There is nothing harder to overcome than addiction. There is nothing harder to realize than the state of addiction. There is nothing harder to admit to someone else than addiction. There is nothing that feels so good as overcoming addiction. And, there is nothing that requires more intestinal fortitude and vigilance than remaining free of addiction.
A lot has been discussed in the media about the various addictions of various celebrities, whether in music, sports or film. A lot of negative judgements have been levelled against these people which all begin with "He/she should have..." Should have what? It only takes 30 days to build a habit. Addiction is so subtle and insidious that it hardly seems harmful.
Cocaine is often referred to a "just a little bump" when energy flaggs. Alcohol is just a drink with friends after work. Cigarettes offer a rush with the first drag, followed by a feeling relaxation. When it comes to sex, some people can't get enough of that buzz that a "first time" with someone causes. It's just that you can only have a first time with a partner once. Nothing can kill that buzz faster than a commited relationship. Of course, the partner is loved, but that buzz never comes back. Now how many desserts have you devoured with the exclamation that oh, my god this is orgasmic? Buzz. Regardless of the source of the buzz, we all continue to want more of whatever it was. What can it hurt; I know my limits. Famous last words.
I'm someone who is very careful about health and nutrition. However, I have always had a "sweet tooth," especially for chocolate anything. The word for it is "choclaholic." Hello, my name is Daniel and I am a choclaholic. I work out at the gym 3-4 times a week. I feel better than I ever have. I look good, but I don't have the body I envisioned when I joined the gym. I decided that my "cheat treats" on the weekends were the cause for my lack of progress. I had just ordered Girl Scout cookies, but I decided that I was going to banish pastries, candy, yes, including dark chocolate which I always referred to as vitamins, from my world. I named Ash Wednesday as the day to begin my new commitment. I am no longer a practising Catholic, but I figured the Holy Day was a great defense. On my own, well-meaning friends would say, "Oh one brownie isn't going to kill you. Start tomorrow." Everyone respects the act of giving up something for Lent. So Lent was my cover. Easter is this coming Sunday, so it will be slightly more than 40 days since my lips met Little Debbie's. It's a little more than 40 days because the Church doesn't consider Sundays as days of Lent, just so you know how I count.
I quit smoking 27 years ago. I have never wanted one since. In fact, the smell of cigarette smoke nauseates me. I want you to know that breaking my connection to processed sugar was by far more difficult. The cravings were incredible and the longer I went without, the more I wanted. I rushed through the grocery store because Little Debbie's screaming was too much!
I have resisted. I have conquered. The cravings have gone. However, the voice of the addiction still whispers. "Once Easter gets here, you should have a little something to celebrate." Or the deal maker voice, "Now that you've come this far, you'll control it better next time." Well, this would be like Sue Ellen Ewing having a glass of white wine to celebrate her graduation from Betty Ford!
While my Lenten battle is not on par with the problems of the celebrities the media thrives on, it was as powerful an inner battle as I ever care to fight. I understand the pressure of the constant temptation. I understand the resolve and the relapse. I respect their battles and wish them godspeed in victory. And more than that, I wish the media would give them the private space to heal. Someone's personal turmoil shouldn't be anyone's buzz.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
The Late Great You Now
One of the best known characters Charles Dickens created is Ebeneezer Scrooge. We may not like to admit it, but we tend to be a lot like him. We get so caught up in the busy-ness of life that we miss out on the living of it. As you recall, Scrooge is visited by three ghosts who help him transform his life.
The Ghost of Christmas Past, reminds him of his youth. He is young and optimistic, fun to be with and loving. He is just starting his career, working for a man who is a mentor in living as well as working. Scrooge is happy, and in love.
The Ghost of Christmas Present is an interventionist. This apparition shows him the person he has become. He is fixated on the accumulation of money, but he has forgotten how to use it. He is disdaneful of other people, but then he doesn't treat himself very well either. He doesn't provide himself with proper light at night nor warmth. He doesn't even feed himself very well. Inspite of his wealth, he is unhappy and unloved, except for his only nephew. His late sister's son believes the soul of the person his mother loved is locked away inside of Ebeneezer somewhere. He tries every Christmas to lure him out with the love of family.
The Ghost of Christmas Future takes Ebenezzer to a grave that is covered over with weeds. The money he pursued doesn't maintain his grave. The people from whom he isolated himself stay away. His life meant nothing; his death even less.
In the current state of our ecomony, we naturally focus our attention on having enough money to keep a roof overhead and food on the table. When money is tight and prices are high, people tend to become more frugal. The danger is that stinginess is only a breath away from frugal. Our world shrinks to fit our wallet. When asked to contribute to charity, we claim we have nothing to share.
You might be wondering why I'm writing about a Christmas story on Palm Sunday. After all, we are just about to celebrate Passover and Easter. Think about what these holy days are for. The days leading up to Passover prepare us to leave our old lives, our old ways of thinking behind. As we begin the journey to becoming our legendary selves, we will keep ourselves motived by reminding ourselves of why we're doing this; why this is important; why we have to suffer by breaking old habits, and perhaps, losing some friends; why we want so much to be happy and fulfilled. Easter celebrates resurrection. Again, it brings a message of new life. As the renewal of vision, hope and determination, it is the promise that we won't simply end on our final day. Ebenezzer Scrooge was indeed "resurrected," giving him new life to do what he needed to do to be remembered as a man who was joyful and encouraging, who contributed to his community. His friend and former partner, Marley, marked him to be passed over by Death, who awaited him with the chains he had forged for himself. Instead, He was to be remembered as a loving and kind uncle, and a mentor to Tiny Tim.
Several of the inspirational books I have read, including Dr. Norman Vincent Peale's "The Power of Positive Thinking" offers a very useful suggestion. Write your own obituary. Project yourself to the end of you life and write about your accomplishments, your contributions to your community, organizations to which you donated your time and/or money. Include everything you are leaving behind that matters to you, or that you think will matter to someone else. This will serve as your Ghost of Christmas Future. This is what people will recall and say about you. This is your legend.
The Ghost of Christmas Past, reminds him of his youth. He is young and optimistic, fun to be with and loving. He is just starting his career, working for a man who is a mentor in living as well as working. Scrooge is happy, and in love.
The Ghost of Christmas Present is an interventionist. This apparition shows him the person he has become. He is fixated on the accumulation of money, but he has forgotten how to use it. He is disdaneful of other people, but then he doesn't treat himself very well either. He doesn't provide himself with proper light at night nor warmth. He doesn't even feed himself very well. Inspite of his wealth, he is unhappy and unloved, except for his only nephew. His late sister's son believes the soul of the person his mother loved is locked away inside of Ebeneezer somewhere. He tries every Christmas to lure him out with the love of family.
The Ghost of Christmas Future takes Ebenezzer to a grave that is covered over with weeds. The money he pursued doesn't maintain his grave. The people from whom he isolated himself stay away. His life meant nothing; his death even less.
In the current state of our ecomony, we naturally focus our attention on having enough money to keep a roof overhead and food on the table. When money is tight and prices are high, people tend to become more frugal. The danger is that stinginess is only a breath away from frugal. Our world shrinks to fit our wallet. When asked to contribute to charity, we claim we have nothing to share.
You might be wondering why I'm writing about a Christmas story on Palm Sunday. After all, we are just about to celebrate Passover and Easter. Think about what these holy days are for. The days leading up to Passover prepare us to leave our old lives, our old ways of thinking behind. As we begin the journey to becoming our legendary selves, we will keep ourselves motived by reminding ourselves of why we're doing this; why this is important; why we have to suffer by breaking old habits, and perhaps, losing some friends; why we want so much to be happy and fulfilled. Easter celebrates resurrection. Again, it brings a message of new life. As the renewal of vision, hope and determination, it is the promise that we won't simply end on our final day. Ebenezzer Scrooge was indeed "resurrected," giving him new life to do what he needed to do to be remembered as a man who was joyful and encouraging, who contributed to his community. His friend and former partner, Marley, marked him to be passed over by Death, who awaited him with the chains he had forged for himself. Instead, He was to be remembered as a loving and kind uncle, and a mentor to Tiny Tim.
Several of the inspirational books I have read, including Dr. Norman Vincent Peale's "The Power of Positive Thinking" offers a very useful suggestion. Write your own obituary. Project yourself to the end of you life and write about your accomplishments, your contributions to your community, organizations to which you donated your time and/or money. Include everything you are leaving behind that matters to you, or that you think will matter to someone else. This will serve as your Ghost of Christmas Future. This is what people will recall and say about you. This is your legend.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Soundtracks
Film directors use music to heighten the emotions of a scene. The music clues the viewer to suspense and danger, or passion, love, exhilaration. As we live through the dramas of our daily lives, it might be good to attune ourselves to our own soundtracks. The attitude of Gratitude provides the music, but where do the lyrics come from?
I believe our lyricist is Kindness. It soothes our voices, taking the edge off what is said in irritation or anger. The language of Kindess is respectful and loving, even when it expresses firmness or behavior correction. Kindness invites people to approach us and lets them know that we intend no harm.
There is a song recorded by Diana Ross and the Supremes that says, "Whenever you're near, I hear a symphony, a tender melody, pulling me closer, closer to your arms." When we review the events and personal encounters of our day, the soundtrack provided by Gratitude and Kindess will let us know we were legendary that day. It is a song our hearts will sing through the final reel.
I believe our lyricist is Kindness. It soothes our voices, taking the edge off what is said in irritation or anger. The language of Kindess is respectful and loving, even when it expresses firmness or behavior correction. Kindness invites people to approach us and lets them know that we intend no harm.
There is a song recorded by Diana Ross and the Supremes that says, "Whenever you're near, I hear a symphony, a tender melody, pulling me closer, closer to your arms." When we review the events and personal encounters of our day, the soundtrack provided by Gratitude and Kindess will let us know we were legendary that day. It is a song our hearts will sing through the final reel.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Definitions or Perspective
Someone recently commented to me that "the definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over, expecting different results." I suppose that would be true to someone who "beats his head against a wall." It could probably be said of someone who spends all his money on get rich quick schemes. However, isn't this also the definition of practise?
When I was taking piano lessons, I would have to play the same piece, sometimes just a particular musical phrase over and over trying to get it just right. In the meantime, my family was being driven mad! There was no changing Mozart or Chopin. The notes remained the same. It was how I was playing them that had to change. It was a matter of absolute timing, perfect fingering, the bridge of the hand, a lilt, or no lilt. I wasn't insane, just determined.
Whether a student in speech or drama class, or as an actor learning a part, repetiton, repetition, repetition learns the lines to say, the action or gesture to make on the line. The only person I have ever heard of who could skip the memorization element was Tallulah Bankhead. She never even looked at a script if she could get someone to read it to her. Two complete readings and she had every single one of her lines memorized. For the rest of us, it's a matter of delivering the speech until we can do so letter-perfect. Not insane, professional.
When we love someone, we may find ourselves performing some task repeatedly, with the silent hope of appreciation. Mothers especially do this for their children and perhaps even their husbands; the picking up after them, hanging or folding clothes to put them away, placing toys where they belong, making beds. Day in and day out, hoping that one day the people she lives with will catch on and do it for themselves. In lieu of that, a thank you would be nice. Insane? No, it's just what Moms and wives do.
People who pray, pray daily in one form or another. Sometimes they get the answer they want quickly; sometimes it takes a while. Sometimes the answer isn't the one they expected. They don't stop praying. The act of prayer, the quiet time of "be still and know I am god," gives them a connection to something bigger than themselves. It is the feeling of that connectedness that keeps them praying, not the results. I don't know of anyone who keeps a prayer score card. When they hit a quota of unanswered prayers, they don't throw hands in the air exclaiming, "This is insane! I'm not doing this anymore." Prayerfulness is a practise, like playing the piano, learning a speech or a part in a play. It provides a perspective and focus on the goodness around us. We are led to yet another activity, gratitude.
We make a practise of giving thanks to the Divine and to each other. The reason for this is twofold: the obvious is that every day, every hour, every moment there is something more requiring our gratitude; secondly, and most importantly, we give thanks over and over until we can do it sincerely and without expectation of receiving anything else. We humans have a tendency of doing/giving in order to get. We tithe, and expect to be blessed for it. We thank someone expecting to be thanked when we do something for them next time. Sometimes, people thank someone in a very public way, expecting the witnesses to hold them in high esteem. Developing sincere gratitude takes practise. It is a most worthwhile goal.
Legendary people get that way by practise. Other people give up. So who's insane?
When I was taking piano lessons, I would have to play the same piece, sometimes just a particular musical phrase over and over trying to get it just right. In the meantime, my family was being driven mad! There was no changing Mozart or Chopin. The notes remained the same. It was how I was playing them that had to change. It was a matter of absolute timing, perfect fingering, the bridge of the hand, a lilt, or no lilt. I wasn't insane, just determined.
Whether a student in speech or drama class, or as an actor learning a part, repetiton, repetition, repetition learns the lines to say, the action or gesture to make on the line. The only person I have ever heard of who could skip the memorization element was Tallulah Bankhead. She never even looked at a script if she could get someone to read it to her. Two complete readings and she had every single one of her lines memorized. For the rest of us, it's a matter of delivering the speech until we can do so letter-perfect. Not insane, professional.
When we love someone, we may find ourselves performing some task repeatedly, with the silent hope of appreciation. Mothers especially do this for their children and perhaps even their husbands; the picking up after them, hanging or folding clothes to put them away, placing toys where they belong, making beds. Day in and day out, hoping that one day the people she lives with will catch on and do it for themselves. In lieu of that, a thank you would be nice. Insane? No, it's just what Moms and wives do.
People who pray, pray daily in one form or another. Sometimes they get the answer they want quickly; sometimes it takes a while. Sometimes the answer isn't the one they expected. They don't stop praying. The act of prayer, the quiet time of "be still and know I am god," gives them a connection to something bigger than themselves. It is the feeling of that connectedness that keeps them praying, not the results. I don't know of anyone who keeps a prayer score card. When they hit a quota of unanswered prayers, they don't throw hands in the air exclaiming, "This is insane! I'm not doing this anymore." Prayerfulness is a practise, like playing the piano, learning a speech or a part in a play. It provides a perspective and focus on the goodness around us. We are led to yet another activity, gratitude.
We make a practise of giving thanks to the Divine and to each other. The reason for this is twofold: the obvious is that every day, every hour, every moment there is something more requiring our gratitude; secondly, and most importantly, we give thanks over and over until we can do it sincerely and without expectation of receiving anything else. We humans have a tendency of doing/giving in order to get. We tithe, and expect to be blessed for it. We thank someone expecting to be thanked when we do something for them next time. Sometimes, people thank someone in a very public way, expecting the witnesses to hold them in high esteem. Developing sincere gratitude takes practise. It is a most worthwhile goal.
Legendary people get that way by practise. Other people give up. So who's insane?
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Where's the pony?
Let's face it, when it comes to being critiqued we all want praise. Anything else is thought to be hurtful, hateful, or mean. Sometimes, the lessons we need to learn the most are the most painful. Oftentimes, this pain comes from people we thought loved us or at least had our backs. It is so much nicer when someone comes into our lives to show us how to have a good time, isn't it?
People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. In school as the student progresses from one grade level to the next, teachers come and go. It is simply the way school works. The impermanence is a constant, accepted state of being. The student is instructed, corrected, graded and graduates to the next level. In adulthood, the same coming and going of people can be a constant source of hurt and insecurity. The lessons become more personal and internalized. The system changes to a pass/fail, and our mentality is all or nothing. Advancing to the next level is more subtle.
As a college student working in retail, I had a wonderful department manager. He never openly criticized any of his staff. He would just make a simple statement, observe the reaction and move on. I well remember him coming up to a group of us who were chatting and saying, "You know, Gang, it's amazing that when the mouth opens, the eyes go shut." In that moment we realized that our conversation had blinded us to the customers who needed our assistance. Under his tutelage, I advanced from part-time, to full time sales associate.
Life lessons don't always come as easy. The confrontations to our egos are the toughest. These are the ones that are the pass/fail classes. Sometimes love relationships evolve into solid friendships, if we allow them. Ususally we don't. We dig in our heels with the ultimatum, "If you don't love me, you must hate me." There are fights and arguments until all feelings of love and friendship are destroyed. By trying to "stake a claim," we utilize a "scorched earth policy" that benefits no one. I am guilty of this one. I once was involved with an actor-singer-dancer who came into my life at the best time and the worst time of my life. I was absolutely obsessed with him. At his 40th birthday party, I met quite a number of former beaus he has retained as really good friends. Afterwards, I told my dancer, that if we were to break up I wasn't joining the chorusline of old lovers. I was a headliner or else I wouldn't be in the show. My all or nothing attitude has caused me to miss out any possible life sharing because we did break up. I learned the hard way that one person can't argue another person to remain in a love relationship. It isn't a court case. Since then, I have had the opportunity to be on the receiving end of the love ultimatum. I didn't like it; it also didn't work. We are, however, still friends. This is why I say that the dancer came into my life at the wrong time. I wasn't really ready for the relationship. I wish I had had the last experience first, and then I might have responded more appropriately to the dancer who offered, "Isn't something better than nothing?" I said no, when I should have at least said maybe.
Occassionally, the life lesson brings with it a sense of betrayal. The teacher is someone we really respect and like. We think this person has our back. Then something occurs that disproves that theory in our minds. We get blind-sighted and "hit by a bus" when we should have at least had some sort of warning that the bus was coming. Such cases, I believe carry lessons for both individuals involved. The person the bus hit gets a "rude awakening," but it's an awakening just the same. The driver of the bus is given a lesson in tact, diplomacy, and the meaning of friendship through the loss of the sacrificed friend. Once again, a lesson in communication was failed because of an all or nothing stance.
I suppose the bottom line here can best be summed up with my favorite expression: Whenever you're up to your neck in crap, keep you mouth shut and look for the pony! The pony may have created the mess, but it's also your ride out of it, and a step closer to living a legendary life.
People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. In school as the student progresses from one grade level to the next, teachers come and go. It is simply the way school works. The impermanence is a constant, accepted state of being. The student is instructed, corrected, graded and graduates to the next level. In adulthood, the same coming and going of people can be a constant source of hurt and insecurity. The lessons become more personal and internalized. The system changes to a pass/fail, and our mentality is all or nothing. Advancing to the next level is more subtle.
As a college student working in retail, I had a wonderful department manager. He never openly criticized any of his staff. He would just make a simple statement, observe the reaction and move on. I well remember him coming up to a group of us who were chatting and saying, "You know, Gang, it's amazing that when the mouth opens, the eyes go shut." In that moment we realized that our conversation had blinded us to the customers who needed our assistance. Under his tutelage, I advanced from part-time, to full time sales associate.
Life lessons don't always come as easy. The confrontations to our egos are the toughest. These are the ones that are the pass/fail classes. Sometimes love relationships evolve into solid friendships, if we allow them. Ususally we don't. We dig in our heels with the ultimatum, "If you don't love me, you must hate me." There are fights and arguments until all feelings of love and friendship are destroyed. By trying to "stake a claim," we utilize a "scorched earth policy" that benefits no one. I am guilty of this one. I once was involved with an actor-singer-dancer who came into my life at the best time and the worst time of my life. I was absolutely obsessed with him. At his 40th birthday party, I met quite a number of former beaus he has retained as really good friends. Afterwards, I told my dancer, that if we were to break up I wasn't joining the chorusline of old lovers. I was a headliner or else I wouldn't be in the show. My all or nothing attitude has caused me to miss out any possible life sharing because we did break up. I learned the hard way that one person can't argue another person to remain in a love relationship. It isn't a court case. Since then, I have had the opportunity to be on the receiving end of the love ultimatum. I didn't like it; it also didn't work. We are, however, still friends. This is why I say that the dancer came into my life at the wrong time. I wasn't really ready for the relationship. I wish I had had the last experience first, and then I might have responded more appropriately to the dancer who offered, "Isn't something better than nothing?" I said no, when I should have at least said maybe.
Occassionally, the life lesson brings with it a sense of betrayal. The teacher is someone we really respect and like. We think this person has our back. Then something occurs that disproves that theory in our minds. We get blind-sighted and "hit by a bus" when we should have at least had some sort of warning that the bus was coming. Such cases, I believe carry lessons for both individuals involved. The person the bus hit gets a "rude awakening," but it's an awakening just the same. The driver of the bus is given a lesson in tact, diplomacy, and the meaning of friendship through the loss of the sacrificed friend. Once again, a lesson in communication was failed because of an all or nothing stance.
I suppose the bottom line here can best be summed up with my favorite expression: Whenever you're up to your neck in crap, keep you mouth shut and look for the pony! The pony may have created the mess, but it's also your ride out of it, and a step closer to living a legendary life.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Try This On For Size
People try on all sorts of things: clothes, shoes, philosophies, religions, even attitudes. I remember when I was taking a college class called "Abnormal Psychology," the professor gave the class a warning in his first lecture. He said we were about to enter the "disorder of the week" zone. He explained that as we studied various psychological disorders, there would be elements of them that could make us identify with it enough to make us question our sanity. The mathematical theorem if A=B and B=C, then A=C does not apply to extremes nor to breaks in the cognitive function of the human psyche. Yes, there would be elements of dysfunction that we would recognize in ourselves. The difference would be how we process and respond. His warning was intended to ward us off the delusions of self-diagnosis.
My former partner use to exclaim that Americans are the great embracers. The clever catch phrase enters the popular lingo almost instantly. A new diet craze sells books, talk shows and supplements. The lingo lasts until someone decides it's cliche. A particular diet is nothing more than the flavor of the month, no make that the flavor of the week! When it comes adopting a new attitude, well, the shelves at the local bookstore are sagging under the weight of "I'm Okay, You're Okay," "The Power of Positive Thinking," along with an array of books with titles that begin with phrases such as "seven things you should know, do, think, eat." Don't forget "seven steps to a new you, finding your perfect mate, to success, to increased wealth, to happiness." Funny that we can look at a plant and see signs of new growth. We can watch a puppy grow into a favorite companion. However, when we want to examine our growth, when we look for signs of our life, we look everywhere except the mirror. Instead we watch a television show or read a book, well maybe part of a book. Suddenly, our family and friends are wondering if we've been hit on the head because we are speaking differently and acting "totally weird." After a while, we grow weary of the affectation and revert to our former unhappy, searching selves, just like we did when the new fad diet made us fatter, and all the crap about getting rich left us in even worse financial shape. Isn't that the way it always goes? Americans embrace the quick fix, the cliff notes to living. I'm reminded of Governor of Texas, Ann Richards, who once commented, "You can dress up a pig, put some lipstick on her and call her Monique, but she's still a pig."
Self realization is a process. It isn't the answer found in the back of the book or in an entire season of "Oprah." Unless you happen to be struck by lightning while riding a donkey on the road to Damascus, or are visited by the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, or Future, the change we seek is not something that happens overnight. The most important thing we can do is to be our most authentic selves possible while we grow through the process. It's a matter of acting in the world from a foundation of truth, responding to the world in a natural, uncalculated manner. When we can take from life and give back to it honestly, we are living the legendary life. If we allow ourselves to grasp at whatever impulse we think will garner us the biggest reward, the most money, or will make people like us the most and dare to call ourselves improved or enlightened...well, all I can say to that is "Hello, Monique! Nice lipstick you're wearin'!"
My former partner use to exclaim that Americans are the great embracers. The clever catch phrase enters the popular lingo almost instantly. A new diet craze sells books, talk shows and supplements. The lingo lasts until someone decides it's cliche. A particular diet is nothing more than the flavor of the month, no make that the flavor of the week! When it comes adopting a new attitude, well, the shelves at the local bookstore are sagging under the weight of "I'm Okay, You're Okay," "The Power of Positive Thinking," along with an array of books with titles that begin with phrases such as "seven things you should know, do, think, eat." Don't forget "seven steps to a new you, finding your perfect mate, to success, to increased wealth, to happiness." Funny that we can look at a plant and see signs of new growth. We can watch a puppy grow into a favorite companion. However, when we want to examine our growth, when we look for signs of our life, we look everywhere except the mirror. Instead we watch a television show or read a book, well maybe part of a book. Suddenly, our family and friends are wondering if we've been hit on the head because we are speaking differently and acting "totally weird." After a while, we grow weary of the affectation and revert to our former unhappy, searching selves, just like we did when the new fad diet made us fatter, and all the crap about getting rich left us in even worse financial shape. Isn't that the way it always goes? Americans embrace the quick fix, the cliff notes to living. I'm reminded of Governor of Texas, Ann Richards, who once commented, "You can dress up a pig, put some lipstick on her and call her Monique, but she's still a pig."
Self realization is a process. It isn't the answer found in the back of the book or in an entire season of "Oprah." Unless you happen to be struck by lightning while riding a donkey on the road to Damascus, or are visited by the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, or Future, the change we seek is not something that happens overnight. The most important thing we can do is to be our most authentic selves possible while we grow through the process. It's a matter of acting in the world from a foundation of truth, responding to the world in a natural, uncalculated manner. When we can take from life and give back to it honestly, we are living the legendary life. If we allow ourselves to grasp at whatever impulse we think will garner us the biggest reward, the most money, or will make people like us the most and dare to call ourselves improved or enlightened...well, all I can say to that is "Hello, Monique! Nice lipstick you're wearin'!"
Sunday, March 7, 2010
On the Mercy of the Court
There is an old story about a young man who murdered his parents and was to go on trial for his crimes. At the arraignment, he threw himself on the mercy of the court on the basis that he was an orphan.
There are three important things to consider in this extremely short story. First of all, the young man didn't admit or deny the charges. The idea that he had killed anyone was not his concern.
Secondly, there is no expression of remorse or sorrow for the deaths of his parents.
Thirdly, he clearly is of the opinion that he is above judgement or reproach. The trial should not move forward because of his status.
We're seeing this more and more in the world of politicians. Sadly, there is a sense of entitlement of priviledge of the office. Whether its to patronize prostitutes privately while publicly prosecuting them; secretly accepting gifts that by law are suppose to be reported; or not reporting income from off-shore real estate investments, the idea of being above the law prevails. Using the prestige of office or social position is commonly referred to as an "abuse of power." The key word here is abuse. Those involved don't see it that way. Instead, they claim to be the real victims, of some sort of conspiracy or the press. Occasionally, the accused admit to what they have done, but claim it was within their rights and a trial is not warranted. After all, they are the real victims.
Whether the abuse is political, sexual, or verbal it is an effort by one person to fulfill desire at the expense of someone else. As the practise continues, the abuser feels more enpowered, more entitled. There is a confusion between tolerance and acceptance. He/she starts to believe that what they do is acceptable simply because no one speaks up. Once confronted, this person immediately assumes the posture of being the victim. "Someone should have told me," is the basis of the claim to innocence. However, it is precisely because someone did speak up that this guise of victimhood has been taken. It is the result of having reached "the tipping point" that the tolerance has been broken. Isn't it amazing the claim, "Well, they let me do it," is considered a reason for the chosen mode of behavior?
We are all human beings. We all make mistakes. Whether we learn from them or not depends on the attitudes we have about ourselves and others. When we do something that clearly harms the well being of another person, we are accountable. The Divine within us requires us to admit, repent and strive to do better in the future. It demands all three steps. We cannot admit and say we'll do better without the apology. The apology is the main ingredient in the admission. We cannot appreciably admit to the action and yet claim it was someone else's fault, especially not the fault of our victim. It is crucial for ourselves as well as those we injured. We cannot grow without this. Our road to growth and fulfilment, to be truly legendary is barricaded until we we can take this step sincerely and without the expectation of forgiveness. To be legendary, we do the right thing without expectation of reward.
There are three important things to consider in this extremely short story. First of all, the young man didn't admit or deny the charges. The idea that he had killed anyone was not his concern.
Secondly, there is no expression of remorse or sorrow for the deaths of his parents.
Thirdly, he clearly is of the opinion that he is above judgement or reproach. The trial should not move forward because of his status.
We're seeing this more and more in the world of politicians. Sadly, there is a sense of entitlement of priviledge of the office. Whether its to patronize prostitutes privately while publicly prosecuting them; secretly accepting gifts that by law are suppose to be reported; or not reporting income from off-shore real estate investments, the idea of being above the law prevails. Using the prestige of office or social position is commonly referred to as an "abuse of power." The key word here is abuse. Those involved don't see it that way. Instead, they claim to be the real victims, of some sort of conspiracy or the press. Occasionally, the accused admit to what they have done, but claim it was within their rights and a trial is not warranted. After all, they are the real victims.
Whether the abuse is political, sexual, or verbal it is an effort by one person to fulfill desire at the expense of someone else. As the practise continues, the abuser feels more enpowered, more entitled. There is a confusion between tolerance and acceptance. He/she starts to believe that what they do is acceptable simply because no one speaks up. Once confronted, this person immediately assumes the posture of being the victim. "Someone should have told me," is the basis of the claim to innocence. However, it is precisely because someone did speak up that this guise of victimhood has been taken. It is the result of having reached "the tipping point" that the tolerance has been broken. Isn't it amazing the claim, "Well, they let me do it," is considered a reason for the chosen mode of behavior?
We are all human beings. We all make mistakes. Whether we learn from them or not depends on the attitudes we have about ourselves and others. When we do something that clearly harms the well being of another person, we are accountable. The Divine within us requires us to admit, repent and strive to do better in the future. It demands all three steps. We cannot admit and say we'll do better without the apology. The apology is the main ingredient in the admission. We cannot appreciably admit to the action and yet claim it was someone else's fault, especially not the fault of our victim. It is crucial for ourselves as well as those we injured. We cannot grow without this. Our road to growth and fulfilment, to be truly legendary is barricaded until we we can take this step sincerely and without the expectation of forgiveness. To be legendary, we do the right thing without expectation of reward.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Happy Birthday, Mama Fran
When I first moved to Dallas, TX to be the Counter Manager for Charles of the Ritz in the Sanger-Harris Department store I received an unusual welcome. That cosmetics department employed 40 people; I met 39 of them. One of them was on vacation and she was reputed to be the "queen bee." I spent my breaks and lunchtime alone. The people were nice enough, but as one explained, "Mama Fran decides who stays and who goes around here. She's on vacation, but once she comes back if she likes you, the others will come around." This was on top of the fact that my counter mate had wanted the position I had gotten. The temperature in Texas that week in early August lingered somewhere around 20 below zero!
Finally, Mama Fran arrived. Everyone gathered around her to welcome her back. I caught her eye and moved toward her. I introduced myself. "I'm Nanuck of the North," I said as I took her hand, "But you can call me Dan." This henna redhead looked me over and replied, "You don't look much like an eskimo, Mr. Dan. My name is Francesca, but you can call me Fran. Honey, if you're cold in Dallas, Tx, it must be cuz you need to eat something. How about you and me getting some breakfast and get to know each other." I smiled and said, "Sure." Fran grabbed her bag with one hand and my elbow with the other to move me along. "C'mon, Honey, we have to get outta here before those mucky-mucks come around with their goddam break sign-up sheets!" So began one of my most precious friendships.
Francesca Slack is one of my life's most memorable characters. She was born and raised in Florida before moving to Atlanta and then Dallas. Her version of the great western migration. She was Miss Florida of 1946, or maybe '48. I have forgotten which. She was also one of Pan Am's first flight attendants. She did the Washington, D.C. to New York route. Oddly enough another Sanger-Harris gran dame was also a member of that first Pan Am team. However, March Walker flew D.C. to South America. March is another story! All I'll tell you about her now is that she didn't like her birth name and had it legally changed to March, much to her mother's dismay.
Fran had grown into a good ole Texas gal with a wicked sense of humor and a tongue to go with it. Some of my favorite Fran-isms include, "Honey, that man over there is slicker than dogshit on a linoleum floor...kinda cute, though." The one I heard the most, usually on a Saturday morning on the way to breakfast following Friday after work cocktails was, "Honey, how in the world could your Mama Fran have been so cute and darling last night and feel like catshit under the rug this morning?" Fran was a party girl from the word go, with a warm and generous heart. She could get her own way either by batting her big brown eyes, or take it by force. It was up to you; it didn't matter to her. We didn't use the word "avatar" in those days, but Bette Boop was hers.
One of those Friday nights, she was out with a lady friend at the bar of one of the finer hotels in North Dallas. They were sitting at a table when a group of men asked to join them. After everybody was settled around the table and introduced, Fran asked them about their line of work. "We're high school principals."
"Principals," Fran repeated thoughtfully, "I ain't ever had any of those." Everyone laughed and that called for a round of drinks. One of the guys asked if Fran and Patty worked together and what type of work they did. Fran explained that they did indeed work together as research surgeons. "Really? What exactly do you do?" someone asked.
"Oh, well, we're occu-proctologists. It's an entirely new field."
"Occu- what?"
"We're occu-proctologists. We're about to win a prize for our discovery. We discovered that in some people the optic nerve doesn't stop at the brain, but continues to grow down the spine to the rectum. Patty here, and myself have perfected a technique of severing that extended nerve."
"My, god!" exclaimed one of the guys. "What good does that do?"
Fran smiled, tilted her head as Scarlet O'Hara would have done and said, "It keeps them from having a shitty outlook on life." This was Mama Fran at her best! Now you know why she and I were such great friends!
Then one day she was informed she had an advanced form of breast cancer. She decided to have both of them removed. "I don't want to be left lopsided; then people will know." This brought out a spiritual side no one suspected was within her. She joined a meditation group and took me and couple of mutual friends with her. It was the first time I ever meditated. It was the first time I heard the voice that instructed me to, "Be still and know I am God." She gave me my first Shirley MacLaine book, "Out on a Limb." I learned about the ascended Masters, teachers, and guides. I was introduced to Matreia, St. Germaine, Dion Fortune and the Dalai Lama. Fran became an avid reader and practioner of metaphysics and the spiritual realm. She took me with her on her journey. Our friendship truly reached a soul level.
At this same time, I became friends with her friend, Laurie. This is an entire other story also. I don't intend to be a tease, but there is one point about our mutual friend I wish to share here. Laurie and I were as close as two people could be. We used to say that we could only be friends because I am gay and she isn't. Otherwise our respective partners would be jealous of the time we spent together. Suddenly, the Laurie and Dan show was over. I didn't know why then, don't know why now. It doesn't matter. Fran would try to discuss this with Laurie who would not answer and would not permit anyone to mention my name in her presence. In the blink of an eye I had ceased to exist in her world.
Fran's cancer eventually returned and took up residence in her brain. This time nothing could be done. When she knew death was eminent, she called for Laurie to come see her. Laurie rushed to Fran's bedside, held her hand and talked to her then semiconscious body. Suddenly Fran looked at Laurie and made her swear a promise for after she had passed. Laurie promised to do whatever Fran asked. Now bear in mind, that Laurie and I had not spoken for two years before I moved to New York, and this was a couple years after that. Fran made Laurie promise to be the one who called to tell me she had "moved on."
When I answered the phone that evening and heard a voice say, "Dan, this is Laurie." I said, "She left us, didn't she?" Laurie confirmed that she had, and told me about the promise she had made.
Fran was my spiritual guide, and still is. Whenever I notice Betty Boop in a store window, I stop and say hello to her. Sometimes I hear her tell a joke, sometimes she gives me words of encouragement. Laurie and I call each other periodically and I am grateful to Fran for initiating our resumed communication. My spiritual journey has taken me on paths I had never imagined. It will no doubt continue until I meet up with Fran one of these distant days. I am more grateful to her than mortal words can express. The only thing that gets me about Fran, is that she always said, "Honey, whenever I take the deep six to the other side, I'm gonna get you the winning lotto numbers." Sometimes when she pops in during one of my meditations, I remind her of this. I swear to you I hear her clear as day say, "Honey! That's why I'm here. Write these down. The numbers are...." Then her voice fades out to an inaudible whisper. It is then I remember another thing she used to always tell me. "Dan, Honey, whenever you need an extra twenty dollars remember this: it is a lot easier to find twenty men with a buck a piece than it is to find one man with the entire twenty dollars. You just have to be willing to climb the stairs a few more times." It was her way of saying there's no such thing as an easy buck. I suppose there is only so much a spirit can do, even if it's as legendary as my Mama Fran!
Finally, Mama Fran arrived. Everyone gathered around her to welcome her back. I caught her eye and moved toward her. I introduced myself. "I'm Nanuck of the North," I said as I took her hand, "But you can call me Dan." This henna redhead looked me over and replied, "You don't look much like an eskimo, Mr. Dan. My name is Francesca, but you can call me Fran. Honey, if you're cold in Dallas, Tx, it must be cuz you need to eat something. How about you and me getting some breakfast and get to know each other." I smiled and said, "Sure." Fran grabbed her bag with one hand and my elbow with the other to move me along. "C'mon, Honey, we have to get outta here before those mucky-mucks come around with their goddam break sign-up sheets!" So began one of my most precious friendships.
Francesca Slack is one of my life's most memorable characters. She was born and raised in Florida before moving to Atlanta and then Dallas. Her version of the great western migration. She was Miss Florida of 1946, or maybe '48. I have forgotten which. She was also one of Pan Am's first flight attendants. She did the Washington, D.C. to New York route. Oddly enough another Sanger-Harris gran dame was also a member of that first Pan Am team. However, March Walker flew D.C. to South America. March is another story! All I'll tell you about her now is that she didn't like her birth name and had it legally changed to March, much to her mother's dismay.
Fran had grown into a good ole Texas gal with a wicked sense of humor and a tongue to go with it. Some of my favorite Fran-isms include, "Honey, that man over there is slicker than dogshit on a linoleum floor...kinda cute, though." The one I heard the most, usually on a Saturday morning on the way to breakfast following Friday after work cocktails was, "Honey, how in the world could your Mama Fran have been so cute and darling last night and feel like catshit under the rug this morning?" Fran was a party girl from the word go, with a warm and generous heart. She could get her own way either by batting her big brown eyes, or take it by force. It was up to you; it didn't matter to her. We didn't use the word "avatar" in those days, but Bette Boop was hers.
One of those Friday nights, she was out with a lady friend at the bar of one of the finer hotels in North Dallas. They were sitting at a table when a group of men asked to join them. After everybody was settled around the table and introduced, Fran asked them about their line of work. "We're high school principals."
"Principals," Fran repeated thoughtfully, "I ain't ever had any of those." Everyone laughed and that called for a round of drinks. One of the guys asked if Fran and Patty worked together and what type of work they did. Fran explained that they did indeed work together as research surgeons. "Really? What exactly do you do?" someone asked.
"Oh, well, we're occu-proctologists. It's an entirely new field."
"Occu- what?"
"We're occu-proctologists. We're about to win a prize for our discovery. We discovered that in some people the optic nerve doesn't stop at the brain, but continues to grow down the spine to the rectum. Patty here, and myself have perfected a technique of severing that extended nerve."
"My, god!" exclaimed one of the guys. "What good does that do?"
Fran smiled, tilted her head as Scarlet O'Hara would have done and said, "It keeps them from having a shitty outlook on life." This was Mama Fran at her best! Now you know why she and I were such great friends!
Then one day she was informed she had an advanced form of breast cancer. She decided to have both of them removed. "I don't want to be left lopsided; then people will know." This brought out a spiritual side no one suspected was within her. She joined a meditation group and took me and couple of mutual friends with her. It was the first time I ever meditated. It was the first time I heard the voice that instructed me to, "Be still and know I am God." She gave me my first Shirley MacLaine book, "Out on a Limb." I learned about the ascended Masters, teachers, and guides. I was introduced to Matreia, St. Germaine, Dion Fortune and the Dalai Lama. Fran became an avid reader and practioner of metaphysics and the spiritual realm. She took me with her on her journey. Our friendship truly reached a soul level.
At this same time, I became friends with her friend, Laurie. This is an entire other story also. I don't intend to be a tease, but there is one point about our mutual friend I wish to share here. Laurie and I were as close as two people could be. We used to say that we could only be friends because I am gay and she isn't. Otherwise our respective partners would be jealous of the time we spent together. Suddenly, the Laurie and Dan show was over. I didn't know why then, don't know why now. It doesn't matter. Fran would try to discuss this with Laurie who would not answer and would not permit anyone to mention my name in her presence. In the blink of an eye I had ceased to exist in her world.
Fran's cancer eventually returned and took up residence in her brain. This time nothing could be done. When she knew death was eminent, she called for Laurie to come see her. Laurie rushed to Fran's bedside, held her hand and talked to her then semiconscious body. Suddenly Fran looked at Laurie and made her swear a promise for after she had passed. Laurie promised to do whatever Fran asked. Now bear in mind, that Laurie and I had not spoken for two years before I moved to New York, and this was a couple years after that. Fran made Laurie promise to be the one who called to tell me she had "moved on."
When I answered the phone that evening and heard a voice say, "Dan, this is Laurie." I said, "She left us, didn't she?" Laurie confirmed that she had, and told me about the promise she had made.
Fran was my spiritual guide, and still is. Whenever I notice Betty Boop in a store window, I stop and say hello to her. Sometimes I hear her tell a joke, sometimes she gives me words of encouragement. Laurie and I call each other periodically and I am grateful to Fran for initiating our resumed communication. My spiritual journey has taken me on paths I had never imagined. It will no doubt continue until I meet up with Fran one of these distant days. I am more grateful to her than mortal words can express. The only thing that gets me about Fran, is that she always said, "Honey, whenever I take the deep six to the other side, I'm gonna get you the winning lotto numbers." Sometimes when she pops in during one of my meditations, I remind her of this. I swear to you I hear her clear as day say, "Honey! That's why I'm here. Write these down. The numbers are...." Then her voice fades out to an inaudible whisper. It is then I remember another thing she used to always tell me. "Dan, Honey, whenever you need an extra twenty dollars remember this: it is a lot easier to find twenty men with a buck a piece than it is to find one man with the entire twenty dollars. You just have to be willing to climb the stairs a few more times." It was her way of saying there's no such thing as an easy buck. I suppose there is only so much a spirit can do, even if it's as legendary as my Mama Fran!
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Where Your Passion Waits
Have you ever thought you read a book, only to browse through it at a bookstore and realize you never did? This is what happened to me when I spotted "The Power of Positive Thinking" by Dr. Norman Vincent Peale. Originally published in 1952, this book is surprisingly contemporary. Dr. Peale mentions the prevalent fear the public had of "terrorists ruining our country." This was the time of the "red scare" during the Eisenhower years. The economy was weak. People were losing their life savings as well as their businesses. Sound familiar?
Dr. Peale was a very insightful man. He had a knack of looking into people's hearts to see the disfunction in their thinking and beliefs and leading them to a remedy to their problems. With a strong foundation of faith, anyone could take the action necessary to lead a prosperous and happy life. People he came across who were agitated, argumentative, and disliked were people who in actuality had little or no self confidence, thrived on discord and chaos, and lost their ability to believe in anything.
We all invent and tell ourselves stories about ourselves constantly. He taught that if people could tell themselves better stories, they could find the power within themselves to overcome any difficulty. Even in the 1950's, people were stressing over deadlines, rushing to get things done. In order to make more time for work, they sacrificed time for themselves. They forgot how to relax, to "Be still and know that I AM God." He admits that there were times when he was suppose to be on vacation, that people had to tell him to stop working. A friend who happened to be at the same Florida hotel once told him to put his mail down and to come sit with him and feel the sun on his face. We all get into that "emergency" mode from time to time. Unfortunately, we get so focused on the task before us, that we can't find the resolution. I remember several times when I went to bed exhausted and frustrated. After some sleep, I bolted upright with the elusive answer! Ureka! The mind works best when relaxed. Relaxation gives Divine Inspiration a chance to enter and give us the answer.
One of my favorite of Dr. Peale's many anecdotes involves a man who taught the art of trapeze. After considerable discussion and demonstrations of holds and movements on the ground, along with some flexibility and strength training, it was time for the students to take to the air, so to speak. One young man looked up at where he was expected to go and froze. The compassionate instructor asked him if he was scared. The young man shook his head yes. He was so terrified he couldn't speak. The instructor put his arm on the young man's shoulder and said, "Son it's really easy. All you have to do is throw your heart over that bar up there, and the rest of you will follow." Consider the power of what he said. "All you have to do is throw your heart over the bar, and the rest of you will follow."
Metaphysically, the heart is the chakra wherein resides the threefold flame. It is the comingling of body, mind, and soul. It is the seat of life, pumping power and life throughout your being. When you put your heart into something, you are giving it your lifeforce, your soul. The soul is that part of our makeup that comes from the Divine. It returns to the Divine source when it leaves the body at the end of life. Putting the Divine into an endeavor guarantees a happy outcome. The Divine cannot cause unhappiness; only our ego can do that.
So find an endeavor that you feel that you have to do because it calls to you from the very core of your being. This is the bar over which you will throw your heart. It is where your passion waits.
Dr. Peale was a very insightful man. He had a knack of looking into people's hearts to see the disfunction in their thinking and beliefs and leading them to a remedy to their problems. With a strong foundation of faith, anyone could take the action necessary to lead a prosperous and happy life. People he came across who were agitated, argumentative, and disliked were people who in actuality had little or no self confidence, thrived on discord and chaos, and lost their ability to believe in anything.
We all invent and tell ourselves stories about ourselves constantly. He taught that if people could tell themselves better stories, they could find the power within themselves to overcome any difficulty. Even in the 1950's, people were stressing over deadlines, rushing to get things done. In order to make more time for work, they sacrificed time for themselves. They forgot how to relax, to "Be still and know that I AM God." He admits that there were times when he was suppose to be on vacation, that people had to tell him to stop working. A friend who happened to be at the same Florida hotel once told him to put his mail down and to come sit with him and feel the sun on his face. We all get into that "emergency" mode from time to time. Unfortunately, we get so focused on the task before us, that we can't find the resolution. I remember several times when I went to bed exhausted and frustrated. After some sleep, I bolted upright with the elusive answer! Ureka! The mind works best when relaxed. Relaxation gives Divine Inspiration a chance to enter and give us the answer.
One of my favorite of Dr. Peale's many anecdotes involves a man who taught the art of trapeze. After considerable discussion and demonstrations of holds and movements on the ground, along with some flexibility and strength training, it was time for the students to take to the air, so to speak. One young man looked up at where he was expected to go and froze. The compassionate instructor asked him if he was scared. The young man shook his head yes. He was so terrified he couldn't speak. The instructor put his arm on the young man's shoulder and said, "Son it's really easy. All you have to do is throw your heart over that bar up there, and the rest of you will follow." Consider the power of what he said. "All you have to do is throw your heart over the bar, and the rest of you will follow."
Metaphysically, the heart is the chakra wherein resides the threefold flame. It is the comingling of body, mind, and soul. It is the seat of life, pumping power and life throughout your being. When you put your heart into something, you are giving it your lifeforce, your soul. The soul is that part of our makeup that comes from the Divine. It returns to the Divine source when it leaves the body at the end of life. Putting the Divine into an endeavor guarantees a happy outcome. The Divine cannot cause unhappiness; only our ego can do that.
So find an endeavor that you feel that you have to do because it calls to you from the very core of your being. This is the bar over which you will throw your heart. It is where your passion waits.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Looking Back to Move Forward
Thanks to the success of the PBS series about geneology hosted by Henry Louis Gates, jr., it appears we may be in for an onslaught of copycat shows. The first such commercial venture is entitled "Who Do You Think You Are?" Catchy title, but what a misnomer! It should be "Who are your people and where did you come from?" as we often ask newcomers in the South.
These shows are tremendously interesting. They are also indicators of a serious disconnect in American family life. It seems that a lot of people don't know as much about their families as they would like. It's as though this generation as well as the preceding one was adopted with all the records sealed.
There are several reasons I can offer for this. The main one, I believe, is the demise of the family dinner. So many of us eat on the run, while working overtime or even two jobs, only to finish the day in front of a television or computer that we have become disassociated from our families. Dinnertime is when the family used to gather to discuss the events of the day, which often led to stories the began with, "When I was your age" or "During the War, that's WWII, 'the big one,'" which brought a few moans, but also gave us a sense of continuity. When I was growing up, 5 pm was an almost sacred hour. My father arrived home from work; my mother had dinner ready. We sat down to the table together and remained there until we all left the table together. Saturday nights meant a visit to our grandparents. The entire clan met there weekly. All aunts, uncles and cousins gathered for conversation, coffee and one of my grandmother's special homemade desserts. During these visits, aside from our own news, there were letters passed from my grandmother's sisters who either still lived in North Dakota or California. There was also a copy of the newspaper from Lisbon, North Dakota. This was mainly a gossip sheet, but kept us all up to date on the people my grandparents had known before they moved away. Occassionally, there was even a letter from one of my grandfather's brothers still living in Sweden. These were read by my Granddad and translated for the gathering. We knew who we were and had an idea of our place in the world. It was all first-hand oral family history, without the benefit of Google.
My recent trip to Sweden with my sister, while delightful, was enlightening. We learned a lot about our Grandfather by seeing where he had been born and raised, as well as what he went through to come to the US. What conversations we could have had with him on our return if he were still alive! We also learned about ourselves, our attitudes and beliefs by meeting the Swedish people we encountered. Our Swedish friends taught us a lot about hospitality, generosity of spirit, and humor. Our concepts of family were reinforced when they made us a part of theirs. Once again we experienced a context which told us who we are and our place in the world.
I hope these television shows motivate people to connect with their own families as well as their family history. It's important to know where we came from in order to understand the significance of where we are, and see where we're headed. Anyone living in the United States who was born here as the result of the immigration of a preceeding generation has a debt of gratitude to pay the ancestors by learning about the courage and sacrifices they made to live in this country and giving them proper recognition. Our ancestors were searchers, movers and shakers that built this country. They were indeed legendary. Now it's up to us to pick up the torch and move forward to create something wonderful for those who come after us. We want them to think we're legenday, too, don't we?
These shows are tremendously interesting. They are also indicators of a serious disconnect in American family life. It seems that a lot of people don't know as much about their families as they would like. It's as though this generation as well as the preceding one was adopted with all the records sealed.
There are several reasons I can offer for this. The main one, I believe, is the demise of the family dinner. So many of us eat on the run, while working overtime or even two jobs, only to finish the day in front of a television or computer that we have become disassociated from our families. Dinnertime is when the family used to gather to discuss the events of the day, which often led to stories the began with, "When I was your age" or "During the War, that's WWII, 'the big one,'" which brought a few moans, but also gave us a sense of continuity. When I was growing up, 5 pm was an almost sacred hour. My father arrived home from work; my mother had dinner ready. We sat down to the table together and remained there until we all left the table together. Saturday nights meant a visit to our grandparents. The entire clan met there weekly. All aunts, uncles and cousins gathered for conversation, coffee and one of my grandmother's special homemade desserts. During these visits, aside from our own news, there were letters passed from my grandmother's sisters who either still lived in North Dakota or California. There was also a copy of the newspaper from Lisbon, North Dakota. This was mainly a gossip sheet, but kept us all up to date on the people my grandparents had known before they moved away. Occassionally, there was even a letter from one of my grandfather's brothers still living in Sweden. These were read by my Granddad and translated for the gathering. We knew who we were and had an idea of our place in the world. It was all first-hand oral family history, without the benefit of Google.
My recent trip to Sweden with my sister, while delightful, was enlightening. We learned a lot about our Grandfather by seeing where he had been born and raised, as well as what he went through to come to the US. What conversations we could have had with him on our return if he were still alive! We also learned about ourselves, our attitudes and beliefs by meeting the Swedish people we encountered. Our Swedish friends taught us a lot about hospitality, generosity of spirit, and humor. Our concepts of family were reinforced when they made us a part of theirs. Once again we experienced a context which told us who we are and our place in the world.
I hope these television shows motivate people to connect with their own families as well as their family history. It's important to know where we came from in order to understand the significance of where we are, and see where we're headed. Anyone living in the United States who was born here as the result of the immigration of a preceeding generation has a debt of gratitude to pay the ancestors by learning about the courage and sacrifices they made to live in this country and giving them proper recognition. Our ancestors were searchers, movers and shakers that built this country. They were indeed legendary. Now it's up to us to pick up the torch and move forward to create something wonderful for those who come after us. We want them to think we're legenday, too, don't we?
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