Friday, January 14, 2011

My Favorite Day


There's nothing like a hot Saturday in July at the seashore, especially if Frank agrees to sit way at the end of the beach, toward Prout's Neck, beyond the life guards and hoards of people with blankets nearly touching each other. We sit quietly and watch the sun sparkle off the waves, read, nap, chat occasionally, bask in the heat of the sun on our bodies, dream and plan future vacations or places we must see someday. I wear my straw hat.

As wonderful as those days are, if I have to pick my favorite, favorite kind of day, that wouldn't be it despite how much I enjoy it. My favorite day is pouring rain or lightly snowing, especially early in winter, before I'm sick of gray and barren and snow. It could be a day just after a holiday when all is quiet. No one calls; we've just spent lots of time with them. No one visits.

I run early in the morning. I run better in the rain or snow, perhaps because truly I'm dying to get back inside so don't stop or slow down. I was told when living in London that rain is great for a woman's skin; I always remind myself of that as cold water drips off my ball cap and rain soaks through my running pants turning my thighs beat red.

On the gray afternoons, I light candles, turn on soft lights in the daytime, and pull inward. If my chores are done, I love to while away the hours in quiet cerebral pursuits.

I write. I move from laptop to PC, room to room, chair to chair. I listen to soft music, especially Sarah McLachlan's Wintersong or Sting's If On a Winter's Night. I read. I look at pictures in beautiful books I've saved for just such afternoons. I have a cup of coffee at 2:00 and a glass of wine at 4:00. I let my mind wander and peacefully dream. I love the quiet. I love the solitude. I love the seasons that foster this introspection....for this, I live in Maine.

Monday, December 27, 2010

Children


In Patti Digh’s book Creative is a Verb, she describes a time when her husband asked a doctor who had worked with children for fifty years what was his biggest lesson learned about kids. The doctor replied quickly:

“Never, never interrupt a child when a child is speaking to you.”*

Lightbulb. (Since turning forty, I have Aha moments often.) From the time my first son was born, my husband and I were in sync in raising children without even talking about values, goals, or what we each believed was right or wrong.

This harmony hit a road bump once my older son hit high school though. All of a sudden, my husband and I had lost our rhythm. Instead of dancing in unison, we were stepping on each other’s feet and getting in each other’s way. We had different opinions of when to get involved and when not to, what to say and when, what was a reasonable gift or purchase for them and what was unreasonable, when to push and when to pull back. As a man and a woman, as a father and a mother, with very different ways of showing emotion and love, of problem solving and communicating, it was certainly likely this disconnect would occur.

One of the first ways it presented was one day when I happened to be home from work early and when my son arrived home, my husband said, “How was your day? Fine?”

My son didn’t say anything for a minute, grabbed a drink from the fridge, responded like a robot, “fine,” and headed upstairs.

At dinner, I began to ask questions that required more than a yes or no answer. As my son’s day’s events began to spill out, Frank raised his hands in frustration and said, “Why didn’t you tell me that? You said nothing happened today.”

Oh my. I saw so clearly, we cannot answer for the young man when we pose a question. If we ask a question, we better be willing to give him a few moments to respond and we’d better be open to the answer even if it floors us and is not at all what we might imagine it would be. We can never hope to have the tough conversations with our children if we’ve never opened the space to talk about the trivial. And they’ll never tell you what really matters to them if you cut them down on the small stuff.

My older son is a deep thinker and in conversation, oftentimes, he has long pauses when you ask him a question as he digs down to choose just what he wants to say and what words he wishes to use. He is by nature a thoughtful and deliberate speaker. I have seen relatives at gatherings shut him down by not being willing to give him that pause, that space. Before they await his answer to their question, they keep talking; they move on. I can tell from his expression that he’s thinking if you don’t really want to know, then why are you wasting my time asking?

I've seen the same thing occur with younger nieces and nephews who might take a few quiet tries to get out what they're trying to say. If we move on too quickly, we will have missed an opportunity to hear them...and I mean "hear" more than simply literally.

As a manager, I’ve learned time and time again that it’s amazing what you’ll learn from people if you just ask a simple question and then give them the room to respond. I witnessed it so many times in the workplace that I knew it by the time my sons arrived.

Never, never interrupt a child when a child is speaking to you.

If we pause and open that space, if we show them what they say matters, what we foster will be the development of a person who can communicate with others, perhaps the most difficult but important skill any person can acquire in a civilized, caring, thoughtful society.


*Source: Digh, Patti. Creative is a Verb. Guilford, Connecticut: skirt! The Globe Pequot Press, 2011. Print. P. 81 www.lifeisaverb.net or www.pattidigh.com

Sunday, December 12, 2010

"Leaves Don't Drop (They Just Let Go)"


Following are the lyrics from the song written and sung by Carrie Newcomer on her CD The Geography of Light



~~~~ This song was given to me by my new friend, Courtney, and is written here in memory of my longtime friend, Frank Montello.










The truth I learned when I was eight
My dad swam the length of Spirit Lake
And it must have been a million miles
This I knew was true

My mother sang while hangin' clothes
The notes weren't perfect, heaven knows
Yeah, but heaven opened anyway
This I knew was true

'Cause leaves don't drop, they just let go
They make a space for seeds to grow
And every season brings a change
A tree is what a seed contains
To die to live is life's refrain

I left her with some groceries
Said "Check the oil and call me please"
And she said "Hey, Ma, I'll be just fine"
This I knew was true

'Cause leaves don't drop, they just let go
And make a space for seeds to grow
And every season brings a change
A tree is what a seed contains
To die to live is life's refrain

I traveled through my history
From certainty to mystery
God speaks in rhyme and paradox
This I know is true

And finally when my life is through
I'm what I am, not what I do
'Cause it comes down to you and your next breath
This I know is true

'Cause leaves don't drop, they just let go
And make a space for seeds to grow
And every season brings a change
A tree is what a seed contains
To die to live is life's refrain


The words stand alone as pure poetry but to hear them in Carrie's alto voice is expansive and divine. The song is available on iTunes.

Source: Geography of Light 2008 Rounder Records, Song written by Carrie Newcomer © Carrie Newcomer Music BMI Bug Publishing & Michael Mains BMI

Photo: Basilica of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, Boston

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

My Love


I show my love through my cooking. Perhaps to some that sounds shallow or lacking, but for anyone close to me, they'll hopefully understand. And more importantly, they've hopefully felt it.

I've never been a hugger. I don't say "I love you" regularly. Babies and animals aren't naturally attracted to me. However, I think I give off some good karma. I get smiles and nice gestures from strangers regularly, but I'm not someone you'd say is a natural at close physical connection.

Over the years I've been married, I've spent many hours in the kitchen over a stove, chopping, sautéing, grilling. I've ironed countless white tablecloths and set so many tables, I couldn't imagine the number. I've set tables for four hundreds of times; for ten, many times; for more, some times.

I love to cook. I love to eat, so luckily, I love to cook. I love good food, local food, healthy garden-grown food. Aesthetically, I love to combine colors and food types to present a well rounded and beautiful meal. I use visually-appealing dinnerware and napkins. I love candles, colorful platters, flowers, especially blue hydrangeas cut from my yard. Learning to properly set the table was one of the earliest chores I taught my boys (right after sorting darks and whites for the laundry which amazingly, they could understand at about the age of two!).

I've spent most of my non-work hours cooking for those I love; food planning, purchasing, and creating has taken up most of my weekend hours for twenty-five years. I take great pleasure in watching my hungry family enjoy a hot meal together at the end of a full day. I enjoy making fruit medleys or beautiful salads that are so tempting because of their vivid colors. My boys have always eaten fruit because when you chop it up and layer it beautifully on a pretty plate, it's appealing and they want to eat it. When you make it easy for them, they always will.

To me, there is something so loving in someone taking their time and effort to make you something from scratch. It won't be perfect. But it will be absolutely gorgeous because it was created specifically for you and as odd as this may sound, I can feel the love coming from the food when it is prepared with that sentiment.

I can only hope those I've cooked for have felt my love, have enjoyed the meal at table, and of course, the conversation that comes on the side. If I didn't hug them in that particular moment, I hope they felt my hug nevertheless.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Thankfulness


Hopefully, it's not just this time of year that we are mindful of being thankful. I try to do it daily but am not always successful, sometimes caught up in pettiness, wishful thinking or future planning.

I am thankful for my dear, dear, long term friend Renée. Renée is a person in my life I should cherish and spend time with because after doing so, I am always walking taller, my mind is filled with creative inspirations, and I believe in myself and the goodness of continuing to seek out what is most important to me. When I go to our semi-annual "sleepovah" group of girls at Renée's house, I never bring a book for bedtime reading. Her home is filled with wonderful new books for me to learn about; there is a always a new book on her guest room's nightstand that becomes my before-bed read.

At our October "sleepovah," of course, a wonderful book was given to me by Renée, Life is a Verb by Patti Digh. Another friend suggested I read a different book, a serious book, but Renée interjected that she thought this was more right for me. Right it was. The book provided me with so many writing prompts for this blog....enticing future tidbits for you, I hope!

One such passage I have to share now as we enter into the season of thankfulness is Patti's take on celebrating, whatever, because...why not? Patti's book was written after watching her stepfather die just 37 days after he was diagnosed with lung cancer. She asks what we'd do with our 37 days. What I know for sure is that my children, my husband, my family and friends get more from spending time with me than anything material I can give them....if when I'm with them, I'm fully present and focused on them; if I show them the caring I feel toward them; if I'm kind and loving and make an effort to make their time with me ones where they can feel the way I feel when I leave Renée...rejuvenated, uplifted. My children will remember the "feel" of being around me, not necessarily the words I've said or the advice I've given. In celebrating every day with them and being thankful just to be in each others' presence, we can give them more than anything bought from the mall. Simplicity is a word coming back into our country's vocabulary; might we ponder it a little at this time?

Patti Digh says when her first-grade daughter proudly exclaimed that she got a 30% on her first test, so proud because she got some right.....

"In our house, we sometimes run out of vital supplies like toilet paper, lightbulbs, and Purely Decadent Pomegranate Chip soy ice cream, but 365 days a year you can be sure of finding a rather impressive supply of birthday candles on hand for impromptu celebrations. You lived through the swim test? Your pancakes tomorrow morning will come to you in a blaze of glory. Today you're celebrating your half birthday? Get ready for a half cake after dinner. It's the first snow of the season, National Lightbulb Day, new-haircut day, leap year? Lighted cupcakes will no doubt line the floor from your bedroom to the dining table tomorrow morning. You survived your evil fifth-grade teacher who shall remain nameless? How about Cheerios with candles stuck through them for breakfast? You learned to tie your shoes? You fell off your horse and got back on? You read a 1,600-page book? You learned to cover your mouth when you cough? There are candles in your immediate future. Everyday, ordinary, daily life should be a rambunctious celebration, a focus on the positive, a paean to possibility and glee. Slow down, take time, encourage, celebrate your 30 percent."




Photo: Evergreen Cemetary, Portland
*Source: Digh, Patti. Life is a Verb. Guilford, Connecticut: skirt! The Globe Pequot Press, 2008. Print. P. 32
www.lifeisaverb.net or www.pattidigh.com

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Who Am I?






"Seek out that particular mental attribute which makes you feel most deeply and vitally alive, along with which comes the inner voice which says, 'This is the real me,' and when you have found that attitude, follow it." William James*

My boss and I used to interview a lot together. We developed a comfortable rhythm. I was yin to her yang. Doing it enough times, we had rehearsed who asked which questions; when each paused casually and listened; when the other played off something the first said. It wasn't a written script, but it was an engrained script from having done the dance so many times together.

Then, we got away from doing it together. I was a seasoned human resources person and would interview myself and just bring the final candidates to my boss, saving her time. Recently, we had the opportunity to do it again together and as sometimes happens when you get away from something for a long time, you see how much you enjoyed it.

We each had a new shtick; we weren't dancing the same dance any longer having been apart for years. She asked the perfect new question. It was perfect because I found, among every candidate, that it elicited truly honest answers. We caught them off guard. This question gave me a truer picture of whom the candidate was than any other question we had ever asked. And then, it gave me pause to wonder how I would answer it myself.

The question was: tell me about the best work experience you've ever had -- whether it be a task, a project, a job -- and why it was so. And then tell me about your worst.

In the first few candidates, I saw quickly that the job for which they were interviewing was completely wrong for them; they were applying for a job so unsuited to what they loved and what jazzed them. When I saw it happening over and over, it made me wonder about how people choose jobs, firms, long term careers. In just needing something, do they apply, and settle, for anything available?

For me, my best work experience in twenty-seven years was the first few times I spoke publicly at the Advent Software, Inc. annual conferences of 1,000 attendees about ten years ago. My sessions had 75-100 participants. Initially, I was nervous; I had butterflies -- something I hadn't had since acting in middle school. I had to focus and prepare thoroughly; I was pushed beyond my comfort zone. I achieved far better results than I would have expected - amazing what we can do when challenged. And, the love and engagement I received from the audiences showed me that what thrills and jazzes me is being pushed/challenged, stepping outside my comfort zone, leading, teaching, and engaging with a group of people in a positive way.

My worst experience was running a giant project in our firm of revamping our (dirty) basement files to segregate those that had been used in our company performance figures (a regulation requirement). The job was so horrible to me that I let all my staff off; I felt too badly asking them to do such a boring, dirty, frustrating job, so instead I tackled it alone, and it nearly killed me. The worst thing for my personality is to be locked in a dungeon doing mindless, dirty work alone for which I see no measurable success.

These best and worst experiences give you (and me) a clear picture of who we are. Might it be time to ask yourself this question? The results are THE answer for YOU of where you should be and what you should be doing.

*Source: Digh, Patti. Life is a Verb. Guilford, Connecticut: skirt! The Globe Pequot Press, 2008. Print. P. 106
Photo: Shelburne Farm, Shelburne, Vermont

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Living Downstream


Thanks to a suggestion from my friend Kim, I went to Bates College earlier this month to hear visiting author Sandra Steingraber discuss her book Living Downstream: An Ecologist's Personal Investigation of Cancer and the Environment. Sandra is brilliant; her book, well-researched and compelling; her life's work, a gift to our planet.

She grew up in central Illinois, on the east bluff of the Illinois River, from which they were never allowed to eat the fish. It has been contaminated over fifty years. Sandra was diagnosed with bladder cancer at the age of twenty. While some say cancer may be hereditary, Sandra offers that if the environment is key, isn't it natural that family members eating the same food, drinking the same water, and breathing the same air would likely develop the same cancers? Interestingly, even the animals in areas of our world mimic humans for the types of cancers they develop.

A parable opens Living Downstream:


"There was once a village along a river. The people who lived there were very kind. These residents, according to parable, began noticing increasing numbers of drowning people caught in the river's swift current. And so they went to work devising ever more elaborate technologies to resuscitate them. So preoccupied were these heroic villagers with rescue and treatment that they never thought to look upstream to see who was pushing the victims in."
Sandra says her research as a scientist for this book was her walk up the river. Once you read it, there's no going back. The evidence is too overwhelming to allow anyone to say there is no connection with what we, humans, are doing to our environment and the ever-increasing numbers of cancer patients -- an 85% increase in incidence from 1950-2001; 22% increase in childhood cancers, asthma, ADD, and the onset of puberty much younger. For persons 45-64, cancer is the leading cause of death - more than heart disease, accidents and strokes combined.

Sandra offers that the environment we are polluting had a huge uptick since World War II when the preponderance of DDT and other pesticides were introduced into farming. Sustainable farms with crop rotation were plowed down to plant overwhelming amounts of corn and soybeans and one-product farms bleeding the soil of its natural nutrients. We have thrown away the notion of "the circle of life" in our quest for more money and are becoming an ever-burgeoning wasteful and "throw away" society.

I am overwhelmed; it's easy for us to feel this way. There is so much I could change:
no microwave or dry cleaning
cloths instead of paper towels
cloth diapers instead of disposables
re-usable cups, not paper coffee cups daily
less make-up, nail polish, hair color
no chemical lawncare that seeps into my husband's garden
no harsh cleaning products
a clothesline
a bike, two feet

I should buy organic food, ride my bike with a basket to get there like I did in Denmark, go more frequently to buy fresh, use recycled bags, swear off pre-packaged foods, wash my dishes by hand, hang my laundry on the line, buy natural fiber rugs, furniture, and bedding. I should vote for people who agree with me, have a long term vision, and feel a moral obligation to do something, anything, one baby step at a time for our planet.

Sandra's book was published in 1997 and re-released this year. A documentary of it will be out over the next couple of weeks. She said this has become the issue of our time. In listening to her and reading her words, I wonder what we will do about it? What will we tell our grandchildren we did do about it?

She said when slavery was going to be abolished, people said it couldn't be done; the economy would tank. It was done because it was the right thing to do. When child labor was made illegal, again they said it would tank the economy; we needed those tiny fingers to produce the goods those kids were making. Again, the economy grew...and more importantly, it was the right thing to do.

What is the one right thing for each of us to do right now?



Steingraber, Sandra. Living Downstream: An Ecologist's Personal Investigation of Cancer and the Environment. Pennsylvania: A Merloyd Lawrence Book Da Capo Press A Member of the Perseus Books Group, 2010. Print. Photo: courtesy of Amazon.com