.  I began crying, and she immediately explained that she thought I had gotten into my aunt’s makeup and had smeared red lipstick all over my face.  She didn’t realize I was bleeding, and felt badly about hitting me.

I share this story with you, because I feel we, like this relative of mine, have lost sight of what a cry for help looks like.  We aren’t reacting with compassion and a desire to understand, but rather with the same stinging slap I received as a child.

The election of Donald Trump is a cry for help from unemployed, or under employed white rural voters.

Players and band members sitting during the national anthem is a cry for help from people of color who are scared of their loved ones or themselves, dying during a routine traffic stop.

The speech from the cast members of Hamilton was a cry for help, asking our elected officials to acknowledge the racism, religious intolerance and misogyny experienced by our fellow Americans.

Women organizing to march in Washington is a cry for help against unequal pay, unwanted sexual advances and discrimination in the workplace.

Even the alt right, with its desire to develop a white nation state, is a cry for help as white people acknowledge their dwindling role as the majority in our country.

Clearly, there are several citizens who are not feeling a need to cry for help.  What race, sex and income group do you feel comprises the safest Americans?  If you can guess the answer as easily as I can, maybe we can all at least agree that while there is a percentage of our countrymen doing quite well, there are an awful lot of people who are experiencing a great deal of pain.

Maybe some of those people who are struggling will be sitting around your dining room table this Thanksgiving.  Maybe some of them didn’t vote for your candidate.  Maybe some of them don’t share your views.

What if, instead of arguing or choosing to ignore each other, we each asked, “how do you feel let down or left out?”  “What are your biggest worries?”  “What are your biggest fears?” and “What change do you hope to see?”

And perhaps most important of all, “what can I do to help?”

Many of our friends, neighbors and family members are issuing cries for help.  What if we lend our ears and listen to them instead of being quick to react and perhaps cause unnecessary pain?

On behalf of the Important

In October of 1995 I was working at a PBS affiliate in Pennsylvania.  On the third of that month, we all gathered together in one office to watch O.J. Simpson be declared not guilty in the murders of his ex-wife Nicole and Ron Goldman.

The trial had occupied water cooler conversations, dinner table discussions, print media, late night talk shows and evening news, except in one news outlet—The MacNeil-Lehrer Newshour. 

Robert MacNeil and Jim Lehrer never discussed the case.

Their lack of coverage prompted questions and criticism.  They lost viewers because people were eager to hear that day’s trial be recounted in detail on competing networks.

In an interview where they were asked why they didn’t cover the case, they said something worth mentioning on the eve of this historical election.

I’m paraphrasing, but what they said was something like, “We report the news that is important.  There are lots of stories that are interesting, and this case is interesting, but it is not important.”

Before MSNBC, CNN, Fox New and the myriad of other news outlets came into being, there was a half hour or an hour evening news broadcast on CBS, NBC, ABC and PBS.  The producers for these shows had to gather all the countless news stories of the day and decide which ones merited ninety seconds to three minutes of coverage.  It was an extensive culling process and the majority of the stories never made the air.

Then there was the explosion of cable TV news outlets with twenty-four hours of air time to fill.  It was the perfect place to air all the news stories that had been previously been edited into extinction.

Imagine trying to fill 24 hours with information.  It may not have seemed daunting, but then we watched as media mega star Oprah Winfrey launched a network which airs countless hours of reruns and refurbished crime stories.

It isn’t easy to fill twenty-four hours and maintain high standards.  What was once deemed interesting but unimportant suddenly makes the cut.  Sometimes it’s the lead.

So many of us are unhappy with the media.  We feel they are biased-they are.  We feel they don’t show the complete story—they don’t.  We feel they are trying to influence the election.  I didn’t think that was necessarily true until I heard Katie Couric respond to a comment that her interview with Sarah Palin had ruined McCain’s campaign, and she said, “thank you.” 

Media outlets are giving us what we want, what we will tune in for, listen to, read and share.  We go to the ones who share our views.  There used to be the Fairness Doctrine which required broadcast licensees to present the news in a manner that was honest, equitable and balanced.  The FCC eliminated this doctrine in 1987.

If you feel the country has gotten more partisan, it has.  It began in earnest with the repeal of this doctrine.  If you don’t like the media, know that they will change when we change what we want to see, hear and read—or when the Fairness Doctrine returns.

Until then, what’s interesting will win every time.

 

Standing for a Mediocre America?

I love my kids and hold them to high standards.   I never stop reminding them of their manners, and always expect high grades and responsible behavior.  I hold a beautiful vision for their lives and do everything in my power to make sure they stay on the right track and have a good future.

Your kids? Not so much.

It’s not as though I don’t care about them.  I hope they do well in school and stay out of trouble.  I hope things turn out okay for you and your family.  However, if your child comes to my house and doesn’t clear their plate from the table, I won’t make them stop what they are doing and return to the kitchen.  I expect excellence from my kids; I’m okay with your kids being mediocre.

I’ve been thinking about these different standards I have for my kids versus yours and how it’s rooted in my love for them and my high expectations for them.  I call them out when they make mistakes and I am kind of famous in this house for, “not letting things go.”

I’ve been thinking about this ever since watching Colin Kaepernick, other players, band members and cheerleaders kneel or raise a fist during the national anthem.

I have been wondering if their actions during the national anthem don’t make them the most patriotic people in the stadium.  What if they love America more than the rest of us combined?  What if they are treating America the way I treat my children and the rest of us are treating America the way I treat your kids?

What if all of us standing are content with mediocre America?  What if those people kneeling are not letting our country off the hook so easily when it isn’t living up to its ideals?

Half the kids in our country can’t read their classroom materials.  Are all of us who stand with our hands over our hearts saying, “hey, that’s pretty good.  Half is well, half.  Good job America!” the way I might tell your son, “Hey, a C is passing!”

Are all of us standing for the national anthem okay with the shooting of unarmed children and adults?  Do we think, ‘well, the occasional killing isn’t so bad as long as it doesn’t get out of hand?’  Do we think average is good and those who hold their fists in the air aren’t willing to settle for average?

The gap between the ultra-wealthy and middle and lower income families has never been greater—are all those standing before the game who aren’t in the 1% thinking things are just going to work out eventually and believing the Citizens United decision, allowing the ultra-wealthy to sway political campaigns isn’t affecting them too much?

Women are paid seventy-eight cents for every dollar a man makes.  When women stand during the national anthem are we saying, “keep trying America—you can do it–one of these days or centuries, men and women really will be equal?

Some people say those kneeling are being disrespectful to the military.  Twenty vets who fought for our country kill themselves every day.  When we stand are we saying, “I’m sure someone is working on that, plus it’s only twenty?”

Who really loves America the most—those of us standing and accepting mediocrity or those kneeling, holding America to a higher standard?

They’re leaving me

I talked myself down from the ledge at least seventy-five times this week.  The talks come about because of one recurring, torturous thought: “They are leaving me.”

They are my children who are leaving for college in one week.  They are healthy and relatively happy.  Life would seem to be good, and yet I find myself so overcome with a combination of fear, panic and sadness, that I’ll be driving down the road and let out a gasp, a cry, a sound, but no tears, just an aching sound with severe face contortion.  I can’t even cry.

What is so scary about them leaving me, and why have I been feeling it, although to a lesser degree, since I first took them to kindergarten?

I have seen Grey Gardens, I don’t want them to stay home and keep me company.  I want this next step in their lives.  I am happy for them that they will be enjoying four challenging, transformative, memorable and fun years.

So why is their leaving keeping me up at night with a racing heart?

The best I can come up with is this incredibly powerful protective instinct. Before kids, I had never known anything like it.  Being responsible for other human beings who are so vulnerable, is all consuming and completely overwhelming.

I remember hearing an interview with Maya Angelou where she spoke about a mother’s instinct.  She related a story about when her grown son was in Africa, on another continent, and got into a car accident.  He was going to be okay, but she somehow felt responsible.  That’s motherhood.  It makes no sense, but most moms hearing her story completely understand it.

Once you get into the groove of parenting though, you get used to being on high alert for dangerous situations and anticipating problems.  You get so good that eventually you don’t believe anyone, including your children themselves, can take care of them the way you can.

My kids are going to be two hours away, completely gone from my watchful eye, taking risks I would never have allowed, walking streets late at night completely unaware of possible dangers.

They are leaving me, and I won’t be there to protect them, and everything about that feels very wrong to every cell in my body.  How do I deal with this sadness, worry, anxiety emotional combo?

I yell at my children.

I yell because I am “future angry” with them—that is when you are angry over their potential bad behavior.

For example, I saw a car with sorority letters in the back window, zig-zagging, at a high speed, through traffic on Rt. 40.  Now, I need to go yell at my children about driving safely.  That’s future angry.

There are so many reasons to be future angry—walking home alone late at night, not getting proper nutrition, not getting enough sleep, not washing their sheets, drinking too much, no studying enough, not wearing shoes in the shower, etc.

It’s like the first time you hire a babysitter, only worse, because they are the babysitter.

And that thought sends me right back up to the ledge.

 

 

 

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