Beginnings, and Endings

A few months ago, an old friend of ours from our volleyball group where hubby and I met took a promising new job in Wyoming. He and his wife, another volleyball cohort, had been living in the Carolinas with their two sons for quite some time. Wife and sons were to join him in Wyoming in a couple of months, after the school year concluded. Exciting new beginning to an already satisfying life.

Before the weekend, our friend suffered a massive stroke. From the outset the prognosis was bleak, and by Saturday he was in hospice care. On Sunday he was gone. This is the fourth friend to pass at a young age from our old gang, and he lived by far the longest, at just over 50. Sad and scary all together, and what a waste. Fantastic guy, husband, father. His easy, explosive, contagious laugh is still with me even though it's been a while since the families have gotten together. Sigh.

I'm not one for bucket lists, but I do believe in telling your loved ones that they are loved. I'm not one to live each day hedonistically as if it were my last, but I do try to live each day as if this were the one people will remember when they think of me. If you're one of my loved ones, I really hope you know it in your heart.

Taking Stock

My oldest son, in tenth grade, has been amassing documentation for his National Honor Society application. Had any of my kids been interested in joining the Scouts it would have been easier to collect credentials of leadership and community service. But the boy did okay. Captain of soccer team, teacher selected student of the month and quarter, first chair clarinet in 8th grade band, soup kitchen volunteer since 9th grade. We dug out letters of acceptance to French Honor Society and the like, letters of thanks for participation in charity walks, programs from summer theater arts shows.

Sure, it's taken a bunch of time to find everything and make copies, but it's also been fun for my son to recall all his involvement and distinction. Wouldn't it be neat if we all took stock in our accomplishments and activities every so often, just for the sake of doing it? Might be a good emotional pick-me-up on a rotten day.

Torture

I think I have more of a window into what it's like to be insane.

I was recently on a business trip for five days. It's hit or miss with sleeping in hotel rooms to begin with, but something of a personal nature cropped up while I was there, and it began to trouble me greatly. During the day, I was heavily involved with working, including talking to dozens of people and unpacking boxes and walking here and there. At night, in my room, I was left alone with my thoughts.

I was caught off guard by the physiological symptoms of my mental anguish. Stomach lurching, heart rate quickening, body trembling...and naturally the stress of worrying about not being able to function the next day because I was lying awake torturing myself during the wee hours. I was truly my worst enemy.

Luckily I was able to leave a big chunk of my troubles behind when I packed up to go home, but I still find it quite unsettling that I was unable to control their effects on my nervous system. I will have to watch for this in the future. Last night, the first in my own bed, I crashed hard. But tonight?

Sending Me Packing

A colleague and I are driving to Boston on Sunday morning for a business trip. This is a huge undertaking for my company. At least 50 employees travel to this meeting every year -- condensed matter physics, the largest of our topical meetings. 8700 attendees have preregistered, and hundreds more always register on site.

Two coworkers have asked us to take suitcases for them, to avoid airline hassles of checked luggage so they can merely skip by with a carry-on bag. We're taking so many work related things anyway, and it's only the two of us, so we're happy to oblige. I have the two suitcases in my possession, ready to go. Five day trip. Both are half the size of mine! Boy am I humbled.

Now, I realize I need more room because I bring several skeins of yarn for crocheting. And I have reading materials. And a bathing suit, and workout clothes. And pajamas. And four work outfits and some casual clothes. But I thought I was a pretty low maintenance kind of gal. Guess not.

&%$#@

Anyone who knows me personally is well aware that I don't mind peppering my speech with cuss words on occasion, for amusement and variety and for the simple reason that they have precision. However, as a rule I don't use them to hurt people. As a lover of language, my vocabulary is such that I would much rather use five dollar English words to insult someone...but I don't intend to be insulting as a rule either.

I am becoming increasingly appalled to see widespread use of name calling online, via Twitter, Facebook, blogs, etc. where it would merely be appropriate to agree to disagree. Even if someone else is immature and says something provoking, so many people keep taking the bait and rising to the challenge of who can be more vicious in the ongoing dialogue. I remember the game "Got Ya Last" growing up...but it was a kid's game and should have remained a kid's game.

This morning I became aware of a stream of comments on a professional (industry) blog that deteriorated into the questioning of people's intelligence and integrity. The Twitter component, where people have only 140 characters in which to make a single point, was characterized by swear words and "making it personal." Mind you, this was all expression of difference of point of view and philosophy on a work related topic.

I know we're all human and therefore imperfect, but do we really need to be having a contest to see how immature we can become and how low we can stoop? Our kids are watching us on the Internet too, as they are in the home and the car and the supermarket etc. and do we really want to give them that example? Sigh.

Fisticuffs and Stupidity

Within a week, our family has had two new school disciplinary experiences: detention and in-school suspension. I guess that's pretty good for the length of our tenure as parents; our oldest is 15. The first event was due to the silliness of a gaggle of guys, without giving thought to how their private joke would be perceived when viewed publicly. The second event came about because of a loss of temper and composure after some verbal sparring at the lunch table. Getting into a fist fight at school is apparently a highly punishable offense these days, and we were advised that local law enforcement is often called in to consult. In the seventies it seemed like standard schoolyard justice for everyday minor conflict. Who knew?

The dean of discipline (yes, we have those nowadays too) only gave our son one day of in-school suspension for the fist fight because it's his first time. He said that most kids do not repeat this. However, they have a small group of habitual fighters who stay in trouble until they graduate high school -- if they graduate. As a card carrying pacifist, I can't imagine getting into ONE fist fight on purpose, no less making a career of it. What I want to know is: what is the tipping point for these kids? Do they throw in the towel and figure that they're not capable of any other way of solving their issues? Or do they enjoy the badass reputation, in spite of its drawbacks? Are there contributing factors of low self esteem and perceived lack of potential in life?

We have counseled our son to think hard next time about how "worth it" it is to pick up his hands to someone, and how "worth it" it may be to develop a personal strategy of forcing himself to calm down when he realizes someone has just lit his fuse. And we are hoping there are no repeats.

Oooooh, Growin' Up

The kids are now 15, 13, and 10. Older two are bona fide teenagers. Youngest thinks he is, as a matter of association and assimilation.

During the late sixties and early seventies, my formative years brought constant reminders from my "elders" that kids were to be only occasionally seen and rarely heard. "When I want your opinion I'll give it to you" always brought a laugh but contained a liberal dose of the truth. Overall, things are different in American culture these days, probably way too much so. But I do try to be sensitive to my kids' feelings because I recall what it was like and I want them to have a stronger sense of self than I had. I didn't build the confidence I needed as a young adult until I was WAY into my twenties...at least fifteen years behind schedule according to me.

So where's the happy medium? I'm struggling with it much more lately, as the kids are becoming much more forthright with their comments about the adults in their lives. This one is lazy, this one doesn't practice what she preaches, this one thinks he's all that but is very limited, this one has no business telling us what to do because her life is a mess and her kids are screwed up. Mind you, their observations are impressively accurate BUT they are very drilled down and do not take into account all the extenuating circumstances that we gr'ups have to face in this millennium.

Luckily, most of these impressively accurate observations are shared in the safety of our own home, such as during dinner table discussions. Some complaints about their father are shared with me in confidence, and I shudder to think what is said about me (though I do encourage them to tell me what I can do to become a better human being). They must be reminded that they are allowed to have all the opinions they want, but they must be respectful and careful if they dare to share their negative opinions with the adult objects of their criticisms. This is particularly true if said adults have the authority to inflict negative consequences!

I'm sure I'm not doing it 100% correctly, but I hope I'm improving on my own childhood. Time will tell.