As Tequila and I walk around the neighborhood, I'm often asked if I enjoy my life as an empty-nester. Most often I reply, too rapidly, "It's great." An awkward silence follows.
Whomever asked the question never says what they think out loud--but I can imagine: "Daisy and Birdie seem like such nice girls. How can their mom be so cheerful about having them gone? What don't I know about those girls? Maybe they weren't nice? Perhaps they bullied their parents, stole the last bit of ice cream from the freezer or left their undies lying in the living room. Or wait, could it be that she needed them gone--that their rooms have been rented to strangers? Perhaps, she is running a sock knitting sweatshop or breeding beagles in their bedrooms...no wait, probably not beagles--those would be too noisy."
Invariably, to break the wild train of thoughts, the questioner casts eyes downward and the simple truth reveals itself: I am wearing shapeless white socks with my beat-up sandals, a fashion choice the girls can't tolerate. They have their standards--skimpy skirts, wedged sandals, a blue-etched heart tattoo and a nose piercing. And I have mine. And now, while they are miles away, it is my time to enjoy being me.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Ark Ability
When God directed Noah to build an ark, the sun shone bright in an optimistic clear sky. Of that I feel certain. No mortal, in the mother of all downpours, would leave a warm and cozy tent to whack at trees as raindrops fall in waves. God needed the ark built well in advance. What is it about long-lasting rain that reminds us we might need an ark? And who would we invite to join us on an ark should we have room to offer? I'd invite my mom as she can cook. And Big Guy can come, too. If it weren't raining, I might ask around the neighborhood and evaluate others for what they might bring to my ark, like strong arms for bailing. But right now, a nap calls to be followed by Judge Judy. Eventually, the rain will stop, I think. Chances are, I will forget to assess my neighbors for ark-ability. But there again, if I stock my ark with enough hungry lions, anyone can travel with me. I'm generous that way.
Monday, April 15, 2013
A Juice Box Or A Moon Leap
The youngest player competing in Augusta National's Masters Golf Tournament was docked a penalty stroke for slow play. Word is, in part, his mother was to blame as she followed her 14-year-old son around the course, urging him to partake of fruit and juice boxes.
I am so envious of her. I would love to follow Birdie around the University of Arkansas--a juice box at the ready should she show the slightest hint of thirst. It won't happen as my little bird would pick up a tree limb, or break off an entire tree, and beat me back to the Missouri line.
And it is not likely I would fare much better with Daisy. The sweet student nurse would likely lure me and my juice boxes into her car and then kick me out in some woodsy pasture surrounded by turkey hunters. The slightest chirp of protest and chances are my feathers would be the ones to fly.
My dear daughters don't want a mom to follow them. But I want them to know, I would if they asked. For them, I would scale rugged mountains, swim the China Sea or leap over the moon. I would eat liver. I would donate a kidney, an eye or an elbow. I would stop traffic, catch a Grand Slam baseball or learn to be a rodeo clown.
I wouldn't succeed at most of these activities the first time. But I would practice a lot and really hard. Birdie and Daisy deserve big band parade fireworks acknowledgement. They are my daughters and I'm proud of the strong, don't-follow-me-with-a-juice-box young women that they've become.
I am so envious of her. I would love to follow Birdie around the University of Arkansas--a juice box at the ready should she show the slightest hint of thirst. It won't happen as my little bird would pick up a tree limb, or break off an entire tree, and beat me back to the Missouri line.
And it is not likely I would fare much better with Daisy. The sweet student nurse would likely lure me and my juice boxes into her car and then kick me out in some woodsy pasture surrounded by turkey hunters. The slightest chirp of protest and chances are my feathers would be the ones to fly.
My dear daughters don't want a mom to follow them. But I want them to know, I would if they asked. For them, I would scale rugged mountains, swim the China Sea or leap over the moon. I would eat liver. I would donate a kidney, an eye or an elbow. I would stop traffic, catch a Grand Slam baseball or learn to be a rodeo clown.
I wouldn't succeed at most of these activities the first time. But I would practice a lot and really hard. Birdie and Daisy deserve big band parade fireworks acknowledgement. They are my daughters and I'm proud of the strong, don't-follow-me-with-a-juice-box young women that they've become.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Background Checks, Worth More Than An Ear-Lick
As I watch two U.S. Senators from different parties stand together to announce their plan to enhance firearm background checks, I fear that one will suddenly lean over and lick the ear of the other. That's what our skinny cat Cracker does to the much heavier Slim Jim right before they break into a brawl.
Get these two felines close enough for a tongue swipe,and an ear-lick fueled fight follows.
While the two first-term senators Joe Manchin (D-WV) and Pat Toomey (R-PA) strive to keep their tongues and ears to themselves, I worry that their example won't hold long enough for the Congress and the Administration to follow suit and work together to pass legislation to make it more difficult for dangerous, mentally ill people to obtain guns.
We can't prevent every tragedy. Naysayers point out that better background checks wouldn't have stopped the delusional young man who killed first-graders at Sandy Hook Elementary School in New Town, Conn. And I believe that holds also for the angry, self-entitled man who murdered my sister-in-law at St. Peters Episcopal Church in Ellicott City, Md. But that's not the point.
Our mission as a thinking people is to do what we can--even if it means starting with a bandage to patch a massive hole in gun misuse. We can do better with background checks. It is not about saving our loved ones, who are lost; it is about saving our loved ones who are still here.
If politicians can behave better than cats poised to brawl, now's the time to prove it. Don't waste the lives we have lost on an ear-lick and a partisan fight.
Get these two felines close enough for a tongue swipe,and an ear-lick fueled fight follows.
While the two first-term senators Joe Manchin (D-WV) and Pat Toomey (R-PA) strive to keep their tongues and ears to themselves, I worry that their example won't hold long enough for the Congress and the Administration to follow suit and work together to pass legislation to make it more difficult for dangerous, mentally ill people to obtain guns.
We can't prevent every tragedy. Naysayers point out that better background checks wouldn't have stopped the delusional young man who killed first-graders at Sandy Hook Elementary School in New Town, Conn. And I believe that holds also for the angry, self-entitled man who murdered my sister-in-law at St. Peters Episcopal Church in Ellicott City, Md. But that's not the point.
Our mission as a thinking people is to do what we can--even if it means starting with a bandage to patch a massive hole in gun misuse. We can do better with background checks. It is not about saving our loved ones, who are lost; it is about saving our loved ones who are still here.
If politicians can behave better than cats poised to brawl, now's the time to prove it. Don't waste the lives we have lost on an ear-lick and a partisan fight.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Conceal and Carry
Palwendy counts the days until she turns 21. Her plan: First, celebrate in Las Vegas. Second, obtain her conceal and carry permit. I know these bits and pieces as I follow her Twitter feed.
I write about Palwendy as she shares living space with my daughter Daisy. I count the days until Daisy finishes spring semester and leaves the house, owned by Palwendy and her absentee parents. I think we will beat Palwendy's legal handgun tote-around permit by a week or so.
College is a tricky time to select where you live and with whom you share space. When I met Palwendy, before Daisy signed the lease, she presented herself as a serious student who drank like a college kid, had a long term boyfriend who visited on weekends and liked to hunt.
Through my Twitter spy, my impressions of Palwendy have changed, considerably. She is a responsible hunter who is overwhelmingly passionate about the kill of the sport, and she eats what she kills. However, she is also a racist boozer who hates her housemates. The boyfriend is gone, replaced by a string of young men, and now finally another "boyfriend," one met on the internet.
And this is where my concern grows. I know that Palwendy respects the power of a rifle. But a handgun is a weapon easily set down and forgotten. Will Palwendy remember the handgun in her purse? Will she feel compelled to show her new acquisition to friends who are less respectful of a handgun's power. In a drunken moment, will she be less respectful? Will there be a new less stable, less mature man brought home? Can a bullet fired in her bedroom break through the door and somehow strike my daughter?
In the fall, Daisy moves into new living quarters with friends that are more familiar. Again, she will share space with a hunter. And that's o.k. I haven't asked Daisy if her new housemates have conceal and carry permits. I've come to realize that it is impossible to know. Someone who doesn't have a conceal and carry permit today may obtain one tomorrow. Or the visiting friend may come bearing a handgun in her purse, backpack or jacket pocket.
I learned from this Palwendy year--do not lease space from someone who owns the property where you live and also lives there. The Palwendy parents know their daughter. The mother parties with Palwendy and somehow overlooks the coarseness that permeates Palwendy's on-line presence. Not all families function the same. I wish conceal and carry advocates would consider who else, other than themselves, may carry a handgun. It might be their child's housemate. And the two may not like one another.
I write about Palwendy as she shares living space with my daughter Daisy. I count the days until Daisy finishes spring semester and leaves the house, owned by Palwendy and her absentee parents. I think we will beat Palwendy's legal handgun tote-around permit by a week or so.
College is a tricky time to select where you live and with whom you share space. When I met Palwendy, before Daisy signed the lease, she presented herself as a serious student who drank like a college kid, had a long term boyfriend who visited on weekends and liked to hunt.
Through my Twitter spy, my impressions of Palwendy have changed, considerably. She is a responsible hunter who is overwhelmingly passionate about the kill of the sport, and she eats what she kills. However, she is also a racist boozer who hates her housemates. The boyfriend is gone, replaced by a string of young men, and now finally another "boyfriend," one met on the internet.
And this is where my concern grows. I know that Palwendy respects the power of a rifle. But a handgun is a weapon easily set down and forgotten. Will Palwendy remember the handgun in her purse? Will she feel compelled to show her new acquisition to friends who are less respectful of a handgun's power. In a drunken moment, will she be less respectful? Will there be a new less stable, less mature man brought home? Can a bullet fired in her bedroom break through the door and somehow strike my daughter?
In the fall, Daisy moves into new living quarters with friends that are more familiar. Again, she will share space with a hunter. And that's o.k. I haven't asked Daisy if her new housemates have conceal and carry permits. I've come to realize that it is impossible to know. Someone who doesn't have a conceal and carry permit today may obtain one tomorrow. Or the visiting friend may come bearing a handgun in her purse, backpack or jacket pocket.
I learned from this Palwendy year--do not lease space from someone who owns the property where you live and also lives there. The Palwendy parents know their daughter. The mother parties with Palwendy and somehow overlooks the coarseness that permeates Palwendy's on-line presence. Not all families function the same. I wish conceal and carry advocates would consider who else, other than themselves, may carry a handgun. It might be their child's housemate. And the two may not like one another.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
A Seat At Her Table
I'm thinking about tables. My niece Georgia Woman--nearly two years out of college--is impatient with workplace inequity. Recently, she honed in on what she already knew: For comparable jobs, men make more money than women and men dominate leadership positions and management teams. Women wait to be judged as qualified to sit at the table, rather than nosing out a spot for themselves--asked or not and ready or not. Fed up, Georgia Woman is building her own table. With her blog entry http://connectyourmeetings.com/2013/04/03/a-seat-at-the-table/ construction is underway.
Georgia Woman works in the leisure and hospitality industry, where women fare somewhat better than average. They earn 83.5 cents on the dollar compared to men. That means if a man earns $50,000, a woman earns $41,750. If they each qualify for an end-of-year 15% bonus, the man receives $1,238 more than the woman in holiday cheer. Or consider more grimly, if both pay for a 3Xsalary death benefit and die together, the man's survivors receive nearly $25,000 more in compensation. There is an unfairness in the numbers that women work by every day.
To voice the inequity in pay is like shining a flashlight on the underside of a flipped-over a rock. What other lopsided decisions do women live by and who makes those decisions--not to mention, who benefits. Men, even with their extra pay, may not be the problem. We have to consider the silence of women. It is past time to speak up for what we believe at work, at home and in our religion. We have to push ourselves to lead even when we aren't sure where we are going and/or know that our views aren't liked.
I wonder about the form Georgia Woman intends to give her table. Sometimes a table needs to be round for listening; other times it needs a head clearly marked for where the leader sits. Once she builds her table, will Georgia Woman remember that each surface dent and scratch represents a risk taken? As a fledgling in her industry, Georgia Woman has grabbed a leadership position beyond her years. Many will applaud her. And I predict that many--including me--will want a seat at her table. This woman can lead.
Georgia Woman works in the leisure and hospitality industry, where women fare somewhat better than average. They earn 83.5 cents on the dollar compared to men. That means if a man earns $50,000, a woman earns $41,750. If they each qualify for an end-of-year 15% bonus, the man receives $1,238 more than the woman in holiday cheer. Or consider more grimly, if both pay for a 3Xsalary death benefit and die together, the man's survivors receive nearly $25,000 more in compensation. There is an unfairness in the numbers that women work by every day.
To voice the inequity in pay is like shining a flashlight on the underside of a flipped-over a rock. What other lopsided decisions do women live by and who makes those decisions--not to mention, who benefits. Men, even with their extra pay, may not be the problem. We have to consider the silence of women. It is past time to speak up for what we believe at work, at home and in our religion. We have to push ourselves to lead even when we aren't sure where we are going and/or know that our views aren't liked.
I wonder about the form Georgia Woman intends to give her table. Sometimes a table needs to be round for listening; other times it needs a head clearly marked for where the leader sits. Once she builds her table, will Georgia Woman remember that each surface dent and scratch represents a risk taken? As a fledgling in her industry, Georgia Woman has grabbed a leadership position beyond her years. Many will applaud her. And I predict that many--including me--will want a seat at her table. This woman can lead.
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