I'm not much for these "Hallmark" holidays. We've all heard it before. It's been discussed to death. The flowers and chocolate are more expensive, the constant barrage of advertising from restaurants, jewelry and department stores and of course greeting card purveyors, all reminding us that Valentines Day is coming, or Mother's Day, or Father's Day, on Love Your Pet day, or whatever. A brunch that is worth $15 next Sunday will be worth $55 on this Sunday because it's Mother's Day. Give me a freaking break.
I take exception to this on so many levels.
First, I am the mother of a teenage girl. She is really a lovely human being. It's just that right now we don't always see eye to eye. Ok, I'm kind of underplaying it. But you know what I mean. I would altogether give up the forced niceness of Mother's Day if we could distribute a little of that niceness over a longer period time. Who's with me? I would like to spend some time with her that does not involve credit cards or malls, and just have fun....I love her, and hope she remembers she loves me at some point, other than when she wants me to stay up late to put her laundry in the dryer. Don't get me wrong, she often surprises me with unexpected moments of sweetness, good humor, and consideration, but if I had to pick between a whole day of forced and manufactured "be nice to Mommy", or more spontaneous fun and warmth over time, I would definitely choose the latter.
Next- Mother's Day must be incredibly difficult and sad and painful for those who have lost their Mom's. I get frustrated when I call my Mom and she doesn't answer the phone when I have a question, or need to know what temperature to cook the chicken on for the 500th time. I do not have a frame of reference for what it must feel like to not be able to talk to my Mom, ever. And my Mom and I don't have a perfect or ideal relationship. She sometimes makes me angry, and frustrated -so much so that I have at moments felt almost envious of friends whose Mom's are not in the picture, so they don't have to deal with the some of the "Mom baggage". It's evil I know, but then I cool down, and I realize how awful and miserable and lost I would feel in this world without my Mom and I thank God that I have her, regardless of how big of a pain in the ass she is at times. I'm sure she feels the same about me. So, for those who must live without their Mom's, in a constant barrage of Mother's Day advertising, I feel great sadness. I'm sure that the loss hurts, stings and aches daily, but thanks to the American economic media machine, for a few weeks in the end of April and early May each year, it gets to be just a little worse.
Last- what are teaching our kids by designating one day a year that is specifically for honoring a parent, or a loved one? Maybe I'm a bigger ass than most people, but to me, all these made up holidays are not the pinnacles of lives where we endeavor to honor our parents, and our loved ones each day, and then on Mother's Day celebrate our Mother in grand style after a year of treating her well. We neglect, mistreat, ignore, or sometimes abuse all our relationships. We take the people closest to us for granted at times, and then on whatever calendar date is assigned, buy a gift and a card, plan a meal, or make a reservation, and consider our obligation fulfilled. Wouldn't it be better to spread all that effort over the year? To find time for simple meals, little notes, a walk, a cup of tea, a phone call, a thoughtful trinket, rather than a big event to make Mom, Dad, or whomever feel special for a few hours? I do.
Oh.my. God. I sound like my Mother.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
An Unlikely CKO Success Story (this one's for your Reebs)
I love kickboxing. Yup. Love it. And no one is more surprised than me. You wouldn't know it to look at me. I'm 41, obviously overweight, although, from what I'm told, much less so than I was when I started taking classes at CKO Chatham in December. The instructors there all say the change is really obvious. I don't see it as much, but I feel GREAT. Full of energy, and strong. Better than I've felt in years. I can't tell you how many pounds I've lost, because the scale doesn't know the difference between muscle and fat, but I can tell you that all my workout clothes got too big, and that I no longer need a seatbelt extender on an airplane, and a year ago I did.
To tell the truth I was terrified. My daughter wanted to try CKO, so I took her. Turned out the girl who owned the CKO franchise was a friend of a good friend, and together they somehow coerced me into taking a class. I was so embarrassed of how I looked, how uncoordinated I felt, and what I thought I couldn't do that the other people in the class could. Well ,let me tell you right now- the only person standing in my way was ME.
All of the instructors at CKO Chatham got right behind me and helped. They modified exercises, the gave me alternatives, when I said "I can't". they said "just try", when I said, "no, really, I can't" they said, "ok, maybe not yet, but you will". Maybe they believed it, but I didn't. Now I do. If you told me 4 months ago that I would do even one mountain climber, hold a plank for more than a second, or run a lap around the room, I'd have probably laughed, embarrassed, and made some self deprecating comment about my age and my weight. Thanks to CKO CHATHAM, and all the wonderful and supportive instructors there, who have been my cheerleaders and my teachers, I can do all those things and more.
My journey is not over. I have goals that I want to reach, but I know I'm on my way. Sometimes when I'm in the middle of class and I hear my glove hit the bag, the combination is coming easy and the sweat is pouring off me, I think, "This is the best thing I have ever done for myself". I'm so grateful that I've pushed (and been pushed) through it when it was hard. I hope if you're reading this you're considering coming to CKO to give it a try. No matter how out of shape you think you are, you can do it. I'm doing it, a little better every class, and I know it's a cliche, but if I can, anyone can.
To tell the truth I was terrified. My daughter wanted to try CKO, so I took her. Turned out the girl who owned the CKO franchise was a friend of a good friend, and together they somehow coerced me into taking a class. I was so embarrassed of how I looked, how uncoordinated I felt, and what I thought I couldn't do that the other people in the class could. Well ,let me tell you right now- the only person standing in my way was ME.
All of the instructors at CKO Chatham got right behind me and helped. They modified exercises, the gave me alternatives, when I said "I can't". they said "just try", when I said, "no, really, I can't" they said, "ok, maybe not yet, but you will". Maybe they believed it, but I didn't. Now I do. If you told me 4 months ago that I would do even one mountain climber, hold a plank for more than a second, or run a lap around the room, I'd have probably laughed, embarrassed, and made some self deprecating comment about my age and my weight. Thanks to CKO CHATHAM, and all the wonderful and supportive instructors there, who have been my cheerleaders and my teachers, I can do all those things and more.
My journey is not over. I have goals that I want to reach, but I know I'm on my way. Sometimes when I'm in the middle of class and I hear my glove hit the bag, the combination is coming easy and the sweat is pouring off me, I think, "This is the best thing I have ever done for myself". I'm so grateful that I've pushed (and been pushed) through it when it was hard. I hope if you're reading this you're considering coming to CKO to give it a try. No matter how out of shape you think you are, you can do it. I'm doing it, a little better every class, and I know it's a cliche, but if I can, anyone can.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Kobayashi Maru
I am a child of the late 70's and early 80's. I was raised on Star Trek reruns, and saw all the Star Trek movies in theaters, even the one with the whales. They were alternately awful, and amazing, without redeeming value, and invaluable in teaching me lessons about the triumph of the human, and Vulcan, and sometimes even Klingon spirit over evil. One of the indelible marks left on my psyche by this series of films was the idea of Kobayashi Maru.
In my extensive research online- two minutes with Wikipedia (and yes, there is more than one page dedicated to Kobayashi Maru as it relates to Star Trek! ) I learned that the direct translation of the word "Kobayashi" means small grove and "Maru" is a common family name and a common suffix for ship names. (For my Japanese speaking readers, if there are any, please forgive me if Wiki has steered me wrong). However, in the vernacular of Star Trek, Kobayashi Maru refers a training mission that actually has no solution. The mission required the Captain and his crew to leave behind a shuttle of personnel in order to accomplish the mission objective, even though the people on the shuttle would most certainly die. It's an impossible situation. The guiding principle is of course, that the needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few. In the lore of the Trekkies, the only one to ever beat it, of course, was the hero, Captain James T. Kirk. He reprogrammed the simulation computer so he could save the shuttle and complete the mission. He was a smart one that Kirk. and was legend in his own time as a result. A firebrand, a maverick. But the the legend of the Kobayashi Maru would yet come home to roost for Kirk. We'll get to that in a bit.
So you're probably wondering why I'm writing about a fictional training mission from a fictional tv/movie franchise and what the hell it has to do with me. Ok. I'll tell you, since you asked. I've been watching the coverage of what is happening in Japan, and with much less interest, in the middle east and find myself sitting in front of my computer or the television and wondering why my face is wet with tears. I sit here my beautiful office, or my comfortable home in one of the prettiest towns in America, and I wonder how it is I came to be here, and not somewhere else. Fate? Luck? I don't know.
I wonder why in stories the heroes get the girl or boy, the treasure, and the happily ever after, but in reality, they get to fight for freedom and die doing it, or try to keep a nuclear reactor from melting down, and their bounty is radiation sickness and certain painful death. We are told as children that we can all be heroes, we can all slay the dragon, take the castle, marry the prince or princess, bring peace to the kingdom and look hot doing it-we are never, ever told, about the compromises, the choices that feel and sometimes are near impossible that you absolutely have to make along the way, and the gift they leave you with, that keeps on giving. Guilt.
My family is Jewish. Before World War II my Mother's family lived in Poland. On the eve of the Nazi invasion, my Grandmother, decided that she would take my mother who was then 9 months old and flee, head east towards Russia. Her mother, my Great Grandmother said, "leave the baby". If my Grandmother "left the baby", I would never have been born. My Grandmother's entire family (with the exception of a few uncles who had escaped to America before the war) died in Treblinka. My Grandma made the decision to do what she felt was best for her baby and for herself. Turned out pretty good for me too. Sadly, the price tag has been pretty high for my Mom, but that is her story to tell.
We have, I imagine, all had to deal with many small Kobayashi Maru moments in our lives, and their aftermaths. None of my decision have been as grave or as serious as my grandmother's decision in 1939. I read about the 50 who stayed at the Fukushima plant, those who are fighting for freedom in Libya ,and I know they have made their decision based on that needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few principle. I wonder if I could? I hope I could. If I had to.
You should know, by the way, in the end, Captain Kirk, lost his best friend, Spock, when Spock made the decision to sacrifice himself, and put the needs of the many, before his own life. You see, in real life, there is no way to reprogram the simulator. There are no easy ways around these situations. You have to know yourself, stand your ground, take a deep breath and just move forward. Please God, when its my turn, let me be able to do what must be done. That's all I ask.
In my extensive research online- two minutes with Wikipedia (and yes, there is more than one page dedicated to Kobayashi Maru as it relates to Star Trek! ) I learned that the direct translation of the word "Kobayashi" means small grove and "Maru" is a common family name and a common suffix for ship names. (For my Japanese speaking readers, if there are any, please forgive me if Wiki has steered me wrong). However, in the vernacular of Star Trek, Kobayashi Maru refers a training mission that actually has no solution. The mission required the Captain and his crew to leave behind a shuttle of personnel in order to accomplish the mission objective, even though the people on the shuttle would most certainly die. It's an impossible situation. The guiding principle is of course, that the needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few. In the lore of the Trekkies, the only one to ever beat it, of course, was the hero, Captain James T. Kirk. He reprogrammed the simulation computer so he could save the shuttle and complete the mission. He was a smart one that Kirk. and was legend in his own time as a result. A firebrand, a maverick. But the the legend of the Kobayashi Maru would yet come home to roost for Kirk. We'll get to that in a bit.
So you're probably wondering why I'm writing about a fictional training mission from a fictional tv/movie franchise and what the hell it has to do with me. Ok. I'll tell you, since you asked. I've been watching the coverage of what is happening in Japan, and with much less interest, in the middle east and find myself sitting in front of my computer or the television and wondering why my face is wet with tears. I sit here my beautiful office, or my comfortable home in one of the prettiest towns in America, and I wonder how it is I came to be here, and not somewhere else. Fate? Luck? I don't know.
I wonder why in stories the heroes get the girl or boy, the treasure, and the happily ever after, but in reality, they get to fight for freedom and die doing it, or try to keep a nuclear reactor from melting down, and their bounty is radiation sickness and certain painful death. We are told as children that we can all be heroes, we can all slay the dragon, take the castle, marry the prince or princess, bring peace to the kingdom and look hot doing it-we are never, ever told, about the compromises, the choices that feel and sometimes are near impossible that you absolutely have to make along the way, and the gift they leave you with, that keeps on giving. Guilt.
My family is Jewish. Before World War II my Mother's family lived in Poland. On the eve of the Nazi invasion, my Grandmother, decided that she would take my mother who was then 9 months old and flee, head east towards Russia. Her mother, my Great Grandmother said, "leave the baby". If my Grandmother "left the baby", I would never have been born. My Grandmother's entire family (with the exception of a few uncles who had escaped to America before the war) died in Treblinka. My Grandma made the decision to do what she felt was best for her baby and for herself. Turned out pretty good for me too. Sadly, the price tag has been pretty high for my Mom, but that is her story to tell.
We have, I imagine, all had to deal with many small Kobayashi Maru moments in our lives, and their aftermaths. None of my decision have been as grave or as serious as my grandmother's decision in 1939. I read about the 50 who stayed at the Fukushima plant, those who are fighting for freedom in Libya ,and I know they have made their decision based on that needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few principle. I wonder if I could? I hope I could. If I had to.
You should know, by the way, in the end, Captain Kirk, lost his best friend, Spock, when Spock made the decision to sacrifice himself, and put the needs of the many, before his own life. You see, in real life, there is no way to reprogram the simulator. There are no easy ways around these situations. You have to know yourself, stand your ground, take a deep breath and just move forward. Please God, when its my turn, let me be able to do what must be done. That's all I ask.
Friday, January 21, 2011
A Sort of Homecoming
I work in my office alone a lot. For some, a dream, for others a nightmare. For me, a little of both. Fortunately, my friends at Pandora help me pass the time with wonderful music that is tailored to my moods, tastes, and every so often a surprise. Like this morning, when a song from my youth came on and I was thrust back for a moment to a very heady, emotional time and found my self standing face to face with the ghosts of yesteryear, and the ghost of who I used to be as well. The interesting thing is, this is the second time in less than a week that I've been thrust back to the same time period.
Earlier in the week, my husband and I drove my daughter and a friend down to the Philadelphia area, and the closer I got to Philly, the more pensive and dare I say, melancholy, I became. As I've said before, my current life goal is to live creating no further regrets. Obviously I have other goals as well, but this is a big one. As I've also said before, I've created plenty of regrets when I was younger, so many, that it almost necessitates my goal of not creating anymore. I would be racked with guilt and regret and unable to function. Needless to say, Philadelphia reminds me of a regret I have. And it's the worst kind. The kind where if I had just been willing to meet the situation where it was, to accept it as it were, there wouldn't have been that sad, melancholy washing over me as the miles of the New Jersey Turnpike ticked by going southward. Oh yes, we live and learn, and I truly believe that there are no coincidences in life, but it makes me sad to know that I threw away a pure and simple and honest love, because it wasn't exactly the kind I wanted. I know I was wrong. I know I did harm. I know I remain, to my knowledge, unforgiven.
Maybe it is selfish to want to be forgiven, or at least have my apology heard. Maybe I am reaping what I sowed. Maybe it is not my malfunction, but that of the other party that a mistake, albeit a doozie, of 20 years ago cannot be forgiven. I think it's the not knowing that's the worst. I'm putting it into the universe that I'd like the opportunity to apologize. If it's meant to happen, it will. But it's the not knowing that's the worst.
Does this person not care ? Or are they still so angry and hurt after 20 years that they can't possibly entertain forgiving. Do they judge me on who I was then? Keep me in a box where I'm not allowed to change? Or worst of all, not even consider me, as if I never existed, so inconsequential that I'm not even worth a thought. That would be the worst of all not because my ego would suffer, but because that relationship was one of the few at that point in my life that felt real to me. It taught me so much about love. It paved the way for me to shape the ideals that led me to make the choices that led me to where I am now. And so I am grateful for it, regardless of how it turned out.
Looking at it now, in the half light and shadow of distant memory, it is bittersweet, like finding out the tree at your old house wasn't quite as tall as you thought it was when you climbed it as a child. A sort of homecoming.
Earlier in the week, my husband and I drove my daughter and a friend down to the Philadelphia area, and the closer I got to Philly, the more pensive and dare I say, melancholy, I became. As I've said before, my current life goal is to live creating no further regrets. Obviously I have other goals as well, but this is a big one. As I've also said before, I've created plenty of regrets when I was younger, so many, that it almost necessitates my goal of not creating anymore. I would be racked with guilt and regret and unable to function. Needless to say, Philadelphia reminds me of a regret I have. And it's the worst kind. The kind where if I had just been willing to meet the situation where it was, to accept it as it were, there wouldn't have been that sad, melancholy washing over me as the miles of the New Jersey Turnpike ticked by going southward. Oh yes, we live and learn, and I truly believe that there are no coincidences in life, but it makes me sad to know that I threw away a pure and simple and honest love, because it wasn't exactly the kind I wanted. I know I was wrong. I know I did harm. I know I remain, to my knowledge, unforgiven.
Maybe it is selfish to want to be forgiven, or at least have my apology heard. Maybe I am reaping what I sowed. Maybe it is not my malfunction, but that of the other party that a mistake, albeit a doozie, of 20 years ago cannot be forgiven. I think it's the not knowing that's the worst. I'm putting it into the universe that I'd like the opportunity to apologize. If it's meant to happen, it will. But it's the not knowing that's the worst.
Does this person not care ? Or are they still so angry and hurt after 20 years that they can't possibly entertain forgiving. Do they judge me on who I was then? Keep me in a box where I'm not allowed to change? Or worst of all, not even consider me, as if I never existed, so inconsequential that I'm not even worth a thought. That would be the worst of all not because my ego would suffer, but because that relationship was one of the few at that point in my life that felt real to me. It taught me so much about love. It paved the way for me to shape the ideals that led me to make the choices that led me to where I am now. And so I am grateful for it, regardless of how it turned out.
Looking at it now, in the half light and shadow of distant memory, it is bittersweet, like finding out the tree at your old house wasn't quite as tall as you thought it was when you climbed it as a child. A sort of homecoming.
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