Don't look now!

My friend stood up in a bar the other night and because of a "shoe failure" slipped and fell down. She was horribly embarrassed and kept apologizing and saying she wasn't drunk. We didn't think she was.

Another friend,on another night, almost got us kicked out of a bar for making a scene over a sports score that didn't go the way he wanted it to go. He apologized later and said how embarrassed he was for his behavior. I had never given it another thought.

And yet another friend walked out of a restroom with her skirt tucked into the back of her underwear. Red faced and almost in tears, she, too, said how embarrassed she was. We all laughed.

Three separate incidents. But one word to describe them all. Embarrassment. It's kind of a funny word.

My friend who almost got us kicked out of that sports bar, has an observation on it. He feels that if no one sees it- there is no embarrassment. True? For if you slip in your own home, yell at your own TV or have a clothing malfunction in your closet, who's the wiser?

I think on this one, I have to agree. After all- I can be angry with myself for doing something stupid when alone- but embarrassment? Not so much. That embarrassing feeling only happens when you look up and know that someone saw the stupid move, heard the mispronounced turn of phrase, or participated in the awkward situation.

So the next time you see me- don't watch too closely. For I'd hate for my actions to cause me embarrassment. And that can only happen when you are looking!

Relationships

I am always fascinated when people tell me they don't want to be in a relationship. "Hmm", I think. "Isn't every interaction we have with someone, some type of a relationship? And isn't the fact that we are even having a mere conversation suggest some type of relationship, now matter how minimal?"

Maybe it's the type of relationship that they are pushing back on. After all- there are many kinds of relationships -romantic, friendly, adversarial, casual, etc., the list goes on and on.

So how do you clarify when someone says they don't want a relationship what they really want?

A friend of mine had been seeing a man for about 3 months when he told her he didn't want a relationship. Yet he didn't stop calling or seeing her. In fact, nothing really changed in their lives at all, that she could see. She was stymied about this until she finally asked him what was the purpose of the "big speech" that he had made about relationships.

"Well", he said. "I love being with you. I just don't want a relationship".

"What do you think we have?", said she, exasperated to the point of directness.

"What do you mean?" replied he. "This isn't a relationship. It's just us."

And so it goes. Will we ever know what a true relationship is? And how special all the different types of relationships are that we have? Our lives are fuller and richer for those people who pass through them over the course of time and for those that stay for the long haul. Be they friends, lovers, teachers or even adversaries, we learn and grow from every type of relationship that we have.

I personally value all the different types of relationships in my life. They make up the mosaic that is me. When people tell me I have a good life, I always laugh. For my life is not so much a entity unto itself- but more a weave of people who I am in relationships with and for whom I am forever grateful. For this journey called life that we are on, is always better when there are others along for the ride. Here's to relationships and all the smiles, tears, heartache, confusion, humbleness and laughter that comes along with them!

Inequitable Power

They say the person in a relationship who cares the least has all the power. True?

And can you always tell where that power is or does is shift and move throughout the course of a relationship? And does it hold true for any relationship, business or personal?

After all, I watch my girlfriends pine away that men they really like don't call when they say they are going to. And then when they do finally call- my friends drop whatever plans they have to be with these men. Power score? Men, one. My friends? Zero.

Or how about the business relationship where one person owes another something by a deadline and that deadline is missed? Power Score? Ower, one. Owee? Zero.

Or how about the popular kids in high school who seemingly have all the power as everyone wants to be like them to hang with them. You would do anything to be in that "in" crowd, right? Power Score? Cool kids, one. Geeks? Zero.

While we were taught in business school to get to the "win win", and that are no "losers", we all know that day in and day out, this is just not the case. Life is about winning and losing. I guess I just hope in the final tally that my wins off set my losses. It's the competitive part of me.

But the question that plagues me is does there always have to be a winner? And what does it say about you as a person- if for one moment, one day, one relationship, you walk away from your pride,your arrogance, your ego, and you succumb to the fact that you care more than the other person.

Imagine the world we would live in. Just think of how powerful that would be.

Just a Kid again

I got to be a kid again yesterday. . . . .if only for a little while. I threw away the trappings of my so called "life" and reveled in what only kids get to do . . .be carefree and curious. And while we may all want to do that every day- rarely do we get the opportunity.

Yesterday was different. When the adult activity was just too boring for the beautiful day that it was, I set off on an adventure of my own. An adventure of exploration.

As a kid I used to love to run through the empty fields by my house. I would pretend to be an explorer, would play house in abandoned sheds or find tree houses built by kids who had grown up and moved on.

While there were no abandoned sheds or tree houses- there were paths through the woods leading to a lake, to muddy vistas, to savannas full of butterfly bushes, raspberry vines, chickweed, sumac and other remembrances of my childhood.

My friend who went with me- forged a path through the fields, and sometimes, we lost sight of each other so high was the foliage. We happened upon children fishing, dogs frolicking in the water, and any number of birds singing on this beautiful day.It flashed me back to being that kid with mosquito bitten legs chasing after my friends all those many years ago.

When I returned home- I had a smile on my face and I didn't know why until this very moment. I got to be a kid again. A curious, adventurous, don't worry about the mud on my shoes, caution to the wind, kid.

Where do we lose that adventurous spirit along the way? Are we so caught up in being an adult that we forget the fun things in life? Does experience teach us that there are too many dangers around that next path, that next turn, and that it's easier to sit back and watch life go by?

I don't know the answers. But I do know for just a minute, I was a kid again. And that was the greatest feeling in the world!

The Age Old Debate

You know, there might be one difference that even the best of us cannot solve for in a relationship. We tackle the easy things like what side of the bed do you like to sleep on (for me- it's always the left), which way the toilet paper should hang (I'm an over girl)and whether you put water on your toothbrush before or after you add the toothpaste (I'm a little of each). But the one difference that seems insurmountable time and time again is the issue of a morning person versus a night person.

Now try as I might- I will never be a morning person. I swear I'm nocturnal. I do my best thinking after noon and have no problems staying up til the wee hours with boundless energy.

Yet relationship after relationship, I find myself with guys at the other end of the sleep spectrum. These beings are like foreigners to me, springing out of bed at crack of dawn (no- I am sure that some times it is not even dawn when they leap up).

I groan and roll over and am not heard of for at least a few more hours. Yet during the time I am at my best,in the dead of night, where are these morning creatures? Fading fast, and all but dead to the world. It is like their light has been shut off.

So I decided to try an experiment. Could I, the habitual nocturnal soul TURN into a morning person? I decided to give it a try for a month.

I set my alarm for 5am. The first day, in my stunned, disoriented state, I poured juice on my cereal and put milk in the coffee maker. Not a good start. And as the days wore on, I was tired. By 8pm- I was ready for bed. This little experiment was seriously cutting into my night life. Cripes! Under my usual schedule, I wasn't even thinking about where to eat until 8. And now each day I couldn't wait to hit the hay.

They say that once your body gets used to something it will do it on it's own. Well let me tell you- 5am wake ups are never going to be the norm for this girl.

With that effort as an abysmal failure, I asked the man in my life ,at the time, to do a similar experiment only in reverse. He needed to sleep in more and stay up later for one month.

Seriously, he just couldn't sleep in. He'd lay there in the morning, trying to make me happy, staring up at the ceiling, breathing in that way that only men do, just itching for me to wake up so he could get up. And at night? We'd go out to enjoy a dinner and I would always end up driving home as his eyes were closing and head bobbing before we even left the restaurant. He begged to be let out of the experiment long before the month was over.

So I posit that we are what we are. Creatures of the day or creatures of the night, living our best on one side or the other. How about you? Which side do you fall on? And while you're at it . . .how is your toilet paper on the roll?

The Best Laid Plans

Are you one of those people where things you plan, never turn out quite the way you imagined them? Well, I am.

Take for example a simple canoe trip I planned down the Hillsborough River in Tampa. My friend told me how beautiful it was and since I love the tranquility of canoeing, I reserved a canoe.

As I pulled up to the ramshackle lean to that housed the canoe rental place, I was reminded of the canoe trips I used to take back when I was a student and I couldn't wait until I was on the water again, paddling downstream.

On the other hand, my canoeing partner was there only because I asked him to be. He didn't care for the water, hated the outdoors, and if the truth be told, couldn't swim.

"No problem", said the canoe guy who was shoving us into the water in the middle of a swamp. "You're going to want to stay in the canoe anyway."

"Why's that?", I asked naively.

"It's alligator mating season, ma'am. Gators are everywhere. Shouldn't be a problem if you stay in your canoe", said he.

Stay in my canoe. Stay in my canoe. It was like a mantra as we floated down the river. Hard to relax when at every turn, there were alligators sunning themselves on logs, laying in the shallows and swimming in the river. They looked a bit like tires in the water as all you could see were their eyes as they paddled silently.

Now for this Chicago girl, being this close up to alligators that weren't in a cage, seemed a bit insane. After all, this was no Disney ride where if something went wrong, a man in a park ranger uniform was going to be there to "stop the ride" and let you get off. Nope. This was real life. A 3 hour survival course and we were soon to be put to the test.

Around the next corner was a submerged log and within minutes we were somehow stuck on top of it. On the shore around us, alligators were sunning themselves but keeping one eye on us as well. Funny that there were no other canoers on this day. Maybe they knew something we didn't.

My canoeing partner thought the best way to get off the log was to rock the canoe. A word of advice? That is never the right thing to do and within a nano second we were in the water eyeball to eyeball with the alligators.

My biggest issue wasn't my fear of losing a limb (although it was right up there)- no it was that my friend had fallen out of the canoe, and had sunk to the bottom of the river like a stone. In seconds, he came up from the bottom shrieking like a baby and then sank again and I was trying to calm down the situation lest the alligators thought there was something (or someone as the case may be) in distress and come over to investigate.

Let's stop here to review. We are 20 minutes into a 3 hour canoe trip, have lost all of our belongings (including the canoe and almost my friend) in the river and alligators are everywhere. I kept wondering where was the fun in all of this?

And it wasn't until we beached our canoe at the end of the trip (yes we were able to get the canoe, empty it of water, and start anew all without adverse alligator intervention) and stumbled toward the canoe rental guy that I realized the absurdity of it all.

He took one look at us and said, "Go into the water, did ya?"

I caught a glimpse of myself in his sunglasses- makeup streaked all over my face, sunburned arms (we lost the sunscreen in the river), hair sticking up all over, river dirt on my legs and I started to laugh.

"Yeah. We went into the water."

But what he didn't know, was that I was thinking about the more important thing. The thing that had me laughing in relief. The thing I still think about today, every time I step into a canoe.

What is that, you ask? Simple. It wasn't that we went into the water. No. It was that we came out of the water. Now that was the big thing of the day!

You had me at hello . . .

Have you ever thought about all the time we've spent in our lives kissing?

We could probably spell it before we really knew what it was, from taunting children singing their song, "Carol and Eric, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!". (wonder where little Eric is these days? Hmmmm. . .) Or that first foolish peck of an adolescent boy fumbling to do what he thought he ought to do, but not really knowing how to do it. Or the memory of the safety that a parent's kiss brought before tucking you in for the night. Kissing is a way to connect, to show affection, to love.

Today, however, there seems to be a swell toward greeting everyone with a kiss. I don't know about you but I still feel awkward about this. After all, my family was not a family of demonstration. Not like the family that grew up a few doors down from me where even we kids were greeted with a big smooch and hug. No, my family was reserved, with a hug being the most that we would do in the most formal of occasions.

So as times have evolved, I find myself kissing all kinds of people these days- friends, co-workers who I see frequently and infrequently, and even strangers who are introduced to me. Odd, isn't it? One of the most intimate gestures reduced to a peck on the cheek, or at least waving your face in that direction and moving on to the next person?

I seem to have perfected my own "signature move". I like to call it the "grip and smooch". Perfect for business situations, I put out my hand for a shake and then as the person draws me in, I bend my arm creating a slight gap between the kisser and me. The kiss usually ends up deflecting into air just above the person's right ear which suits me fine.

I watch at large meetings for the notorious kissers. You know the ones. Tons of cologne if a man, tons of makeup if a woman. The telltale signs are there on both sides- the lipstick smear on a man's shirt or jacket shoulder or in my case- I seem to smell like various men's cologne all day.

The worst of it, though, is the sweaty guy. Every office has one. He sweats constantly and is always wiping his brow. It's like clockwork that this guy sees me at a meeting and then swoops in for the smooch. I slide right off his face and then spend the next ten minutes hoping to find a tissue with which to wipe my face. I'm all for going with the flow- but does anyone else find this a little gross?

And it's a "Germ o Rama". Do you think it's coincidence that we all come back from large conferences sick at the same time? Heck no! We've been passing germs on a first name basis through all this darn kissing!

And then don't get me started on the protocol for International kissing (and I'm not talking French!) Is it a double kiss? Single kiss? Both sides? Three sides? I am quite sure I am going to get a black eye one of these days as I will stop in the middle of the greeting sure that it is over, only to have the person return for some part of my face that hasn't been kissed and catch me in the eye with his chin! Urrgh!

I think it's a trend to stay and maybe I am the only one who finds it a little much. I long for the days when a mere handshake would do in a business situation.

But for now, since this trend seems here to stay, I am going to keep perfecting my signature move and try to stay away from that sweaty guy. But if you are reading this and notice the next time we greet that my kiss on the check is more like a fly by your right ear . . . .you'll know you've just witnessed the old "grip and smooch". Pretty effective, eh?

Unconditional Love

Today was my day to work at a local animal shelter. It's been 9 years since I first walked into those doors to find myself a feline companion. And each day I walk into the shelter, I am always amazed by the unconditional love that those animals have for us, the humans, who oftentimes, mistreat them horribly.

People ask me if volunteering there makes me sad. "Sad?", I ask. "Not at all", for I know they are going to go to good homes. What makes me sad, however, are some of the "back stories" of these animals. And those kill me.

Take, for example, the two cats who were left at the front door of the shelter (illegal, so you know) in a sealed plastic box in the Winter. No food, no water, no air and temperatures in the 20's. By the time we arrived to open the shelter in the morning- the two were near death, sweaty from trying to breathe and covered in urine. But most of all, they were scared. Great human thinking there.

Or how about the family dog that was gotten as a puppy and now that the couple had divorced, neither side wanted the 12 year old animal? Through no fault of the dog- he was homeless and at 12, the likelihood of that dog getting adopted in his later years were slim. Again. Great human thinking.

Or how about the animals that are given up because people are moving? I don't know about you- but I don't think there is a state in the US that doesn't allow for dogs or cats, but "moving" is the number one reason people give up their pets. Sure, I'm being facetious- I know moving means into a non pet friendly environment. But if pets were truly a part of a family- people wouldn't move to places that don't allow them.

Want to know what does make me sad? Walking through the kennels. I am saddened by the looks on the animal's faces. You can see hopefulness and expectation in their eyes. Their tails wag, their ears perk up, for they are all looking for a familiar smell, a touch or a look, as these animals have no idea why they are here or what they did to get there. All they want is to go home, to sleep in their own bed, or to crawl into the one that they were sometimes allowed into. Yet each time the door is opened, the expectation is replaced by the realization of the home they once knew is gone forever. And the longer the animal has been there, the less interested they are when the door opens, to the point that some don't even rise to their feet any more.

So why volunteer? The real joy is when an animal gets to go to its new, forever home. When kids and adults alike have that glow in their eyes of a perfect match. When tails are wagging, hands are petting and each is imagining just what life might be like together. It's a magical moment and it happens day after day in shelters around the country. Once abandoned pets are adopted by people who have the time and the intelligence to be good owners. Ones who lavish their pets with love and who in return receive that perfect, unconditional love that only a pet can bring.

And as the door closes behind them to start their new life together, the kennel is readied, for the next abandoned or stray animal is about to arrive. And so, it all begins all over again.

In my Mother's Mirror

On my last visit home to my parent's house, as I bounded down the stairs the way I did for all the years I lived there, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs. And I thought of all the things that mirror had seen during my life in that house.

That mirror became the inspiration for this blog as "From the Looking Glass" is a blog about my view on things that intersect my life each and every day. Just like that mirror that saw me basically grow up and reflected those years back to me, so is this blog a reflection of things around me.

That mirror was a focal point. It was where I knew I was growing taller as I couldn't see me in it originally unless I climbed up a stair or two, or my dad gave me a "lift up". And then one day I could stand on the floor and see my reflection.

It was the mirror that I would practice my singing in front of to see how I looked belting out a Carole King song for my junior high talent competition.

It was the mirror that watched me practice lines for a play- going over and over the same scene until it was perfected.

It was the mirror that I would check my makeup in as I dashed out the front door for a date.

And it was the last thing I saw as I pulled the door shut and moved into my own apartment.

Many years have passed since I lived in that house, but that mirror is still there. I again wish it was animate and could share the stories of the lives in that house with me.

But it is enough for me to know that it reflects back a life of love, of family and friends, and of happiness and laughter. And that's just what this blog is about.

Happy or sad . . it's your choice

A friend told me the other night that I might be "too happy". I thought about this for a moment and then wondered, can someone really be too happy? Or was it just the chasm between the way that he looks at the world and the way I look at the world that makes me appear to be the happier of us two?

Life gives us choices each and every day. I firmly believe that I can be happy. Or I can be sad. It really takes no more energy to be one over the other so I choose happy. I think my friend chooses sad. And maybe that's why we're friends as between the two of us the world balances, if only for one second.

This happy thing was a bit of a puzzle for me. I remember back in junior high school that my best friend was really the more popular of the two of us and I couldn't figure out why. So I watched her. And it was then that I noticed that unlike me, who walked down the halls with eyes downcast- she said hi to everyone, smiled, and that her smile just lit up her face.

"That's it?" I wondered. "Could I walk down the same hall and smile and have people respond to me?" I couldn't wait to try it out. So on the next break, I walked from my locker to my next class smiling and greeting friends and acquaintances alike. And from that moment on, I was hooked! Happy is the way to be! People responded to me just the way they did to my friend.

And if you don't believe me- try it yourself. I was in the grocery store line the other day and the cashier and bagger were lamenting the world as they passed the groceries down the line. When I got to the front, I smiled and said, "Hi, Jason" (the name tag always helps here!) He looked up startled said hi back as did the bagger. His entire demeanor changed when he actually smiled back. Yes- smiles can be contagious! Imagine a world where people smiled instead of frowned.

Now before you go all crazy like my second grade teacher who put those darn smiley face stickers on everything (hey- it was the 70's ya know!) happiness is not just a smile but an inner feeling of self. But it can all start with that simple simile.

Too happy? I doubt it. As I said, we have a choice in this world and I choose happy. How about you? What face did you put on to the world today?

What I meant to say was . . . . . .

I don't know about you, but since I don't have all day to spend on social networking sites, I have them set to send me an email when people post on my wall or leave me a message.

The funny thing about those notifications is that they show me how many times people re-think what they post to a public forum. For even if you delete your posting- the email notification stays.

The first time it happened, I thought it was a glitch in the system- some nuance of cyberland that had a post not appear on my page. "Darn", I thought. "That was really funny", and while a personal joke, others would have laughed too.

The next time it happened- I realized that my friend had thought better of his post and retracted it for personal reasons.

So now it's a bit of a game for me for I want to know what prompts my friends to retract what it is that they had originally posted. Misspellings aside (that's almost always when I do a "do over"), for what reasons do people "un post" a post?

Did they think it wasn't funny enough? In poor taste? Too personal? In this day and age of the Internet being the way most of us keep in touch, usually what people post is what pops into their heads at the moment of reading something.

But it is here that the social media sites come under duress. For unlike a real conversation, that quip or statement is said and forgotten. But on the Internet . . .it is there forever for all the world to see.

For me, social networking sites are like today's version of parlor games. And like a parlor game, it is meant to amuse and to wile away the time. They are a way to keep in touch with the masses and to share a snapshot of what my life is like in a moment. But I never really post anything too personal, too intimate, no more than I would in reveal that about myself to a room full of strangers. For while I am connected in some way to all on my page, many of them are acquaintances, not close friends.

Maybe this is a good thing . . letting me know what my friends might say if we were live and in person, before they rethink and edit their thoughts to make them more socially acceptable. Maybe they think it's a reflection on them. Or maybe they think it will reflect poorly on me.

But whatever the reason- know that I read each and everyone of the re thought posts. For it is there that I find the true thought or essence of the thought- before our personal edit button kicks in.

Friends for a Reason, Friends for a Season, And Forever Friends

A friend once told me that he categorizes the people in his life as "Friends for a Reason, Friends for a Season, and Forever Friends".

I pushed back at the time thinking it was too easy to label the people in our lives but now I think he's right. Every day- people come into my life as others leave. What makes them fall into one category or the other? Why do some people immediately click and in a blink of an eye-you can't imagine your life without them? And yet other relationships you are constantly working at to make work. What makes a friend a friend?

Like most- I have moved several times in my life picking up and leaving those who are dear to me and while we say we will "keep in touch", you know as I do that that rarely happens.

I like to say that the world is "self sorting". Meaning that those that are truly "forever friends" stick with you no matter what. And those that fall into the acquaintance category ebb and flow like the ocean. What I love best about "forever friends" is that no matter how much time has passed since you last saw or spoke to them- the moment you re-connect, it is as if no time passed at all.

Case in point. I have known my best friend since I was 15. We met in High School for the mere reason our names were alphabetical and therefore our lockers were next to each other. We really had nothing in common but we took those differences and turned them into a lifetime relationship. We are both the sister the other never had. We have not lived in the same city for over 25 years but no matter how much time elapses between visits, it is as if no time has passed. That is a forever friend.

Friends for a Reason are a little tougher for me to describe, for if someone is only with you for a reason, is that really a friend? That person may not even be aware that they are doing it, but ever since my friend brought this category of friend to my attention, I look for it now. Am I a little jaded? You bet.

There were days when I had nothing to offer that this kind of friend didn't even cross my mind. But today- people try to "friend" me for all kinds of reasons- connections, jobs, money, business, you name it. I recently had someone put my name as a reference for a job who I had only met once in a bar two years ago. When the recruiter called? I barely recognized the name. Definitely a "Friend for a Reason".

And "Friends for a Season" are those people who you are sure will turn into "Forever Friends", but through time, the connection fades, the glow dulls and you find yourself wondering when you are out with them, why you ever connected with them in the first place. Sad but true.

Take stock of the people in your life. Where do they fall? Are they there for a Reason? For a Season? Or are the people you surround yourself with, real "Forever Friends". You decide.

Bad Samaritan

Can there be such a thing as a "bad" Samaritan? After all- we always hear the word Samaritan coupled with the word "good". But on a recent night in the city of Chicago- I, myself, I think, fell into the category of "bad" Samaritan.

It's one of those experiences that keeps you wondering what the right action could have been. Knowing what to do in most situations is a skill set of mine . . so why would this situation leave me so unprepared for the right course of action? Or to feel so strange about the course of action I pursued? Have I been trained and taught to act unlike myself in certain situations? You be the judge.

On a recent Sunday evening, I found myself driving in a strange neighborhood in the city at dusk. The car in front of me, a Chevy, was driving erratically, weaving from side to side so I gave it plenty of room thinking the guy may have had a little too much to drink.

We both turned onto a major street with two way traffic. The car in front of me crawled to a stop but got so close to crossing the line into the oncoming traffic that buses and cars alike were honking at him. From behind- I honked my horn so as to get around his car.

"Pick a lane", I yelled, totally frustrated with this person's actions and snail's pace. When I finally gained enough space to pull around the guy, I looked over with a look of disdain on my face. And it is there, in that moment, that I saw the driver for the first time.

Unconscious and slumped in his seat, with only the seat belt holding him upright, eyes closed, was the driver. Did he have an attack? Die? Fall asleep? Should I stop? Try to help? My mind was racing.

And then all those years of working in the city of Detroit kicked in. You see, my first job out of college was in inner city Detroit (hey- someone had to work there!) where my employer sent us to "survival classes" to learn what to do in certain situations. Stay in your car. Do not try to help. Phone the police. Keep moving.

It was as if that training was yesterday and not 20 years ago when it actually happened. So this Samaritan (good or bad) did just that. Grabbed an address, a license plate number, phoned 911 and went on my way.

But it haunts me still today if I did enough. Would I want someone to just leave me there unconscious in my car? What if he needed immediate care? Was there really anything more I could do?

When do we ever know if what we think is the right action, really is?

This one's for you, Dad!

No matter how long it's been since we've lived in our parent's home, on Father's Day, our minds turn to home and to those that made us the people we are today.

Not everyone has a dad, this I know. There are father figures, friends, Big Brothers and all types of stand ins- but I am one of the lucky ones. I had and have to this day a Dad. And as the only daughter, I am sure I came with my own set of quirks and issues, unlike my brothers. But while I doubt my dad knew exactly what to do with this pink bundle that was put into his arms, oh so many years ago, he instinctively knew that merely loving me and pushing me forward into life- would give him the kind of daughter he would be proud of.

My dad taught me to ride a bike- running up and down the street with me until I got the hang of it and being there to pick me up when I fell off.

He was always in the audience at all of my recitals, whether it was that horrible flute solo where I totally forgot the notes, or the solo in choir where I belted out some show tune, or when I played in piano competitions. The first face I always saw was my dad nodding his approval and clapping no matter how bad it was.

He had patience in teaching me multiplication tables (somehow I couldn't get that 7 times 3 was the same as 3 times 7) and just shook his head in frustration when Algebra rolled around and we had to solve those old Train A and Train B leaving the station problems.

And then when I thought I was all grown up- his sage career advice of "find something you love and then figure out how to make money at it" has paid off time and time again.

Today I look back and am thankful for the time I have had with my dad. We don't live in the same city any more and don't see each other as often as we would like. But I always know he's there in the background of my days, pushing me forward into life. Just like he always has.

The Power of Power

We take it for granted each and every day. Flip on a switch and the lights come on. Turn on your car and the headlights illuminate the night. Look around the city at dusk and lights twinkle from every window, every nook, and every cranny. Darkness is never a mandate for we have lights that highlight. Lights that enhance. Lights that protect.

I remember, years ago, when I had friends in from the old Soviet Union during the holidays, and I took them into downtown Chicago to view the holiday lights.

"You must have a lot of extra electricity," said my friend.

I pondered this for a minute and then saw our city through his eyes. Every tree aglow in twinkling lights, every building lit up like a Christmas Tree, every display window beckoning with it's ingenious displays. And then contrasted that with the single bulb that used to hang in the entrance way to his apartment in Moscow. We Americans do take our lit up world for granted.

But then the unthinkable happens. Mother Nature blows in and takes away what we perceive as our right. The right of light. Neighborhoods stand dark. People cluster together with nothing to do as all modern conveniences are stopped. And oh, that silence.

The silence is amazing. No refrigerator hum, no air conditioning whirr, no garage doors opening and closing, no TV or sound systems blaring. For without electricity- there is less sound in the world. Yet in the distance, there is the hum of generators struggling to make electricity where there is none.

What I find the most interesting are the people themselves. Stuck with having to amuse themselves, families walk the streets looking for other kindred souls with which to share a story or two. People sit on their front porches again beckoning to neighbors with foods from the freezer and warmish drinks from the non running refrigerators.

And in that instant, a community connects. And life, while it seems more complicated, is made simple again. Behold the power, of power.

Women dressing for Women?

So a male friend of mine the other night tells me that he prefers women not to get all "gussied up" but just to be themselves. A simple t-shirt and cardigan could be more attractive than a low cut blouse and "big hair", according to him. In fact- he went so far to tell me, as he looked around the bar, that if he had to choose,he'd choose women from a group of softball players who were, in fact, pretty "real" with their pony tails and shorts, versus those who looked like they were going to a wedding or fancy party. His theory? Women really are just dressing to compete with other women out there.

"Really?", I asked. "Men are such visual creatures. I find that surprising".

After all-magazines and movies that appeal to men are so obvious in their approach. But as I write this- I remember other similar conversations with men over the years. Men who used words like "pretty girl, but I'd like her better without all that make up" or "too much of a good thing" being their way of saying the simpler and more down to earth is better.

So are we women really just dressing for each other? Is each ohh and ahh over a pair of shoes, or dress just a foil for what we are really thinking which is "I wish I wore that", or "She's going to get all the attention tonight"? Is it a competition of the highest sort, where at the end of the day, there are really no winners? For at the end of it all, isn't just being yourself, the best thing?

If my friend is right- it's what's under all that facade that is important. And that seems to be the thing we spend the least amount of time on these days.

Me? A Blogger?

Why Blog?, my friends ask me daily. Isn't it enough to tell your stories in person?

Well, the answer is yes. And maybe no. For writing it all down seems more permanent, more meaningful. And for this latent lover of the English word- blogging is an opportunity to do what I love and that is to write. To create pictures with words that excite, amuse, humble and delight the reader.

As a small child- I remember the wonder in grabbing the widest book off the library shelf just imagining what treasures lay within. And when I began to write my own words, my own stories, I realized that I, the deepest part of I, was a storyteller. And that is reason enough to blog.

So this page will be a space for me to once again find that lost love of writing, and to share with you the musings of this connected girl.

Til the next time . . . . . . .