The People Who Live In My Head: A Reason, a Season, or a Lifetime...

The People Who Live In My Head: A Reason, a Season, or a Lifetime...: Thirteen is a rough time for a kid.   It always has been, but in today’s tech age, I think it’s even harder.   There’s never a break from ...

A Reason, a Season, or a Lifetime...

Thirteen is a rough time for a kid.  It always has been, but in today’s tech age, I think it’s even harder.  There’s never a break from the constant “communication” that is not actually communication at all.  Emojis and a steady stream of words doesn’t actually amount to informative dialogue that delivers real messages. 

Talk doesn’t exist anymore.  There are no long drawn out phone conversations.  There’s no conversation at all, really.  When two or more young folks are gathered, heads are bowed to cell phone screens and the only talk is to quote a meme or to say “Look at this!”  The closest thing there is to chatting is done online in private group messaging.  That’s where things get ugly.

I realize that I’m saying this online and that I communicate with my dearest friends via social media, so these thoughts could sound hypocritical to the kids about whom I’m writing.  There is a difference, however.  The difference is that I’m a grown up (sort of) and I am capable of having real conversations live and in person.  I know how to share facts, I know how to enjoy humor, I have – and use – manners.  I can’t say the same for these kids who are still learning who they are.

I’ve done everything I can to teach my kids how to properly interact with people.  They can talk to me about whatever’s on their minds and I talk to them.  I’ve brought them into my grown up world, where they can and do make conversation with all sorts of people about all sorts of things.  I’m proud of them for doing so.  They’re (mostly) not precocious.  They’re (mostly) polite.  They interact and they communicate.

My daughter’s pack of 13 year old friends hasn’t learned these skills and that is where it all falls apart.  My daughter doesn’t believe me when I say that I truly never had any drama in middle school.  It happened, of course, and I saw it in certain groups but I was either oblivious to it in my own pack of friends or it just never touched me.  I’d like to believe that’s because I have meticulous friend-picking skills.  It’s probably more that I’ve always been able to walk away before things got weird.  That’s a skill that I hope my girls will also acquire.

When issues arise in my daughter’s circle, I tell her not to sweat it.  That’s my job.  She rolls her eyes, of course, because that’s her job.  That doesn’t stop me and I keep talking, telling her to think about the people around her and think about what they bring to her life and what she brings to theirs.  More eye rolling ensues, and I pull out the old adage:  People come in to your life for a Reason, a Season, or a Lifetime.

I know that sounds trite to a 13 year old who is so sure that this week’s BFF will always be there, but it’s true.  What is, unfortunately, also true is the fact that it’s impossible to know in the moment which friend fits which label.  Only time and experience can answer that and, if we’re paying attention, we can look back and understand which people in our past and present fit which labels.

If someone had said these things to my 13 year old self there’s no way I would have listened or avoided eye rolls.  Actually, I’m sure my mother must have said them to me, but I gave her the “OK, whatever brush-off”.  I’m sorry, Mom.  You were right, as always!

Hindsight is always so clear, isn’t it?  I can now flash back to those people of my past and understand the roles they played.  The ones who were there and gone – sometimes leaving a scar – were there for a Reason.  I learned something and have carried those lessons through the rest of my life.  Then there were the Season players.  They fit a particular time in my life.  We experienced things together, learned together, had fun together, and then moved on down our own chosen paths.  I have fond memories and am grateful for the Reasons and the Seasons.

The ones that sneak up on you…the ones who are usually most unexpected…are the Lifetime players.  They come out of nowhere, sometimes, and their Reason is not always clear but I’m happy I have them!  These are the folks that sneak in the side door.  The ones who stumbled in to the party and end up being the ones with the best dip recipes, the strongest shoulders, the softest hearts, and the funniest jokes at either the most or least appropriate times, depending on the need.

Who ever would have guessed when a goofy long haired dude walked in to my job at Weiner World for a cup of root beer that we’d still be friends more than 30 years later?  There have been weddings, babies, funerals, and beyond since then, but that guy still likes root beer and I still make fun of him for his goofy friends.  When I walked in to a new job in a new city, there was no reason to think a connection was made with the boss and his family, but they are still in my life and in my heart.  When I was six years old in Baltimore, and my brother’s hippie friend helped me with my homework, who ever would have guessed that many years and several states later, it would be important to have him at my wedding?  These are just a few of the Lifetime representatives in my life.  Some make cameo appearances and fade back in to the shadows.  Some are always present.

What I want my daughter to understand is that ALL of these people are important.  I want her to live in the moment and have fun.  There’s no reason to figure out the Reasons, Seasons or Lifetimes in the here and now.  I don’t even think that’s possible but I hope that while she’s there in the moments, she’s storing data.  The day will come when those memories and lessons resurface and, hopefully, it will all make sense and he life will be richer for it.

Meanwhile, of course, I hope she’s able to quickly identify the jerks, the weasels, and the soul suckers and cast them out quickly.  They fall under Reasons.  They don’t get a long term pass.

Won't You Be My Neighbor...

I haven’t written much here lately.  The old adage says, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all”, so that’s what I’ve been doing.  Saying nothing.

It’s not that I no longer have nice things to say.  I do.  I just find myself being more frustrated with my fellow homo sapiens than not these days and I choose not to give my energy to those thoughts and feelings.  I don’t like feeding the monster.  Fortunately, Good has a way of revealing itself and Humanity’s light shines through!

While sadness and anger are still going strong over one group of children (which is justified and if you don’t agree with that, shame on you), another group of children were at the center of a heroic display of courage, strength, determination, and the power of focus and prayer.  Study the faces of those 12 rescued boys, because I suspect we will see them again in acts of good in the future.

During their ordeal in underground darkness, my family was enjoying fun and sun with a group of friends at the lake.  The kids got to do things they’d never done – rock jumping, wave riding, boating, and such – while the grownups got to tell remember when stories and just relax.  It was beautiful.  Until…

During the drive home, we got a call from our neighbor, David.  He’s our friend, we asked him to get our mail and offered use of our pool, so we weren’t surprised to hear from him but we didn’t expect “There’s a problem.” and certainly didn’t expect “The house is flooded.”  He told us it began with the kitchen sink.  He turned off the water and then went to the garage – which is not a pleasant place to be – and found our shopvac, so he sucked up the standing water.

We were still about an hour away from home, so our brains kicked into overdrive, imagining the worst.  My husband has thousands of dollars worth of irreplaceable vintage amps.  We thought of my daughter’s violin, we thought of photos and books and all the things that may be low to the ground.  We assumed our brand new floors were ruined and there’d be a lot of damage.  Then, we started to process what could have possibly happened and how amazing it was that it was discovered so quickly because our neighbor said that it was not leaking the evening before when he was there.

Thankfully, when we got home we saw that the water had been fairly well contained, thanks largely to David’s efforts.  When I thanked him, he told us that he didn’t discover it.  The neighbors directly behind us saw water pouring down the back of our house!  We were obviously not home, but the man of the house remembered that our family was friends with David’s family and they alerted him to the water.  David took it from there.

We don’t know this other neighbor well.  The man speaks English, but works a lot and we don’t see the woman, who doesn’t speak English well, very often.  It’s clear we look out for one another, and we smile and wave, but that’s about it.

Their neighborly deed saved us a world of heartache, hours of hard work, and probably lots and lots of money.  How do you repay that?  By being a good neighbor in return, of course.  And a cookie cake that says “Gracias” doesn’t hurt.  When I took the giant cookie to their door, our neighbor just said “You don’t have to do that.  We’re neighbors.  That’s what neighbors do.”  I agreed with him, thanked him, and told him to shut up and take the cookie.  Because that’s also what neighbors do.  They smile at the naked toddler running past the door, they shake a hand, and say thank you for being a great neighbor.

It really is that simple, isn’t it?  Aren’t we all neighbors here on this giant ball?  Aren’t we ALL better off when we look out for one another, when we help one another, and when we offer one another kindness (and a cookie cake sometimes) instead of walls and closed doors?

Mother Teresa said it best, when she said “I want you to be concerned about your next door neighbor. Do you know your next door neighbor?” If you really want to get deep, she also said “It is impossible to love God without loving our neighbor.” That’s good advice for those who want to carry a religious flag while preaching about walls and borders.  Just sayin’.

So, with that in mind, I shake off my frustrations, go back to smiling at all who cross my path, and ask them in my best Fred Rogers voice, "Won’t you be my neighbor?”