Sunday, June 27, 2010

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.

Friday, June 25, 2010

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.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

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?

Sunday, June 20, 2010

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.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

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.

Friday, June 18, 2010

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 . . . . . . .