A lot of what I do must be kept confidential. Various rules of ethics require me to keep what I hear or read to myself. Sometimes I even have to keep what I say confidential. Some of it is funny; other stuff is just heartbreaking and shocking. That's the stuff I not only don't want to tell anyone, I even wish I could forget it myself.
It can be a little hard and even lonely carrying around all of these confidences. Luckily, the sheer volume alone demands that some of get dumped out of my brain in order to hold the new stuff I have to keep up with. The mental capacity only has a certain amount -- the rest has to go somewhere ...
Sometimes I wonder about others who have similar obligations to maintain confidences, such as priests and ministers that hear confessions, or psychiatrists and mental health professionals that counsel patients.
With several of my clients and other attorneys we invoke the Cone of Silence whenever we are discussing a subject that we know falls within that category of "privileged." It's a humorous image from the Get Smart movie (or old TV show) the visually depicts the protection of the conversation.
I was getting ready to write this post when the newest spinoff of the Law & Order franchise was coming on, Law & Order L.A. Funny, but I think I saw that tonight's episode was entitled "Cone of Silence," but it went by too fast.
Today I am grateful to know that I can choose to be happy -- and that I made that choice. What does that have to do with Cone of Silence? It's not a direct correlation -- but even with what I know about human nature, and the actions of human beings, after all that has happened within the Cone of Silence, I still choose to be happy.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Mrs. Butterworth
Some mornings just have more obstacles than others. Mrs. Butterworth decided to take a swan dive from the third shelf in the pantry this morning, lost her cap, spilled half her insides, creating quite a mess on the floor. Luckily for me, most of the brown goo was gone before I made it that far. I thought it was rather amusing myself. The three dish towels had not hardened yet so I took them from the trash and put them in the washing machine (with HOT water and a high water level).
The discussion that ensued exemplified the difference in outlook over Mrs. Butterworth's unexpected leap to the floor. I was told that this was just an omen of how bad the day was probably going to be.
I offered an alternative view: Maybe this meant the day was going to be very sweet.
It's taken me a long time to turn that into a regular way to look at things. For years I struggled with negativity and worrying about every little thing. I'm not sure at what point things finally turned around for me. However, I definitely know that there is tremendous power in positive thinking. Once I started trying it, I found it really made a difference -- both in how I felt about what I was doing, as well as the effect it had on the things I was doing. Things just seemed to turn out better if I had a more positive attitude.
I found that if I started looking for the good things, I usually found them. There is almost always a silver lining if you look hard enough. Then the very best thing of all happens. Once you start doing this on a frequent enough basis, it just becomes a part of how you think. It's second nature to start looking for the bright side.
There is a Part Two to this type of thinking. It helps to look for the humor in whatever situation I find myself. To me it was downright hilarious picturing Mrs. Butterworth diving off the pantry shelf. (I'm not sure that was the picture that came to mind for the person when the accident first occurred , especially when the mess was being cleaned up.) Humor helps save sanity many times over.
I also believe that things happen for a reason -- and they happen at the time they do for a reason. There is a perfect, timed sequence. Moreover, there is a lesson to be learned from many of the situations or events we experience. So the challenge is to figure out what the lesson might be.
I've tried to learn about patience, how I might have been kinder to someone, oh so that's what that feels like, and on and on.
One of the people that has been a huge help in this change for me has been Dr. Alan Zimmerman with his Tuesday Tips. I always look forward to what he has to say on Tuesday each week. His Tuesday Tips newsletter is free to anyone who wants to subscribe. Here is the link if anyone is interested. http://www.drzimmerman.com/tiptestimonies.htm
He gets my Gratitude for today.
Goodnite, Mrs. Butterworth!
The discussion that ensued exemplified the difference in outlook over Mrs. Butterworth's unexpected leap to the floor. I was told that this was just an omen of how bad the day was probably going to be.
I offered an alternative view: Maybe this meant the day was going to be very sweet.
It's taken me a long time to turn that into a regular way to look at things. For years I struggled with negativity and worrying about every little thing. I'm not sure at what point things finally turned around for me. However, I definitely know that there is tremendous power in positive thinking. Once I started trying it, I found it really made a difference -- both in how I felt about what I was doing, as well as the effect it had on the things I was doing. Things just seemed to turn out better if I had a more positive attitude.
I found that if I started looking for the good things, I usually found them. There is almost always a silver lining if you look hard enough. Then the very best thing of all happens. Once you start doing this on a frequent enough basis, it just becomes a part of how you think. It's second nature to start looking for the bright side.
There is a Part Two to this type of thinking. It helps to look for the humor in whatever situation I find myself. To me it was downright hilarious picturing Mrs. Butterworth diving off the pantry shelf. (I'm not sure that was the picture that came to mind for the person when the accident first occurred , especially when the mess was being cleaned up.) Humor helps save sanity many times over.
I also believe that things happen for a reason -- and they happen at the time they do for a reason. There is a perfect, timed sequence. Moreover, there is a lesson to be learned from many of the situations or events we experience. So the challenge is to figure out what the lesson might be.
I've tried to learn about patience, how I might have been kinder to someone, oh so that's what that feels like, and on and on.
One of the people that has been a huge help in this change for me has been Dr. Alan Zimmerman with his Tuesday Tips. I always look forward to what he has to say on Tuesday each week. His Tuesday Tips newsletter is free to anyone who wants to subscribe. Here is the link if anyone is interested. http://www.drzimmerman.com/tiptestimonies.htm
He gets my Gratitude for today.
Goodnite, Mrs. Butterworth!
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Colors
I always laugh at the questions asked for various computer or password security control. What was the name of your first pet? (can't remember) Where did you vacation last year? (most years I don't really take a real vacation in the traditional sense of the word) What was the name of your favorite teacher? (I had more than one) What is your favorite color?
My favorite color when I was growing up was blue and my sister's was purple. So, I always thought I was not permitted to have purple as my favorite color, but I adored lavender. And since I was this very serious, studious person practicing law, showing up in courtrooms, I couldn't have pink as my favorite color, even though I really, really loved it. And for those same reasons, I certainly couldn't show up with red fingernails, even though I secretly really wanted to have red fingernails!
Well, someplace along the way I spent some time talking with some very helpful, nice people that wondered why I thought my sister owned the color purple. They also pointed out there were no rules about female lawyers and the color pink. And gradually, I got a little more comfortable in my own skin -- and with my own fingernails -- that I permitted myself to even paint them red. (I still wore skirts in the courtroom though.)
I also opened my eyes to the world around me and saw there were other colors. Yes, I still loved blue, and I started noticing all the many different, gorgeous shades of it. But I also started to see the hues of the sunset, and all the greens in the forest, and the reds and browns in the canyons. I literally had a revelation and a whole new appreciation of my total environment. Tunnel vision of the world wastes so much beauty.
I must admit, though, that I'm still not too keen on yellow and orange. Limited quanities I can handle, and the lighter shades are fine. And I'm working to incorporate them, especially when paired with my favorites. They are okay as accent colors, like black and white with yellow used as the accent. Maybe that's one of the lessons in life -- sort of like recognizing our weaknesses, being aware of them and working on them.
Anyway, so I wore this red jersey to the football game today. I told my grandson to be sure and watch for me on TV -- that I would wave to him and he could see me because I would be the one in the red jersey. Of course I knew there would be probably about 30,000 other people there in red jerseys (and a like number in blue jerseys and a few more in white). He kept looking all day for me, and finally decided he saw me on the field in the game -- playing, of course.
You gotta love a kid who thinks his grandmother can play professional football because she wears the red jersey! All because of the power of red. Maybe Mrs. Marshall was right.
And maybe I have a favorite teacher after all, I just never realized it.
My favorite color when I was growing up was blue and my sister's was purple. So, I always thought I was not permitted to have purple as my favorite color, but I adored lavender. And since I was this very serious, studious person practicing law, showing up in courtrooms, I couldn't have pink as my favorite color, even though I really, really loved it. And for those same reasons, I certainly couldn't show up with red fingernails, even though I secretly really wanted to have red fingernails!
Well, someplace along the way I spent some time talking with some very helpful, nice people that wondered why I thought my sister owned the color purple. They also pointed out there were no rules about female lawyers and the color pink. And gradually, I got a little more comfortable in my own skin -- and with my own fingernails -- that I permitted myself to even paint them red. (I still wore skirts in the courtroom though.)
I also opened my eyes to the world around me and saw there were other colors. Yes, I still loved blue, and I started noticing all the many different, gorgeous shades of it. But I also started to see the hues of the sunset, and all the greens in the forest, and the reds and browns in the canyons. I literally had a revelation and a whole new appreciation of my total environment. Tunnel vision of the world wastes so much beauty.
I must admit, though, that I'm still not too keen on yellow and orange. Limited quanities I can handle, and the lighter shades are fine. And I'm working to incorporate them, especially when paired with my favorites. They are okay as accent colors, like black and white with yellow used as the accent. Maybe that's one of the lessons in life -- sort of like recognizing our weaknesses, being aware of them and working on them.
Anyway, so I wore this red jersey to the football game today. I told my grandson to be sure and watch for me on TV -- that I would wave to him and he could see me because I would be the one in the red jersey. Of course I knew there would be probably about 30,000 other people there in red jerseys (and a like number in blue jerseys and a few more in white). He kept looking all day for me, and finally decided he saw me on the field in the game -- playing, of course.
You gotta love a kid who thinks his grandmother can play professional football because she wears the red jersey! All because of the power of red. Maybe Mrs. Marshall was right.
And maybe I have a favorite teacher after all, I just never realized it.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Perspective of Time
Listening to the song "Fifteen" the other night got me wondering how much I could remember of the year that I was 15. That was my freshman year in high school and the year I got my driver's license. I started my first job -- at the local grocery store, and I was thrilled. My life revolved around school, church, piano lessons, and work. As for specific thoughts, plans or ideas that I had back then -- I can't really recall today.
But I do know that my sense of what is important, how time works, how to accomplish goals, how to treat people -- all of those are different now. Maybe that's the process of growing older.
At fifteen I know the world must have seemed as if would never really get started for me. I was always in a hurry back then. I wanted desperately to grow up and have my own ____ (fill in the blank). My dad told me I was always burning the candle at both ends. He always wanted me to eliminate some of the activities I was involved in. But I wanted to try everything! I was (and still am) interested in everything.
In a way it's pretty amazing that I was able to specialize in anything -- first, that I was able to select anything, and second that I was able to devote the time, attention, and resources to make it happen. I was about to say that's not really the point here. But in a way, maybe it is.
Because the point is about the perspective of time and how we look at things differently at different stages of life. I was not capable to buckling down to focus on things and eliminate activities when my dad suggested (I wanted band, choir, and athletics). After I got into college it was necessary to focus, because a major was required. Once I finished with law school, I was already in the habit of studying like the earth was about to end so even though the bar exam was an ordeal, it was something I was prepared for. And when I started practicing law, law school had already demanded so much that work was a grind, too -- but just of a slightly different variety.
I'm no longer in the beginning stages of a career. That means the perspective is different also. I have more of a sense that I am supposed to give back, to help other people, to do good. There is also the sense that it all moves so quickly. I have the picture on my desk of the day I was sworn in. There I was, standing at the judge's bench in front of the American flag. The judge is still on the bench, but he's now a federal judge -- and he's taken senior status.
At fifteen the person I would fall in love with was completely different from the person I chose to spend my life with, the person who means the whole world to me. At fifteen I thought my life was all about me, but now I understand that it is really about my service to everyone else. At fifteen I thought thirty was old, but now that almost all of my children have reached thirty, that seems awfully young. At fifteen the idea of the 21st century seemed impossible, but now the year 2000 was already a decade ago but seems like yesterday.
So I'm grateful to have had the opportunity to have experienced all of these things in my life. I am grateful for the lessons (some learned the hard way, of course) -- and I hope to pass them on so that others don't have to learn them the hard way. On the other hand, one of the things I have also learned is that most people end up having to learn the lessons for themselves -- and usually the hard way -- because they don't listen or learn from the example set by others. They just gotta try it.
Fifteen, indeed.
But I do know that my sense of what is important, how time works, how to accomplish goals, how to treat people -- all of those are different now. Maybe that's the process of growing older.
At fifteen I know the world must have seemed as if would never really get started for me. I was always in a hurry back then. I wanted desperately to grow up and have my own ____ (fill in the blank). My dad told me I was always burning the candle at both ends. He always wanted me to eliminate some of the activities I was involved in. But I wanted to try everything! I was (and still am) interested in everything.
In a way it's pretty amazing that I was able to specialize in anything -- first, that I was able to select anything, and second that I was able to devote the time, attention, and resources to make it happen. I was about to say that's not really the point here. But in a way, maybe it is.
Because the point is about the perspective of time and how we look at things differently at different stages of life. I was not capable to buckling down to focus on things and eliminate activities when my dad suggested (I wanted band, choir, and athletics). After I got into college it was necessary to focus, because a major was required. Once I finished with law school, I was already in the habit of studying like the earth was about to end so even though the bar exam was an ordeal, it was something I was prepared for. And when I started practicing law, law school had already demanded so much that work was a grind, too -- but just of a slightly different variety.
I'm no longer in the beginning stages of a career. That means the perspective is different also. I have more of a sense that I am supposed to give back, to help other people, to do good. There is also the sense that it all moves so quickly. I have the picture on my desk of the day I was sworn in. There I was, standing at the judge's bench in front of the American flag. The judge is still on the bench, but he's now a federal judge -- and he's taken senior status.
At fifteen the person I would fall in love with was completely different from the person I chose to spend my life with, the person who means the whole world to me. At fifteen I thought my life was all about me, but now I understand that it is really about my service to everyone else. At fifteen I thought thirty was old, but now that almost all of my children have reached thirty, that seems awfully young. At fifteen the idea of the 21st century seemed impossible, but now the year 2000 was already a decade ago but seems like yesterday.
So I'm grateful to have had the opportunity to have experienced all of these things in my life. I am grateful for the lessons (some learned the hard way, of course) -- and I hope to pass them on so that others don't have to learn them the hard way. On the other hand, one of the things I have also learned is that most people end up having to learn the lessons for themselves -- and usually the hard way -- because they don't listen or learn from the example set by others. They just gotta try it.
Fifteen, indeed.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Calendars
I love calendars. I keep three of them -- two electronic ones (don't ask why, there really is a good reason) and a paper one. My assistant keeps one also so she can tell people who call asking about my availability what my schedule is. The problem is my schedule changes -- sometimes moment by moment. I would really love to keep to a set, planned 8 hours a day, 5 days a week schedule that I know where I am supposed to be and everybody knows where to find me. That's just not the way my work goes.
For example, I was about to walk out the door, headed for the airport to go out of town to conduct a hearing. I had my roller bag all packed and was rolling out to the car when the phone rang. It was my assistant. The attorneys called to say they had settled the case. It's a good thing they called when they did, because another 30 minutes and I would have been standing in the security line at the airport. And then there are the times when I don't have anything scheduled on the calendar and I get a call from the Docket Manager in Austin asking if I can do a case tomorrow in some remote location. Of course, I'm always willing to help people solve a problem if I can.
So I go home and pack a bag, drive or catch a flight to wherever I need to go. Some of the places we go do not even have a motel. In those cases we stay in the closest spot we can and drive to the site of the hearing or mediation. After a very long day we can drive home or back to the airport -- or not. Sometimes it is onward to the next business location and we may not return home for a week or so at a time.
My paper calendar looks pretty funny with all its red X's on the items marked out. That's why I reprint the electronic calendar fairly often because the paper calendar is out of date after about two days. People are always asking for continuances or settling cases. Meetings get rescheduled or cancelled.
And then there is my personal life. Hah! We have a wonderful lady that comes once a week to clean our house. It started on Thursday (I think). Then it was changed to Wednesday (I think). Now it is supposed to be Tuesday, but last week she needed to take her son to the doctor so she asked if she could come on Friday. Not a problem. This week she was supposed to come on Friday also (so I thought but I don't remember why), but she called this morning and asked if it was okay if she came today. Of course, I said. So I changed my morning routine for her to be her today.
Tomorrow I'm going to the dentist. This appointment was originally set for June 3. I cancelled it so I could conduct a hearing in the Metroplex area that day. The day I rescheduled I to was in July. Wouldn't you know, but the Immigration Service picked that date for the interview of my client who is applying for what will eventually be his green card? And I got about a week to make the rescheduling arrangements. So I re-set the appointment. The day that I reset it for was the day that everything flooded and I couldn't get out to that part of town and back again. I'm very happy to be able to make this appointment now. But my plans don't go very much according to plan.
It used to be very simple when someone else told me where to go and what to do. That's not the case anymore. I'm the one that issues Scheduling Orders and tells other people where to go and what their deadlines are. But that puts even more pressure on my calendar trying to maintain the overall calendars of those cases and those people. I feel the responsibility of those lives and those problems. My life and my problems get subordinated to everyone else's -- and sometimes that may be the right choice and sometimes it may not. I get accused of a lot of things, a lot of which is unrepeatable, and most of which I try to overlook because I know it is said in anger by people who need an easy target. (And I deal with a lot of people who have mental illness.) All in all though, with the help of my staff, I think we do a pretty decent balancing act of juggling all those schedules to get the prehearing conferences, mediations, initial scheduling orders, management conferences, status conference calls, arbitration hearings, due process hearings, and assorted miscellaneous matters attended to.
So, my Gratitude goes to my Staff for seeing me through all, keeping me where I need to be, getting information to me, and messages sent to the right people in the right way. Thank you, Candyss, Merry and Janice. (Connie, you are included in this, too, even though you are part of a different staff, but you keep me on track and participate in the communication process right there with Candy, Merry and Janice!)
As I mentioned to one of the lawyers in my mediation today: If there were not any problems, there would no longer be a need for us as lawyers or mediators.
For example, I was about to walk out the door, headed for the airport to go out of town to conduct a hearing. I had my roller bag all packed and was rolling out to the car when the phone rang. It was my assistant. The attorneys called to say they had settled the case. It's a good thing they called when they did, because another 30 minutes and I would have been standing in the security line at the airport. And then there are the times when I don't have anything scheduled on the calendar and I get a call from the Docket Manager in Austin asking if I can do a case tomorrow in some remote location. Of course, I'm always willing to help people solve a problem if I can.
So I go home and pack a bag, drive or catch a flight to wherever I need to go. Some of the places we go do not even have a motel. In those cases we stay in the closest spot we can and drive to the site of the hearing or mediation. After a very long day we can drive home or back to the airport -- or not. Sometimes it is onward to the next business location and we may not return home for a week or so at a time.
My paper calendar looks pretty funny with all its red X's on the items marked out. That's why I reprint the electronic calendar fairly often because the paper calendar is out of date after about two days. People are always asking for continuances or settling cases. Meetings get rescheduled or cancelled.
And then there is my personal life. Hah! We have a wonderful lady that comes once a week to clean our house. It started on Thursday (I think). Then it was changed to Wednesday (I think). Now it is supposed to be Tuesday, but last week she needed to take her son to the doctor so she asked if she could come on Friday. Not a problem. This week she was supposed to come on Friday also (so I thought but I don't remember why), but she called this morning and asked if it was okay if she came today. Of course, I said. So I changed my morning routine for her to be her today.
Tomorrow I'm going to the dentist. This appointment was originally set for June 3. I cancelled it so I could conduct a hearing in the Metroplex area that day. The day I rescheduled I to was in July. Wouldn't you know, but the Immigration Service picked that date for the interview of my client who is applying for what will eventually be his green card? And I got about a week to make the rescheduling arrangements. So I re-set the appointment. The day that I reset it for was the day that everything flooded and I couldn't get out to that part of town and back again. I'm very happy to be able to make this appointment now. But my plans don't go very much according to plan.
It used to be very simple when someone else told me where to go and what to do. That's not the case anymore. I'm the one that issues Scheduling Orders and tells other people where to go and what their deadlines are. But that puts even more pressure on my calendar trying to maintain the overall calendars of those cases and those people. I feel the responsibility of those lives and those problems. My life and my problems get subordinated to everyone else's -- and sometimes that may be the right choice and sometimes it may not. I get accused of a lot of things, a lot of which is unrepeatable, and most of which I try to overlook because I know it is said in anger by people who need an easy target. (And I deal with a lot of people who have mental illness.) All in all though, with the help of my staff, I think we do a pretty decent balancing act of juggling all those schedules to get the prehearing conferences, mediations, initial scheduling orders, management conferences, status conference calls, arbitration hearings, due process hearings, and assorted miscellaneous matters attended to.
So, my Gratitude goes to my Staff for seeing me through all, keeping me where I need to be, getting information to me, and messages sent to the right people in the right way. Thank you, Candyss, Merry and Janice. (Connie, you are included in this, too, even though you are part of a different staff, but you keep me on track and participate in the communication process right there with Candy, Merry and Janice!)
As I mentioned to one of the lawyers in my mediation today: If there were not any problems, there would no longer be a need for us as lawyers or mediators.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Mother Mary
"But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart." Lk. 2:19 (NASB)
CSD
MCM
DBD
MPD
TAD
CSD
MCM
DBD
MPD
TAD
Monday, September 20, 2010
I Have No Clue
Today was one of those days where I went through the motions. I got up late. I felt okay. I got to work. I was totally focused. Everything took way too long to do. But what I have to do sometimes can be very detailed and it takes tremendous focus to get it correct. There are a lot of little things that, if I get them wrong, there is no one else to blame, and a lot of people are very upset. There can be very serious legal repurcussions if I mess something up. So I spent a lot of time this morning on some interwoven matters that had a lot of dates, numbers and names that could have started looking all alike, just to make sure it was all correct. You should have seen all the paper for the shredding bin from the drafts that had to be corrected. I was so close to being finished with that humongous, very important project ...
Then I got distracted by a haymaker. (Go look it up if that term is unfamiliar.) Actually, distracted is not the right word -- it's too mild. I tried to get my focus back, but I never really did. I continued on with the rest of the day and my work. Clients pay for my time; they want my full attention, not my half-way legal thoughts. Thank goodness none of the requirements for the rest of the day demanded any heavy lifting, though.
So I put on some Bob Dylan music -- "Together Through Life", and Bruce Springsteen, "The Rising." I held the meetings I needed to, listened and offered the assessments and advice where appropriate.
Then I went home, saw my beautiful grandchildren, and my fabulous spouse -- who happened to be fixing grilled cheese sandwiches for the kids. I put on my Drew Brees jersey to prepare for the Saints game and had a glass of wine, turned on ESPN and watched the pre-game show.
Now I am reflecting. I still have no clue why I got punched -- other than the fact that I exist. But that is reason enough I guess. I've decided that is just part of life. On some days we get punched in the gut, and our test is how we will react. I'm incredibly sad that someone thinks I've not shown sufficient love and support to suit them (apparently -- for that is all I can glean from the aftermath).
Okay. I'll take that. And try to learn from it. I don't know what it means to meet someone else's definition, only my own. I can only try to show love as I know it to be and support as I know how to express it.
Tomorrow will bring a new day. I will love as many people as will let me. Some just don't let me in though. I'm not going to stop loving and one day, who knows?
Gratitude List:
Miss Debbie -- I'm so very glad you're back.
Three nights in a row sleeping with my favorite person
Tessie Woo
Leftovers made wow
2 glasses of wine while watching football
Comfortable PJs
Bananas that taste really good
Then I got distracted by a haymaker. (Go look it up if that term is unfamiliar.) Actually, distracted is not the right word -- it's too mild. I tried to get my focus back, but I never really did. I continued on with the rest of the day and my work. Clients pay for my time; they want my full attention, not my half-way legal thoughts. Thank goodness none of the requirements for the rest of the day demanded any heavy lifting, though.
So I put on some Bob Dylan music -- "Together Through Life", and Bruce Springsteen, "The Rising." I held the meetings I needed to, listened and offered the assessments and advice where appropriate.
Then I went home, saw my beautiful grandchildren, and my fabulous spouse -- who happened to be fixing grilled cheese sandwiches for the kids. I put on my Drew Brees jersey to prepare for the Saints game and had a glass of wine, turned on ESPN and watched the pre-game show.
Now I am reflecting. I still have no clue why I got punched -- other than the fact that I exist. But that is reason enough I guess. I've decided that is just part of life. On some days we get punched in the gut, and our test is how we will react. I'm incredibly sad that someone thinks I've not shown sufficient love and support to suit them (apparently -- for that is all I can glean from the aftermath).
Okay. I'll take that. And try to learn from it. I don't know what it means to meet someone else's definition, only my own. I can only try to show love as I know it to be and support as I know how to express it.
Tomorrow will bring a new day. I will love as many people as will let me. Some just don't let me in though. I'm not going to stop loving and one day, who knows?
Gratitude List:
Miss Debbie -- I'm so very glad you're back.
Three nights in a row sleeping with my favorite person
Tessie Woo
Leftovers made wow
2 glasses of wine while watching football
Comfortable PJs
Bananas that taste really good
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Ode on the Loo
My toilet at home is this weird shade of pink -- after all it's the original toilet from a house that was built in the 1950's. Since I've lived in this same house for over 23 years now, many hours of my time have been spent on that pink throne. Last week I spent quite a few hours with what my friend Ima's family calls "technical difficulties." In my family it's usually known as diarrhea.
Since I was there for so much time, I got to thinking about the subject of where people do their "business." I have used facilities all over the world and been amazed, amused, challenged, and a few other things at the experience. First, I learned to carry T.P. with me all the time. Some places don't provide any at all in public facilities, whereas others -- like in Paris -- have this pink, rough, hard paper that was not very pleasant. Actually, my hotel in Paris even had that pink paper. In China I took a roll of T.P. with me in my suitcase. Each day as I left my hotel I would estimate how many times I would be going to the bathroom, then roll off the number of squares for each trip, tear it off, fold it neatly, and put them in an accessible place in my purse where they could also be kept clean.
Second, there are the types of facilities. In China and other parts of Asia the toilets are holes built into the floor. The method one uses is to squat then relieve one's self. There is a device, either a pedal or lever, that is pushed with the foot that flushes the toilet. Those toilets are certainly easier to clean than Western-style toilets! After a while you get pretty good thigh muscles built up -- no lingering to do the crossword puzzle, for sure.
In Africa the bathrooms in the hotels where I stayed had beautiful facilities. We traveled all over the countryside though, and visited some very remote areas. At one place the Western-style toilet had to be flushed in a little different method. There was a large garbage can filled with clean water. When finished, you took a pitcher or two of clean water and emptied it into the toilet bowl so that it "flushed" the materials through the system, leaving clean water behind. Of course on some of the bus rides we were simply too far from anywhere to have a bathroom. We just made do on the side of the road. One of my favorite pictures is that of a hand, holding on to a rock. That's all you can see. That's because we were down below on the side of the hill and holding on to the rocks for balance.
So it doesn't matter whether it is called a water closet, head, latrine, lavatory, toilette, loo, rest room, bathroom or something else -- it's still a very important place for business.
And I realized how very grateful I was to have one that was comfortable -- with soft, durable T.P. And that I can spend all the time I want working my crossword puzzle, sudoku, reading, or whatever. Gratitude, indeed.
Since I was there for so much time, I got to thinking about the subject of where people do their "business." I have used facilities all over the world and been amazed, amused, challenged, and a few other things at the experience. First, I learned to carry T.P. with me all the time. Some places don't provide any at all in public facilities, whereas others -- like in Paris -- have this pink, rough, hard paper that was not very pleasant. Actually, my hotel in Paris even had that pink paper. In China I took a roll of T.P. with me in my suitcase. Each day as I left my hotel I would estimate how many times I would be going to the bathroom, then roll off the number of squares for each trip, tear it off, fold it neatly, and put them in an accessible place in my purse where they could also be kept clean.
Second, there are the types of facilities. In China and other parts of Asia the toilets are holes built into the floor. The method one uses is to squat then relieve one's self. There is a device, either a pedal or lever, that is pushed with the foot that flushes the toilet. Those toilets are certainly easier to clean than Western-style toilets! After a while you get pretty good thigh muscles built up -- no lingering to do the crossword puzzle, for sure.
In Africa the bathrooms in the hotels where I stayed had beautiful facilities. We traveled all over the countryside though, and visited some very remote areas. At one place the Western-style toilet had to be flushed in a little different method. There was a large garbage can filled with clean water. When finished, you took a pitcher or two of clean water and emptied it into the toilet bowl so that it "flushed" the materials through the system, leaving clean water behind. Of course on some of the bus rides we were simply too far from anywhere to have a bathroom. We just made do on the side of the road. One of my favorite pictures is that of a hand, holding on to a rock. That's all you can see. That's because we were down below on the side of the hill and holding on to the rocks for balance.
So it doesn't matter whether it is called a water closet, head, latrine, lavatory, toilette, loo, rest room, bathroom or something else -- it's still a very important place for business.
And I realized how very grateful I was to have one that was comfortable -- with soft, durable T.P. And that I can spend all the time I want working my crossword puzzle, sudoku, reading, or whatever. Gratitude, indeed.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Simply Amazing
Remembering this blog serves as the vehicle to express my Graitude, I have been reminded in the last couple of days how amazing it is that when we relax and let go of our anxieties all our needs are fulfilled. Rather than constantly worrying and fretting over how they are going to be met and just trusting that they will be met, we are freed up to focus on the business at hand. Whatever our real mission is -- to serve in the capacity that we are sent, and the role will be different for each of us, but to do it well. Our obsession with minor details obscures the path and clouds the vision. (And Anxiety is another manifestation of fear -- really a lack of trust.)
What has been almost funny has been the total beauty of seeing it in action. Sometimes it is totally small things -- like I couldn't find the receipt from Target after I came home the other day. I needed it to attach to my expense report for the specialty Post-It tabs that I got for the office. I looked in both of the bags where it should have been, but somehow it had just disappeared. Finally I gave up. That was Sunday. I took the Post-It tabs to work on Monday, figured I was stuck or whatever. This morning when I went to get the newspaper, there on the front sidewalk was the receipt lying there, nicely folded and waiting for me to see it and pick it up. After all this time with the postal carriers walking by, the garbage going out, the kids playing, the weather, and everything else that has happened in 3 days -- there it was just waiting for me to notice it when I had the quiet frame of mind to see it and focus. It was unfaded and had everything I needed right there.
Yesterday I couldn't get into the turning lane that I needed to for the route I take to work in the mornings, because the traffic was so backed up and no one would let me over. So I had to stay in the lane that made me go the opposite direction on the freeway. Well, it was a perfect wrong way to go because there was a huge wreck that totally screwed up the freeway and I would have been sitting in that snarl forever, even though my office was only a 5-minute drive away. My wrong-way course was not really a problem, because I knew exactly how to take a U-turn and go down the surface streets to take a different route. Somebody did me a big favor by not letting me over.
So, Thank You to those people that taught me to let go of my anxieties and trust that everything is going to be okay. Laugh at the unexpected detours because not only may they go an interesting direction, they may even save time or bring our path to the perfect person we needed to meet.
I got an unexpected car wash yesterday. Michael, how did you know I was dying to have all that pecan gunk washed off my car? My Gratitude to you, dear heart.
A Huge Hunk of Gratitude to the Company that has given a job to Mike! Hooray!!!
To all the mothers that day in and out do all those things you do -- kissing the bo-bos, washing the little bodies, trying to find something they will eat today (because they don't like what they liked yesterday), chauffeuring them all over town to doctor's visits, birthday parties, day care and a million other things you do: My Gratitude to you. You make our world of tomorrow.
To all the fathers, so do you -- because I know you do most if not all of those same things, too. Plus you get to be called in for the heavy lifting and artillery duty on occasion. My Gratitude to you also. You are also making our world of tomorrow.
I am not one of those people who is afraid for what our world will look like in the future. We are in good hands, I have no doubt of that. That, too, makes me grateful.
What has been almost funny has been the total beauty of seeing it in action. Sometimes it is totally small things -- like I couldn't find the receipt from Target after I came home the other day. I needed it to attach to my expense report for the specialty Post-It tabs that I got for the office. I looked in both of the bags where it should have been, but somehow it had just disappeared. Finally I gave up. That was Sunday. I took the Post-It tabs to work on Monday, figured I was stuck or whatever. This morning when I went to get the newspaper, there on the front sidewalk was the receipt lying there, nicely folded and waiting for me to see it and pick it up. After all this time with the postal carriers walking by, the garbage going out, the kids playing, the weather, and everything else that has happened in 3 days -- there it was just waiting for me to notice it when I had the quiet frame of mind to see it and focus. It was unfaded and had everything I needed right there.
Yesterday I couldn't get into the turning lane that I needed to for the route I take to work in the mornings, because the traffic was so backed up and no one would let me over. So I had to stay in the lane that made me go the opposite direction on the freeway. Well, it was a perfect wrong way to go because there was a huge wreck that totally screwed up the freeway and I would have been sitting in that snarl forever, even though my office was only a 5-minute drive away. My wrong-way course was not really a problem, because I knew exactly how to take a U-turn and go down the surface streets to take a different route. Somebody did me a big favor by not letting me over.
So, Thank You to those people that taught me to let go of my anxieties and trust that everything is going to be okay. Laugh at the unexpected detours because not only may they go an interesting direction, they may even save time or bring our path to the perfect person we needed to meet.
I got an unexpected car wash yesterday. Michael, how did you know I was dying to have all that pecan gunk washed off my car? My Gratitude to you, dear heart.
A Huge Hunk of Gratitude to the Company that has given a job to Mike! Hooray!!!
To all the mothers that day in and out do all those things you do -- kissing the bo-bos, washing the little bodies, trying to find something they will eat today (because they don't like what they liked yesterday), chauffeuring them all over town to doctor's visits, birthday parties, day care and a million other things you do: My Gratitude to you. You make our world of tomorrow.
To all the fathers, so do you -- because I know you do most if not all of those same things, too. Plus you get to be called in for the heavy lifting and artillery duty on occasion. My Gratitude to you also. You are also making our world of tomorrow.
I am not one of those people who is afraid for what our world will look like in the future. We are in good hands, I have no doubt of that. That, too, makes me grateful.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Cinderella Was My Client
Over the many years that I have practiced law I have represented quite a few people in family law matters -- divorces, child support matters, and adoptions. And then I have endured my own family law issues, watched on the sidelines with close friends and family members, holding their hands, encouraging, sympathizing, shedding far more tears than an ocean can hold.
Might I also add that not all of these people have been women. Quite a number of them have been men. Their issues, however, are not quite as pertinent to this theme. I also hasten to add that I am not disclosing any client confidences, nor am I revealing anything that my friends would not tell about themselves either.
One of the most common problems is what I call the "dirty socks." At some point couples have to face the reality of the dirty socks -- they may have been left wherever they were dropped, never put in the hamper, left inside the running shoes or whatever. But the point is they're smelly and awful and unbelievably dirty.
I've never had socks like that in my life. Oh wait -- yes I did. Once. When I went hiking in Africa with the gorillas in the mountains. And I broke the nail on my big toe off when I jumped down from the wall coming out of the National Park But I digress ...
The socks -- Nobody plans for the socks. Brides only plan for the wedding. They don't plan for the husbands that put guns in their faces -- or fists or some other object that happens to be close by. They don't plan for how to survive when a husband decides he doesn't want to be married anymore and she's been out of the job market for 18 years raising the kids. They don't plan for their husband to do something incredibly stupid like get strung out on drugs and ruin their family. And believe it or not there are even some who find out their husbands have another family stashed away somewhere. No one plans on that!
Brides don't realize that the person they are at 25 likely will be very different from the person they are at 35 (or 45). Even worse -- they really don't realize that their man will be very different from that gorgeous hunky 25-year-old Prince Charming who dotes on every word Cinderella says, from the guy will be when he turns 40 and has his pot belly and thinning, gray hair.
So when Cinderella discovers she's made a huge mistake and can't work through the problems -- and usually she's tried absolutely everything -- she makes an appointment to come see me at my office. I explain the law to her, and if we both agree, I will represent her in the legal proceedings. (Note: I don't do very many of these cases any more. I mostly refer them out to lawyers that practice only family law.)
What does any of that have to do with anything? I've been saddened greatly by more Cinderellas in the making. Yes, my generation bought into that myth about the wedding and becoming Mrs. SoAndSo ... but I would have thought that the current generation of young women would recognize their options provide them with so many more opportunities. (One of my friends says if she had just lived with her first 3 husbands instead of marrying them, those marriages would have never happened. They would have fizzled.)
If Cinderella doesn't know someone well enough to know about the dirty socks that come from being in that person's life for long enough (I say a minimum of three years), then the odds are in my favor, not Cindy's. No one wants to see the Lawyers win.
My Gratitude, therefore, goes to everyone who is working hard to help educate people about the hard work that marriage is. Believe me, I know. I have a wonderful spouse -- but it's still very, very hard work. I am grateful to him on so many levels and for so many reasons. I can't count that high. But if I had met him when I was in my 20's our marriage would not have worked. I was too immature and lacked the communication skills that are necessary to make a relationship work. I was probably too selfish and not willing to make the important sacrifices that are necessary -- like holding my tongue.
I had a very interesting conversation some time back with two men, now American citizens who are originally from India. One is a doctor and one an engineer that owns a large company, so both are very successful. Both of the men have been happily married for many years, both in marriages that were arranged by their families. One of the men's son had just asked a young woman to marry him. So our conversation naturally turned to the cultural differences in marriage. I was very curious to find out how the families located the right "prospects" for the marriage, and how did this arrangement seem to work, particularly if the couple only met the day of or day before the wedding?
As they explained the process, certain elder members of the family were charged with performing the selection duties, which they took very seriously. They looked for other families that were in a similar income level, with similar beliefs, and if the groom was looking for a bride with certain interests or hobbies -- like traveling -- then that was factored into the equation. When you think about it, the values were very closely aligned between the bride and groom because the families took so much care in making the arrangements. It was understood that the commitment would be honored. Respect followed the commitment, and usually, love followed the respect and commitment.
So my Gratitude to my friends from India for teaching me there may be another way that also works.
Might I also add that not all of these people have been women. Quite a number of them have been men. Their issues, however, are not quite as pertinent to this theme. I also hasten to add that I am not disclosing any client confidences, nor am I revealing anything that my friends would not tell about themselves either.
One of the most common problems is what I call the "dirty socks." At some point couples have to face the reality of the dirty socks -- they may have been left wherever they were dropped, never put in the hamper, left inside the running shoes or whatever. But the point is they're smelly and awful and unbelievably dirty.
I've never had socks like that in my life. Oh wait -- yes I did. Once. When I went hiking in Africa with the gorillas in the mountains. And I broke the nail on my big toe off when I jumped down from the wall coming out of the National Park But I digress ...
The socks -- Nobody plans for the socks. Brides only plan for the wedding. They don't plan for the husbands that put guns in their faces -- or fists or some other object that happens to be close by. They don't plan for how to survive when a husband decides he doesn't want to be married anymore and she's been out of the job market for 18 years raising the kids. They don't plan for their husband to do something incredibly stupid like get strung out on drugs and ruin their family. And believe it or not there are even some who find out their husbands have another family stashed away somewhere. No one plans on that!
Brides don't realize that the person they are at 25 likely will be very different from the person they are at 35 (or 45). Even worse -- they really don't realize that their man will be very different from that gorgeous hunky 25-year-old Prince Charming who dotes on every word Cinderella says, from the guy will be when he turns 40 and has his pot belly and thinning, gray hair.
So when Cinderella discovers she's made a huge mistake and can't work through the problems -- and usually she's tried absolutely everything -- she makes an appointment to come see me at my office. I explain the law to her, and if we both agree, I will represent her in the legal proceedings. (Note: I don't do very many of these cases any more. I mostly refer them out to lawyers that practice only family law.)
What does any of that have to do with anything? I've been saddened greatly by more Cinderellas in the making. Yes, my generation bought into that myth about the wedding and becoming Mrs. SoAndSo ... but I would have thought that the current generation of young women would recognize their options provide them with so many more opportunities. (One of my friends says if she had just lived with her first 3 husbands instead of marrying them, those marriages would have never happened. They would have fizzled.)
If Cinderella doesn't know someone well enough to know about the dirty socks that come from being in that person's life for long enough (I say a minimum of three years), then the odds are in my favor, not Cindy's. No one wants to see the Lawyers win.
My Gratitude, therefore, goes to everyone who is working hard to help educate people about the hard work that marriage is. Believe me, I know. I have a wonderful spouse -- but it's still very, very hard work. I am grateful to him on so many levels and for so many reasons. I can't count that high. But if I had met him when I was in my 20's our marriage would not have worked. I was too immature and lacked the communication skills that are necessary to make a relationship work. I was probably too selfish and not willing to make the important sacrifices that are necessary -- like holding my tongue.
I had a very interesting conversation some time back with two men, now American citizens who are originally from India. One is a doctor and one an engineer that owns a large company, so both are very successful. Both of the men have been happily married for many years, both in marriages that were arranged by their families. One of the men's son had just asked a young woman to marry him. So our conversation naturally turned to the cultural differences in marriage. I was very curious to find out how the families located the right "prospects" for the marriage, and how did this arrangement seem to work, particularly if the couple only met the day of or day before the wedding?
As they explained the process, certain elder members of the family were charged with performing the selection duties, which they took very seriously. They looked for other families that were in a similar income level, with similar beliefs, and if the groom was looking for a bride with certain interests or hobbies -- like traveling -- then that was factored into the equation. When you think about it, the values were very closely aligned between the bride and groom because the families took so much care in making the arrangements. It was understood that the commitment would be honored. Respect followed the commitment, and usually, love followed the respect and commitment.
So my Gratitude to my friends from India for teaching me there may be another way that also works.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Going Gently into that Good World
An interesting convergence of ideas happened to me today. I took a phone call from a lawyer who wanted to talk to me about my letter responding to his client's demand letter to my client (got all that?). It was a very cordial conversation, a fact I appreciated immensely. In today's world lawyers tend to do too much yelling. My letter had been firm -- polite, but firm -- in stating my client's position. I told him I would convey his client's request to my client and get back with him later in the week.
Not long afterward I saw a message from someone on Facebook whose teachings frequently provide me with juicy morsels to meditate on later in the day. Today was no exception. She was talking about fear and fearlessness, and how fear can cause problems in our daily lives. One of the ways fear manifests in our lives is through aggression -- or anger. An effective way to counteract the aggression or anger is through gentleness. Where we start is within ourselves. When we are treating ourselves with more gentleness (and forgiveness) then the anger melts away, and when we are less angry with ourselves, we are less likely to be angry with those around us.
The most extraordinary part of the day came a couple of hours later. I'd had another phone call in the morning (won't go into details), but the upshot has to do with legal papers and the same client I was representing in my telephone conversation with Mr. Lawyer (above). When I finally got to see the legal papers and did what was necessary to deal with the issue for my corporate client, to my absolute shock and amazement -- I mean we're talking knock me over with a feather here -- I discovered that one of the parties identified in the legal papers was someone I had dated in high school. I can't go into details for privacy reasons (the other people's, not mine), but I will only say that it seems there is a lot of fear and anger that has occurred within people's lives. My hope, therefore, is that whatever gentleness I can impart into the world that will start the chain reaction can keep it going.
I heard recently that each of us has an effect on at least three people each day. The implication of our chain reaction is pretty staggering. That's 3x3x3x3, etc. because we all come into contact with so many people each and every single day -- well, at least I do anyway. (Except those days I pretend I'm a hermit stuck in a cave somewhere. Actually I kind of like those days, but that's another story.)
If I choose to have a gentle positive outlook with myself, and I am more likely to have a gentle positive interaction with people, then those three people I will have the effect on will be more likely to have been positively influenced rather than negatively. And each of those people will be influencing three more people who will be more likely to be gentle and positive -- and all of those people fan out -- and pretty soon, we have a whole army of people that are dedicated to love, kindness and compassion. That's how we start changing the world.
So my Gratitude today goes to Mr. Lawyer (whose name I will keep to myself), but I appreciate him greatly, even though he is my opposing counsel.
My Gratitude goes to Pema Chodron for her lesson on gentleness. And I will remember that I still have so very much to learn in this regard, as in so many other ways.
My Gratitude goes to my friends and family who help me remember that I come from a place where we are all real, and we are all connected. Blessings on all of you.
Now I choose to go gently into that Good World.
Not long afterward I saw a message from someone on Facebook whose teachings frequently provide me with juicy morsels to meditate on later in the day. Today was no exception. She was talking about fear and fearlessness, and how fear can cause problems in our daily lives. One of the ways fear manifests in our lives is through aggression -- or anger. An effective way to counteract the aggression or anger is through gentleness. Where we start is within ourselves. When we are treating ourselves with more gentleness (and forgiveness) then the anger melts away, and when we are less angry with ourselves, we are less likely to be angry with those around us.
The most extraordinary part of the day came a couple of hours later. I'd had another phone call in the morning (won't go into details), but the upshot has to do with legal papers and the same client I was representing in my telephone conversation with Mr. Lawyer (above). When I finally got to see the legal papers and did what was necessary to deal with the issue for my corporate client, to my absolute shock and amazement -- I mean we're talking knock me over with a feather here -- I discovered that one of the parties identified in the legal papers was someone I had dated in high school. I can't go into details for privacy reasons (the other people's, not mine), but I will only say that it seems there is a lot of fear and anger that has occurred within people's lives. My hope, therefore, is that whatever gentleness I can impart into the world that will start the chain reaction can keep it going.
I heard recently that each of us has an effect on at least three people each day. The implication of our chain reaction is pretty staggering. That's 3x3x3x3, etc. because we all come into contact with so many people each and every single day -- well, at least I do anyway. (Except those days I pretend I'm a hermit stuck in a cave somewhere. Actually I kind of like those days, but that's another story.)
If I choose to have a gentle positive outlook with myself, and I am more likely to have a gentle positive interaction with people, then those three people I will have the effect on will be more likely to have been positively influenced rather than negatively. And each of those people will be influencing three more people who will be more likely to be gentle and positive -- and all of those people fan out -- and pretty soon, we have a whole army of people that are dedicated to love, kindness and compassion. That's how we start changing the world.
So my Gratitude today goes to Mr. Lawyer (whose name I will keep to myself), but I appreciate him greatly, even though he is my opposing counsel.
My Gratitude goes to Pema Chodron for her lesson on gentleness. And I will remember that I still have so very much to learn in this regard, as in so many other ways.
My Gratitude goes to my friends and family who help me remember that I come from a place where we are all real, and we are all connected. Blessings on all of you.
Now I choose to go gently into that Good World.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Going Dark
I did not post a message yesterday. Although I had not actually planned it that way, I think subconsciously I knew all along that I would not write anything on September 11. That is why I wrote about the date on the days leading up to it. And today's thoughts tie into the fallout of events created by September 11.
My gratitude today goes to Nikki Stern whose opinion video ran on CBS Sunday Morning. Nikki's husband died in one of the Twin Towers on September 11, 2001. She said she is sick and tired of the anger. I agree with her. She said we should be coming together instead of coming apart. All of this is in reference to the furor over the Islamic Community Center (with a mosque) being built in Manhattan near the site where the World Trade Center was located. Of course, there are mosques all over the country, many that need to either expand or rebuild. In many places Muslims are being harassed as never before, including children at school. Almost all of these communities have existed for many years before September 11, 2001, peacefully unknown to the rest of their neighbors until the neighbors decided to get angry about something unconnected to their community. These Muslims are our engineers, doctors, and teachers -- and have worked alongside us for decades. Why have some people suddenly become so suspicious and angry?
Nikki is right: We need to come together instead of fall apart. Isn't this America, land of the free and home of the brave?
My gratitude today goes to Nikki Stern whose opinion video ran on CBS Sunday Morning. Nikki's husband died in one of the Twin Towers on September 11, 2001. She said she is sick and tired of the anger. I agree with her. She said we should be coming together instead of coming apart. All of this is in reference to the furor over the Islamic Community Center (with a mosque) being built in Manhattan near the site where the World Trade Center was located. Of course, there are mosques all over the country, many that need to either expand or rebuild. In many places Muslims are being harassed as never before, including children at school. Almost all of these communities have existed for many years before September 11, 2001, peacefully unknown to the rest of their neighbors until the neighbors decided to get angry about something unconnected to their community. These Muslims are our engineers, doctors, and teachers -- and have worked alongside us for decades. Why have some people suddenly become so suspicious and angry?
Nikki is right: We need to come together instead of fall apart. Isn't this America, land of the free and home of the brave?
Friday, September 10, 2010
Living in America
Just got home from seeing Margaret Cho's live performance, and I loved it. Her show is probably not for everyone, like those who may take offense at any sensitive topics. It helps to at least understand gay humor if you're not a member of the community. Her take on the South in particular was just hilarious. I can't wait to see how she and Louie do on Dancing with the Stars. But part of her show deals with immigrants, and how their view of living in America is different from that of persons who are native born.
That reminded me of a piece I heard on the BBC radio news earlier today of a young Muslim man living in Virginia. The story focused on the "Islamaphobia" that has developed in the U.S. since September 11, 2001. Eid al-Fitr, the feast ending the fasting of Ramadan, was celebrated yesterday. The parents of the young man who was interviewed are immigrants from Egypt. He said that no matter how bad things might be for Muslims right now in America, even with the polls right now showing such widespread prejudice toward Muslims, America is still the very best place in the world for Muslims to live and practice their faith. He said we have laws to protect people, and we have the FBI that will investigate hate crimes. Other countries do not (certainly not Egypt).
And I've seen what happens firsthand in a country where there is no protection against the discrimination of people on the basis of their perceived ethnic group, although it could have just as easily been their religion. Ultimately, if the laws go unenforced over a long enough period of time, power will be assumed by the group in charge, who will attempt to eradicate the minority group. The discrimination starts out small, then grows as it is rationalized (they are not really people, they are animals -- see their tails?), until it gets so far out of hand that no one noticed when the line was crossed that people started getting massacred -- frequently in the name of a greater good, and sometimes even in the name of God.
So I am very grateful to be Living in America -- the land of the free and the home of the brave. And I'm very grateful to all those people who believe it is important to have laws and make certain they are enforced on an equal basis. For that system of law to work we have to have people who write the laws, people who interpret the laws, people who enforce the laws, and people who punish lawbreakers. That's a lot of people to be grateful for -- including some that society usually looks down on, like legislators and lawyers. But it's also the people that don't always get a lot of publicity -- like the case managers for the judges, the court reporters and docket clerks and the bailiffs in the courtrooms. Then there are not only police officers but dispatchers, traffic signal technicians, mechanics working on police cruisers, and lab technicians.
Today my gratitude goes to being so fortunate for having been born in the USA. I don't have to worry that my head will be chopped off -- literally -- because of my religious beliefs (or lack thereof) or how they may differ from my king, or my boss (if I had one). I am not forced to be taxed a certain percentage of my income to the Establishment Church, but I may donate to the temple or church of my choice if I so desire (and it is tax-exempt). My occupation was not selected for me -- thank goodness -- but rather, I got to make my own mistakes until I stumbled into the right fit finally.
Best of all, I'm grateful for the butt that I'm going to get to snuggle up against tonight. I've really missed it.
That reminded me of a piece I heard on the BBC radio news earlier today of a young Muslim man living in Virginia. The story focused on the "Islamaphobia" that has developed in the U.S. since September 11, 2001. Eid al-Fitr, the feast ending the fasting of Ramadan, was celebrated yesterday. The parents of the young man who was interviewed are immigrants from Egypt. He said that no matter how bad things might be for Muslims right now in America, even with the polls right now showing such widespread prejudice toward Muslims, America is still the very best place in the world for Muslims to live and practice their faith. He said we have laws to protect people, and we have the FBI that will investigate hate crimes. Other countries do not (certainly not Egypt).
And I've seen what happens firsthand in a country where there is no protection against the discrimination of people on the basis of their perceived ethnic group, although it could have just as easily been their religion. Ultimately, if the laws go unenforced over a long enough period of time, power will be assumed by the group in charge, who will attempt to eradicate the minority group. The discrimination starts out small, then grows as it is rationalized (they are not really people, they are animals -- see their tails?), until it gets so far out of hand that no one noticed when the line was crossed that people started getting massacred -- frequently in the name of a greater good, and sometimes even in the name of God.
So I am very grateful to be Living in America -- the land of the free and the home of the brave. And I'm very grateful to all those people who believe it is important to have laws and make certain they are enforced on an equal basis. For that system of law to work we have to have people who write the laws, people who interpret the laws, people who enforce the laws, and people who punish lawbreakers. That's a lot of people to be grateful for -- including some that society usually looks down on, like legislators and lawyers. But it's also the people that don't always get a lot of publicity -- like the case managers for the judges, the court reporters and docket clerks and the bailiffs in the courtrooms. Then there are not only police officers but dispatchers, traffic signal technicians, mechanics working on police cruisers, and lab technicians.
Today my gratitude goes to being so fortunate for having been born in the USA. I don't have to worry that my head will be chopped off -- literally -- because of my religious beliefs (or lack thereof) or how they may differ from my king, or my boss (if I had one). I am not forced to be taxed a certain percentage of my income to the Establishment Church, but I may donate to the temple or church of my choice if I so desire (and it is tax-exempt). My occupation was not selected for me -- thank goodness -- but rather, I got to make my own mistakes until I stumbled into the right fit finally.
Best of all, I'm grateful for the butt that I'm going to get to snuggle up against tonight. I've really missed it.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Two Days Out
If anybody looks at the title of today's post and the date they might get a sense of the connection between the two -- but there's a little more to it. Bear in mind the theme of my blog is Gratitude. Today's thoughts start with something I read yesterday but relate to Sept. 11. So I'll start with what I read yesterday.
My cousin Mavis Ann posted on her Facebook page that she saw an interview with a freelance journalist who said her son Jonathan had saved his life while he was embedded with their unit. She gave the name of the TV station where the interview was still available. Now, I know more about that story than the barebones facts she put in that posting. I know more because I attended Jonathan's funeral in August last year after he was killed in Afghanistan by an IED. Jon was a 21-year-old Marine defending our country. I watched his beautiful mother, in her quiet, dignified way, deal with the loss of her equally beautiful son who willingly gave his life, doing something he loved. I also met his young wife, carrying their unborn child.
Mavis Ann found out for the first time in the interview about Jon's heroic act in saving the journalist. We always knew he was a hero, and here was someone who lived to tell us another story about his heroism. So, I have some special people on my mind that I am very grateful for -- Mavis Ann and Jonathan. They represent the sacrifice that is required to keep our country free.
But Mavis Ann and Jonathan also stand for so many other mothers and sons and daughters -- thousands upon thousands that have died just in these two wars alone, and that does not count the many others so terribly wounded and scarred. (I think of Ray and his family that our country let down by not being there to recognize the injury and provide treatment before it was too late. I wish I could fix that.) Our military families have borne a horribly disproportionate burden during these wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. I know that because I've seen it up close. My gratitude goes to Mavis and Jon and his wife, and now to Zoe, the baby that will never know her dad -- and to all those other families that serve in the military or support a service member.
The interview that Mavis mentioned can be found at http://www.oeta.tv/ontherecord.html in the section with Mike Boettcher. The whole interview with Mike is worth watching if you have the time, but the story about Jonathan is around the 24 minute point. It is especially poignant to know that Jon died only 2 weeks after this incident happened.
The interview with Mike also got me to thinking. The journalists go right into harm's way also -- to tell us the story of the soldiers and marines. And that's very important, to know their names and hear their stories. Jonathan is not a name on a wall or a list. He is my cousin's son (and my cousin, too).
With the journalists there, the soldiers and marines are not left unknown, their stories are not left untold. But their presence comes at a price. According to the Committe to Protect Journalists 139 journalists were killed in the line of duty in Iraq between March 2003 and October 2009. That does not count accidents, health-related deaths, etc. So, my gratitude also goes to Mike Boettcher who, in September 2010, goes back to Afghanistan for another year-long assignment with his son as his photographer. He says he "owes it to the Jonathans [and Geralds] of the world to tell their story. They should not be forgotten."
My gratitude, therefore, also goes to all those journalists who risk everything to get the story to all of us, comfy and cozy, watching our big-screen TVs, reading our internet stories, getting the latest updates on all the world's hot spots.
And now the other reason that I am writing all of this today -- I knew that I simply could not write it on September 11, hence two days out. That day still carries so much weight of symbolism with it. I would not be able to put fingers on keyboard for the tears in my eyes. Maybe someday in my lifetime that day on the calendar will be far enough removed from 2001 to let me forget the images of the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and that field in Pennsylvania. Probably not -- I still remember where I was when Kennedy was shot.
My cousin Mavis Ann posted on her Facebook page that she saw an interview with a freelance journalist who said her son Jonathan had saved his life while he was embedded with their unit. She gave the name of the TV station where the interview was still available. Now, I know more about that story than the barebones facts she put in that posting. I know more because I attended Jonathan's funeral in August last year after he was killed in Afghanistan by an IED. Jon was a 21-year-old Marine defending our country. I watched his beautiful mother, in her quiet, dignified way, deal with the loss of her equally beautiful son who willingly gave his life, doing something he loved. I also met his young wife, carrying their unborn child.
Mavis Ann found out for the first time in the interview about Jon's heroic act in saving the journalist. We always knew he was a hero, and here was someone who lived to tell us another story about his heroism. So, I have some special people on my mind that I am very grateful for -- Mavis Ann and Jonathan. They represent the sacrifice that is required to keep our country free.
But Mavis Ann and Jonathan also stand for so many other mothers and sons and daughters -- thousands upon thousands that have died just in these two wars alone, and that does not count the many others so terribly wounded and scarred. (I think of Ray and his family that our country let down by not being there to recognize the injury and provide treatment before it was too late. I wish I could fix that.) Our military families have borne a horribly disproportionate burden during these wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. I know that because I've seen it up close. My gratitude goes to Mavis and Jon and his wife, and now to Zoe, the baby that will never know her dad -- and to all those other families that serve in the military or support a service member.
The interview that Mavis mentioned can be found at http://www.oeta.tv/ontherecord.html in the section with Mike Boettcher. The whole interview with Mike is worth watching if you have the time, but the story about Jonathan is around the 24 minute point. It is especially poignant to know that Jon died only 2 weeks after this incident happened.
The interview with Mike also got me to thinking. The journalists go right into harm's way also -- to tell us the story of the soldiers and marines. And that's very important, to know their names and hear their stories. Jonathan is not a name on a wall or a list. He is my cousin's son (and my cousin, too).
With the journalists there, the soldiers and marines are not left unknown, their stories are not left untold. But their presence comes at a price. According to the Committe to Protect Journalists 139 journalists were killed in the line of duty in Iraq between March 2003 and October 2009. That does not count accidents, health-related deaths, etc. So, my gratitude also goes to Mike Boettcher who, in September 2010, goes back to Afghanistan for another year-long assignment with his son as his photographer. He says he "owes it to the Jonathans [and Geralds] of the world to tell their story. They should not be forgotten."
My gratitude, therefore, also goes to all those journalists who risk everything to get the story to all of us, comfy and cozy, watching our big-screen TVs, reading our internet stories, getting the latest updates on all the world's hot spots.
And now the other reason that I am writing all of this today -- I knew that I simply could not write it on September 11, hence two days out. That day still carries so much weight of symbolism with it. I would not be able to put fingers on keyboard for the tears in my eyes. Maybe someday in my lifetime that day on the calendar will be far enough removed from 2001 to let me forget the images of the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and that field in Pennsylvania. Probably not -- I still remember where I was when Kennedy was shot.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
The Whole Point
The whole point of this blog is to express my gratitude. My life gives me a deeper sense of meaning if I have taken time to look around at the things for which I should be grateful. So, I decided, what better way to take time than to write a blog?
What is my Point of today's rumination? Well, today is Rosh Hashanah, so it is the New Year for many people. That also means a time to look inward and see what we need to do better. In looking around I see so many people in need -- physical need, emotional need, spiritual need. I cannot possibly meet all those needs. But how many of those people do I walk by that I could perhaps fill some of their needs? How many people need only a smile at that moment? How hard is that? How many people need only for me to be a little more patient or a little kinder or a little more compassionate? What does that cost but a little change in attitude or approach to a situation?
My gratitude today goes to my friend Karen whose beaming smile inspired me to chug away at my pro bono work for our very deserving clients. My gratitude today also goes to Yasmin whose tireless efforts to make life better for those in need of legal services, while teaching me the ins and outs of I-485 forms and other immigration law intricacies -- even though her very pregnant body would probably rather be resting, My gratitude today goes to my lovely daughter-in-law Annie whose gumbo filled my tummy when I came home from work, but whose unflagging determination to get everything done and take care of her beautiful three babies boggles my mind at how she gets it all done.
And I'm grateful I got those blasted time sheets finished and even met my other deadlines and commitments. Seem to recall a song about that ...
What is my Point of today's rumination? Well, today is Rosh Hashanah, so it is the New Year for many people. That also means a time to look inward and see what we need to do better. In looking around I see so many people in need -- physical need, emotional need, spiritual need. I cannot possibly meet all those needs. But how many of those people do I walk by that I could perhaps fill some of their needs? How many people need only a smile at that moment? How hard is that? How many people need only for me to be a little more patient or a little kinder or a little more compassionate? What does that cost but a little change in attitude or approach to a situation?
My gratitude today goes to my friend Karen whose beaming smile inspired me to chug away at my pro bono work for our very deserving clients. My gratitude today also goes to Yasmin whose tireless efforts to make life better for those in need of legal services, while teaching me the ins and outs of I-485 forms and other immigration law intricacies -- even though her very pregnant body would probably rather be resting, My gratitude today goes to my lovely daughter-in-law Annie whose gumbo filled my tummy when I came home from work, but whose unflagging determination to get everything done and take care of her beautiful three babies boggles my mind at how she gets it all done.
And I'm grateful I got those blasted time sheets finished and even met my other deadlines and commitments. Seem to recall a song about that ...
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