The Waves

“Every one of a hundred thousand cities around the world has its own special sunset and it was worth going there, just once, if only to see the sun go down.”

― Ryū Murakami

We used to visit Washington, Pennsylvania every summer growing up. No, not Washington like where the President lives. This is far different. I am not even sure it can really be found on a map. It is a town where neighbors know each other; families never leave; sidewalks are broken; grocers know everyone by name; and where my dad mowed grass so he could earn money for college. My grandparents lived there and never left. The houses have big porches. Neighbors sit outside and wave and talk to each other across their yards. The simple life. Generations where people found their place in the world and then simply never left. My grandmother had wind up chattering teeth in a top drawer of her sunroom. It was the first thing we would do when we got to her house. A ritual. A way of showing how we missed the things and the people in that home. And at the end of the trip, as we drove our station wagon down the street, my grandmother would stand in the middle of the road and wave. She would stand in that road until she could not see us anymore…even when she was a teeny tiny little speck in the road as we went up the hill, she would still be there waving. I always wondered what she did as we turned the corner. I always imagined her sitting on that front porch and crying, but I hope she maybe was happy for the visit, or maybe relieved that three kids were finally gone. Maybe she waved in the middle of her little street until she was a tiny speck on the horizon to make sure we were 100% gone!!! It was a time where you couldn’t scroll through a camera on your phone and look at all the good times you had. You literally had to wait about a week to get any of those pictures back. So she didn’t even have that option to keep her company in our leaving. We went many places growing up. Summers in Barbados; trips to NYC; Ocean City, Maryland; San Diego. Making memories and rituals in every town along the way. Naturally I, in turn, show my children the things that I loved, as I was a child. Trips to the beach to catch the sunset and make s’mores in a fire pit as we watch the end of the day sink into the ocean. And the cycle continues, and then you see your kids doing the same things in their life that you introduced them to. So often my kids say things to me about something they did or said and it is EXACTLY what I did at their age. The other day my daughter said they were the last ones dancing at a club because they were having too much fun and didn’t want to come home. BINGO DONE THAT! In fact they say that many of the people who died when the Titanic went down is because they didn’t want to leave the dance floor. Some people simply can’t stop themselves from enjoying life. The puzzle pieces that are put together piece-by-piece make up who you are today. Eventually somewhere along the way the feeling of a particular place is so good that you never want it to end. Miami is one of my happy places. I introduced it to my girls several years ago. It is a place where the tempo is as good as the sunsets. It is a place where when you have nothing to do you can just sit in the sand and be. It is a place where a piece of my heart will live in the next month. My Ashley. Spreading her wings. She found ‘her place’ she says. They say you can’t tell your kids they can do anything they put their hearts to and spread their wings and fly, only to have their wings clipped by the people in their lives. It’s Ashley’s story that she is writing, not mine. As I laid in bed for many sleepless nights with the feelings only a mother can understand, I was sad for what I was losing; what I was going to miss; what I would feel like. ME ME ME. This wasn’t about me. She can’t live her life so that I feel comfortable. My friend Carol’s beautiful daughter Emily is in the Peace Corp in the middle of Africa. She lives in a mud hut with a family and is learning their language a million miles away from her friends and family. Carol and I were talking (Hi Carol I told you that you would make the blog some day) about how hard it is. Our relationships will be changed when they return. I mean who the hell are we supposed to go to Starbucks with now???? But families grow up and move away and evolve. That’s what our ultimate goals as parents are, right? To raise our children to ‘find their places’ in the world?! Or at least TRY…or at least WANT to try…to change and grow and prosper?! And if that plan doesn’t work out they can come back home and start all over again! Now I understand why my grandmother stood in the middle of the road until she was a grain of sand out our back window. She wanted to soak in every last minute of every last second with all the love and faith she had in us until we disappeared to live our new lives. Good to the last drop…..

my gift to you

Thank you for your birthday wishes…now here is my gift to you…

“It's not our job to toughen our children up to face a cruel and heartless world. It's our job to raise children who will make the world a little less cruel and heartless.”

― L.R. Knost,

My friends took me out to dinner. We laughed and cheered and snap chatted our way through it. They are my village that helps me raise my boys…followed by a trip to the cabin for a mini vacation to reflect and relax with my dearest of friends and my husband…we made up our own words in Scrabble just to win…I mean THEY did…to top it off I sat with my kids and husband for a beautiful dinner…I got flowers from them and cards filled with the most precious of notes telling me how much they love me and I will keep them in my memory box forever…the best gifts of all are the ones from the heart….and I sat and counted my blessings... and I watched parents on tv reading their final texts from children caught within a nightclub with a crazy shooter. I watched interviewers talk to young people who crouched in bathroom stalls as they tried to get their last calls in to their parents. One young man interviewed was asked what was the first thing he did when he got away from the gunfire and he said, matter of factly, “I called my mom”. One young man knew not a soul in the place as he had just moved to the city and managed to carry a young woman out who had been left behind to die. I watched families filter into a gymnasium to hear the names of the dead as they waited for the glimmer of hope for please please please don’t say the name. I watched a mother search for ‘Christoper’…her only son…his partner killed…she scoured the hospitals, morgues, the entire town for two days…blankly staring at the cameras begging for help from the world to find him.

I counted each moment of it, thinking about every moment of my life, the good and the bad ones. I see how powerful yet weak, bright yet dark, beautiful yet ugly, joyous yet grievous; is a one single moment. One moment makes the difference. Just a one moment. The power of a single moment.

Make your moments count every second of your life. Love one another. Visit one another. Tell each other you love one another. Show your love. As Lin-Manuel Miranda said, “when senseless acts of violence remind us that nothing here is promised. Not one day…we live through times when hate and fear seem stronger, we rise and fall and light from dying embers, remembrances that love and hope last longer and love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love cannot be killed or swept aside.”

I watched the news this morning. They found ‘Christoper’. His name was read in the gymnasium.

I love you all. Thank you for sharing your lives with me. Love one another whether you are white, black, blue, purple, gay, trans, puppies, whatever…love is love.

Watch out for each other.

Changing Tires

“Are we running away from home?” I asked.
My mother had laughed. I couldn’t see her face, but her laugh I could always conjure—rich, ringing, like bells calling you to a wedding. “No, silly goose. You can’t run away from home. It’s not home if you want to run away from it.” She paused to brush a strand of hair from my face. “You can only run away from a house. Home is something you run toward.” 
― Michele Jaffe, Ghost Flower

I can't tell you how many times I say that when I was their ages the LAST place I wanted to be was home. Not that I didn't love my home or my parents…I did tremendously. I just wanted to be a teenager and live my life without a chaperone. There was some excitement in hiding from the parents and seeing what you could do when no one was watching. I remember driving to San Diego for an overnight trip only to return exhausted the next day just to feel the road under my feet and freedom. That's what kids do…they test their boundaries and carve out a niche they can call their own. Kids often think “parents are like God because you wanna know they're out there, and you want them to think well of you, but you really only call when you need something.” ― Chuck Palahniuk that's why I tell my kids the stories about my teenage years…so that they don't drive across states to feel the sand in their toes; or seldom come home to visit because they are having too much fun; or living a crazy independent life (while your parents are still paying for everything of course). I tell them because that shits dangerous. And all of this was done without a cell phone (gasp). My girlfriend Laurel reminded me of a drive home from San Diego when I was riding solo and I got a flat tire…and cried…somewhere in the middle of Juniper Springs….all alone. I had forgotten all about that day. I had no cell phone or GPS or emergency car service to locate me…I had to figure it out…BY READING THE OPERATOR'S MANUAL…and change a tire!!!!! If my kids told me this story and it had been them instead of me I would literally DIE! It would be followed with "you are never doing that again" and a long lecture on going anywhere that far alone! But I survived. Regardless, It was endless pursuit of 'finding my self'….my life without a chaperone. Howeverrrrrrrr, I am witnessing a change in this new generation, at least within my own home. They like me...they really like me! They want to do lunch and take 21st bday trips together…and have friends over (even when they have their own apartments)…and workout together…and I am not just talking about my own kids…their friends often want to hang out with me even when my kids aren't around. Ashley had a good friend come over last night. He is in town from UofA. All the college kids are back now. Everyone got so big (as my grandma used to say, "or am I just shrinking" insert monkey covering eyes emoji). So this kid says, "Ash, I wanted to come over to hang out with Parker and your mom". AND YOUR MOM. MOM. See what I mean? They WANT to be around adults these days…what happened to our youth? Or is it the parents that have changed? What came first the chicken or the egg? I joke to my kids (and sometimes say it when I'm mad) "Why are you here? You have your own places now?". Truth is I wouldn't have it any other way. Ya being awoken at 2 am to disco music blaring on the patio can get a little much, but I know where they are…they are right outside my door… right where I could see and touch them if I want/have to. They aren't on some distant highway changing a flat tire…. and I watch them grow up and their friends grow up… and I like what I see…and we talk about dumb teenager stuff and we talk about politics…and we make ramen and we make steak on the grill..and we listen to gangster rap and classic country…ying and yang…teenagers crossing over into my little adult world... and they like it there. So when I wake up and throw a blanket over the extra bodies that have crashed on my couch…clean up a kitchen of pizza and ice cream… turn off TVs and radios that have entertained the neighbors throughout the night, I can't help but feel how truly lucky I am…I know where they are…I know who they are with….and they wouldn't have it any other way. And I let them think they are living life without a chaperone as I quietly watch from the sidelines.

How Do You Like Them Apples?

“Not only is there often a right and wrong, but what goes around does come around, Karma exists, chickens do come home to roost, and as my mother, Phyllis, liked to say, “There is always a day of reckoning.” The good among the great understand that every choice we make adds to the strength or weakness of our spirits—ourselves, or to use an old fashioned word for the same idea, our souls. That is every human’s life work: to construct an identity bit by bit, to walk a path step by step, to live a life that is worthy of something higher, lighter, more fulfilling, and maybe even everlasting.”

― Donald Van de Mark, The Good Among the Great: 19 Traits of the Most Admirable, Creative, and Joyous People

I’ve thought a lot about what makes people good and what makes people bad. It seems so often that people will sell themselves short for temporary gain. We hear about people lying or stealing or hurting others for their own personal advances; without regrets or concern. So I have thought about what makes these people this way. I was talking to some friends last night and I was talking about my children and how proud they make me EVERY SINGLE DAY! There is not a day that goes by that I don’t find my mind wandering when they are telling me a story; I am completely mesmerized by the good that they have inside of them. They are GOOD people. They are KIND people. I always believed that because I was raised by a bedridden mother, who suffered a debilitating disease, that my heart was softened and my outlook on life and the fairness to others was because of the empathy that I learned at a very young age. Being raised in a family like this makes you learn how to be a FAMILY. You have to coordinate who will assist your mother during the day and at nights. You have to help them shower and eat and even go tot the bathroom. And all the while you have to be a teenager and have a ‘normal’ life. So I spent many many many hours sitting in bed with my mother and talking about life. About tv shows. About hair and nails and boyfriends. And you learn how to care for people and show them that you love them. I always knew that my good-will was learned from this exact upbringing. But what about MY kids? They didn’t have to grow up in this type of home. In fact, quite the opposite, I am strong and energetic and can leap tall buildings in a single bound (eye roll). These children of mine wear their heart on their sleeves. They care about others with so much emotion that it could bring tears to your eyes. They share stories of helping strangers. They bring flowers to the cemetery. They see yellow butterflies and know that their grandmother is with them. They are reflective and genuine. They are not liars or cheats. My friend Tameria said that my kids are good people because I put my time in. Those countless trips to the parks and museums and libraries and books we read and camping adventures and family trips; they are all pieces of the puzzle that makes a person who they are. I remember thinking when I was little that our family was to ‘family-ish’. Everything we did was done together and every move made was as a group. We watched my brother’s bmx races AS A FAMILY; we had dinners AS A FAMILY; we rarely had ‘outsiders’ in our excursions. I can now say that I am so happy that I was raised that way. I learned what is important in life. This is what my kids are learning, as well. When we talk about where the boys will go to college, we all make the plans on where will live in the next year and a half. We navigate as a group, a pack, a tribe…my tribe. Someone once said that if you mess up raising your child to be a good person then you messed up the most important job you have. Dr. Phil called it when he said “how do you fail to raise good people ON YOUR WATCH”…I like that!...”on your watch”. Well I often look around me and see all these people that were slacked on someone’s watch. I can honestly say that I am appalled by the way that some people view the world as if it owes them something; as though they can manipulate the world around them for their own personal gain, regardless of whether it is right or wrong. I am convinced that if you are good and do good, then good things come your way. The law of Karma. Karma is simply the law of cause and effect. If you plant an apple seed, you don’t a get a mango tree. If we practice hatred or greed, it becomes our way and the world responds accordingly. If we practice awareness or loving-kindness, it becomes our way and the world responds accordingly. So in summary, good people breed good people. Loving people breed loving people. When you meet a bad person, simply flip the card over and look at their parents and the people that are in their lives… apples don’t fall far from the trees….and the cycles continue generation after generation after generation. At least, if you shake my apple trees, you will see the fruits of my labor and all my hard work in raising my four kids will be obvious to whomever they meet….  Ding ding ding four more good people in the world!!!!! You’re welcome!

Who are you when no one is looking?

“We do not need guns and bombs to bring peace, we need love and compassion.”

― Mother Theresa

He wanted spare change. He sat outside the courthouse in his tattered clothes; every indication that he was in some stage of homelessness. She reached into her purse and grabbed a dollar. She could have walked past him. She was headed to her internship on a busy Monday morning. But she stopped and gave him a dollar. She’s well-known for befriending homeless people. Sometimes she tells me that they even walk her to her classes…some even know her by name. A kind gesture from a poor college student. Her duties as an intern are to assist the judge in every aspect of the courtroom. The judge even asks her for her opinion on rulings, such as “What would you do if this were your case?”. Seated next to the judge, during a busy Monday morning, she spots the ‘homeless man’ sitting in the crowd of people waiting to see a judge. Immediately she notices that he is devouring a chocolate Snickers bar to the point, which she describes it to me as, “Mom, it was ALL OVER HIS FACE!”.  The judge saw it too and reprimanded the man by telling him to “eat like a grown up”, followed by asking him if he needs a napkin before the courtroom continues. She said it brought tears to her eyes because she knew it was the man she gave the dollar to outside the courthouse and that he must have been really hungry. The man proceeded to tell the judge that it was the only thing he has eaten for the last couple of days and says (pointing to my daughter), “the girl next to you gave me the dollar so I could eat”. A thankful stranger. A tearful daughter. A room full of strangers. Nobody knew anyone’s story…where they lived…who they were…why they were there….She proceeded to recall the events to follow. He was being evicted and he had nowhere to live. He was requesting the judge allow him to stay in his apartment for just enough time to gather the little belongings that he had and to take a shower because he knew his destiny was a life on the streets. The judge, noticing the tears in her eyes, asked her how he should resolve the case. She said I would let him take a shower one last time at his soon to be lost apartment. And he did just that. And for a small moment in time their paths crossed. He was more than a homeless man outside a courtroom. She was more than an intern. They were human beings…caring for human beings. She stayed over my house for a slumber party that night. We talked about her day in court. She actually always talks about the ‘wounded birds’ and the ‘out-of-luckers’. The moms who are trying to feed their kids. The thiefs who are trying to feed their families. The people who don’t know the right way to solve their problems. We laid in bed together as she shared her stories. A show called Intervention came on. Families dealing with drug addictions and all the illegal issues that surround that disease. We laid in my warm bed with four dogs at my feet…with the heat comfortably set on 67 degrees…after we washed our faces and brushed our teeth…after we texted all our family and friends who wait for their daily ‘Good Night My Love’ texts. We watched the families on tv struggling to save their children or mothers or fathers or sisters and brothers from themselves. I said that I was so glad that I will never have to go through that with my children…she agreed…because they felt loved and they felt needed and they felt wanted and important…she agreed. And we closed our eyes knowing that we figured it out…we grew into a family that knows that we stand together…with love in our hearts...no matter what…forever. As I fell asleep I thanked God and all my guardian angels guiding my life that my children grew into the people that they are today; people who know that they are loved…feel that they are loved…and have the compassion to extend that wisdom to all people…even the guy sitting outside a courtroom…when no one else was looking.