DON'T STOP BELIEVIN'

 

Once upon a time, I used to listen to music as I drifted off to dreamland. The melodies were like lullabies creating beautiful imagery that helped me envision what life might be like when I was an adult. I'd wonder about the struggles, relationships, and passions that awaited me. It was all played out there by the light of my turntable. It was peaceful and comfortable and time was on my side.

There were two record albums I played the most. They were Heart Like a Wheel by Linda Ronstadt and Olivia Newton-John's Greatest Hits. 

When Side One ended, the needle lifted and my mom would come in to turn the record over so I wouldn't have to get out of bed. It was just one of many loving gestures my mom performed. They did not go unnoticed or unappreciated and shaped the man I am today.

The penultimate song on Side Two of Olivia's Greatest Hits was the song Don't Stop Believin'. I could relate to this guy she sang about who is optimistic and charming and upbeat, but who experiences some bad days. I embraced the message to keep the faith when faced with adversity and felt the support of those I loved to get me through (just as in the song).  I saw myself going through life believing that "bad days will hurry by."

The years pass. My beloved mom lives only in my heart and memory. The things she taught me bubble to the surface when needed. I find that I am now experiencing the "bad days" referred to in the lyrics of this song (at least professionally). I can hear my mom pointedly telling me that I shouldn't let things wear me down because "that's not like you." But, it's hard sometimes. Teachers are continually disrespected. It's exhausting to fight against the current of negativity day after day. And yet, somehow, my mom is a life raft keeping me afloat. That's some amazing parenting! And I won't stop believin'.

Don't Stop Believin'

You think the world should see things your way

Love, I know you

You think good fortune's here to stay

Love, I know you shined in everything you've tried before

Your smile can open any door

But on those days when nobody wants to know you

And all your smiles keep falling on stoney ground

Don't stop believin', don't stop believin'

Don't stop believin', you'll get by

Bad days, bad days will hurry by

You never chase your dreams, they find you

Love, I know you

If you need love, it finds you too

Love, although you sail alone and free

I'll follow in your wake

And pray one day my heart you'll take

But on those days when nobody wants to know you

And all your smiles keep falling on stoney ground

Don't stop believin', don't stop believin'

Don't stop believin', you'll get by

Bad days, bad days will hurry by

Tips From My Mom #18

I never thought I'd be without my mom. I mean, I feared it, but never actually thought it would happen. What would life be without her? That was too much to contemplate, so I stubbornly and arrogantly ignored the thought.

And then, suddenly, it happened.

True to her fashion, she went without fuss. She slipped away quietly while lying on the couch watching television. Dad, sitting next to her in his recliner, didn't notice a stir or a gasp. When the movie they were watching ended he said, "Well, that was a good one, huh Bev?"

Mom did not answer. And from that moment on his world changed forever.

It's been 30 days without her and the loss is devastating. Yet somehow, she's with me.

The morning I learned the news I literally walked into a wall after I hung up the phone. I wandered around the quiet house from one room to another, walking up the stairs and down without direction. I was numb, in shock, full of everything and nothing. After a while, I tried to get some sleep. Tossing and turning in bed, newly scared of everything, I heard her voice in my mind. She said, "Don't be scared, baby. I am here with you. Get some rest." I felt comforted and calm. I did what she asked.

Later, there were dreams. Conversations with Ma. I asked her, "Where did you go?" In my slumber she told me, "I didn't go anywhere. I'm right here." I pushed back because I knew she went away. Although she was right in front of me I asked, "Where are you now?" She told me she was just napping, that she was tired.

My little sister, Jennifer, had a similar dream. In her dream Ma was packing to go somewhere. Jennifer anxiously asked her where she was going, why she was leaving. She told me Ma said, "I'm not leaving. I'm here."

We believe her.

All my life I've worn my mother's love like a shield against the scary things in this world. I believe she continues to love and protect us all.

Through my grieving and mourning I realize that Ma has showered me with enough love to last me the rest of my life. Even if she isn't a phone call away, she will forever be a brilliant light in my life: my mom, my best friend, my champion. Every child should be so blessed. She did so much for all of us, no wonder she was tired. And still, somehow, she continues to assure us that she's still with us. She hasn't left. Not really.

Ma, I love you.

See you in my dreams.

Tips From My Mom #17

In mid-December I "saddled up" my Saint (Bernard), Cal, in preparation for a long walk through our neighborhood.  Tradition demands at least one leisurely stroll during the holidays to take in the soft lights and well-placed decorations.

The sights, surprisingly unchanged from year to year, comfort me. They serve as an anchor in the cultural hubbub swirling around me, making demands on my time and limited funds.  Time alone with my pup on a wintery evening does wonders for my harried mind.

As we started out we were greeted by a neighbor and her small poodle.

"Can we join you?"

What could I say but, "Of course!" A little overplayed on my part, as is my tendency when caught unawares, but off we went.  The juxtaposition of her tiny dog and my giant one amused me.

We were both feeling chatty and the walk was pleasant, even if it wasn't the experience I originally had in mind.

After a while our conversation turned to, "So, what do you do?"

I told her I taught first grade, to which she replied, "That's nice and easy.  Lucky you!  No stress, unlike my job..."

And she went on about the demands of her position while in my mind all I heard was my mom saying,

"Everyone thinks everyone else has it so much easier."

It applies in so many situations.  People with children think individuals without children have much more money, time, and freedom.  Folks working 9 - 5 jobs think folks working from home have the life.  People doing anything but working with children think teachers lead cushy lives.

Of course I am overgeneralizing but I think we are all guilty of thinking the grass is always greener next door.

My mom cautions against that stance.  The fact is, things are not really easy for anyone.  We all work.  We all struggle.  We all experience stress at one time or another stemming from finances, health, work, and family - both real and imagined.  We all must be careful not to belittle the lives of others.

With my mom's voice playing in my head I simply smiled and said, "Yes, teaching is pretty great".  I meant the kids.  The politics and the bullshit are another story.  A story that is wearing me down and one that I continually fight against.

But at least I have it easy, right?

Tips From My Mom #16

Today one of the cutest little girls in the universe quietly asked me if I would read with her.  In addition to being ADORABLE she is also very soft spoken.  It is sometimes difficult to understand her speech so she'll often facilitate communication by signing.  I wasn't quite sure what she wanted at first but when she repeated it and her tiny hands signed book I realized her intention.

The fact that this quiet, undemanding child sought me out and asserted herself in this atypical way prompted me to drop everything I was doing.  I took the Berenstain Bears Bears in the Night book she offered and we walked hand in hand to the rug. We quietly read together amidst the noise and chaos in the room.

It was a nice moment.

The interesting part of this, for me, was that this exchange happened during lunch. Our kindergarten students eat lunch in the classroom instead of going down to the school cafeteria. Generally there is about ten or fifteen minutes of independent reading between the time the children finish eating and when they leave for recess. While the children read and mill about taking and returning books to the various book bins, I busy myself with wiping down the tables, sweeping the floor and putting food away.  It is not a particularly relaxing time for me as I endeavor to move quickly though these tasks in order to get the little ones out the door in time.

It was during my cleaning frenzy that this small girl looked up at me and asked me to read with her. It would have been so easy to say, "Not now" or "I'll be over in a minute" (and probably never end up going) but I thought of my mom and set aside the Clorox wipes.

Funny how long ago memories return in an instant to influence the decisions we make. I remembered all those times when my brothers and I were young and asked Ma to play a game with us. We'd ask her when she was in the middle of cooking dinner. We'd ask her as she passed us with a laundry basket full of clean clothes ready to be put away. We'd ask her as she attended to the bazillion chores she carried out to keep our home running smoothly. Sometimes she would say "no" but sometimes she would say "yes". And when she would say yes it felt like we were given the best gift there is. Mom was stopping to play a game with us!

Today I remembered that kid perspective.  I remembered what it felt like to have someone drop everything and take a moment to share something so simple, yet amazing, with me. Today I remembered my mom and that remembering made me a better teacher.

The dirty tables and messy floor could wait. But the moments to listen to a child pass too quickly.

Thank you mom for all the times you played Uno, Trouble and Monopoly with us.

Especially since I now know you hate Monopoly.

Tips From My Mom #15

Life can be tough!

No, that isn't the tip.  The tip has to do with how we roll with the punches when they come left, right and below the belt.

It is in the difficult times that we are most vulnerable and open to making destructive choices that will dull the pain.  And eventually those actions cause added distress and guilt.

My mom taught me to avoid that nonsense by staring down the demons life presents with a fierce determination and belief that things always get better. We may not have control over life's ups and downs but it is within our power to decide how we choose to respond (at least to a certain extent).

On the flip side of grief, worry and doubt is joy, peace and blessed assurance.

Mom also taught me humble appreciation for when life is the proverbial bowl of cherries.

And this week was one for giving thanks. And for showing appreciation. Along with the good news from The International Reading Association I was handed a bunch of notes by my first grade students.  One read "We are good kids and our teacher is COOL!"  Another, "Gary, you are the best!"

Most were of this ilk but one--written on the front and back of a strip of paper--stood out...

No, this student did not repeat a grade.  I looped with her class from kindergarten to first grade. 

Here's to moments of peaceful appreciation within the temptations and distractions that life throws up around us and discovering "the immovable center within".

Tips From My Mom #14

In the mid 60s, when my parents were a young couple living in the newly developed outer reaches of Long Island, times were sometimes tough.

My mom was a housewife taking care of three young boys (an active 2-year-old and adorable newborn twins) and often struggling to manage the finances.

Juggling bills became an art.

Sometimes all the bills were tossed in the air and the ones that landed face-down would be paid, while other months saw the bills that were current put aside so those that were late could be paid.

Yet, every month the bills relentlessly arrived in the mail.

It became a source of great worry and stress for my parents.  So, one day my dad told my mom to throw all of the bills into the fireplace.  She did.  And to her surprise...she felt better.

Over the years my mom has shared this story with us whenever something feels like it is becoming too much, when things feel out of control and cause nothing but distress.

It has become a parable for letting go of those worries because in the end "the bills" will come back next month. All we can do is control our attitude towards unpleasant things.

Like my mom, I have been surprised time and time again at the relief that comes with letting go of worry.  Disposing of the physical manifestations (such as bills) is the easy part, the trick is letting go of the worry that is less tangible.

Still, it's a start. And as I currently have some worries to toss into the fireplace I am grateful to mom once again for this valuable tip.

Let 'em burn!

Tips From My Mom #13

There existed quite a bit of hullabaloo recently concerning the oft-predicted, highly anticipated, non-materializing Rapture.

Outrageously annoying on every front - from the sad crazies spewing fear and nonsense, whose disillusions include the insulting claim that they alone have a direct line to a higher power (of their creation) to the inconvenience of the ensuing media bombardment.

Because this pronouncement was utterly pervasive, and because I have a tendency to ponder hypothetical realities, I "couldn't help but wonder" what the criteria was for ascending or being left behind.

And I decided that it all centered on forgiveness. Jesus, may have said that the greatest commandment was to love one another but offering forgiveness and asking for it seem of paramount importance.  It's right there in The Lord's Prayer.

In the realm of forgiveness, my mom is an expert.  Throughout her life I have seen her ripped off, taken advantage of, hurt, disappointed and treated with less respect than this saintly woman deserves.  But she has always been quick to forgive. Her "live and learn" mentality (or credo) remains intact.  No bubbling anger, seething emotions or clenched teeth for her. She can let it go.

It seems as though I have inherited this ability.  Like my mom, I am quick to forgive.  I have come to believe that everyone is simply doing the best they can, the best they know how given their background and experiences. Once you can take on another persons perspective it is easier to forgive.

This does not mean that everyone operates nobly at all times, but it does mean that we are each capable of letting go of the anger and pain associated with holding on to whatever wrong was done to us (real or imagined).

As with most of the Tips From My Mom it is her actions and example that stays with me. Forgiveness isn't easy for everyone - I understand this. However, it can begin by simply saying the words "I forgive you". The power behind those words is freeing.

Give it a try.

And next time a group of attention seekers espouses the rapture, forgive them - for they know not what they do.

Tips From My Mom #12

This year my mom turned 70!

She is absolutely beautiful but when she looks in the mirror she asks herself, "Who is this old woman looking back at me?"

The physical self does not match the image in her head. But, as Linda Ronstadt stated back in 1995;

"I'm 48 years old. I don't look like I did when I was 38; I don't look like I did when I was 28. It's got to be O.K. somehow. You've got to look in the mirror and go, 'This is reality, and it's all right.' I don't want to hide from that."

There is something to be said for aging gracefully.

My mom does not lie about her age because to do so would be a rejection of some part of herself.  Which year(s) are worthy of elimination?  Each experience has brought her to where she is at this moment.  They have made her the incredible woman she is today and are building the even more amazing woman she will become tomorrow.  Each day is important.

The energetic, playful child stays alive in each of us.  It is that essence that makes my mom want to dance when she hears the music of the 50s and 60s.  Elvis brings her to her feet and suddenly all those memories from her teenage years leap forward bridging the past and the present.  Music is a great equalizer.

I am 46 years old and to realize that it has been 21 years since my 25th birthday is shocking.  Now it is my turn to ask "What happened?" How is that possible?  I still feel young even if I don't look it.  But with another birthday approaching I deeply realize it is an occasion to celebrate. A time to cherish my past, recognize it, embrace it and be thankful for another year, especially in light of recent losses.

When I asked my mom for an ending quote for this post she said "I'm not going out without a fight".

Thank goodness!

Tips From My Mom #11

As an educator I spend a great part of my life with children. Over time their unique personalities become more clearly defined.

Their sense of humor, their worries, their little quirks, how they are likely to respond to a given situation, the core of what makes them who they are becomes known to me.

And, although I have been at this teaching thing for quite a number of years, I am still quite amazed when I meet their parents to realize that the apple doesn't fall very far from the tree.

The worried parent often has a child who is fearful, the stubbornly opinionated one has a daughter or son who demands things their way and the quiet adult usually belongs with the child who is content to play alone. I do realize that there are exceptions to this but more often than not I am honestly and continually surprised to find it to be the case.

My mother has given me gratitude.

Life can be difficult. There is sickness, death, pain, emotional hurt, earthquakes and other natural disasters, fears that are both real and imagined but through it all there remains something deserving of thanks.

A friend, a full moon, a dog that runs downstairs to greet you when you return home at night, warm pajamas, a night without worry, a day to do nothing, rain, getting lost in beautiful music, freedom, the comfort of your bed, hope, expressions of love, family.

My mom told me this morning that she counts her blessings everyday.

I already figured she did. I do the same.

This apple didn't fall very far from the tree either.

And I say to you mom, "Thanks".

Tips From My Mom #10

I envy my older brother because he is fortunate to live within a five minute drive from my parents home. They share the day to day happenings without stopping to think when they'll see one another again or counting the days until they must say good-bye.

I live 891 miles from my mom & dad. The time I have with them is limited and special.

It never fails that at some point during every visit my mom and I find ourselves deeply engaged in conversation. At times these talks center around helping one another understand and accept those things about us that are foreign to the other. Experiences, desires, addictions, struggles, conflict, love, religion, memories, attraction, hopes, regret, shame, strength, passion and the essence of who we are is brought to light. She helps me understand myself because I am certainly my mother's son.

Last week the family got together to celebrate my niece Heather's HS graduation. In the midst of all the hubbub I found time to talk with Ma about her innate (or learned) need to try to please everyone. Her tendency to not rock the boat, to be the one who takes the world upon her shoulders, to make life easier for everyone around her, to be accepting and quiet, to give and give even when she has nothing left and how as the years have passed she has found the strength of spirit to stand up for herself.

It is ironic that I have been a force in helping her find her voice. Just as she has at times been shown the joy that comes from being true to yourself through my example, I have been plagued with the same dilemma of wanting to please everyone, to make those I love happy, to be liked and to keep the peace.

But, mom has shown me that it is impossible to be all things to all people without paying a price. Eventually the stress of striving for perfection takes it toll and comes back to bite you in the ass.

In the book Eat, Love, Pray (I only read the Eat section) author Elizabeth Gilbert writes about wanting to get out of her marriage even though it was not particularly unhappy, it was simply not the life she wanted. And how continuing to proceed along the path of marriage, children, play dates, etc would eventually result in cancer or other malady. Our bodies, our minds, know when we are living an unauthentic existence and resist. The rebellion causes disease.

The bright example of my mom in my life is to be true to yourself. To find a happiness that is balanced between giving and holding onto what you most treasure at your core. It is a struggle to remember. It is a struggle to forgive yourself when you hurt others unintentionally. She has found this balance, this healing, this strength, this truth.

I'm working on it.

Tips From My Mom #9

The eyes are the windows to the soul.  

In class sometimes I have to put on a stern face to show my students that I mean business.  The time for fooling around (or "foola, foola", as I often call it) has come to an end and we need to focus.  But inevitably my efforts are shot down when the little ones look into my eyes. They can tell I want to be silly too.  Darn those windows to the soul.

I have tried to keep the shades drawn but to no avail. I've even tried to experiment with it.  Just this past Friday I was giving 'the look' to our energetic student Jeremy and trying hard to remain serious.  As I held my outward facial expression I inwardly altered my tone.  The minute I let down my guard he looked at me and said "You are funny".  So much for that!

In an instant he could tell.  Just from my eyes.

In this I also knew that he knew how much I treasured him.  I knew that he knew I thought he was funny too and that I get a kick out of his antics, even as he tries my patience. He is just too adorable.

It's nice to see that look in another persons eyes.  The acceptance. The love. The knowledge that someone gets a kick out of you, treasures you, wants to be around you.

There are two old photographs of my mom and I that express this. Mom beaming at me...

And me smiling at her in adoration.

I love these photos for this reason. All through my life I have noticed when people look at one another with this feeling of love. I've seen it on Lauren's face when she is working with a student. I have caught my dad gazing at my mom (quite often) with this expression on his face, I have seen it in the faces of my friends and lovers. It surrounds me.

If the eyes are truly windows to the soul then I have been blessed to know an exceedingly large number of gentle and loving souls in this lifetime.  I am thankful and grateful. It started with my dear mom who I am positive spent many nights watching her little ones in our cribs.  How wonderful to grow up surrounded by this much love. Pass it on...

Tips From My Mom #8

I am a night person. My true inner clock prefers that I stay up until the wee hours of the morning and spend a large chunk of the next day comfortably asleep in bed. I was able to indulge this preference when I was in my teens (not so much anymore) because my mom allowed it. Once she let me sleep until 4:00 in the afternoon just to see how long I would go before waking up.

Upon waking I would often find little handwritten notes on my nightstand telling me where everyone was so I wouldn't stumble around in a foggy haze thinking "I wonder where everybody is".

There would sometimes be torn corners from a notepad that read "went to the store" or on the back on an envelope I'd see "went to feed the horses".

I'd wake up, read these notes, and be somehow comforted by knowing what was going on in my little world.

If I had to get up early for some reason I typically found time in the afternoon for a glorious nap (on top of the covers with the window open and the curtain fluttering beside me). As a theater major I would often nap before opening night and once again Ma would leave me a small note (see above for one such note), a yellow rose (my favorite) and a small bottle of champagne.

Ma was and is a great communicator.

Not only with her notes but with the big stuff as well; love, security, trust, humanity, compassion, honesty, respect, struggles. There were certainly ups and downs, as with any family, but I never doubted for a second that I was loved and I firmly believe that this was because of communication.

Communication does not always mean that you have the answers. It can mean you have no idea what the hell is going on or how to respond. It allows for vulnerability and humanness. It means that you share part of yourself with those you love, warts and all. Ma taught me this by example and I have always cherished her for that.

I'm not sure I have mastered this exactly but I do believe that the folks I love are well aware of it. Communication and love - thanks Ma!
Hey, I think I am starting to see a theme with those smiley faces (see header).

Tips From My Mom #7

I have been sitting beside a hospital bed for the past 5 days and will probably find myself in this same position for many weeks to come. In these situations of stress and worry, with nothing to do but wait for healing to find its way to a loved one, the mind can wander.

As I watched my friend sleep I suddenly thought,

"I should give him something he can hold to comfort him."

Initially I envisioned a stuffed animal. But how crazy would it seem for a 47-year-old man to be found lying in ICU holding a stuffed Curious George (which by the way, I want if I am ever in a similar situation).

The reason for thinking I should give him something to hold felt so organic to me that I started to wonder why I thought of it in the first place. What inspired such a thought?

My mind swept back to my last hospital stay for the answer.

I was 6 years old and suffering through another endless little league baseball game that my 8-year-old brother Wally was playing in. Since I had no interest in this I headed off to explore the trees and paths that outlined the edges of the park.

I vividly remember singing to myself as I ran along the paths, stopping every so often to watch an anthill. In these wanderings I came across a little girl walking alone in the woods. She was a bit older than me, perhaps 10. I remember skipping past her on the narrow dirt path and waving to her as I went by. A few moments later I heard her yell something like "hey you". I swung around towards her and was hit in the left eye with a large stone.

I immediately put my hands to my face and blood flowed through my fingers. In stunned silence I watched the girl climb over the tall chain link fence without so much as an "I'm sorry". She was probably as shocked as I was because I do not believe he had meant to hurt me - she just had bad aim.

Seconds later I ran screaming back towards the ball field navigating the path using my one good eye. When everyone saw me they rushed over. I had succeeded in bringing the game to an end. The assistant coach, who was also a volunteer fireman, scooped me up in his arms and directed my mom to get in his car. He proceeded to speed through traffic with his siren blaring. As I lay on the front seat looking up I could see the traffic lights whizzing by on our way to St. Charles Hospital in Port Jefferson, New York.

The emergency staff told my mom that I would have to be admitted. My mom explained to me that this meant I would have to stay overnight in the hospital without her.

In the hospital WITHOUT MY MOMMY?!

When this sunk in I totally lost it. I felt betrayed by my mom when she said she agreed with the doctors who said that this would be the best place for me. I screamed and held out my hands while they dragged me down the hall.

"MOMMY!!!!!"

It turns out that I had to have both of my eyes covered with patches for a period of time which left me blind and with strangers. I was scared. To my relief my mom did come back and when she did I refused to let her leave again. When visiting hours were over and she began her good-bye I cried and held on tight.

One day she said to me "I'm leaving but I'll be right back. I'm just getting something to eat. I will leave my pocketbook with you. These are my keys (which she jangled and let me touch). You know I can't drive home without my keys."

So, I let her leave and clutched that handbag tightly until I fell asleep. When I woke up mommy was there again. All was right with the world. And so it went day after day.

It wasn't until I was much older that she told me that it was all a clever trick. That was not her pocketbook at all. It was an old one she no longer used into which she put some found keys, an empty wallet and some other carefully selected items.

But the trick worked. It served its purpose. I found the comfort I so desired and she got to go home to take care of my dad and 2 brothers.

I wish I were as clever as my mom - to be able to take away worry and fright with one well chosen object. But I am not. I am out of ideas. What would my mom do?

Get well soon Ed.
Get well soon Dad.

Tips From My Mom #6

This morning as I was getting ready for church I discovered that the only shoes I had to wear were my white canvas Converse All*Star low top slips-ons. Now these are amazingly fantastic sneakers but perhaps not the best choice for worshiping my "Lord and Savior Jesus Christ".

I still retain a bit of the old school mentality of Sunday clothes, well if not exactly Sunday clothes I at least differentiate between church going clothes and hangin' by the pool casual. So what's a boy to do when faced with the dilemma of inappropriate footwear on a Sunday morning?

Skipping church altogether was not an option as this was the choir's final Sunday singing the anthem for the season. We are a small church with a less than thriving congregation (in numbers anyway) which means that our choir consists of fewer than a dozen singers and I am the only guy singing the bass line. So, if I am not there a vital element of the composition is left out.

As I got dressed (I did have a pressed shirt and pants in my car because I had picked up my dry cleaning on Saturday before heading over to my friends home for dinner/unexpected sleep over) I suddenly heard my mother's voice.

It is not important what you wear to church. No one should comment on what anyone is wearing on Sunday morning because you are there to worship, not judge.

So off I proudly went, in those shoes that at make me happy, to join my fellow choir members to sing a beautiful anthem dedicated to all of the men and women who lost their lives fighting for our country.

But this got me thinking. There is a whole lotta judging going on out there. We can't seem to stop ourselves from expressing our 'opinions' on all sorts of topics; from the cars others drive (Is it Eco-friendly? In poor condition? The wrong color?) to the way folks live their lives (That couple will never last. All gay people are going to hell. That fat girl should put down the bag of chips. S/he should be in school getting a degree instead of doing whatever it is s/he is doing, etc.)

I even had someone chide me recently because I prefer to use my American Express card over a MasterCard or Visa.

And I couldn't help but wonder...

"Is any of this really anyone else's business?" (That's my little shout out to 'Sex and the City'.)

As tempting as it is to pass judgement, which I too am guilty of, I think we need to take a step back and consider that everyone is simply doing the best they can with what they are given and show a little compassion. Isn't it a blessing that there is diversity? Is passing judgement on others just another way to make ourselves feel better about our own choices?

Who among us is perfect? Joseph Campbell wrote in Pathways to Bliss:

"Perfection is inhuman. Human beings are not perfect. What evokes our love - and I mean love, not lust - is the imperfection of the human being. So, when the imperfection of the real person peaks through say, "This is a challenge to my compassion." Then make a try, and something might begin to get going."

I believe that this is what my mom was trying to say all those years ago. To expect kindness and compassion from others and if it is not given to keep on our own path. My mom has remained true to her words and the things she has taught me continue to spring back to the forefront of my mind when I least expect it, like today. And I am grateful.

Tips From My Mom #5

Lately I have been thinking a lot about balance.

Balance and perspective.

And as with most things in life these recurring themes have come at me from varied, unusual and seemingly unconnected sources; Dolly Parton, my mom and two children’s books I recently read titled Zen Shorts and Zen Ties by Jon J. Muth.

I have been grappling with these ideas in relation to the notion of selfishness. What does it mean to be ‘selfish’? Can we say another person is being ‘selfish’ without understanding the motives behind an action? Is it sometimes right and proper to be ‘selfish’ when it is necessary to continue one’s sense of well being?

Here are some scenerios…

I have a friend who used to work out regularly and would sometimes say that he couldn’t do such and such because he had to work out. Sometimes this would interfere with my plans and I would think “how selfish”. I figured he should be available to do as I wanted because he could work out anytime. But you know my perspective on that has changed greatly as I have gotten older. Because really, who was being selfish in that situation?

I have come to understand that taking care of ourselves and attending to the needs of our bodies and spirits is not at all selfish. If our bodies or spirits are lacking in some way, for instance either due to illness or depression, how can we then be available to others?

I read an interview with Dolly Parton this morning in which she spoke about the fact that she is not always happy but that she tries to be happy most of the time. In the article it became clear to me that although she is pushed and pulled every which way, by all kinds of folks, it is her inner strength and truth that allows her to be there for others and carry on. Dolly taking care of Dolly is not selfish, it is necessary to keep the machine running.

It is interesting that I should even have to debate this whole issue because growing up my mom was never big on laying down guilt. She was always intuitive enough to realize that her children had their own lives to live but that we would also continue to come back to home base when needed.

My mom always allowed us to be who we are. No judgements, no guilt. And she trusted that we would (and could) follow our inner Jiminy Cricket down the right path.

She understood that we needed to explore, learn, make mistakes and tend to our desires and needs. Unlike some parents she let us do just that. And through our teen years, when many children act out against their parents, we remained solid and loving towards one another.

Conversely, I have seen what can happen when individuals are not allowed to be ‘selfish’. Those perfect persons who constantly ignore their own needs in order to fulfill everyone else’s wishes usually end up paying the price in some way. They can become physically or mentally ill because they can not keep up the pace.

There must be balance; a balance between taking care of others and taking care of ourselves, a balance between meeting our responsibilities and finding time for ourselves.

It was in reading Zen Shorts and Zen Ties that this all came together for me. In simple terms these books bring the message of inner peace and looking inward. These are messages that my mom has always allowed us to live, although they were not necessarily spoken of.

I am grateful that I can begin to understand what it means to be ‘selfish’ in the very best ways so I can be there for others. I am
grateful that I can begin to understand that those who accuse and judge others are not quite there yet so I can release my desire to slap them silly and have some compassion.

And I am grateful that I have the opportunity to experience all of this, that I can question, that I can grow and that I can still shake my head in wonder.

Tips From My Mom #4

I was quietly looking out from the window of the school bus in front of my junior high school while other students stumbled past me on the way to the back of the bus. From my seat I could see two of my favorite teachers conversing together under the metal structure hanging over the entrance to our school. I could not hear what they were saying but I was convinced that they were talking about how wonderful and smart I was. This made me love them very much. 

The fact that they would take time out of their busy schedules to confer about my academic promise really moved me. And it was so open, right there in front of everyone during dismissal. In order to not seem like I was eavesdropping I slid away from the window, content in the knowledge that my teachers thought the world of me. I honestly believed this.

That was until I got a little older and realized that Mr. Sericka and Ms. Azar probably had a plethora of topics in which to engage and the sweet little nerdy fella in the first row with his hand constantly in the air was not one of them. Oh, this hit me hard one day and I felt like such an idiot for being so naive and self involved. I have lived with the shame of this for years.

But then I became the teacher on the other side of the glass. And you know what? Teachers do discuss their students with one another. A lot! I discuss them not only with other teachers but also with my family, my friends and now courtesy of this blog, people I have never met. This realization lessens the embarrassment described in paragraph one.

Although my musings are mostly positive reflections and anecdotes involving the precious children entrusted to my care, there are those who are not so kind.

These people are in Florida.

I know this because my nephew Randy has established quite the reputation for being disruptive down in "The Sunshine State". I have never in my life heard more disgusting tales of mistreatment and petty grudges as I have had described to me regarding Randy and the Florida public school system. It seems that one teacher told two friends and they told two friends and so on and so on about this young boy who disrupts class because he is popular and too charming and we can't allow anyone to portray any promising qualities like individuality in the land of bubba.

I will concede that Randy may not be the angel I was (wink) but when a teacher says to a young teen "You are a waste of life and don't deserve the air that you breathe" they are crossing a line.

Recently Randy was voted homecoming king. This raised a huge stink and several teachers demanded a recount. When the votes were tallied a second time it was found that he actually came in second place. Good 'ol Florida continues their tradition of holding back the people's choice for president king.

At the homecoming celebration one of the teachers who has given Randy a hard time in the past told him that he is a good kid and shouldn't let some of these teachers get him down. Well, that was something at least.

I have talked to Randy about his endless troubles with school, which I would LOVE to elaborate on here but will spare you the details. He will graduate in about 7 months so hopefully he can bite his lip until then and keep his eye on his goals. Although the 'educators' there appear to relish the thought of his failing. What makes someone so hateful? That is something that I do not understand.

Here is where my mom and her tips come in to play. This one actually originated with my father and was then relayed to me over the phone. But since I don't have a 'Tips From My Dad' feature I'll credit it to my mom.

"Sometimes you gotta yes 'em to death and then do what you want."

Not really original perhaps but in some situations it works best. I realize that it is hard for my darling godson to remain silent when he feels he is being unjustifiably wronged but under these circumstances his protestations will only add fuel to the fire. And perhaps other teachers will follow the lead of the one from the homecoming who offered words of encouragement.

I would love for Randy to have one moment before his school years end when he can look out of the window from his seat on the school bus and think that his teachers are praising him. How cool would that be?

Goofing around with Randy this past August

Tips From My Mom #3

Thankfully I have made it safely back home from my visit to Florida without having to pull a Karen Black and take over control of the plane. The night before I left for Florida I watched both Airport '75 and Airport '77. Somehow, it was oddly comforting. As though if something did go wrong I would be that much more prepared. "It's okay" I'll say "I know how to gauge air speed against altitude so the plane won't stall." This is how my mind works.

But the flight went off without a hitch and I was greeted at the gate by both of my smiling, enthusiastic parents. I last saw them in May and every time I see them I think I love them a bit more, if that is possible.

While I was there my mom was voted Employee of the Month at the hospital where she works. This is quite a recognition because there are over 1,000 employees with everyone up for consideration; doctors, nurses, administration, housekeeping, clerks, etc. My mom works in the housekeeping department. Everyone on staff is able to submit someone each month and then the names are brought to a committee who make the final decision. Once chosen they give the nomination ballots to the 'winner' so they can read all of the positive statements.

Mom brought these home on Thursday night and it seems as though many of the comments remarked on her ready smile, positive, optimistic attitude, boundless energy and friendly personality. They wrote how she is willing to take on any task, big or small, at a moment's notice without complaint. And that she is a hard worker. My reply is "No kidding". This is a 67 year old woman hauling around a cart full of cleaning supplies and mopping floors.

The Employee of the Month heading off to work.

The honor comes with several perks; a choice parking spot for a month, dinner with the CEO of the hospital (dad can come), a small monetary allotment, her picture in the newsletter and on the wall of the hospital and acknowledgement of her efforts.

This brings me to Tip #3.

No matter what you do, do it to the best of your ability.

I am so proud of my mom. She puts her all into the tasks set before her with unending energy. I know that she is very proud of me too because of what I do and because of who I am. But, I also know that she would be proud of me no matter what I did if I committed fully to it. Who I am and my outlook on life and work is directly related to not only her words but her example. I remember once she told me never to think less of a person just because they clean toilets if they do it well. I am paraphrasing but the sentiment is clear.

As I was thinking on this I was reminded of a book I read in High School by Richard Bach titled Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah

During that time I was struck by a quote that has stayed with me always.

Live never to be ashamed if anything you do or say is published around the world - even if what is published is not true.

So, congratulations Ma! You deserve it.

Tips From My Mom #2

Lately I have been wondering about the art of raising children. Is it an art or a crap shoot? For the past several days (beginning with an in-depth kitchen conversation with my sister, her husband and his parents) I have discussed the dynamics of the parent/child relationship. How is it possible to give birth to helpless, loving babies and raise them into secure, happy, confident, contributing members of society?

Conversely, how is it possible to give birth to a helpless, loving baby and when all is said and done the adult they become is mean, hateful and generally disagreeable?

Is it something in us at birth that determines the person we will become in spite of surrounding influences. I do not mean a nature/nurture debate per se because I think it is something more than genetic or primal. I wonder if it is something spiritual or karmic speaking to one's essence.

My parents always said that I was their 'happy baby' and I can say that that general mood has prevailed. I feel it to my bones; a gratitude for my family, my friends, the opportunities that have unfolded.

I see this in the children I teach. The inner core of the person they will become is already evident.

Of course outside influences play a huge factor. Our families, culture, society, opportunities, etc. all mingle together to support or eat away at our developing personas. And this brings me back to the point of all of this: How do parents foster positive relationships with their children and in what ways can they ensure that their children will grow into well adjusted, happy adults?

Let's take a look towards my mom for this one.

Never one to push her views on anyone she quietly teaches by example. She exemplifies what it means to be a model others can emulate. Here I am in my 40s and her subtle messages are still unfolding.

1. Do not judge. As with any family there comes a time when disagreements arise between a parent and a child. When I dyed my hair blond and it came out orange my mom smiled and said "Isn't that interesting". When I decided that I wanted to go to New York University to study acting she (and you too dad) dug in her heels and did everything possible to make my dream a reality. No words about it being a difficult career or perhaps I should go in another direction. Just "what do you need and how can we make it happen".
   
   
2. Let them do what they want. Here is where that ol' lovely demon pops in...guilt. My mother has never, never made any of us feel guilty about choosing to spend time with our friends over her, for not staying home, for not calling. So what did we do? We brought our friends over to hang out, we stayed in, we called. Well, not always but her understanding went a long way towards building positive life-long friendships with each of us.
   
   
3. Acceptance and Understanding. And if there were things she couldn't understand she at least accepted them until she could. What more could you ask? And in return we did the same thing.
   
   
4. Let them see that you are human too. Parents are like Gods to young children, at least mine were. As children grow older that changes. Sometimes drastically. But sharing emotions, thoughts and caring in open conversations allowed us to see the person behind the role of parent. Of course, I never went through a rebellious period but I see that having an open door policy in terms of communication can keep some situations from spinning out of control.
   
   
5. Love them!

So there you have it.

Lead by example.

Simple and utterly complex. Hopefully one day I will get to try this system out for myself from the other side of the looking glass. Until then, I remain ever watchful.

Oh, and keep lots of cookies in the cookie jar!

Tips From My Mom #1

Every morning before school for as far back as I can remember my mom would quietly enter my bedroom in the morning and bring me a cup of hot tea. She would gently place it on my nightstand, then sit on the edge of my bed. In a soothing voice she would whisper "Gary, it's time to get up. Drink your tea before it gets cold." While she said this she would sweetly touch my hair and I would look up at her through blurry eyes. I'd mutter something to acknowledge that I heard her and then she would leave to go and wake up my two brothers.

Because I didn't want my tea to get cold and out of respect for the fact that she went through the trouble to bring me hot tea in the first place I would force myself through a sleepy haze to sit up in bed. With my feet planted firmly on the floor I'd reach for the tea, cupping it in both hands, then take a sip. Most of the time I would sit there for a while staring off into nothing, devoid of any thought other than perhaps catching a few more winks.

But the tea felt warm in my hands and I didn't want to spill any of it. So slowly, oh so very slowly I entered the land of lucid thought and left behind my comfortable bed filled with a vivid array of dreams and magical adventures. In a few minutes mom would come back to check on me, ever kind, never rushed or frazzled (I am sure she was but never seemed to be) and she'd take a moment to chat with me before heading off again to check on the rest of the family. She'd ask if the tea was okay - it always was, sugar, no milk - and I'd begin to stir and get ready for school.

It's an art raising children. You find ways of getting what you want and doing the things that need to get done in ways that never let on your true plan. My mom had three boys to get ready for school and a baby daughter but she never showed us that it was too much. Mom found a way to wake us up without shouting and threats. It's so simple, bring a mug of hot tea and tell your child to wake up before it gets cold. Genius.

Thanks mom for your gentle touch, your amazing love and the belief you have in all of us. Not a day goes by that I am not grateful that you are my mom and my friend.