Saturday, May 30, 2015
adventures and life lessons of a super-woman: That's life in the city
adventures and life lessons of a super-woman: That's life in the city: My grandpa has a favorite saying, one that I'm not even actually sure he realizes he says a lot. When I am exasperated over traffic, o...
That's life in the city
My grandpa has a favorite saying, one that I'm not even actually sure he realizes he says a lot.
When I am exasperated over traffic, or people or frustrated with life, grandpa often says, "That's life in the city."
He's been saying it most of my life, and I assume it's his way of saying, life happens and the world moves on.
This week has been a drastic turn around from my last post. Much like Ohio weather, many mornings I tell myself, give it ten minutes and it could change.
After horseback riding Saturday, I woke up Sunday determined to have an adventure even if it meant going by myself. That led me to look up abandoned Ohio, and finding Squire Castle.
Squire Castle is in Willoughby Hills, Ohio, and it sits on more than 500 acres of wooded area, and walking, biking and riding trails.
The castle isn't actually a castle. It's the remains of a gatehouse to what would have been a castle, but the property owner died and his wife abandoned the project and sold the land to the Cleveland Metropolitan Parks.
I called my niece and kept my fingers crossed that she would go with me.
Though we got a late start, the adventure turned into a family event. Two car loads of people who I love raced to see the castle.
We got a little lost, but like I told Danny, getting lost is half the adventure sometimes. We also left the walking trail and climbed up a hill (me in flip flops of course).
It was the drive that started to heal me, more than the adventure. Drives with Danny are always filled with laughter, singing and silly skits that we do. That girl is part of my strength sometimes and a great reminder that I have people to be a role model for.
Monday was a rough start, I will admit. I was exhausted and tired, but had a Memorial Day service to cover.
That has a way of putting your life into perspective. Things can get bad, but there are still people who gave their lives for us to be able to have free speech. I still have two good legs, I still have two good arms, I still am above the ground.
We owe those who have fallen, a great debt of gratitude.
Remember the person I love who stopped breathing? By Monday he was off the vent and breathing on his own and even able to say a few words to me.
The nurse said it was a complete turn around.
Thursday, I had the chance to go to Columbus and see a woman inducted into the Senior Citizens Hall of Fame. Okay, I didn't see her really. She was off to Ukraine on a mission trip to teach English for three weeks.
The woman was one of nine inductees each year, as each person's accomplishments was read I was exhausted by them.
These people were in their 80's, still in good health, still crazy active, still a huge part of their communities, still thriving and learning and teaching!
I hope I'm like that when I'm 86. \
Speaking of people in their 80's...it wouldn't be a trip to Columbus unless I had dinner with Grandpa.
Of course, he's still the master of directions. He gave me quick directions to the restaurant we normally meet at. It was a good dinner. Grandpa always makes me laugh, maybe it's because he's such a pull no punches type person.
Maybe it's cause he's actually wise and because nothing I do really seems to surprise him. Grandpa is one of those people that I'm honest with about things, because I know you can't bullshit him.
As we talked about the boys, I asked, "What am I going to do after they're gone, for real?"
Grandpa said, "Move to a bigger city." He also said that he knows that I will struggle with the decision because I have friends and family where I'm at and I love them.
"You'll have to weigh the decision of whether you want to leave them to grow your own way."
I'm still weighing that, Grandpa.
Three cities in one week, sometimes I do miss the sky scrapers and the 24 hour delivery service of any type of food imaginable. Once in awhile, I miss the lights. Time will tell.
He also joked with me (only half joking) that my FB looks like I drink a lot. I promise that at many of the events I'm at, I'm dead sober. I'm just a wild child sober.
"Grandpa, it's a good thing your generation didn't have social media. I have a feeling yours would have looked a lot like mine."
He actually said, probably.
Last night, I went with one of my best friends to fulfill an adolescent dream. I went to see Nelly, TLC and NKOTB.
We had nosebleed seats, I wanted to smack a couple of people with a cane and remind them their daddies weren't glassmakers, I got to see 30 some year old white woman take selfies through the entire concert....but the show itself was GREAT.
I cried when "T-Boz" and "Chili" said no one will ever take the place of left eye. I sang along to "Creep", "Redlight Special" and "Waterfalls."
When NKOTB came out, I screamed and cheered. When they pulled up a song from 1992, I wanted to go apologize to my adolescent self.
I wanted to go back and tell 13-year old Jennifer, this isn't the end of the world. No matter how dark it seems today, I promise someday you'll be a really cool adult.
I wanted to tell her, you're strong enough to get through life. You're going to have some challenges, you're going to have some struggles, you're going to have days everything goes wrong and days you feel like no one understands why you're angry, why you're hurting and what you're going through.
Maybe part of me went to the concert as I way of telling the little girl I was, hey...you'll find a way.
I wanted to tell her most of all, she's forgiven.
Cari and I talked about a lot of things. I think one of the things she worries about with me is that I will get so lonely I will settle for the first jerk that comes along and pays me some attention.
No worries. Remember, I'm pretty sure that I've put up with so much crap in life that I'm unwilling to put up with more.
Remember, "I'm funny, smart and cute! Dangit!" I won't forget that.
I guess, I want to give advice to my future self.
I want to remind my future self, there are gonna be some bad days, but you have been through hell and back and still manage to smile.
I want to remind my future self, keep your sense of humor in every situation. Don't react for 24 hours, and if you get to a point in your life, where you find that guy, Don't take him for granted, don't be jealous, and don't get so involved in his life that you forget your girlfriends.
I want to tell my future self, yes things are sagging, you're going gray and sometimes things hurt. Dammit, get outta bed so you can have an adventure and don't forget to get lost once in awhile.
If you get into a situation where you're not sure what to do, ask yourself, "What would Uncle Ken do? What would Uncle Joe do? What would Grandpa do?"
Pick one of their reactions. It's either gonna lead to greatness, or one hell of a story.
Don't ever lose your ability to smile, don't ever lose your ability to laugh, don't ever lose your ability to get over the next hump and don't ever stop learning.
That ladies and gentlemen, is life in the city.
When I am exasperated over traffic, or people or frustrated with life, grandpa often says, "That's life in the city."
He's been saying it most of my life, and I assume it's his way of saying, life happens and the world moves on.
This week has been a drastic turn around from my last post. Much like Ohio weather, many mornings I tell myself, give it ten minutes and it could change.
After horseback riding Saturday, I woke up Sunday determined to have an adventure even if it meant going by myself. That led me to look up abandoned Ohio, and finding Squire Castle.
Squire Castle is in Willoughby Hills, Ohio, and it sits on more than 500 acres of wooded area, and walking, biking and riding trails.
The castle isn't actually a castle. It's the remains of a gatehouse to what would have been a castle, but the property owner died and his wife abandoned the project and sold the land to the Cleveland Metropolitan Parks.
I called my niece and kept my fingers crossed that she would go with me.
Though we got a late start, the adventure turned into a family event. Two car loads of people who I love raced to see the castle.
We got a little lost, but like I told Danny, getting lost is half the adventure sometimes. We also left the walking trail and climbed up a hill (me in flip flops of course).
It was the drive that started to heal me, more than the adventure. Drives with Danny are always filled with laughter, singing and silly skits that we do. That girl is part of my strength sometimes and a great reminder that I have people to be a role model for.
Monday was a rough start, I will admit. I was exhausted and tired, but had a Memorial Day service to cover.
That has a way of putting your life into perspective. Things can get bad, but there are still people who gave their lives for us to be able to have free speech. I still have two good legs, I still have two good arms, I still am above the ground.
We owe those who have fallen, a great debt of gratitude.
Remember the person I love who stopped breathing? By Monday he was off the vent and breathing on his own and even able to say a few words to me.
The nurse said it was a complete turn around.
Thursday, I had the chance to go to Columbus and see a woman inducted into the Senior Citizens Hall of Fame. Okay, I didn't see her really. She was off to Ukraine on a mission trip to teach English for three weeks.
The woman was one of nine inductees each year, as each person's accomplishments was read I was exhausted by them.
These people were in their 80's, still in good health, still crazy active, still a huge part of their communities, still thriving and learning and teaching!
I hope I'm like that when I'm 86. \
Speaking of people in their 80's...it wouldn't be a trip to Columbus unless I had dinner with Grandpa.
Of course, he's still the master of directions. He gave me quick directions to the restaurant we normally meet at. It was a good dinner. Grandpa always makes me laugh, maybe it's because he's such a pull no punches type person.
Maybe it's cause he's actually wise and because nothing I do really seems to surprise him. Grandpa is one of those people that I'm honest with about things, because I know you can't bullshit him.
As we talked about the boys, I asked, "What am I going to do after they're gone, for real?"
Grandpa said, "Move to a bigger city." He also said that he knows that I will struggle with the decision because I have friends and family where I'm at and I love them.
"You'll have to weigh the decision of whether you want to leave them to grow your own way."
I'm still weighing that, Grandpa.
Three cities in one week, sometimes I do miss the sky scrapers and the 24 hour delivery service of any type of food imaginable. Once in awhile, I miss the lights. Time will tell.
He also joked with me (only half joking) that my FB looks like I drink a lot. I promise that at many of the events I'm at, I'm dead sober. I'm just a wild child sober.
"Grandpa, it's a good thing your generation didn't have social media. I have a feeling yours would have looked a lot like mine."
He actually said, probably.
Last night, I went with one of my best friends to fulfill an adolescent dream. I went to see Nelly, TLC and NKOTB.
We had nosebleed seats, I wanted to smack a couple of people with a cane and remind them their daddies weren't glassmakers, I got to see 30 some year old white woman take selfies through the entire concert....but the show itself was GREAT.
I cried when "T-Boz" and "Chili" said no one will ever take the place of left eye. I sang along to "Creep", "Redlight Special" and "Waterfalls."
When NKOTB came out, I screamed and cheered. When they pulled up a song from 1992, I wanted to go apologize to my adolescent self.
I wanted to go back and tell 13-year old Jennifer, this isn't the end of the world. No matter how dark it seems today, I promise someday you'll be a really cool adult.
I wanted to tell her, you're strong enough to get through life. You're going to have some challenges, you're going to have some struggles, you're going to have days everything goes wrong and days you feel like no one understands why you're angry, why you're hurting and what you're going through.
Maybe part of me went to the concert as I way of telling the little girl I was, hey...you'll find a way.
I wanted to tell her most of all, she's forgiven.
Cari and I talked about a lot of things. I think one of the things she worries about with me is that I will get so lonely I will settle for the first jerk that comes along and pays me some attention.
No worries. Remember, I'm pretty sure that I've put up with so much crap in life that I'm unwilling to put up with more.
Remember, "I'm funny, smart and cute! Dangit!" I won't forget that.
I guess, I want to give advice to my future self.
I want to remind my future self, there are gonna be some bad days, but you have been through hell and back and still manage to smile.
I want to remind my future self, keep your sense of humor in every situation. Don't react for 24 hours, and if you get to a point in your life, where you find that guy, Don't take him for granted, don't be jealous, and don't get so involved in his life that you forget your girlfriends.
I want to tell my future self, yes things are sagging, you're going gray and sometimes things hurt. Dammit, get outta bed so you can have an adventure and don't forget to get lost once in awhile.
If you get into a situation where you're not sure what to do, ask yourself, "What would Uncle Ken do? What would Uncle Joe do? What would Grandpa do?"
Pick one of their reactions. It's either gonna lead to greatness, or one hell of a story.
Don't ever lose your ability to smile, don't ever lose your ability to laugh, don't ever lose your ability to get over the next hump and don't ever stop learning.
That ladies and gentlemen, is life in the city.
Saturday, May 23, 2015
Just to smile.
The feel of a Harley between my legs, the power of a horse, the horsepower of a fast car and the quiet ripple of any body of water that can so easily turn a roar. All of these things are powerful things that I use for therapy. For a few minutes they offer me the illusion that I'm in control of something. All of those powerful things have the ability to offer you therapy, or hurt you.
Sometimes love is that way. You can love people, but you know that by loving them, you're also giving them power. Sometimes you will have the illusion that you have control,over things, but the only thing you can control is your reaction, sort of like all of the above things mentioned.
Let's talk about yesterday.
Yesterday, I got screamed at, finished off some five year business that needed completed, watched someone I love stop breathing, got yelled at for something to do with that and watched my son graduate. Three of those things happened before noon. In between there, I worked.
So yesterday, I also did something I've never done before. I screamed at god.
Yep, I know. I didn't say it was right
I told him the truth. I can't take anymore. My bricks have finally gotten too heavy.
See, I wish I could tell you more about the person that I watched stop breathing that sent me into hysterics. But somehow, even though I'm not naming names, Id get yelled at again.
What I will tell you is that I've never had anyone be proud of me before. Not really.
My relationship with my mom is at best, complicated, and I'm sure she's proud, but I also think I've always been an alien to her. Other family members say they're proud, but they do it in the vague "wow, I'm surprised you actually did it." sorta way.
Not this person. This person tells people, "she graduated top of her class, while she was working and going to school and raising a family. She took a jobwith less money to get more experience and to follow her dreams. Look at her, she's done well even though she was handed a lot of crap"
Now imagine that person stops breathing while you're holding their hand. Imagine how powerless you would feel. Imagine how scared and panicked and...you get the point. That person is ....better today. and I'll leave it at that.
This morning, after I got done working, I made a last minutes split decision to go horseback riding.
"This will heal me," I thought. "This will make things right with the world for awhile." It did, for a couple hours, while I was out of reach of everyone.
I don't know how to explain to people that although I'm at best a mediocre rider, (I'd improve with practice) when I was a little girl, our church youth group leader was an equestrian police officer. He used to take a couple of us kids to the stables to see the horses and ride.
I felt safe there. I felt safe and those giant horses seemed to know me. They would sniff my hair in a way that made me feel they were kissing the back of my head to tell me it would be okay.Horses just sense things.
Alas, I had to come back to the real world. The world where my oldest son is still in trouble, where money problems still abound, where someone i love is still in the hospital, where someone else i love is still pissed at me and where sometimes I feel like nothing I do at my job is correct.
I came back to the world where my two younger kids are fishing with their dad and where all of my friends are off on adventures with significant others or kids.
I came back to the world where I'm completely alone at a time when all I really want to do is lay my head on someone's lap and be told it's okay, that I'm going to be okay.
I want someone to remind me that I'm strong enough, that I'm tough enough.
The last time I got like this, only one person seemed to be able to bring me out of it. I can't turn to him now because his new girlfriend might protest. (hah, see I've still got my sense of humor)
Before that, when I got to places where I was completely alone, I buried myself in the arms of someone totally inappropriate that I knew at the end of the day didn't really give a rat's ass about me enough to tell you my true eye color.
I'm learning. It's a process, but I'm growing.
During some of the things I've written for work in the last couple days, I've been reminded that it could be worse. There are people who have lost so much more than me. Maybe I'm just sad because I've lost so much in such a short period of time.
There are people who struggle more.Those people get up every morning and fight to become better people. They fight to find a better place in the world, to make the world a better place for the person beside them.
In the back of my mind, there was this insane idea to run away today. Take a job elsewhere and let other people deal with the issues here.
It was a wonderful little fantasy while it lasted.
See in my family, both my families actually, the women stay in one spot and put down roots, and the men run off and have adventures and come home when they need the roots.
I'm struggling because I've never felt like the rooted one, the grounding force. Is it selfish that I want to adventure too while someone else deals with the crap?
Really, aren't most human emotions selfish?
Let's talk about grief for a minute.
Grief is a completely selfish, although understandable human emotion. Grief isn't about the person that's gone. They don't feel pain. It's about what we feel, what we lost, what our lives will be like without them.
Grief is about feeling sorry for ourselves because we can't hear the voice or hug a person we loved.
So what is my answer? How do I cure myself when Ive sunk so low? How do I stand back up straight when I realized today I feel so weighted that I was slumped while walking, like the world almost literally placed a load of bricks on my shoulder.
When two people I loved overdosed on heroin and I raged and raged and raged about their selfish actions, my uncle quietly hugged me and told me he knew I was hurting, but none of us understand completely the battle that someone else is fighting.
When I see you tomorrow, or the next day, I promise I will smile. I won't tell you about my problems, I will ask how your day is going and listen to any story you may want to tell me.
Tomorrow, I will wake up and be ready to fight again.
If my words make one person be a little kinder to someone, if my words make one person wake up tomorrow and say "I can fight today." Then I've done my job.
Sometimes love is that way. You can love people, but you know that by loving them, you're also giving them power. Sometimes you will have the illusion that you have control,over things, but the only thing you can control is your reaction, sort of like all of the above things mentioned.
Let's talk about yesterday.
Yesterday, I got screamed at, finished off some five year business that needed completed, watched someone I love stop breathing, got yelled at for something to do with that and watched my son graduate. Three of those things happened before noon. In between there, I worked.
So yesterday, I also did something I've never done before. I screamed at god.
Yep, I know. I didn't say it was right
I told him the truth. I can't take anymore. My bricks have finally gotten too heavy.
See, I wish I could tell you more about the person that I watched stop breathing that sent me into hysterics. But somehow, even though I'm not naming names, Id get yelled at again.
What I will tell you is that I've never had anyone be proud of me before. Not really.
My relationship with my mom is at best, complicated, and I'm sure she's proud, but I also think I've always been an alien to her. Other family members say they're proud, but they do it in the vague "wow, I'm surprised you actually did it." sorta way.
Not this person. This person tells people, "she graduated top of her class, while she was working and going to school and raising a family. She took a jobwith less money to get more experience and to follow her dreams. Look at her, she's done well even though she was handed a lot of crap"
Now imagine that person stops breathing while you're holding their hand. Imagine how powerless you would feel. Imagine how scared and panicked and...you get the point. That person is ....better today. and I'll leave it at that.
This morning, after I got done working, I made a last minutes split decision to go horseback riding.
"This will heal me," I thought. "This will make things right with the world for awhile." It did, for a couple hours, while I was out of reach of everyone.
I don't know how to explain to people that although I'm at best a mediocre rider, (I'd improve with practice) when I was a little girl, our church youth group leader was an equestrian police officer. He used to take a couple of us kids to the stables to see the horses and ride.
I felt safe there. I felt safe and those giant horses seemed to know me. They would sniff my hair in a way that made me feel they were kissing the back of my head to tell me it would be okay.Horses just sense things.
Alas, I had to come back to the real world. The world where my oldest son is still in trouble, where money problems still abound, where someone i love is still in the hospital, where someone else i love is still pissed at me and where sometimes I feel like nothing I do at my job is correct.
I came back to the world where my two younger kids are fishing with their dad and where all of my friends are off on adventures with significant others or kids.
I came back to the world where I'm completely alone at a time when all I really want to do is lay my head on someone's lap and be told it's okay, that I'm going to be okay.
I want someone to remind me that I'm strong enough, that I'm tough enough.
The last time I got like this, only one person seemed to be able to bring me out of it. I can't turn to him now because his new girlfriend might protest. (hah, see I've still got my sense of humor)
Before that, when I got to places where I was completely alone, I buried myself in the arms of someone totally inappropriate that I knew at the end of the day didn't really give a rat's ass about me enough to tell you my true eye color.
I'm learning. It's a process, but I'm growing.
During some of the things I've written for work in the last couple days, I've been reminded that it could be worse. There are people who have lost so much more than me. Maybe I'm just sad because I've lost so much in such a short period of time.
There are people who struggle more.Those people get up every morning and fight to become better people. They fight to find a better place in the world, to make the world a better place for the person beside them.
In the back of my mind, there was this insane idea to run away today. Take a job elsewhere and let other people deal with the issues here.
It was a wonderful little fantasy while it lasted.
See in my family, both my families actually, the women stay in one spot and put down roots, and the men run off and have adventures and come home when they need the roots.
I'm struggling because I've never felt like the rooted one, the grounding force. Is it selfish that I want to adventure too while someone else deals with the crap?
Really, aren't most human emotions selfish?
Let's talk about grief for a minute.
Grief is a completely selfish, although understandable human emotion. Grief isn't about the person that's gone. They don't feel pain. It's about what we feel, what we lost, what our lives will be like without them.
Grief is about feeling sorry for ourselves because we can't hear the voice or hug a person we loved.
So what is my answer? How do I cure myself when Ive sunk so low? How do I stand back up straight when I realized today I feel so weighted that I was slumped while walking, like the world almost literally placed a load of bricks on my shoulder.
When two people I loved overdosed on heroin and I raged and raged and raged about their selfish actions, my uncle quietly hugged me and told me he knew I was hurting, but none of us understand completely the battle that someone else is fighting.
When I see you tomorrow, or the next day, I promise I will smile. I won't tell you about my problems, I will ask how your day is going and listen to any story you may want to tell me.
Tomorrow, I will wake up and be ready to fight again.
If my words make one person be a little kinder to someone, if my words make one person wake up tomorrow and say "I can fight today." Then I've done my job.
Saturday, May 9, 2015
adventures and life lessons of a super-woman: It's a dog eat dog world.
adventures and life lessons of a super-woman: It's a dog eat dog world.: From the time I could pick up a pen, I knew that when I grew up I would be a writer. I would tell ghost stories to anyone who would listen...
It's a dog eat dog world.
From the time I could pick up a pen, I knew that when I grew up I would be a writer.
I would tell ghost stories to anyone who would listen, write the 12 page reports when an assignment only required three and kept a diary every day.
Now that may seem over exaggerated to some, but there are people who can tell ya, I was driving everyone nuts.Other kids wanted to grow up and be nurses, firemen, doctors, lawyers. Not me, I wanted to tell stories. I'd get that dreamy little look and say, I'm going to be a writer.
In third grade, we had to interview someone who did an interesting job for a paper. I interviewed my great-Uncle Jimmy, who was a judge.
As I sat there with my little pen and notebook, I found out the favorite part of his job, was marrying people. He liked to bring people together, he said.
Years later, I remembered that and asked him to officiate at a wedding.
It was then, I knew what I wanted to do. I knew I'd still tell ghost stories, love stories and write silly historical interest things. In fact have a novel that I'm not brave enough to give to anyone sitting on a flash drive, begging the what ifs.
This is all pertinent to this week.
This week has been a rough one. I won't go into extreme details. My entire life goal has been to tell stories about people, interesting people, what do they do in their day to day? What makes people tick? Why do they have these strange little quirks? What are they learning?
After a couple of particularly rough days with little sleep,a lot of anger about the way something was handled, and frustrations about the casual callousness of the modern world, I went to see Vicki.
As I sat with her, I cried..."Maybe I'm too soft to do my damn job the way the modern age thinks it should be done. Maybe the only way to be good at this job is to lose the compassion you have for people and not be trustworthy."
Vicki hugged me and said, "Your compassion and trustworthiness is what makes people open up to you. don't lose that."
For years I have managed to put on a good tough outer shell with people. I stand there and pretend that I don't care about what's happening, pretend it doesn't bother me. Then I go home and write.
I was told this week to remember I am an observer in the lives of these people, and I do remember that.
I know myself and know I will never be a cut throat type person.
I also remember that I'm a human being. I find myself cheering for people when they do well and crying for them when things are bad. I don't mean to, but aren't we all connected? When one person experiences happiness or tragedy, doesn't it have a ripple effect to the lives of other people?
In the modern age, we all rush to tell as many people as possible what is happening right now. Does that give us time to feel what is happening and truly experience the moment?
What's the line between having a story and still respecting the pain and tragedy people are going through?
Even as an observer, you feel the impact when you see a rescue team cry at something. You feel the emotion when you watch an EMT who talks to patients and their families with an incredible ability to keep everyone around them calm. You feel the impact when you observe these people and know who the knowledgeable person is, who the take charge person is, who the responsible person is.
Watching those teams work together, you can't help but gain an incredible amount of respect for each of them and the way they do their jobs
In that respect, there is trust. A rescue crews first priority is rescue and care. Their first priority is not to make sure the public has information. Which sometimes puts my job at odds with theirs.
What I think though is this, part of my job should be patience. Let them do their job and then I can do mine. I think patience is something that is often forgotten in this world of 24/7 everything.
I read once that reporters are something like 75% less likely than other people to have families, to be involved in communities, to have a regular church to attend.
Are we so busy being observers that we forget to live?
I have joked often that I am the Carrie Bradshaw of the Midwest, with my funky fashions, reflections on love and life and even my blog that has a readership of...oh about ten people. I don't feel so Carrie Bradshaw right now.
At the beginning of school, I had to take an ethics class. An ethics class I will admit to getting an A in, but only because numerous times I argued with the professor about the public's right to know against an individual's right to grieve privately and not have their pain splattered all over.
I always argued that compassion should be a part of our world. Unfortunately, not many felt that way.
My favorite stories are the stories that tell about a persons life and how they overcame struggle. It always has been.
I think more and more about the Peace Corp, but am still not brave enough to start that application. I think I just keep waiting for someone or something to ground me to one place and make that place "home."
At the end of yesterday, I had someone actually tell me they felt I handled my week in a tasteful manner. Those words meant more to me than the person could ever know.
For the rescue crews, I want you to know that while I'm observing, I see you when you're hot and tired and sweaty and sunburnt. Someone sees how you guys keep pushing even though you're exhausted. Someone sees the tears you cry on a bad day and the triumph on a good day.
I was in a place this week where either way I went, something I did was going to make someone mad. The question was, who did I care more if I hurt?
I hope Vicki is right. I hope that compassion and trustworthiness trump callousness.
I would tell ghost stories to anyone who would listen, write the 12 page reports when an assignment only required three and kept a diary every day.
Now that may seem over exaggerated to some, but there are people who can tell ya, I was driving everyone nuts.Other kids wanted to grow up and be nurses, firemen, doctors, lawyers. Not me, I wanted to tell stories. I'd get that dreamy little look and say, I'm going to be a writer.
In third grade, we had to interview someone who did an interesting job for a paper. I interviewed my great-Uncle Jimmy, who was a judge.
As I sat there with my little pen and notebook, I found out the favorite part of his job, was marrying people. He liked to bring people together, he said.
Years later, I remembered that and asked him to officiate at a wedding.
It was then, I knew what I wanted to do. I knew I'd still tell ghost stories, love stories and write silly historical interest things. In fact have a novel that I'm not brave enough to give to anyone sitting on a flash drive, begging the what ifs.
This is all pertinent to this week.
This week has been a rough one. I won't go into extreme details. My entire life goal has been to tell stories about people, interesting people, what do they do in their day to day? What makes people tick? Why do they have these strange little quirks? What are they learning?
After a couple of particularly rough days with little sleep,a lot of anger about the way something was handled, and frustrations about the casual callousness of the modern world, I went to see Vicki.
As I sat with her, I cried..."Maybe I'm too soft to do my damn job the way the modern age thinks it should be done. Maybe the only way to be good at this job is to lose the compassion you have for people and not be trustworthy."
Vicki hugged me and said, "Your compassion and trustworthiness is what makes people open up to you. don't lose that."
For years I have managed to put on a good tough outer shell with people. I stand there and pretend that I don't care about what's happening, pretend it doesn't bother me. Then I go home and write.
I was told this week to remember I am an observer in the lives of these people, and I do remember that.
I know myself and know I will never be a cut throat type person.
I also remember that I'm a human being. I find myself cheering for people when they do well and crying for them when things are bad. I don't mean to, but aren't we all connected? When one person experiences happiness or tragedy, doesn't it have a ripple effect to the lives of other people?
In the modern age, we all rush to tell as many people as possible what is happening right now. Does that give us time to feel what is happening and truly experience the moment?
What's the line between having a story and still respecting the pain and tragedy people are going through?
Even as an observer, you feel the impact when you see a rescue team cry at something. You feel the emotion when you watch an EMT who talks to patients and their families with an incredible ability to keep everyone around them calm. You feel the impact when you observe these people and know who the knowledgeable person is, who the take charge person is, who the responsible person is.
Watching those teams work together, you can't help but gain an incredible amount of respect for each of them and the way they do their jobs
In that respect, there is trust. A rescue crews first priority is rescue and care. Their first priority is not to make sure the public has information. Which sometimes puts my job at odds with theirs.
What I think though is this, part of my job should be patience. Let them do their job and then I can do mine. I think patience is something that is often forgotten in this world of 24/7 everything.
I read once that reporters are something like 75% less likely than other people to have families, to be involved in communities, to have a regular church to attend.
Are we so busy being observers that we forget to live?
I have joked often that I am the Carrie Bradshaw of the Midwest, with my funky fashions, reflections on love and life and even my blog that has a readership of...oh about ten people. I don't feel so Carrie Bradshaw right now.
At the beginning of school, I had to take an ethics class. An ethics class I will admit to getting an A in, but only because numerous times I argued with the professor about the public's right to know against an individual's right to grieve privately and not have their pain splattered all over.
I always argued that compassion should be a part of our world. Unfortunately, not many felt that way.
My favorite stories are the stories that tell about a persons life and how they overcame struggle. It always has been.
I think more and more about the Peace Corp, but am still not brave enough to start that application. I think I just keep waiting for someone or something to ground me to one place and make that place "home."
At the end of yesterday, I had someone actually tell me they felt I handled my week in a tasteful manner. Those words meant more to me than the person could ever know.
For the rescue crews, I want you to know that while I'm observing, I see you when you're hot and tired and sweaty and sunburnt. Someone sees how you guys keep pushing even though you're exhausted. Someone sees the tears you cry on a bad day and the triumph on a good day.
I was in a place this week where either way I went, something I did was going to make someone mad. The question was, who did I care more if I hurt?
I hope Vicki is right. I hope that compassion and trustworthiness trump callousness.
Saturday, May 2, 2015
A work in progress.
For two weeks I have been putting this blog post off because I seem to have had no idea where to begin with it. I've done some really cool stuff lately, but every beginning has seemed like the wrong way to begin it.
Now it's May though, and May is the month that traditionally brings the highest highs and the lowest lows for me. So, I need to catch my readers up somehow.
Yesterday, I met a really cool group of people. They ranged around my age, they're all professionals, and they have similar minds and senses of humors to mine. I sorta dug it. They invited me to join them for their meeting this month and "check it out an see if it's my type of thing."
They're a group that says things like "We want to put the fun in fundraising."
I think I'm going to take them up on that offer. One of the things I have said repeatedly lately is that I live and work in a community, where the only people I have met have been through work, people I've ended up writing about. But wait, why can't I make friends with these people?
Isn't that part of who I am? I make friends everywhere I go, (a trait that has been passed from dad, even though I would have denied it as a teenager). I have been struggling with an ability to maintain a professional distance, because are you supposed to become friends with the subjects you may interview for articles?
The answer to me, is yes. Besides, in the words of Uncle Joe, you can get a lot of places in life through hard work and networking.
Some of the stories I have written lately have been fascinating. Did you know, during World War II Pan America Airlines had crews of people building runways an airports? Not something that most people think about.
I found out because I attended a 100 year old man's birthday party. He was a member of that crew. He crossed the equator at midnight Jan. 1, 1941 and the whole crew received what's called a Jupiter Rex award for doing so.
During that birthday party, the man's nephew, a retired editor at a much bigger paper handed me a business card with the words "Pulitzer winner" on it. I'm sure I stood there with my mouth agape and said "I'm honored to be in the presence of greatness." What else could I say?
I've gotten to tag along with the fire department and watch how they train to knock out a structure fire and have had the opportunity learn about gardening methods, and meet everyday farmers who are trying new methods. I got to watch children release balloons in recognition of child abuse awareness and prevention and I've gotten to see the groundbreaking for an addition to a beautiful historic church.
I have made a friend. I walk over to her building every couple of days for a quick smoke break and we got to talking about museums. I think I found a kindred soul there.
I've been exhausted, but exhilarated.
In the coming weeks, I will meet the oldest mother in Wyandot County. I will meet a Christian motorcycle group that gives back to the community, will get to be a farmer for a day and see the everyday inner workings of farm life, and will cover a graduation that will make me cry for my own personal reasons, but also cry for a friend who lost so much.
See, Taylor graduates in 20 days. What happened to my precious little boy? That little boy was fearless from the first day I held him in my arms. From the times he would run around barefoot, to the time he jumped in the pool with no floaties and took off on a bike without me because "he couldnt wait for mom to learn" He told me a couple weeks ago, "I intend to live a life of no regrets." I stood there in awe and said, baby, I hope you do.
He will begin his own adventures, heading to the Army. He will begin his own life without me there to guide his every move or chastise him when he's wrong.
My head still spins with other news. When it came out about why my oldest son is in trouble, I was surprised at how many people supported me. I was surprised at the people that messaged me to let me know they were praying for me because they knew my heart was breaking and at the people who stood up for me and told people who were being judgmental to worry about their own skeletons.
I want to thank those people, because of them I can keep my head up.
My best friend finally went for answers about her medical problems. I hope the days she is spending confined to a bed with wires taped to her head give her the answers and solutions she needs. I have always been in awe at how peaceful she looks with a camera in hand. This sickness has taken that peace away from her, but I'm hoping the answers are able to put the peace back.
Even if I don't call him every day, I think about my grandpa every day. I really need to make the drive to see him, even if it's just for dinner.
I told you my thoughts are all over the place? Here's an example.
Every May my life has been filled with adventure and sometimes loss. May of three years ago is the last time I hugged Uncle Dave and got to hear his voice. May of two years ago, I was coming back from my first adventure in Spain and getting ready to start my internship. May of last year, I buried my godmother and actually, May is the last time I've been home.
I guess I need to add that to my list of things I need to do. I need to go home and see my Aunt B. I need to hear her wisdom and sit at her kitchen table watching her cook. Maybe that will stop my spinning head.
I finally admitted to some of my friends, I have been dealing with a lot. When I found myself admitting to someone I barely know, "I live and work in a community where I havent really made friends and that's weird for me and lonely," I stopped afterwards and asked myself, where the hell did that honesty come from.
See, for years anyone that knows me knows, I try to play the hardass. I pretend I'm that girl that doesn't actually need anyone because I can create my own adventures.
When I am beginning to admit that yes, I can have my own adventures but those memories are much more fun to share with someone, I guess that means I'm a work in progress.
Now it's May though, and May is the month that traditionally brings the highest highs and the lowest lows for me. So, I need to catch my readers up somehow.
Yesterday, I met a really cool group of people. They ranged around my age, they're all professionals, and they have similar minds and senses of humors to mine. I sorta dug it. They invited me to join them for their meeting this month and "check it out an see if it's my type of thing."
They're a group that says things like "We want to put the fun in fundraising."
I think I'm going to take them up on that offer. One of the things I have said repeatedly lately is that I live and work in a community, where the only people I have met have been through work, people I've ended up writing about. But wait, why can't I make friends with these people?
Isn't that part of who I am? I make friends everywhere I go, (a trait that has been passed from dad, even though I would have denied it as a teenager). I have been struggling with an ability to maintain a professional distance, because are you supposed to become friends with the subjects you may interview for articles?
The answer to me, is yes. Besides, in the words of Uncle Joe, you can get a lot of places in life through hard work and networking.
Some of the stories I have written lately have been fascinating. Did you know, during World War II Pan America Airlines had crews of people building runways an airports? Not something that most people think about.
I found out because I attended a 100 year old man's birthday party. He was a member of that crew. He crossed the equator at midnight Jan. 1, 1941 and the whole crew received what's called a Jupiter Rex award for doing so.
During that birthday party, the man's nephew, a retired editor at a much bigger paper handed me a business card with the words "Pulitzer winner" on it. I'm sure I stood there with my mouth agape and said "I'm honored to be in the presence of greatness." What else could I say?
I've gotten to tag along with the fire department and watch how they train to knock out a structure fire and have had the opportunity learn about gardening methods, and meet everyday farmers who are trying new methods. I got to watch children release balloons in recognition of child abuse awareness and prevention and I've gotten to see the groundbreaking for an addition to a beautiful historic church.
I have made a friend. I walk over to her building every couple of days for a quick smoke break and we got to talking about museums. I think I found a kindred soul there.
I've been exhausted, but exhilarated.
In the coming weeks, I will meet the oldest mother in Wyandot County. I will meet a Christian motorcycle group that gives back to the community, will get to be a farmer for a day and see the everyday inner workings of farm life, and will cover a graduation that will make me cry for my own personal reasons, but also cry for a friend who lost so much.
See, Taylor graduates in 20 days. What happened to my precious little boy? That little boy was fearless from the first day I held him in my arms. From the times he would run around barefoot, to the time he jumped in the pool with no floaties and took off on a bike without me because "he couldnt wait for mom to learn" He told me a couple weeks ago, "I intend to live a life of no regrets." I stood there in awe and said, baby, I hope you do.
He will begin his own adventures, heading to the Army. He will begin his own life without me there to guide his every move or chastise him when he's wrong.
My head still spins with other news. When it came out about why my oldest son is in trouble, I was surprised at how many people supported me. I was surprised at the people that messaged me to let me know they were praying for me because they knew my heart was breaking and at the people who stood up for me and told people who were being judgmental to worry about their own skeletons.
I want to thank those people, because of them I can keep my head up.
My best friend finally went for answers about her medical problems. I hope the days she is spending confined to a bed with wires taped to her head give her the answers and solutions she needs. I have always been in awe at how peaceful she looks with a camera in hand. This sickness has taken that peace away from her, but I'm hoping the answers are able to put the peace back.
Even if I don't call him every day, I think about my grandpa every day. I really need to make the drive to see him, even if it's just for dinner.
I told you my thoughts are all over the place? Here's an example.
Every May my life has been filled with adventure and sometimes loss. May of three years ago is the last time I hugged Uncle Dave and got to hear his voice. May of two years ago, I was coming back from my first adventure in Spain and getting ready to start my internship. May of last year, I buried my godmother and actually, May is the last time I've been home.
I guess I need to add that to my list of things I need to do. I need to go home and see my Aunt B. I need to hear her wisdom and sit at her kitchen table watching her cook. Maybe that will stop my spinning head.
I finally admitted to some of my friends, I have been dealing with a lot. When I found myself admitting to someone I barely know, "I live and work in a community where I havent really made friends and that's weird for me and lonely," I stopped afterwards and asked myself, where the hell did that honesty come from.
See, for years anyone that knows me knows, I try to play the hardass. I pretend I'm that girl that doesn't actually need anyone because I can create my own adventures.
When I am beginning to admit that yes, I can have my own adventures but those memories are much more fun to share with someone, I guess that means I'm a work in progress.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)