2012....2013

The last time I wrote was one month before the presidential election, when I was more than a little worried about the direction of the country. Happy to say the right guy is firmly ensconced in the White House and I truly believe he will accomplish all he has promised. I thought the election high on November 6 would last at least until the inauguration.

I can safely say the last few months have been anything but high. I had an unexpected leak in the shower stall that was causing major flooding below us. "We're just going to tap out a few tiles, find the leak, repair it, replace the tiles and it'll be back to normal in three days." Those few tiles turned into every tile in the shower, every pipe, the tray, the fixtures, many workmen, much mess, dust and three weeks later it was done. I was exhausted. It had monopolized an inordinate amount of time, but I knew I was lucky.

During the bathroom fiasco Hurricane Sandy hit this area. It was impossible to complain about my shower when I looked at the destruction so many people were experiencing. It's been inspiring to see people volunteering time, collecting supplies, raising money and being unselfish. I find it hard to buy things I want now and keep thinking about all the people who don't have what they need let alone what they want. I have a harder time talking with people who don't think about the people who are suffering. I can't imagine.

What's been difficult in the last few months is the lack of time to breathe. It's felt like I've tackled one project after another at work, the shower, and trying to digest the destruction. But nothing prepared me for the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School. It's taken everything not to sink into complete sadness. It's also taken everything not to hope someone shoots Wayne LaPierre of the NRA.

The sadness and anger is overwhelming. That Friday reminded me of 9/11. People going about their day. Taking their children to school, kissing them goodbye, never thinking it would be for the last time. It's almost impossible thinking about the 26 people who died that day...caring administrators, loving teachers and the innocent children.  I can't think about their parents. To think about their pain and their loss is a place I can't go.

But I can do something. And because I'm an eternal optimist, I cannot end this post without offering things you can do to make a difference for others...and in turn for you:

Support the Robin Hood Sandy Relief Effort.

Make snowflakes to hang in the new school that the students from Sandy Hook Elementary will attend.

Join the One Million Child March on DC for Gun Control.

Carry out 26 Acts of Kindness. Ann Curry invites you to honor the students and teachers who died. What better way.

Why Not Obama?

I'm not focusing on why Romney and very curious about why not Obama? I don't think the undecided percentage in the election is correct....well, at least if I use my friends on Facebook as a poll. I have 520 friends and 75 LIKE Obama and 7 LIKE Romney (including the 2 kids of Romney supporters who are too young to voted). I thought only 5% of Americans were undecided.  My friends are either undecided, keeping it to themselves until November 6 or just not sharing on Facebook.

If I wanted to venture a guess about the preferred candidate of the other 438 of my friends, should I assume a similar breakdown? Now I just have to remember fractions or percentages so I can really understand how many of my friends are voting for Romney. If a train is traveling 60 MPH going east....oh no,wrong equation. 7 out of 82 equals x out of 520, then x = 44.4. Math people - jump in if I'm wrong.

I usually only talk about politics amongst other like-minded people. I try to stay away from politics, religion and parenting in groups. I have very strong opinions in all three categories.  I am eager and curious to hear other points of view, but conversations of these types usually end with everyone feeling exasperated and leave with our views in the same camp as when we began.

But with less than one month to go, I'd like to understand what the draw of Romney is...or better yet, why the disappointment with Obama. We've all read the list of his accomplishments he was able to make happen without much support in Washington. It's a long list. We all remember the state our country was in when he was elected. Do any of us think we'd be in a better shape had we elected McCain/Palin four years ago?  And four years from now, will we be better off is we elect Romney?

I still want CHANGE, I still have HOPE and I still LIKE him.

What's on my mind...

I've had a lot on my mind lately and unfortunately this is how my mind feels right now.

Be kind to all beings

I'm committed to diversity initiatives at two schools, in very different roles. In each school, we have our reasons why diversifying the school is important, but the shooting at the Sikh Temple gave me my most important reason. When I heard about the shooting I immediately thought of a Sikh family at one of the schools.

They were only part of the community for one year and then unfortunately were transferred out west. During their year with us, they spent time educating the students, faculty and administrators about their culture, traditions and beliefs. We learned about the five virtues and the kara and patka. And, how the Sikh people are non-violent. Knowing that fact made the attack at the Temple that much worse.

Knowing this family personalized the shooting. I hoped the same thoughts came to the parents and children in our school community. This wasn't just another horrible shooting of anonymous people, but members of a group of people where we know 3 of the 500,000 Sikhs who live in America.

If diversifying our schools wasn't a priority, we may never have met this family...and it might have been just another horrible shooting.

America the Bloody

After what happened in Aurora I find it hard to breathe when Zach is out of the house. On that Friday night, 1600 miles away from Aurora, he was at the midnight show of Batman on 67th Street. Intellectually I know there's nothing you can do to prevent being caught in the wrong place, but Aurora has stirred up similar feelings I had during 9-11. Each person was just going about their life...going to work or going to the movies. It was just another day that changed many lives forever.

I can't discuss gun control even with people who are in favor of changing laws. The sense of frustration I feel that this is still a discussion has hindered my ability to have a rational conversation. I started off the week offering comments like "may I suggest we look at the current laws..." and "can we all agree that banning assault weapons..." and "even the NRA says..." And honestly, now all I hear in my head is you're f*#king crazy for thinking we shouldn't ban all guns, leaving it impossible to me to be rational on the topic.

I love our president and believe he has compassion and conviction. It's time to have courage and not fear election results. How many more 6 year olds are going to die? How many more people will be left paralyzed? And how many more will be left traumatized? The answer is not putting guns in the hands of well intentioned Americans. No one is well intentioned with a gun in their hand. 

Words With Boyfriends

I've always liked having some sort of relationship with a boyfriend when they became an ex. There's only one ex-boyfriend that I haven't kept the friendship with since breaking up. I would, however, feel totally comfortable calling to say hi.  What I've recently found satisfying is transitioning exes to competitors in Words With Friends.

At any one time I have about 15 games going. Half and half women and men. Women are competitive with each other, but in gentle ways. One female friend of mine likes to have 2 games going simultaneously and that way usually each of us wins one. I have friends who when losing stop playing for a day or so in the hope of stopping the momentum. It's kind of like a rain delay in tennis. Sadly, I've had friends walk away from games entirely. Only women though. Men seem to fight harder. I think it's a psychological study that merits a little funding.

I'm wondering though if it wouldn't be better starting off a relationship playing WWF before the first date. I think how he or she plays this game would tell one a lot about character, humor, education and resilience in a short period of time. This might change the face of online dating. Taking it one step further, what if you chose "random player" in WWF and that person was a potential suitor?  If the games go well, then you meet for dinner.

PS Thanks lunch date for the title!

When We Met Nora

Harry: You realize of course that we could never be friends.

Sally: Why not?

Harry: What I'm saying is - and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form - is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.

Sally: That's not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.

Harry: No you don't.

Sally: Yes I do.

Harry: You only think you do.

Sally: You say I'm having sex with these men without my knowledge?

Harry: No, what I'm saying is they all WANT to have sex with you.

Sally: They do not.

Harry: Do too.

Sally: How do you know?

Harry: Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.

Sally: So, you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?

Harry: No. You pretty much want to nail 'em too.

I vividly remember 1989 and seeing When Harry Met Sally. It was the year I turned 30. I had recently ended important relationship, well he had, and I was feeling pretty sorry for myself and this movie made me laugh.  When Harry Met Sally seemed like the story I shared with one of my oldest friends...a guy. The friendship didn't start in college, it was Studio 54. We didn't take any road trips, we danced. We watched each other date many different people, we flirted shamelessly with each other. I knew why his relationships never worked and he knew why mine didn't either. In 1989 we let a toe go over the line, but fear of putting our friendship in jeopardy pulled it back quickly.

A few years later, that movie kept me laughing during labor. My water broke at the rehearsal dinner of my best friend. Off to Mt. Sinai Hospital we went, only to be told we had a while to go and we should do our waiting at home. One of us believed the Lamaze coach who said sleep through the early part of labor. And one of us looked for a few movies to distract. I remember watching three movies, but can only remember two of them. Moonstruck and When Harry Met Sally. I laughed my way through every contraction to "Snap out of it" and "I'll have what she's having." I remember saving When Harry Met Sally for last, knowing the contractions would be worse and that it was the funniest of the three.

Nora Ephron has gotten me through some important times in my life. It is impossible not to enjoy the easy way she wrote.  I hope I Feel Bad About My Neck will be made into a movie in time for me to start feeling badly about mine. And I miss what she had yet to write.

5 postcards

I read something this morning about different ways people can make themselves happy. Most of the suggestions were about doing something helpful, thoughtful and kind for someone else. As nice as it is doing something for yourself there's no question seeing another person happy makes you feel better.

One of my favorite ideas mentioned was sending 5 people postcards...just to let them know you're thinking about them. I loved this idea and put it on my to do list. All day I kept thinking about the eclectic collection of postcards I had in college (wishing I still had them), which reminded me of the postcard exhibit I saw last year at the Met (wishing I had bought a box then), and all of that had me wondering to whom I would mail these postcards...and when would I buy them?

The day went as they seem to these days...very quickly. Towards the end of the day I ran an errand for a friend and then came back to the office for a meeting. More of a meeting with a new friend. When we finished business, she said she had left me a little something with the reception desk and not to forgot to pick it up when I left for the day.

When the day finally ended, I stopped by to pick up the little something and to my complete surprise it was a box of 100 postcards...each card another beautiful pantone color. 100 postcards...and all I had been thinking about was 5. It is a gift that made me smile and it's definitely a gift that will keep on giving. I've already written my 5 postcards tonight and they'll be mailed tomorrow morning...and 5 more after that...

Thankyoupleaseyou'rewelcome

I'm done with people who don't have manners. I don't mean that I won't associate with them, I mean I'm done with accepting their rudeness.  I've always felt that New Yorkers get a bad rap and we're much kinder than people think. But after two unpleasant experiences in a short period of time, I'm beginning to wonder.

Let me start out by saying that I'm not here to teach manners, except to my son and he's pretty much done in that department. I have been known to say "thank you" a bit sarcastically when I've held the door open for someone who didn't acknowledge the gesture, but few days ago something snapped. As I was leaving for work a woman pushing a stroller was coming into the building where I live. The doorman was off to the side, so I held the door to make it easier for her. Without missing a beat, she walked by me not saying a word.  Really?

Before I tell you what I said to her, let me tell you the second unpleasant experience that occurred. I was in the restaurant on my block and was waiting to place an order to bring home. The gentlemen who usually helps me was helping someone else. I waited and while I waited I could hear what the woman ordered, but more important, I could hear how she ordered it. There was a lot of "I want that..." "Give me this..." "I need the..." She barked orders at the incredibly lovely man behind the counter who did nothing but accommodate her. As she finished up her transaction I still couldn't believe how she spoke to this nothing-but-helpful person. Really?

We all have our breaking point. We all have a time in our life when we say enough is enough (thank you Network). These two events pushed me to say more than I might typically.

To the stroller-pushing mom who walked through the door I was holding right passed me I said, "Unbelievable, are you really not going to say thank you?" To which she was completely confused and tried to unnecessarily hold the door for me. I looked at her and said, "Don't you say thank you when someone holds the door for you?" She was still looking dumbfounded as I left the building.

To the incredibly rude woman in the restaurant, as she was signing her credit card receipt, I said to the gentleman who had helped her, "I'm astonished at the lack of manners exhibited by some people." He smiled. She looked at me and proceeded to tell me how rude I was. Somehow I think she missed the point.

Trust me I'm not the Miss Manners Monitor or the Cape Crusader of Civility, but I know how hard people work and they should be appreciated and when people extend a courtesy it should be acknowledge.  OK, I'm getting off the soap box now.  Thank you for listening.

Live A Good Life

Good is such an interesting word that is used in many ways. It can describe a measure of success on a school project, a Broadway play or the food in a restaurant. Good in these instances is just good, it's not great. It would equate to a letter grade B. Good, not great.

When you refer to someone as a good person, that good is more like great though. When I think of the person I'd like Zach to grow into...I'd like him to be a loving husband and father. I'd like him to find happiness and success in a relationship and in a career. I'd like him to have a passion to help others. But the first thing I always say when asked about my wish for Zach...I hope he continues to be a good person.

There is something so simple and pure about being good.

I heard the eulogy today for a person who epitomizes good. Her son gave a heart-wrenchingly beautiful tribute to his mom. He challenged us to honor his mom by letting her be the inspiration for us to be good people. Anne always had a smile on her face. And always had time to say hello and find out about your life. Her smile and warmth emitted pure joy. It's hard not to smile back and in that short time you breathe easier and relax and feel happy. There's no greater gift.

If you do nothing else in your life but inspire people to be good, that's a good life.

Skin Deep

In high school I wore Mary Quant's dark, metallic blue nail polish. And there were the ripped jeans I loved that my mother didn't understand. In college I remember helping my friend dye her blond hair peacock blue.  In my 20s and 30s I enjoyed wearing my work clothes a little differently - maybe the skirt was shorter or the heels were higher and the orange suit made a statement. This was the place where I felt most comfortable being the rebel.

It was all superficial...nothing permanent. Well, I guess the three holes in my right ear are permanent, but since I haven't used two of them in decades, I don't count them. The 30s weren't as adventurous and after becoming a mom I got pretty boring. Not "mom jeans" boring, but I had other priorities. And even now, having been back at work for 11 years, I'm surprised when my boring outfits raise an eyebrow.

Ignoring stereotypes, fighting assumptions and caring more about values than sartorial choices, I like not always fitting in a mold. I like meeting people who dress one way and live another. I like being proven wrong when I've made an assumption about someone based on what they've chosen to wear. Truth is I still have a hard time understanding pants worn below your tush, but I think that might just have been the way my mom felt about my ripped jeans.

Excited to collaborate with Maria Giacchino using her photo - My Right Boot in the Back of a Cab

America the Beautiful

One of the many reasons I love New York is all the different people you meet. Taxi drivers are some of the most interesting characters. Every race, religion and personality is represented at the wheel. Today I spent the better part of the afternoon in Riverside Park watching Zach play soccer. It was a perfect day...the sky was blue, 65 degrees and the sun beaming. Unfortunately, they lost, but it was still a fun afternoon.

I grabbed a cab home and knew the minute I got in I was in for a ride. Driving the taxi was a white man in his early 30s with a southern accent and a shaved head. We exchanged pleasantries about the weather and then he started the story he was obviously wanting to tell. Late last night he was driving in Times Square when two very large men got in the car announcing they were going to the Bronx. As he told the story I could sense his fear. He said he couldn't find a policeman on any block and decided to deal with it himself.

All the while he's telling this story with his strong southern accent and all I can think is he's racist. He tells me that he decided to stop the cab and tell the two men he was not going to the Bronx and to get out of his car. Which he did....and they did. He gave me a quick armchair shrink analysis of why they left..surprise, shock, off guard.  Unfortunately, he then launched into some of his political views. This was America at its finest.

You can't trust government and politicians because it and they are corrupt and every American should be armed. If the 6 million Jews that died had guns, they would have defeated the Nazis. Something told me this wasn't the time to tell him I'm Jewish. And then it dawned on me...mid-30s, male, white, shaved head. A skin head in NY. I know they're here, but this was a first for me. I've always admired Morris Dees and supported the Southern Poverty Law Center and the 20 minutes I spent in the taxi confirmed why I do.

I'll be right off

I think I'd be a very different mom if iPhones and Blackberries had been around when Zach was born. I had a cell phone 16 years ago, but I remember only using it for emergencies....meaning I never really used it. But now, I would just be distracted and would not give Zach my full attention.

Being home with Zach for his first 5 years, I loved watching and making silly faces at him in the stroller when he still faced me. Even when I turned him around and he faced the world, I would talk to him. I always talked to him.  Honestly, some of the best times I've spent with Zach have been walking down the street - without interruption. Sixteen years later I still feel the same way. Grabbing those moments on the way to school when you can just talk...about anything.

I see moms walking down the street, on playgrounds and in doctor's offices talking on the phone, answering emails and sending texts. They're definitely muli-tasking, but their children don't seem to be part of the equation. I wonder how the kids feel. Do they know they're being ignored? As they grow up, will they ever give their moms undivided attention or will they reciprocate with the same lack of attentiveness? What saddens me is if children don't fee like a priority, do they feel loved unconditionally or like they're playing second fiddle to a device?

PS - In fairness to moms, dads are just as guilty, if not more, but I hold us to higher standards.

Trayvon...and the truth

I remember many years ago - probably 25 or so - walking on Park Avenue with my brother.  We reached 71st Street and he was continuing up Park and I was going over to Lexington. After I said goodbye and turned to head down the block, I noticed a man on 71st Street and got a strange feeling. 25 years later I couldn't tell you what made me feel this way or what he looked like, but I decided not to walk down the block.  I said to my brother that it must be nice to be a man and not feel physically intimidated and not think about your personal safety the way women do sometimes.

Since first hearing about the Trayvon Martin murder, I've been outraged as a person who thinks we live in a civilized country. As a white mom of a 16 year old white teen, I'm stunned an innocent young man can be shot walking down a street. I worry about my son's safety, but I can't imagine being the mom of a black son and worrying about his safety with the additional element brought on because of his skin color.  Or clothing. As a woman I don't think I'd be afraid if I saw a person coming toward me wearing a hoody. I certainly wouldn't be afraid if I were a man. And if I had a gun, well, if I had gun, I'd only be afraid of something bigger than a gun.

I am afraid of injustice and double standards. I am afraid of the message that's being sent to black teens. I am afraid of the fear we've raised higher in the hearts of parents of black children.  I love our president for his ability to be empathic. I believe in my heart the truth will come out and an arrest will be made soon. I hope Trayvon's parents feel the support they have from many people of all colors in this country and around the world. And I hope this strength helps them through this horror.

Little Pink Book

As I was cleaning out a couple of drawers this morning, I found an old phone book from about 25 years ago.  In that little pink book were the names I haven't thought of in probably that same amount of time, and there were also several people listed that I have no recollection of ever knowing. No doubt I did know them at some point, but hard pressed to remember their faces. There were also stores listed that no longer exist, but those were the days of shopping for wants not needs.

Unfortunately, there were also names of too many people who aren't alive anymore. Family members and friends from school, work and other places and times in my life. Some died young and others lived very full lives. A bit shocking to see so many in one little pink book. I was grateful for the unexpected time to think about them again and enjoyed immersing myself in the 80s and 90s.

But the best part of finding this relic was how many friends in that little pink book are still in my life, albeit most with new and many more phone numbers. Some have been constant fixtures and others have had extended breaks...but all can be called friends.  Having friendship's with history, whether it's 5 years or 25 years, is to be treasured.

As I read each page for more memories, I couldn't help but giggle at the neatly written entries. My handwriting since the computer has been anything but legible. In years to come, with all contacts safely stored in our computers, people won't have the opportunity to find a little pink book while cleaning out a drawer...that's unfortunate since it made cleaning out the drawer this morning a little more fun.

Flight Tracker

10 years ago when Zach was six years old and asked to take a Mandarin after school class, I never thought that I'd be here now watching flight tracker. He and a group of kids from school are on their way to Beijing for two weeks. 14 hours on a plane...13 hour time difference...half way around the world.

It's hard having Zach this far away, but this is the next step. He can go to China and see Tiananmen Square, walk on the Great Wall, become more fluent, teach English to younger students at a school, and eat scorpions. What he is really doing though is building memories, learning about life, testing himself, and becoming independent.

We raise them to be part of the world and then go out into it and make a difference. I trust Zach in the world...it just feels a little hard trusting today's world with my son.

我爱你

Bucket List

Typically you associate a bucket list with someone who is dying, whether from cancer like Jack Nicholson's character in the movie of the same name, or 16 year old Alice who writes the blog Alice's Bucket List. Young or old, the common thread is that it's about completing a list of special or longed for experiences in a certain amount of time.

So what if the impetus is not a sad reason....but 4 years of college ? I only have 2.5 years before Zach leaves and it's not that I think there wont be time for trips and other experiences once he goes, but our time together will be different. My first thought about the next couple of years is what life lessons can I cram into his head? And then I thought it would be more meaningful for us to create a bucket list together. Somehow the bucket list also seems a little more fun right now.

2.5 years is a good amount of time to plan a road trip to California, learn how to play the piano, get a tattoo (that's mine, not Zach's), see Cold Play in concert, volunteer time with children, meet Paul McCartney, sky dive (that's Zach's, not mine), take the summer off and live at the beach, and more to be added.

Oh, and since one of the top items on the list is spending time in Italy, I'm renaming our bucket list...we now have un secchio elenco! What's on yours?

Mikell's

Think about New York in the early 80s. Conjures up all sorts of memories, doesn't it? It was a pretty amazing time to be in your 20s. New York was still reeling from...54, Mudd Club and a whole bunch of other dance clubs. I don't remember when I stopped going, but at some point they were replaced with small clubs.

I spent a lot of time at a place on 97th and Columbus. Mikell's wasn't a big place, but it was a corner oasis. It had a big sound and left a strong impression on me. I made a few friends there, saw a lot of people perform there, and haven't thought about Mikell's since it closed in the early 90s. Not until this past weekend.

One of the strongest memories I have is the first time I heard a mother-daughter act sing Me and You Against the World and was blown away...goose bumps, tears and all. I remember hearing this song so many times after and always wondered how the daughter would eventually go on without the mom...and never thought it would be the other way around. Never.

hopeful

Half empty or half full? I'm a half full kind of person and prefer to see the best in a situation or person. I think that's why I like a new year. It's a time that most people feel positive about starting fresh.

Oddly, it was a bit hard when I thought about 2012 beginning. Between feeling need for personal change and the looming presidential election, this new year seemed filled with more uncertainty than past years. What's interesting is sitting here a little over a month into the year and I'm already feeling differently about what's coming. I'm feeling more settled and focused than I was during most of 2011, and I'm enjoying more of where I'm spending my time now.

As for the election, well, it's a bit like watching children fight. Not Obama since he hasn't fully stepped in yet, but each Republican candidate. And even though we're down to 4, I'm worried about all the negativity being promoted so far. I fear this election will be dirty and dangerous. Between Adelson and Trump and a few other monied or vocal people, it feels like posturing and throwing their weight around and unfortunately, not about the better candidate winning.

Many things need to change in this city, the country, the world, and right now there are too many voices making noise and not enough solutions being heard. Obama, I'm counting on you in your second term to find those solutions and be as noisy as possible.