Author: Indigo

Well, it has been a hectic year. Our youngest daughter graduated high school in May, both our kids were home this summer working and taking classes, then we got them moved into the dorms in August. I thought I would have a lot more time, but it hasn’t quite worked out that way. In the last year, I was elected to my church vestry and then the board of my local political party. I’ve taken on several volunteer roles. And my youngest especially has had some bumps along the way as she adapted to college. I also spent time catching up on things I hadn’t had time to do when my kids were home. I’ve been going to dental and doctor appointments. I’ve gotten together with friends I hadn’t spent time with in several years. And somewhat spontaneously we bought a house!

We have lived in Arizona for about 15 years. And frankly we’ve never liked it. We are native Texans and felt early on that Arizona was never going to feel like home. It is always tough being blue in a red state. And though Arizona is nominally purple, culturally it is actually a lot more conservative than Texas. Phoenix makes Houston look like Berkeley! But the Trump era and then the pandemic were the final straws.

Arizona has been Trump’s favorite stronghold and has come here repeatedly when he wanted pandering audiences. The Trump era seemed to signal to every local radical that it was perfectly fine to come out as an extremist. Extremism is mainstream now. Then the pandemic pushed up the level of crazy a number of notches. We were the only state to never fully have a shutdown. Friends elsewhere would talk about being in red or orange stages. We never had anything like that. We had a brief and very limited shutdown with huge exemptions. And even that was railed against as government tyranny. We were also one of the only states to not have a mask mandate. Our former governor even blocked cities who tried to enact local mask mandates when their communities had off-the-charts cases of COVID. Despite the laissez-faire approach, we had people rioting at the state capitol that their rights were being infringed.

And don’t get me started about the reaction when vaccines became available. My current state senator is a self-proclaimed “cowgirl” who ran for office to outlaw vaccine mandates. There were no government vaccine mandates. But some private employers (e.g., hospitals) did require their employees to get the COVID vaccination like they do the annual flu shot. My state senator’s day job was working as a nurse and she apparently lost that gig because she refused to get the jab. My husband is a nurse too and several of his co-workers died from COVID or got “long COVID” and couldn’t work any more. One of his co-workers went unmasked to a local Trump rally at the height of one of our many headline grabbing COVID surges, she got infected and died. That sort of scenario was not uncommon here. Arizona had the high per capita death toll of any state other than Mississippi.

While living here, we’ve had a fairly small circle of people we felt comfortable with. People who shared our values. You know, radical things like we listen to NPR, don’t interpret the Bible literally, believe in gender equality, support the rainbow community, don’t believe it is sinful to be poor, and think climate change is an existential crisis. But in the last few years, more and more of those folks are getting the heck out of Dodge. We don’t blame them. But it is demoralizing to be left behind. Last winter, some friends, who we thought would never leave, moved to Oregon. They said they just had had it with the underfunding of education in Arizona for so many years.

I appreciate their point. Districts are so underfunded that they depend on voter approved bond issues to just cover the basics like enough space for every increasing numbers of students and paying teacher adequately. And still it is not enough. My youngest wants to be a teacher and ideally would love to teach in our community where she grew up. But I’ve crunched the numbers and even with a roommate or two, she won’t earn enough in Arizona to support herself in even a modest apartment. Arizona is always near the bottom of the pack nationally in terms of teacher wages, but the cost of living here has been exploding here the last few years.

People keep coming here and there isn’t enough housing for all of them. When we elected our current governor (the first Democrat elected in over a decade), she released reports that our prior governor had buried indicating that the state’s water supplies were quickly going to be insufficient for the number of residents. But the Republicans just wanted to keep building, and the local populace didn’t want to deal with the issue. People keep building private backyard pools and whining if they aren’t allowed to have lush, verdant yards.

And then there is the climate. Being from Texas, we thought we knew hot. Turns out, we hadn’t even met. In the desert, shade trees are native to this climate. The sun is relentless. It is miserable during the day. You have two choices–stay in the water or stay in the a/c. For half the year, we have to run the a/c and it is not possible to do much outside. And despite the aridity, it doesn’t cool off that much in the evenings. We live in the Phoenix metropolitan sprawl. Tons of concrete and asphalt mean even once the sun goes down, the intense heat is still with us. Last summer was the worst. We broke so many records for heat. I kid you not, even the cacti were dying. It was the final straw.

So, it has been almost two years since my last post to this blog. The work of invisible fairies is time consuming! That is true in the base case, but our family has had a number of challenges since I last found time to write.

The pandemic was particularly stressful because my husband is an RN. For several years, we lived with the specter of him bringing this potentially deadly or debilitating virus home. His hospital didn’t have PPE for a long time in the beginning. While co-workers got sick in droves, some died and a few lost their livelihoods due to long-Covid, he religiously kept his mask on and compulsively doused himself in hand sanitizer before, during and after each shift. Until the vaccine became available, he had him sleeping in a separate room downstairs and using a dedicated bathroom. We only interacted with him outside or when he was wearing a mask. After the vaccine became available, we let our guard down more at home. But his work has been very stressful for a long time because our state really never took the pandemic seriously. Not at a governmental level or at a private, individual level. As a result, hospitals would periodically get overwhelmed with too many patients and too few healthy staff. Those staff who were on-duty were being asked to do too much. And that went on for too long. His stress carried over to our home for sure.

My children transitioned into young adulthood during these past few years, and are actually still transitioning. That process is takes time. It is a journey. Covid took away opportunities and experiences they will never get back. That really broke my heart as their mom. And the pandemic altered things in ways that weren’t helpful. Like many students, their academics seemed to be watered down to a great deal. They both wanted to go to college, but I’ve worried they were not really prepared academically. All the isolation and upheaval also created social issues and behavioral health challenges. Supporting them through that has been stressful to say the least. I feel like I’ve aged more than I would have normally in the past few years.

But things are better and later this year, God-willing, both of our kids will be away at college. We will be empty nesters. I love my children dearly and have devoted my time, talent and money to nurturing them into adulthood. But such intensive parenting is exhausting. And to be very honest, I’m looking forward to having a break. I am looking forward to resting.

I’m also really excited about what comes next! My husband and I are likely going to move to a very different part of the country in a few years, although we aren’t completely sure where that will be. There are several exciting possibilities. I can’t wait! Due to the pandemic and parenting responsibilities, we haven’t gone hardly anywhere in the last few years. I want a change of scenery. I’m almost giddy at the thought.

I’m also thinking about how this is the final stage of life. I don’t know how long I have left. But there are things I want to do before it is over. I want to learn new skills, see new places, and make a positive difference in people’s lives. It is thrilling, but also overwhelming. If I am not intentional and organized about it, life will pass by and my dreams won’t materialize. I don’t want that to happen.

In the last post, I mentioned that we’re evolving towards a fuller view of history, which takes into consideration the contributions and experiences of those whom our society tends to overlook. Of course, much of those overlooked contributions are made by women.

Our society tends to value activities that make money and are easily quantified. Making things that have economic value. Providing quantifiable services that people will pay for. These are the sorts of things we use to define the concept of “work.” And pretty much everything else is by default considered leisure activities and hobbies. The overlooks the multitude of every day tasks that need to get done every day or things go to hell in our homes and work places. These are often mundane things that women tend to do but don’t get credit for. As if women pick hobbies like making children’s dental appointments, buying chicken when it is on sale, making sure the family has a dish for the church potluck, and giving kids a safe space to talk about problems that are weighing them down. We don’t view those sorts of “invisible” tasks as “work.” They just get done. Behind the scenes. No biggie.

There is a scene from the film Before Midnight that I love because it gets to this point exactly. Jesse and Celine are a middle aged couple with children. They fell in love in a romantic, chance encounter while backpacking as young adults, then reconnected years later. They built a life together, but in the last film in the series, Celine is particularly dissatisfied. The interview below talks about the film series, as well as the scene I love.

https://www.npr.org/transcripts/184269413

Jesse and Celine are arguing about the state of their relationship. At one point, Celine talks about how men believe in fairies. I have to stop right here and say that up until this point, I wasn’t really liking the film. It was kind of sad and monotonous. And I guess, being at a somewhat similar point in my own relationship, it perhaps hit too close to home. I was hoping for something escapist and fun. The film wasn’t hitting the mark in that respect. And besides, what the heck was this crazy French lady talking about fairies for?! I was about to turn off the film and just give up quite frankly. And then Celine explains.

She sarcastically says she admires how men somehow believe in fairies. Gown men think that little fairies come along and do all the housework–emptying the dishwasher, helping kids with homework, etc. Her point was that in reality women do these things in most homes, but it is taken for granted and overlooked. Bring it, sister! Jesse is a professional novelist, so he is quite articulate, but he is taken aback and frankly doesn’t know what to say to Celine’s point.

Celine tells Jesse how when he was traveling for work, she was the one to hold the fort down in his absence. She took the bulk of responsibility for their family and home. She didn’t complain, it needed to get done. But he didn’t even appreciate it. She laments that her sacrifices came at a personal toll. As a writer, Jesse spends his days on creative work, but between work and motherhood, Celine never gets a chance to focus on creative endeavors like her music. She is rightfully resentful. She loves being a mom. She loves her career. But damn it, Jesse should be more of an equal partner. And at the very least recognize her contributions and sacrifices.

Eh, I don’t even remember the rest of the film. But damn that was a great scene. It has stuck with me for years. I saw the film with my own husband. I mentioned the scene to him subsequently and he has no memory of it. Apparently it made no impression on him whatsoever. And he is no slouch. He quit his successful corporate career to raise our kids full-time for several years, has legally changed his name so we both share the same hyphenated surname, and he has a history of having strong professional mentorships and colleagues with women. But when it comes to home and family responsibilities, even he is oblivious to so much. And of course it falls to me to fill in the gaps. It is exhausting. Even when he was the stay-at-home parent, I had to flag things that needed to get done and give him the same meals he could prepare over and over again without much effort. In addition to my breadwinning responsibilities, I had to direct the trains to make sure they ran on time.

I haven’t written much on this blog. But it’s not because I am a procrastinator or because I have nothing to say. I have plenty to say, but am hesitant to take the time to express what is on my mind and on my heart.

A couple years ago, I took my teens on an educational trip through the South. We traveled from Texas to Virginia before heading for home. We visited a lot of historical sites where we learned more about our nation’s history–especially the pre-Columbian, Colonial, Revolutionary War, Antebellum, Civil War and Civil Rights eras. We also explored a lot of wetlands and beaches. It was a glorious trip.

I had grown up in Virginia, so a number of the sites we visited there were places I had visited as a kid myself. So, it was wonderful and insightful to get to share those same sites with my kids decades later. One place that particularly intrigued me was Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s plantation outside of Charlottesville. I visited it several times when I was little and my memories involve docents raving about how brilliant Jefferson was. He was a Renaissance man who was constantly studying, had mastered multiple languages and invented clever things. There was little to no mention of the enslaved people who worked the plantation and gave him the leisure time to do all those things. Heck, there was not even much mention of Jefferson’s white family. I remember leaving Monticello with the impression that Jefferson was this demigod who lived on the top of this hill essentially alone, almost like a monk. I had a vague notion that there were enslaved people who did all the work, but that was not the real story and it was ignored by all.

More recently when I visited with my kids, it was a very different story! Yes, the docents told us how brilliant Jefferson was. But it was also noted that he wasn’t really an inventor as I had been told in the 70s. He was more a collector of ideas–he implemented at Monticello things that others came up with elsewhere. We were also told that he essentially buried himself in his suite and only two servants–one of whom was Sally Hemmings–was allowed into his chambers. The docents noted that he was oblivious or indifferent to the comfort or convenience of others. It was a patriarchal home–his comforts and wishes were all that mattered. There was mention of the guest beds being so hot in the summer because they were built into the wall where no air could circulate. The docent noted that Dolly Madison especially hated staying at Monticello for this reason and had her mattress placed on the floor so she could sleep without sweltering. It was also noted that the rest of the family had their quarters in the cramped upstairs, and had to go up and down a smaller little staircase to go between their chambers and the public rooms. The docent noted that Jefferson’s constantly pregnant older daughter, Martha, would have had a very difficult time navigating those stairs in big skirts with children in tow and/or with a pregnant belly.

In addition to the main tour of the house, there was also an additional tour focusing on the lives of the enslaved people at Monticello. That was very insightful and sad. And since my last visit to Monticello, DNA science has evolved. The Jefferson descendants and the estate now recognize that Jefferson had a number of children with Sally Hemmings. The lives of all the Hemmingses really fascinated me. After we visited, I ended up reading a number of books on the white women in the Jefferson family, the entire Hemmings family, as well as Sally Hemmings specifically. I am glad that history has evolved to not just focus on the lives of powerful white men. History should take a fuller view of all the people who lived in the past. And we should appreciate the contributions and experiences of those whom our society tends to overlook, even today.

I haven’t written much since beginning this blog. And a lot of it is due to guilt. If I take time away from my home and family responsibilities, I worry that I’ll be like Jefferson. Taking time for creative or introspective endeavors means that time is sacrificed elsewhere. There are opportunity costs to my taking time to write. And people may suffer as a result. My main takeaway from my most recent visit to Monticello was that Jefferson was not a real admirable guy. He put his comforts and desires ahead of everyone else’s. I don’t want to be like that.

Two of my favorite things are reading and traveling.  I learn a lot from both and I grow as a person as a result.

I read a lot of nonfiction because I like to understand the world around me.  I used to feel that fiction was frivolous.  It was like dessert when I ought to eat my vegetables.  But over time, I’ve come to realize the benefits of fiction too.  And not just enjoyment and stress-relief, though those are important too.  I have come to realize that fiction helps us work out who we are, how relationships work and why humans are the way they are.  They are a bit like dreams in that sense.  Reading stories help us understand the human condition.  That makes us more self-aware and ultimately more empathetic and compassionate.

Traveling is my other hobby.  And with a similar bent.  When people say “travel,” they often think of sitting lazily on a beach with a cocktail or playing golf.  That is not the kind of travel that motivates me, in part because those kinds of travel are for rich people.  I’ve never ordered a cocktail while lounging in the sun.  I have a low tolerance for alcohol and dehydration, so that would probably make me sick.  I also have never played golf, and have zero interest in learning.

That kind of travel is more reminiscent of a “vacation.”  And that is not what motivates me either.  When I travel, I like to see and do things.  I want to understand the world better and see what is out there.  It irks me tremendously when friends ask about my “vacations” because my trips are busy and exhausting at times.  I need a little R&R when I get back.  But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Before we became parents, my husband and I took several epic trips.  When we were poor and starting out, my husband won a Black History Month trivia contest where the prize was two tickets anywhere in the continental U.S.  We had relatives in the Bay Area and Southern California, so we flew into one, rented the cheapest car available to drive to the other.  We ate almost nothing but PB sandwiches for days.  Our rental car was so small and lightweight, at times we worried it would be blown into the Pacific Ocean.  And we were really stretching our budget to stay at Motel 6.  But it was an amazing trip we’ll never forget.

When we were getting our corporate careers off the ground, we took more expensive trips, which were awesome too.  We found some cut-rate tickets to London if we left late on Christmas Day and returned on New Year’s.  That year we witnessed London’s first snow in a generation and packed in a bunch of sights in a few days.  We took several trips to NYC, which blew my husband’s mind especially since he is from a small town.  We ate ethnic foods, explored museums of all kinds and saw a lot of theater.  Right after 9/11, we went through with a previously scheduled trip to the Napa Wine country.  It was scary and sad getting on the plane, which was largely empty.  But I remember tearing us as everyone from the baggage handlers to the flight attendants thanked us for making the trip.  When we got to Napa, we learned that it was normally the high tourist season.  We were so ignorant about wine, we had had no clue when we booked the trip.  But it ended up being an amazing trip.  The wine country was at its peak and for tragic reasons, we almost had it to ourselves.  Possibly the most amazing trip we ever took, however, was to Budapest.  It was autumn and not the peak tourist season.  We did the mineral bathes, which were quite an experience.  We ate pastries in historic cafes, walked among beautiful architecture and took in majestic views.  Quite a city.

As our kids have gotten older, I have tried to take them on educational trips.  We homeschooled, so we had a more flexible schedule that made that possible.  And so, unsurprisingly, our trips were focused on learning as much as possible.  We spent a month each during back to back summers in Mexico City.  I had studied there in law school, and my husband had visited me.  It was a place we loved.  And I tried to show our kids everything I could while we were there.  Every day we headed out on another adventure.  Sometimes they were the big tourist spots–the pyramids, Frida Kahlo’s home and the Virgen de Guadelupe basilica.  But we also explored less known treasures like the first Jewish synagogue in Mexico, several folk arts museums, and the extensive Diego Rivera murals at the Department of Education.  Another summer, we spent about a month and a half tent camping on a road trip through the West to visit a lot of national parks.  We spent a full week in Yellowstone, but visited for shorter periods at Mt. Rushmore, Badlands, Golden Spike, Little Bighorn and others.  We rode on a restored steam engine, bathed in an 18th century mineral bath pool, and picnicked while silently watching a family of deer meander our campground.  Another trip was what we dubbed an Elvis Pilgrimage.  We took my kids’ grandma to Memphis to fulfill her bucket list wish of seeing Elvis’s stomping ground.  We first went to Tupelo where we visited the designated tourist sites, but also drove around town to see a number of other unofficial Elvis sites like his schools, the fair grounds and where he bought his first guitar.  Then we went to Elvis and repeated the same pattern.  We did Graceland, but not until after we found his high school, the public housing complex where he lived, and a bunch of other places associated with the King’s life.  We visited Sun Records and even ate in some of the restaurants he enjoyed.  But along the way, we also augmented the Pilgrimage to learn more about the less flattering aspects of the South.  We visited the only plantation in the South dedicated to teaching about the experiences of the enslaved people, a home that was a stop on the Underground Railroad, the civil rights museum that is housed in the Lorraine Motel, where Dr. King was murdered, and Little Rock’s Central High School.  Another road trip we drove along the Gulf Coast and then the SE Atlantic Coast.  We visited sites to learn about Cajun culture, Spanish colonialism of Florida and South Carolina, and prominent African Americans who fought for civil rights in the 1800s and early 1900s in northern Florida.  We also explored the Low Country of Georgia and South Carolina.  It was captivating, though I was always a little worried about gators.  The wetlands were beautiful.  We learned about the African Americans before and after the Civil War.  We walked on beaches exploring for hours.  We took a ferry to walk around Ft. Sumter And we visited the home of the founder of the Girl Scouts.  In Virginia, we visited Monticello, Colonial Williamsburg, Jamestown, among others.  We went to museums to understand the Revolutionary War and the Civil War.  We even found time to visit the Edgar Allan Poe Museum.

These trips meant so much to me.  I’m so glad I was able to show my kids the things I did.  Travel was an important part of our homeschooling.  They saw and experienced more than most adults.  And I know I learned a tremendous amount.  But travel comes at a cost.  I am a frugal budget traveler.  Tent camping and thrifty AirBnB sites were our norm, as was picnics and cooking “at home.”  However, even budget traveling comes at a cost.  My husband often didn’t come with us on these trips because someone had to hold down a job.  Sometimes he would come for a week or so at the beginning, then go back to work.  Unless one is independently wealthy, which few of us are, a nomadic life has to be sponsored by someone.

But then again, so does any leisure activity.  That includes reading.  If I am reading, then I am not working–whether for pay or not.

Shaq’s simple questions about where you want to go and what you want to do have led me to a short list of places and things.  They seem fairly simple and straight-forward.  But none of them are easy to achieve.  That is fine.  I don’t retreat from a challenge.  I have a lot of accomplishments to list.  But it does make me take a step back to reflect a bit.

In our culture, we are constantly trying to achieve things.  We have to prove that we’re worthy.  Shaq talked about how his step-dad never showed appreciation for his accomplishments.  He didn’t display his childhood trophies.  When he won NBA championships, his step-dad was unimpressed and pressed him to go win another.  Shaq didn’t tell these stories out of spite or pain.  He adored his step-dad and said he wanted to raise his own kids like he was raised.  His step-dad took this approach to push him to constantly be better and achieve more and more.

Reba McEntire has also appeared on Oprah’s Master Class, and I listened to hear interview recently.  Though she couldn’t be more different from Shaq in every way, she described a similar mindset.  She talked about having different goals–hit records, touring, financial security, a TV series, Broadway, etc.  And as she achieved these different goals, she wanted new goals to achieve.  She was always looking for new challenges to conquer.

At one point, Reba talked about a particular hit song she had recorded, “Is There Life Out There?”  I like a bit of the older country music.  When Dolly sang about her coat of many colors, Loretta sang about getting the pill or Tammy Wynette sang about sheltering young kids from the horrors of a failed marriage, those songs meant something.  But by the late 70s, the point of country music had faded, in my opinion, and it wasn’t my cup of tea.  I’m not a fan of Reba’s, though I did once see her live in concert because a friend gave me a free ticket.  I had never heard of “Is There Life Out There?”  But it sounded compelling.

Reba described how that particular song seemed to be a rallying cry to her female listeners who had spent the first phase of their adult lives raising kids, then had to figure out how to live the rest of their lives.  The woman in the song had married young and hadn’t lived for herself.  After her kids were grown, she didn’t know what to do next.  She thought about leaving her husband and wondered what else life might have in store for her.  Whether or not we became mothers at a young age and whether or not we contemplate leaving our partners, I think a lot of women–who have devoted a significant amount of our waking hours to raising their kids–can relate to themes like that.  Reba said that when she sang the song in concert, women would hold up their GEDs and diplomas to show that they had taken the song to heart and gone on to accomplish more.

I think that is great.  And I always support people getting an education.  But on one level, these attitudes bother me.  It is one thing for a woman to go back to school to get educational credentials to enable her to provide for her family or to give herself financial independence.  Who could argue with that?  Not I.

But sometimes that is not what education or career accomplishments are about.  Sometimes it is about achieving more and more.  But to what end?  Shaq already had achieved more than most mere mortals, let alone most professional athletes, but his step-dad kept pushing him to achieve more.  None of his achievements were enough.  He had to do more.  When he had climbed to the top of the mountain, he was pushed to climb the same darn mountain again and again.  Similarly, with Reba, she had conquered pretty much every entertainment modality, but ended her interview saying that she never wanted to stop being challenged and conquering.

To what end is all this achievement?  That is a funny question to come from me.  When I was a practicing attorney, my employer sent me to a week long management training seminar at a prestigious university’s business college.  We learned a lot about leadership, management, vision, goals and a host of other topics.  One session was about Type A and Type B personalities.  The former is characterized by high productivity, being goals oriented and frankly neurotic.  The latter personality type is essentially much more chill.  When we took the test, I was pretty proud of myself initially.  Most of the people in the room were Type B, so I was feeling pretty superior.  I was the personality type that got things done!  But then the professor elaborated on the differences a bit more.  He explained that both personality types were common among successful people.   Indeed, the people in the seminar that week were considered the best in their respective departments.  And they came from a variety of disciplines–engineers, geophysicists, accountants, marketing professionals and chemists.  These were not a bunch of slackers, though most were Type B.  The professor then tried to gently share the biggest difference between the two personality types: life expectancy.  In essence, the Type A folks died prematurely from stress.  I wasn’t feeling so superior at that point.

Due to a variety of factors, most of my friends tend to be highly educated people.  Highly educated people tend to beget highly educated children.  Even my friends who live in poverty tend to have at least one college degree under their belt, sometimes more.  And I have come to realize that that comes at a cost.  Kids who are labeled as “gifted” or funneled into honors courses are more likely to end up with stress related health problems like anxiety or depression.

I myself was always just on the cusp in grade school, but never quite measured up to the “gifted” level.  So, I ended up avoiding that kind of pressure until law school.  At that point, I was frankly just glad to have a seat at the table and didn’t want to be sent home.  So when I ended up in the top 10% of my class after the first semester exams, I was shocked and frankly petrified.  The pressure led to chronic back pain that required hours in the chiropractor’s office every week for months.  I had to drop a class and almost had to leave school.  I made it through, but the stress became a way of life.

It is not fun.  I’ve known folks who had that pressure from much earlier ages and the stress related health problems have followed them into adulthood.  I know families whose kids are already having such issues.  IBS, insomnia, panic attacks, emotional meltdowns.  That is a lot to lay on a young person.  And to what end?  Many of these kids I know are going to end up at the same universities and professions as the kids who weren’t in a cajillion honors classes and doing homework every waking moment.  Most of them aren’t going to Ivy Leagues or aiming for Wall Street.  So why all the intensity?

With my own kids, I want them to do well, but honors classes aren’t what I would necessarily want for them.  I’d like them to explore and take different classes to broaden their horizons.  And to have some fun.  But some of the more elite schools take away meaningful choice.  Everyone has to take foreign language and fine arts, so there isn’t a lot of opportunity to spread one’s wings.

But to say these things aloud is a type of social taboo.  I get stressed out talking to parents of my kids’ peers.  Johnny is taking this or doing that.  Sally just got chosen for this special program or award.  I feel like I have to show how my kids are keeping up.  It is nuts.  They are just kids.  They aren’t prize ponies.

Then I think about the parents who don’t stress me out.  Their kids are having serious issues.  The specific issues vary.  It might be that their grades are sub-par.  Maybe they are in special ed.  They might not graduate.  Even if they do, it is not clear what they’d do afterwards.  Many of them have health problems.  It is night and day from the experiences of the high achieving kids.  And I’m not stressed out around their parents because I don’t feel I’m constantly have to prove my kids are keeping up.

I’ve reflected at times, where are the “average” kids?  I’m not sure if our society doesn’t have such kids any more.  Alternately, maybe it is just my social circle.  But if our society puts pressure even on kids to “achieve,” what does that say about the ones who have issues and are lucky to just get through?  I think the uncomfortable answer is that our society says those kids are losers.  That sounds pretty harsh, but I think that is what we are collectively saying.  That is the result of tying achievement to worth.  We don’t seem to see value in just being a human.  Even a kind, loving one.

And obviously it is not just how we judge kids.   We judge adults by what they do for a living.  It is often the first thing we ask when we meet someone.  I began my career as an idealistic inner city teacher, so when I got that question, the response I got was typically unimpressed.  Depending on the setting where it was asked, I could feel people looking past me, bored and trying to find a way to move on to someone more interesting.  Later when I was a lawyer or a law professor, I got a very different response.  Eyebrows would go up.  Eyes widened.  The word “wow!” was often used.  My intellect and soul hadn’t changed at all.  But because my profession had, it was clear that my social value had in many people’s eyes.

I listen to NPR a lot in the car.  Weekdays the programming is great, but on weekends, it is not as strong in my opinion.  NPR is often derided by critics as a bastion of liberal intellectuals.  At no time is that stereotype more definitively confirmed than on the comedic shows like “Wait, Wait…Don’t Tell Me!”  When a listener calls in to play a game, the first question the host asks is, “What do you do for a living?”  That seems like a rather rude, blunt question.  So sometimes Peter Sagal couches it in softer terms, “What do you do in Omaha?”  Alternately, I’ve heard a vaguer variant, “What do you do?”  But no matter how Mr. Sagal phrases the question, the point is clear.  He is asking what the listener does professionally, he is not asking about hobbies or family.  NPR listeners want to know what the person’s profession is.  And frequently, Mr. Sagal then makes a little joke out of whatever the answer is.  I’ve listened to NPR for years and I don’t think I’ve ever heard a listener call in and answer that they are a plumber, police officer or auto mechanic.  Maybe that is a reflection of who listens to NPR.  But it may also be a reflection of who feels comfortable calling in to NPR to have to answer that question.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with plumbers, police officers or auto mechanics.  They all fill important roles in our society.  And we couldn’t get along without them.  But they aren’t the sorts of professions that inspires people in our society to say “wow!”  That is telling.  And unflattering in what it says about our societal values.

Another thing that is telling and unflattering is that unpaid family work is not worthy of a “wow!” response in our society.  Heck, for many (most?) in our society, it is not even considered to be work.  Caring for one’s family is viewed akin to a quaint hobby.  Not something that should take up many hours in the day of an intelligent person.  Such people are too good for that and should be doing so much more.  I am not saying I condone this in the least.  Just observing it is the case.  On occasion, I hear stay-at-home parents call in to NPR programs.  They often feel the need to augment their responses by adding that they used to be speech therapists, do lots of volunteer work or run a small home business on the side.  Being a full-time caregiver is not “enough” to justify their existence, especially not if they aren’t even being paid.  Payment is a proxy for worth in our society.

I know something first hand about this attitude towards unpaid family work.  When my husband and I had two small children and two high pressure corporate jobs, something had to give.  So, we decided to become a one career family, and at the time, it made most sense for him to step away from his career.  I was quite proud of this.  He had a great career and terrific prospects.  He sacrificed it to put his family first and to be a feminist trail-blazer.  But I was shocked and dismayed how society viewed all this in less favorable terms.  Quite frankly, most people seemed to think he was a loser who couldn’t hold down a job.  He tried to volunteer (at my prompting) for our church’s finance committee because he was a CPA with over a decade of complex corporate accounting and they had a group of amateurs with less qualifications running things.  They had actually made quite a mess of things and he could have fixed things up in short order.  However, they rejected his offer because they just assumed that as a person without a paying gig, he had nothing to offer.  That sort of thing happened a lot.  And years later, when we switched roles, I got a lot of the same reactions.  People couldn’t believe I would “just” be staying home with my kids.  They couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t miss my career.  But a career isn’t everything.  Relationships are important.  Getting off the treadmill and having time to enjoy life…or just reflect has been lovely.

As my kids are getting older though and need me less frequently, however, I too am at a crossroads like the woman in Reba’s song.  But I don’t need any more degrees and have already had an interesting career.  I considered getting a Ph.D.  That could be interesting.  But what would be the point?  And at this phase of my life, is that really what I want to do with the time I have left on this planet?  I don’t think so.  Moreover, my husband’s job pays the bills.  We were both raised in fairly humble circumstances and as adults, we don’t like to live extravagantly.  So, I also don’t feel the need to take on paid employment.   I do have some things I’d like to achieve.   But at this phase of life, I’d like to enjoy simple things too.  I am not like Shaq and Reba, who apparently have a never-ending list of mountains to climb.  I would like to climb a couple mountains, but not just to have something to check off my list.  I’d like to enjoy the journey and take pit-stops to notice where I am and what I’m doing.  Being present and enjoying life is something that Americans don’t often do.

I was out of town all winter, so this blog was on hiatus almost immediately after starting it.  As I’ve tried to get back to writing, I’ve been thinking about what I want to say and what this blog should be about.  Lots of options.  Lots to say.  But I’ve been trying to figure out a logical sequence.

It occurs to me that a logical sequence might be about my own journey to figure out who I am and where I’m going.  It seems like once I figure that out, the blog’s direction will become apparent.

Now that I am home and trying to find a sustainable routine, I have been trying to get back into a exercise regime.  I hate exercise.  Sports bore me silly.  Both as a spectator and a participant.  I like swimming, though I’m not very good.  But it is hard to throw myself into cold water during the winter.  Our local YMCA has a “heated” pool, but I’m using quotation marks strategically in this sentence.  It takes a brave person to take that plunge and I feel like screaming when I do.  It makes me think of the finale of the film Titanic.  

But in my part of the country, walking is fairly pleasant this time of  year.  It is sunny and the temperatures are comfortable.  However, I do find walking boring as hell.  Luckily, I’ve found podcasts recently and it is fun to listen to them on my walks.  My favorites so far are Oprah’s Master Class and The Daily Show.  The former inspires me and the latter makes me laugh aloud as I stroll through our neighborhood.  I am of the opinion that our country is in a very bleak period of its history.  There are all these dystopian books and movies resonating with people where escape to Canada is the only means of survival.  That seems pretty plausible to folks in an era where our president defends the dictators of foreign enemies, abhors transparency, thinks caging brown children is acceptable and neo-Nazis are fine people.  In that context, it is immensely encouraging to me to know that God created humans as brilliant and optimistic as Oprah Winfrey and Trevor Noah.  And the fact that neither of them has given up on America makes me more inclined to stay too.

I love how Oprah finds life lessons and wisdom in everyone’s journey.  How democratic!  Today, I listened to a podcast about Shaquille O’Neal’s life.  Frankly, he lost me early on when he described taking his little league team to Hooters to celebrate.  Really, Shaq?  Chili’s and Applebee’s were available?!  Nonetheless, I still had 20 more minutes on my walk, so I kept listening and it did get better.  At one point, he explained that one thing that helped him was to figure out what he wanted to do and where he wanted to go in life.  Then he said he found people who had already done those things and followed their plan for success.  I think there is a lot of wisdom in that little nugget.  The tricky part is unpacking it.

What do I want to do in life?  And where do I want to go?  Those little questions take on additional emphasis right now because I’m about to turn the big 5-0.  Those questions are different when you are 20 or even 30.  Most of your life is presumably ahead of you and one assumes there is a lot more time left.  That gives you a certain leisure to figuring out the answers or ever getting started.  But at 50, it is a completely different ball of wax.

First of all, one’s mortality is much more real.  Luke Perry (one of the heart throbs of my generation!) just died unexpectedly of a stroke at age 52.  Ironically, an incredibly kind man from my high school class also recently died of a stroke.  And I had two cousins who died in their 40s.  I never saw any of that coming.  None of us knows how long we have on this planet.  But as you hit the half century mark, the reality of that truism becomes particularly apparent.  That can have a paralyzing effect as you begin to worry that a headache is an early sign of stroke or when you have a slight heart palpitation, you might be about to have a heart attack.

Another issue though is the reality that even in the best case scenario, one may not have more than 10-20 good years.  My parents and in-laws are aging.  So are the parents of my peers and the elders at my church.  It is not an easy process.  Sometimes we don’t just get sick and die.  Sometimes we have joint issues limiting our mobility, our vision declines, our functioning memory fades and/or chronic pain becomes our reality.  In the modern era, many of us will live a long life, but for years may spend much of our time going to health care providers monitoring and trying to alleviate various conditions.  So, even if we have decades of life left, it may not all be at the same quality we’ve previously enjoyed.  If we are going to climb mountains, visit new lands, create works of art and/or take on humanitarian projects, we may need to do that sooner rather than later when our bodies fail us.

If you are younger than me, this may sound pretty depressing and perhaps even overly pessimistic.  I assure it is not.  I am one of the most optimistic people around.  I see glasses half full when others didn’t notice a glass at all.  But I’m also a realist.  Over the course of my life, I’ve always observed that having one’s head in the sand (or in the clouds) will get you no where quick.  So, I look ahead to answering these questions from philosopher Shaq with an optimistic heart and a realistic mind.

I used to work outside the home.  My career was the kind that when people asked what I did, they would raise their eyebrows and say “Wow,” when I told them.  I was good at what I did and I generally liked it, but it was stressful.  There was always too much to do and not enough time.  Though I liked my colleagues a lot, everyone was stressed out and some were unhappy.  Much of the unhappiness was dependent on the immediate supervisor of the individual.  Though most of my colleagues were in the same corporate department, we were in different work groups with different managers.  It was the custom that every few years we were transferred to another work group to gain more experience and learn about the company’s business from different perspectives.  Most of the time I was there, I feared being sent to a work group with a “bad” boss.

I always think about the line in A Christmas Carol where Scrooge says of his old boss, Fezziwig, “He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil.”  Fezziwig was a foil to Scrooge’s character.  They both had the same power, but Fezziwig chose to make his employees’ labors as light as they could be whereas Scrooge was cruel and greedy towards his.  Fezziwig perhaps was not as rich as he might have been, but he was much happier.  He knew that there was more to life than making money.  He saw people as human beings, not just a means to making more money.  He cared about them.

Where I worked, the “bad” bosses came in several varieties.  Some were not unlike Scrooge.  Some were awful human beings.  One tried to fire a low level employee who was on chemotherapy.   She hadn’t done anything wrong and as a single person, losing her job effectively would have meant a death sentence because she would have lost her health insurance.  Another demeaned employees.  He openly stated a preference for younger employees who were cheaper, more pliable and more energetic.  Early in his tenure, he fired two long-term employees out of spite to send a message of fear to others to shut up, do their job or they would be shown the door too.  They were escorted out of the building like common thieves, their belongings quickly thrown into a box.  The boss was such a sadist.  He likely chose those two employees because they were much beloved.  One was in training to do a marathon to raise money for his daughter’s cancer treatment.

Other “bad” bosses were decent people.  They had a moral compass.  They cared about people.  But they made their employees’ lives miserable because they were not strong.  They did not use their authority to ensure lower level managers were benevolent.  They allowed people to do bad things in front of them because they would not stand up to them.  They were insecure in their power, so they failed to use it for good.  A commonality among these bosses was that they were all female.  They came up in the ranks as the token female and had to be be 10X as good as the men to get where they were.  They had dodged pranks and endured sexist jokes by their male colleagues.  When they eventually outranked those same men, I think it left them insecure that they would indeed follow them when they used their power.  That is indeed a tough predicament.

Another reason these women were “bad” bosses was they were out of touch.  They had sacrificed so much for their careers, that was really all they had.  They either didn’t have families or they rarely saw their families.  They worked all the time and had no real outside interests.  They had no time for listening to people’s experiences or nonessential reading, so when they tried to use their power for good, it often backfired.  One promoted a lower level woman at all costs, even when she did not appear to be up to the task.  There were other smart women to promote, but the dogged backing of this one particular woman ended up harming the relatively few women in the department.  It appeared that gender based promotion was a policy and the men had less respect for female colleagues generally as a result.  Another time, a different female colleague was expecting her third child and was forced to have a baby shower so that the department could show its support for women and families.  This woman was by then an experienced mom and had no need for gifts.  She found the whole thing extremely embarrassing.  It was good to try to support women, but doing so in such poorly thought out ways was counterproductive.  Self-education on being a boss promoting women in the work place would have been helpful.

Amongst the “good” bosses, there were a few things that stood out.  They sometimes did things like gift us massages at the wellness center or give us holiday gift baskets.  Those were relatively expensive and probably not the best use of funds, but very kind nonetheless.  What they did that was more beneficial was to look closely at what people were doing and reward good work.  They were skilled at detecting folks who were slackers but smooth operators.  They gave the benefit of the doubt, but were tough on those who didn’t show respect to colleagues and carry their fair share.  They were also thoughtful about family dynamics, asking what would be helpful and not forcing “solutions.”  They opened doors, but didn’t force anyone to walk through them.

I think that these “good” bosses had a few things in common.  They had lives outside of work.  And they saw the value of that.  They had families or at least spouses who kept them grounded.  And they believed in volunteerism.  When our company would do United Way projects, they were always present and gave stirring talks to signal they really thought that was important.  They seemed to get the “big picture.”  At least to some degree.  They were still “company men.”  They had sacrificed a lot for their careers.  And it was their number one priority.  They weren’t exactly folks I’d have wanted to hang out with socially.  But they were great people to work for.

I share these observations because to the extent any of us have people work for us, they are potentially insightful.  However, not all of us will be employers.  Nonetheless, these points can be applicable in other contexts like parent-child or in long-term volunteer settings.  In any dynamic where one person exercises authority over another, the dueling examples of Fezziwig and Scrooge are potentially applicable.

Life is hectic.  There is so much to do.  Sometimes it is hard to find a moment to catch your breath. But we all need a little down time to relax and refresh.  I wanted a title that would go with that idea.  A title that would help me escape a bit from the mundane and feel a little recharged.  The title of this blog does that for me.

My favorite color is blue.  And not just any blue, but a vibrant shade.  To me, that kind of color is strong.  It is not yielding.  It is not a pushover.  It stands up for what is right.  It is full of life.  That kind of blue is also reminiscent of distant lands I have enjoyed or would like to visit.  Porcelain tea cups in China.  Casa de Azulejos in Mexico City.  Cobalt tiles with intricate patterns in Morocco.

I am a city gal, but I enjoy being outside.  However, I’m definitely not outdoorsy.  Hiking is something I do out of obligation, not out of enjoyment.  Wild critters annoy me at best, scare me at worst.  But I love to sit outside and just breathe in the fresh air.  I like how it feels when the breeze flows over me.  I like how it smells.  It makes my heart happy to just observe and listen.  The birds going about their business are a miracle.  Occasional lizards and rabbits.  And of course the wild flowers.  Those are my favorite.

I’m originally from Texas.  The land Lady Bird Johnson adorned with wild flowers that particularly come alive in the spring.  Where even city slickers venture away from the asphalt and concrete to see Mother Nature’s annual display of beautiful colors.  One of my favorites are the state flower, the Bluebonnet.  However, it has a dismal name.  For many, it brings to mind a very mediocre food product: margarine.  To others, it makes one think of white pioneers on the Western prairie like the Ingalls family.  Re-reading Little House on the Prairie as an adult with my own kids, I was struck by how incredibly racist the book’s perspective was.  How did I not catch that in the 70s?!  Anyhow, those are not connotations I want for my blog.

But cornflowers have a similar coloring and are also wildflowers.  They are viewed as weeds by some.  They are simple.  Unpretentious.  Common.  They are not fancy flowers given to dignitaries.  They are little miracles of color that brighten the day of people who live close to nature and often have tough lives.  That is my kind of flower.

I do my writing on a computer.  This is the 21st century.  And despite being tech challenged in many respects, I am a modern woman.  I despise writing by hand.  Even with the modern conveniences of ball point pens and mechanical pencils.  But I love the idea of a writing quill.  They are very difficult to use.  I’ve had a hard time writing anything legible with them when I have tried.  But I love what they represent.  They come from nature, not a creation of humanity.   They were adapted (rather ingeniously, in my opinion!) to provide a writing implement centuries ago.  They demonstrate humanity’s strong desire–even need–to communicate in a lasting way.  Not just the spoken word, which is not memorialized in any way.  But on paper for others to read, cherish and even keep for a long time.  To me, the quill is a reminder of how long we humans have been writing our thoughts to share.  But it also helps me remember how late in human history we developed the relative ease of writing.  It is a privilege that our distant ancestors didn’t enjoy.  And even in more recent times, it was restricted to only certain ancestors who had particular benefits of class, education…and often gender and race.

So, I dub this blog “Cornflower Quill” as a retreat from every day busy life to remind us that we are strong and vibrant.  And to acknowledge the privilege and need for the written word in our lives to make us more fully conscience.  Welcome and enjoy.