College Break

My son Matt is home for college break. (That's him, looking at his laptop.) It's so good to have him home - I love walking by his bedroom door (let's face it, it's usually noon or so) and knowing he is behind it, sleeping.

When the kids were younger, school breaks were fun, but tough - by Wednesday I'd be pulling my hair out from too much fast-food, too many museum attempts, and too much sheer time alone with three active sons.  Now, Matt is a man - he comes and goes as he pleases, he can meet me for lunch or drive in to the city to see friends.

Ahhh, time...you can't get around the passage of time.  I panic when I realize that I can't remember exactly what Matt looked like at age seven or eight, and then, triggered by some unrelated little thing, I'll be instantly back in my old backyard watching him play army men in the grass, sun shining on his wheat-blond hair.  We were close then, and we are closer now, if possible.  He is one of my best friends, a trusted confidant, and a beloved son.

Middle children live in the exact middle of your heart.

Charlie Sheen...

In today's attempt at being topical, I am blogging about the ridiculous, harmful, and mentally ill character that is Charlie Sheen at this moment.

 I will note that he is apparently genuinely ill, that children all over America and the free world are familiar with his antics (including the Goddesses, his children being removed, and his sweaty, pale, crazy rants), and that we have sunk so low in this country as to idealize and pedastal-ize a sad, ill man who has not worked in years on anything decent.  Two and a Half Men is a...well, it's a show, or something, and you can count on seeing the now-teenage "half-a-man" actor (who is the highest-paid teen actor on tv) in Sheen's shoes in a few years.  Charlie Sheen was a handsome, really pretty decent actor some years back, so anything can happen, and maybe he'll return some day from the Planet Pluto.

I am further commenting on the fact that now Sean Penn, another American-made would-be journalist/playah/actor, is gong to unleash Sheen on Haiti, in an effort to capiltalize on Sheen's sudden fame and the sheer amount of Twitter followers he has (note to Penn: the kind of folks that follow Sheen's tweets are probably not the kind that hand over money from their pockets for charity.)  Has't poor Haiti suffered enough? Do wehave to unleash the rotten parts of our culture on it, too?

What else can I offer you on this Sunday?  Well, I guess only the idea that this, too, shall pass, and that our culture is increasingly one to turn away from, and that that's all right.  (Turning away from cultural influences is not, after all, turning away from the country itself.) I am no paragon of virtue, by the way - I am looking forward to The Apprentice tonight, and love American Idol.  But I am trying to recognize what is really hurtful in our culture, and keep it from my youngest son, who is just 11 (almost 12!)  Soon I won't be able to, though, so we have to talk about it.

So, carry on, America.  Maybe like alcoholics and drug-abusers, we truly have to hit rock-bottom before we see the light. 

Deer in the Morning

The other day I was leaving my neighborhood in my car, heading to work. I was preoccupied, checking to make sure I had my phone, finding my favorite radio station, pulling my seatbelt over my lap.

I turned a corner and gasped, touching the brakes.  In front of me in the road stood four or five deer, looking at me calmly, necks high, eyes wide, one hoof pulled up; hesitant but not scared.

They were beautiful.  We just stared at each other; like a kid I longed to go up to them and stand with them; say something to them that they would understand.  Deer make you feel strangely isolated; they will rarely let you get close enough to touch them or pet them, and they are shy and aloof.  Their eyes are huge; I hadn't realized how big their eyes were.

They come to the neighborhood we have recently moved to a lot, I hear; we are close to conservation land and they make appearances as their woods disappear a little more each year.  They looked vulnerable and stiff on the asphalt, but still beautiful, and wild.

It was 7:30 am, and my day had already been made.  Stumbling on amazing nature when your mind is elsewhere is always the best kind of high.

Are My Words Coming Out Right?

Like many people, I felt horrible for the television reporter who had a "complex migraine" while reporting from the Grammy awards, and ended up talking non-sensically, while looking amazingly normal.  It looked like she was having a stroke, and your heart went out to her.  (Your heart also went out to people who had to listen to some of that music at the Grammys; really, Gwenyth?  They should all just be Mick Jagger; he is amazing.  I hear it's his macrobiotic diet.  Or his perennial bachelorhood.)

A few days later I was in attendance when a guest speaker suddenly went blank, struggling to find the word "adventure."  We in the audience were leaning forward just willing him to say it - "come on Mister, adventure, you went on an adventure..." you could feel everyone thinking.  Luckily he was okay as well.

So, in what is pretty normal for me, I am now afraid that this will happen to me, at work, at home, or while I'm on the phone.  Sitting in a Ninety-Nine restaurant, I said to my husband, "Oh my gosh, I'm like the reporter; I want a..." I started mimicking drinking froma very large glass.  "You want a coke," he interpreted.  "Yes!" I squealed, pointing at him.  "I couldn't remember what you call it - what does that mean?"

It means one of these things - menopause, exhaustion, or extreme suggestibility...I am going for the third one (although it could be any of them, really.)

So...if this does ever happen to you, call an ambulance if you can't get over it pretty darn quickly.  Also if you have numbness, tingling, or cannot make your face smile.  It could be a stroke.  But if you are watching the Grammys, it could just be Lady Gaga arriving in her fantabulous egg.  Barf.

Don't Let Familiarity Breed Contempt!

Okay - enough with the snow already!!

I have always loved snow - as a writer, I seem to attach symbolism to everything, even Nature's natural shifts, turns, and surprises.  I believe that nature has always meant something more than just "weather."  It is God's expression of artistry, beauty, and boundlessness.  Few people have stood looking at a mountain range at sunrise and not felt a pull towards something; have not attached a significance beyond their understanding to what they are observing.

What happens when the beauty of nature hits you in the face - and keeps on punching until you, the once-smitten observer, is bruised, battered, and exhausted from shovelling?  "I hate snow" is just not a sentence I am used to uttering.  I feel about flowers the way I used to feel about snow - I get all misty when I remember the huge peonys that will be blooming in my yard soon, if we can just make it through winter.

A neighbor's roof collapsed last week, and an ice dam that fell off our roof sheered a grand old shrub in half in my front yard.  Snow flakes bring cringes, not smiles of contentment.  Winter 2011 will stand in our New England memories for a long time.

Or will it?  Like childbirth, somehow the painful memories may disappear, and when we see the new snowflakes next year we will run out and stand in it again, happy for it's return, welcoming it's mystery.  When you love something you love it - even when it drives you crazy sometimes.  Snow, you are welcome back anytime - just spread out your visits somewhat - like any visitor is encouraged to do.

Proud...

My son Fred's band is playing a big date at the Middle East in Boston soon, and you have to go to Ticketmaster for your tics!!!  Ticketmaster, yo!  We're really psyched, and wish him luck! The whole fam (minus our youngest, who will be at a wicked awesome sleepover!) will be cheering him on!

Check it out >  http://www.ticketweb.com/t3/sale/SaleEventDetail?dispatch=loadSelectionData&eventId=3393215&REFERRAL_ID=tmfeed&crosssite=TM_US:1537678:337303

Nice Speech at an Important Time

Great job by President Obama on his speech in Tucson, which just concluded.  I though that he did a great job, and the tone was perfect, I thought.  He does such a great job as an orator, and sometimes that is just what we need.

I have been concerned about Obama's presidency, but have to hand it to him on this night.  Great job, Mr. President! Just what your country needed.

All Geared Up for 2011

So, these are my dogs, Copper (bigger hound) and Neeley (scrappy rat terrier.)  My house is like a Disney movie wth these two characters running around all day.  I happened to walk into our family room in time to see them 1) miraculously not looking at me, 2) miraculously calm, and 3) miraculously not on my couch, but where they should be, on their bed.

They are the original Odd Couple.  Copper is laid-back and pretty easy to please, where Neeley seems to be doing drugs all the time - and not very good ones.  The only time they are at the same emotional pitch is when I put my sneakers on; they become unglued because this might mean we are taking a walk.  Of course, it might not, and they cannot handle the not knowing.  They jump around and try to make eye contact wth me, (they know I avoid looking right at them if I am not taking them) and they also make this weird noise - between a bark and a whine - which ends up sounding like a word, sometimes.  I texted my middle son Matt the other day with the message: "Copper just said a word."  Matt, unphased, texted back, "What did he say?"  I responded, "He said "Now."  He did! LOL")

Anyhoo - I heard it here first.  I believe they can talk.  Now if only they could behave - and stop trying to look into my eyes!  It's not normal!

Another Shooting

So, a Congresswoman shows up at her local Safeway to meet and greet her constituents.  A friend stops by to say hello, a little girl who is interested in government attends with a neighbor, a staffer chats on the phone or checks messages. People come and go wth groceries.

A few seconds later the little girl and the friend who stopped by are dead, as well as the staffer.  An intern for the Congresswoman uses meat department aprons from the supermarket to try to stop the bleeding from the Congresswoman's head; a bullet has travelled the length of her brain, on the left side.  Someone has got to notify her husband; the President leaves a message on his cell phone.

At Mass today people bowed their heads to pray for all of these people, as well as for ourselves.  How many of these stores can we hear?  How many mini- 911's can we go through?  When do our individual and collective psyches start to show the wear and tear that violence - and the media coverage of that violence - puts us through?

Timing that is interesting to me - through what we will call a "communications error" between myself and my husband Fred, today I ended up walking from Mass to meet him further down the street than I should have, not waiting for him where he asked me to wait, but forging on ahead on my own.  So of course, I missed him entirely when he went another way to come get me, and end up cold, gloveless and shivering in the wind, with only a copy of  the January 2011 Magnificat to keep me warm.  Sitting near the railroad depot on a bench, waiting and reading about Christ asking the apostles to leave family and comfort to follow him, I was struck by how cold I was, and how we are all really alone, in many ways.  This tragedy with Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords illlustrates this, too - we must accept our solitary status, as much as we love and need others - there is only One that makes us un-solitary.  We can take this love, from God, and let it allow us to give and receive human love, whether it is friend love, romantic love, or any love, even more deeply, more richly.

We can truly love these victims of this horrific shooting by first loving God, and accepting what He offers, and then offering our heartfelt prayers for their recovery, and for their families.  We are haunted by the instability of life, and reassured by the gifts of life.

Really heavy, I know...but that's how life is.  Tomorrow will have blue sky, I'm sure.

Happy New Year...3 Items of Interest

Happy New Year, Everybody!!  Hope it is an absolutely terrific, mind-blowing year for each and every one of you!

A couple of things:  First in 2011: a totally embarrassing thing on my part, but I have been bothered by it, and it is in the "Reality TV" category : apparently the star of "The Bachelor" this season was also the star of the same show three years ago, where he committed the unpardonable outrage of Not Proposing to Anyone at the end of the show.  Back then, he left two women at the alter (or, the fake podium, to be honest about it.) He was not ready to marry, and did not truly fall in love.  He has been slapped in the face and maligned on the internet, and seems to spend all his time apologising. Was he actually supposed to marry someone because he was on TV??  It's just bothering me.  I am vowing to cut down on my reality tv watching and read more; it's one of my New Year's Resolutions, or Rez's ( I have so many I just call them rez's now; it cuts down on 3 syllables at least 8 times a day.) 

** I have a new theory that America eats so much and watches so much mindless tv because we are in a constant state of exhaustion from all that technology allows us to do now. ** More on that later.

Second in 2011:  have you heard about birds falling from the sky, and millons of fish dying?  It's happening.  Google it.

Thirdly, in 2011: the first viral video of the year is the homeless man with the announcer's voice who has been discovered on a highway and given a second chance at so many things.  May we say a collective prayer that we do not kill his new chances with our attention, our investigatons into his past, and our tendancy to "pedastal" people.  Just let the man talk; it's clearly what he was born to do.

More later...again, here is to an amazing year for you to enjoy, learn from, grow in, and remember.

Uber-fans

Hmmm...where might these guys be going?  My sons Fred, James and Matt (left to right) and my husband scored great Bruins tickets over Thanksgiving.  James is thrilled to have both older brothers home!  Full house = happy house.