My Tribe

Posted on January 23, 2015 | 1 comment

A colleague was standing outside my door this afternoon talking to another co-worker of ours.  As he was doing so, he was thoroughly examining the Cutie orange he had just peeled.  He looked at it quizzically, cocked his head, grimaced and choked half of it down.  He swallowed hard, then shook his head.  His most unusual response to eating this delightful little nugget of almost pure sugar generated an inquiry on our part.  I mean, who doesn’t like fruit?  Unless, of course, we are talking about overly ripe bananas (a topic that was thoroughly covered in Bananas Are All the Rage) or papaya (because I think we can all agree, that shit is just gross.)  Otherwise, fruit is pretty awesome.

So when we asked why he was so troubled by eating fruit, and moreover, why he was forcing himself to do it he said, “Oh, I just eat fruit because I have children.” I remarked that it was noble of him to serve as a role model to his children, even when they aren’t around to witness his behavior.  To which he replied, “It’s not that.  It’s that my old man died at the age of 49, and I’d prefer to live to see my children as adults.”

My ears immediately perked up and my posture straightened.  I motioned him into my office and asked more questions.  How old were you when he died? What did he die of? How was your relationship with him?  Do you think his untimely death has made you more aware of your own mortality?  Do you think it has given you fuel for your passions and your drive in life?  He sat down on the couch in my office and answered my questions, one by one.  He was unfazed because he knew  in that moment what I knew, too…we are in the same tribe.

Isn’t it strange how our pain can join us?  And yet, I would offer that there are few things in life that can bond us together more.  I suppose that is true for everyone; I know it is true for me.  I am blessed with more friends than I am even sure I deserve, but the ones who understand the darkest, saddest and most sacred corners of my soul are the ones who lost a parent too soon.  They are the friends who understand that no matter how joyful my spirit is – no matter how silly, how funny, how passionate, how wise I am – I carry with me a well of grief that never, ever goes away.  Ever-present, it’s just there.  I hardly notice it most of the time and for practical purposes, I’ve learned to live around it. But I’ll be the first to admit, there are some circumstances that can tweak me in just the right way and my grief will come pouring out of me with the force of an uncapped fire hydrant on a hot summer day.  My grief is a comfortable, old friend or an angry, jilted lover depending on the day.

As my colleague and I talked through our feelings in an impromptu therapy session of sorts, we concluded by reminding ourselves how reassuring it is to find someone who has had a similar experience as you.  I am not the only one who has vacillated between feeling grateful I’ve not had the same fate as my mother and then wondering if I am on borrowed time.  I am not the only one who sees the beauty of my determination to live passionately, strong, smart, and hard in a way that could only come from an awareness of the impermanence of life.  I am not the only one who wants to make sure I make my best and most important mark on the world as soon as I can.

That is the beauty of finding a member of your own tribe.  You remember that you are not the only one.

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MLK

Posted on January 20, 2015 | Leave a comment

In 2004, my best friend Mindy and I decided to take a trip to drown our sorrows and/or celebrate our good fortune (yes, you can do both simultaneously) following a divorce for each of us.  For reasons I cannot fully explain, we landed on Memphis as our destination of choice.

Although Memphis may not be the dream holiday vacation for most, the trip has turned out to be one of our most cherished and memorable for a variety of reasons.  We ate barbecue, listened to the blues on Beale Street, got freaky-deaky palm readings done, went to Graceland and maybe kissed a boy or two. We still have memories that can spark instantaneous laughter about our foolish ways.  It was truly a charmed trip.

The highlight, however, was unquestionably our visit to the National Civil Rights Museum, which is situated at the site of the Lorraine Motel where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated.  I’ve now been to the museum twice, and I have told everyone I know that if they are ever in Memphis, they must go.  In fact, I would say if you are an activist, a social worker, a teacher, or anyone who is committed to the human race, you must make plans to go.  It’s that good.

As is often the case when Mindy and I go to a museum, we were not moving at the same pace and this particular day was no exception.  This is because I like to take it all in and really absorb it – for about a good solid hour – and then my short attention span starts to kick in and mess with my head.  Mindy, on the other hand, prefers to move at the speed of a glacier (pre-global warming, mind you) and read Every. Single. Word.  (Don’t even get me started on the six hours we once spent at the Smithsonian Holocaust Museum.  Don’t get me wrong – I loved it.  But wow.  Six hours.  Whew.)

About two hours in at the National Civil Rights Museum, I had run out of things to occupy my time and maintain my sanity, and I was ever-so-patiently waiting for Mindy to catch up to me.  (This ever-so-patient waiting probably included a fair amount of sighing, eye rolling, and internal dialogue that sounded a lot like muttering.)  I could see in the corner of my eye that Mindy was engaged in conversation with someone.  Dear Lord, I thought.  Who on earth is she talking to?  

As it turned out, Mindy had been talking to a gentleman by the name of the Reverend Billy Kyles.  She introduced me to him and explained that he knew a thing or two about this museum and had asked us to stick around for a talk he was going to give in a few minutes.  Let me be the first to admit, at that point it seemed that Mindy’s slower museum pace was going to glean some benefits.

What happened next turned out to be one of the more profound experiences of my adult life.  At the outset of Reverend Kyles’ talk, he explained that he is the last living witness to Dr. King’s assassination.  (A note to any fact-checking readers:  Jesse Jackson had been at the Lorraine Motel that day as well, but had left just minutes prior.)  Now a pastor in Memphis, Reverend Kyles considered Dr. King a personal friend and feels a deep commitment to use any opportunity he can to carry his message forward.

Reverend Kyles walked our group over to a replica of the hotel room that Dr. King had stayed in, which was depicted exactly as it was the day that he was assassinated.  He pointed out to each of us there that the room included empty beer cans and a dirty ash tray.  He made it clear that Dr. King was not only a legend, he was a man with weaknesses of his own to overcome.  (He stopped short of mentioning Dr. King’s well-documented philandering, and I imagined at the time he was probably strictly adhering to a “bro code” even 36 years after his death.  There is no statute of limitations on bro code, right?)

Reverend Kyles’ message to all of us there that day was clear and compelling.  It would be easy for all of us to look at the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and to hold him to a higher standard than one we hold for ourselves.  He had a doctorate and a pulpit. He had political connections.  He was one of the greatest orators not only of his own time, but possibly of all time.  But Reverend Kyles cautioned us, to compare ourselves to Dr. King in this way does ourselves or our society no good whatsoever. Rather, he told us, we must all take responsibility for our part in the solution. We all have weaknesses as Dr. King did, and we all have great power within us as well.  Not only must we not engage in overt racism of any sort, we also must not quietly stand by and tolerate racism on the part of others. Reverend Kyles left us with a clear message that above all else, we must be a conduit of compassion to human kind.

Mindy and I left the museum that day with lumps in our throats and a feeling of utter disbelief in our hearts.  How was it that we intersected at that museum at that exact moment to have that precise experience?  It was truly remarkable and at the risk of sounding dramatic, I would say it was life-changing.  It seemed implausible that I – little Jenny Swearingen who grew up on a farm in the middle of Iowa – would have but one degree of separation from a man I’d spent all of my adult life admiring, a man who had died a tragic death before I was even born.

We went back to our hotel room that afternoon and I knew in my heart that the universe works in mysterious and beautiful ways.  All the proof I ever needed had just happened right before my eyes.

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A New Pair of Specs

Posted on January 19, 2015 | Leave a comment

Twenty-nine years ago I lost my mom, and not a day has gone by that I have not thought of her. My life was forever changed, in some ways for the worse, and I suppose in others for the better. This is worthy of re-posting in memory of her.

Jennifer Wittwer's avatarjenerationwhy.me

On January 19, 1986 I got a new pair of specs.  Things have never looked the same since.

The almost seventeen years of my life leading up to this day could hardly be described as normal, and yet our family had achieved its own unique brand of normal.  With my dad’s forever compromised health, there were ample and regular doses of worry and angst.  Even so, like any family we laughed, we fought, we played and we laughed some more.  We kind of had it figured out, in our own weird way.  It worked.

Then seemingly out of nowhere, what started out as an annoying cough for my mom was then diagnosed as bronchitis, then pneumonia and finally mesothelioma – a deadly and rapid growing cancer from exposure to asbestos.  Three days from this diagnosis to her departure – that was all we had.  Three days!  In what felt like…

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Smart Like a Golden Retriever

Posted on January 18, 2015 | Leave a comment

I’ve learned a whole lot of things professionally over the years, and one of them is this:  People at the top of the food chain can have some mighty fragile egos. I’m not sure why this is, but I promise you it is a true story.  I’ve been in the center of many insecurity-driven ego storms before, and if nothing else it has helped me to fine tune my diplomacy and validation skills.  Look, we all have insecurities, right?  To be successful, it is imperative to know how to best manage them – in yourself, and perhaps more importantly, in others.

There is a descriptor of a specific strategy of human interaction that refers to being “dumb like a fox.”  While that is all well and good, it seems to depict a cunning nature that is prone to trickery.  I’m not about that, because I do believe – naive though it may be – that authenticity is still the paved way to honorable success.  So instead of being dumb like a fox, I’ve decided that I want to be smart like a Golden Retriever.

I had a dog once who I had claimed was of the “big, dumb, yellow” variety.  He was actually half Golden Retriever and half Yellow Lab.  His name was Jethro, and he was 105 pounds of pure love.  It was impossible not to love Jethro.  He was happy, he was playful, he had an unbridled adoration for anyone in his midst.  No matter who you were, he liked you and he wanted to be around you and had only good thoughts of you.  It’s no wonder he was so universally loved by all. There was nothing not to like.

So I’ve decided that this Golden Retriever mentality – one of being pleasant, consistently loving, and maybe knocked down an intellectual notch or two – is really the way to disarm the fragile egos.  As I told my friend the other night, “Sometimes to be truly smart, you have to play a little dumb.”  That is very different than being dumb – I have no time for that.  But to display humility, to not need to be right all the time (even when you know you are), and to express an openness to learning from anyone who wants to teach you – that is the golden ticket, my friends.

And so, as much as I can, I am going to be just that.  I will be sitting faithfully by your side, wagging my tail, and hoping you will ask me to play.  I’m smart like that.

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WWLD

Posted on January 11, 2015 | Leave a comment

A group of us – cousins, second cousins, siblings, aunts and uncles – were assembled in my sister’s basement for the Milwaukee version of Cousins Weekend.  Somewhere in the course of normal conversation, my cousin’s wife Brenda revealed the impossible:  She was (accidentally, so she claims) growing dozens and dozens of mushrooms in her yard and garden that looked just like a penis. Waves of uncontrollable laughter ensued.  Joke after joke was made about Brenda spending a little too much time out in the yard and asking why she was seen applying lipstick before tending to her flower beds. Each new person entering the basement meant that the the telling of a new and more embellished version of the story was required. It was, as they say, the gift that kept on giving.

I took a break from the nonsense to head upstairs where things were a little less raucous.  There sat my Aunt Lois, quietly visiting with a couple of other family members and looking perfectly content.  I asked how she was doing, and she said that hearing her family’s laughter wafting up the stairs was all she ever hoped for.  And you know what?  It was.  (Never mind that she would have been appalled at how un-ladylike our conversation was.  That is beside the point.)

The kind of togetherness our family has doesn’t just happen by accident. It is nurtured, cultivated, and harvested by skillful hearts – hearts like that of Aunt Lois.  Hearts that love their family so much they remove all the seeds from the cubed watermelon in the fruit salad they have lovingly prepared for that day’s feast. Who does that, you ask?  Aunt Lois – that’s who.  It is a love so precious and so rare that it is truly like no other.

Tonight the news of Aunt Lois’s serious health challenges have the whole family scared to bits, because she is the pillar we all gather around.  My cousin and I keep checking in and riding waves of tears and laughter together.  We are all thinking that we don’t even have to stop and ask ourselves, “What Would Lois Do?”  We already know – she would kneel down and faithfully pray.  And so is just what we are doing.

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The O.G. of the O.G.

Posted on January 6, 2015 | Leave a comment

My friend Matt and I seriously love us some Olive Garden, and our friends like to poke and jab us about it.  You know what, though?  We don’t care.  We scoff at their ribbing and give each other a knowing shrug as if to say, “Haters love to hate.”  We are comfortable with basking in mediocrity.

So tonight was one of those famed O.G. nights, and there was a lot to catch up on.  We had a new waitress and we had to bring her up to speed:  1)  We need lots of extra vegetables in our salad; 2)  It’s funnier if you pretend to be our tour guide on the Tour of Italy; 3) We will ask you if you have ever known anyone to get married in an Olive Garden (because apparently this happens, who knew?) and 4) We also need lots of extra chocolate mints at the end of our meal.  We are a demanding duo, but we do it with a smile so that makes it okay.

This particular evening we were chatting with our newbie waitress, and we mentioned that she had a lot to live up to if she was going to be counted among the likes of our favorite waiter, Maurice.  Her eyes lit up and she said she knew Maurice, that he was in the restaurant tonight and that everyone was sad because he was moving to Florida.  Given this utterly devastating news, we had her send Maurice over to the table right away.  This was some serious business.

Just so everyone understands, Maurice is the kind of waiter you can banter with, and that is my favorite kind of wait staff of all.  He is not stuffy or stodgy, and he goes above and beyond to make his customers happy.  He is also, as the kids would say, “totes adorbs.”  He is probably twenty years too young for me, but even that hasn’t put him outside the realm of possibility in my mind as a future love interest – he just that cool. Or I’m just that cougarish.  Or whatever.  I digress.  My point is, Maurice is the man. We love him.

Tonight, Maurice made my night, my week, maybe even my month or year.  Upon greeting us, he gave us big, genuine hugs and proceeded to tell us about this news that he is moving to Florida.  He had been approached to go to the Orlando corporate flagship Olive Garden to be on a fast track for management. This was no surprise to me, because after all, the kid’s got it.  But then he said the most astounding thing.  He said that a couple of months ago, there was a staff meeting of all the Olive Garden staff, and the managers read aloud a Yelp review that I (yes, me!) had written.  The review was a mediocre review of Olive Garden (I mean really, it is Olive Garden) but a glowing review of Maurice.  He said, “I’m a pretty tough guy, but when they read that to me and all the staff I thought I was going to cry.” He said that restaurant reviews and comments come in on the corporate website all the time, but this was one of the first glowing reviews a staff person had received on Yelp, making it all the more noteworthy.

Maurice left our table and Matt and I looked at each other simply stunned.  Matt remarked that my Yelp review – a review I wrote in jest as a dare from another friend – might have changed this guy’s life. Now I can’t say that for sure, because Maurice is pretty amazing in his own right and was going places on his own without any help from me.  But someone else taking the time to notice his greatness and point it out? That probably didn’t hurt.

And so, on the heels of yesterday’s observations in Every Little Thing, I must say this:  Not only does every little thing we say matter, we must always remember that every little thing we say can be incredibly powerful, too.  Maurice – our Original Gangster of the Olive Garden – just told me so.

For the slightly more curious, feel free to read my Yelp review.

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Every Little Thing

Posted on January 4, 2015 | Leave a comment

I was talking to a fellow colleague recently, and he told a story about how he landed a job for which he didn’t even yet meet the qualifications.  He applied on a whim out of sheer desperation, as he was jobless and had a growing family to support.  Much to his surprise, he got an interview and an almost immediate offer thereafter.  He didn’t fully understand what had happened until several months down the road.  He learned well after the fact that someone at his new place of employment had remembered him from a connection years prior.  He had been working as a Teaching Assistant at a local university, and she had called to express frustrations about the instructor for whom he was working.  They had a ten minute phone conversation that he could barely remember years later.  But apparently that ten minute conversation had been so comforting to the woman he now worked with, she had convinced the leader of her team he was a worthy hire – even without the proper credentials in place yet.

Wow.

What happened thereafter is that this individual was hired, he quickly proved himself to his peers, and he was on the track for promotions and many other professional accolades.  Not only that, he confessed that he may have in fact landed himself in the most perfect place to match his professional skills and interests.  When he was in the midst of his job search, he had applied for other jobs that were a better match, at least on paper, and had been outright rejected without so much as an interview. He was grateful in retrospect for those rejections, because he could not imagine being any more passionate or fulfilled than he was at his current job.

Double wow.

There were many things that struck me about his story.  Certainly, there are lessons in karma and even the law of attraction in there, if you are into those sorts of things.  But on a more practical level, this occurred to me:  Every little thing we do matters.  I would say this is true personally and professionally, and this man’s story is a prime example.  An interaction he had years prior – an interaction where he had nothing to gain and nothing to prove – would catapult him into a perfect opportunity years later.  What if he had been hurried, dismissive, impatient or even distracted during that ten minute phone call?  The trajectory of his life could have changed.

It’s a lot of pressure to assume that every little thing matters, and yet it is not.  As my very wise friend recently pointed out, it is the difference between resolution and habit.  Good professionalism is a habit. My advice to you is this:   Be kind.  Be patient.  Be flexible.  Be helpful.  Be courteous.  And if you can’t do all that, take pause until you can.  You just never know how your choices will come back to you. Your consistently pleasant disposition may be the best insurance policy of all for your future.

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Top Ten of Jen – 2014

Posted on January 1, 2015 | Leave a comment

Life.  I spend a lot of time thinking about it.  Don’t we all?  I think that life is grand and complex, and I also think that it is comprised of thousands of tiny remarkable moments.  This past year had a whole host of rich, invigorating, heart-warming moments.  In no particular order, here are my ten favorite moments of 2014.

1)  Patio Perfection.  I declared 2014 to be “The Year of the Patio.”  This sounds a little more exciting than perhaps it actually was, but it included new furniture, new throw pillows, new planters and some professional landscaping.  That was all well and good, but The Year of the Patio also served as host to a moment I loved.  After a delicious dinner one night with five of my favorite people, we all sat together in quiet solitude and strung together the custom up-cycled strings of lights my brother-in-law David made to complete my vision of patio perfection.  The assembly line quickly became a well-oiled machine and the lights were put together in very little time.  Moments later, David and my friend Fern hung the lights on my house as I stood back to take it all in.  I saw whimsy, bright colors and a patio that suited my taste. What I saw more than that, however, was a group of people I love deeply and who love me back, all working together to bring that moment’s vision of happiness to life. I tell you, there is no better feeling one can have.

2)  A Ban Lifted.  In June something happened in Wisconsin that was long overdue and a wonderful development:  the state’s ban on gay marriage was lifted.  The timing was impeccable because it occurred the day that Pride Fest was commencing.  I was on the other side of the state when news came through that this had occurred, and I was instantly beside myself with joy.  So many friends and people I hold dear would now have equal opportunity to marry – it was truly a beautiful thing.  Later that same day, I learned that my friends Matt and Fernando had rushed to the courthouse and gotten married, much like many other couples in Wisconsin.  Because I wasn’t home at the time, I could not be there with them.  So what I did instead was get on the road early that Sunday morning so I could make it back in time for the Pride parade.  I knew Matt and Fern were walking in the parade and so I quietly waited for them, then ran out in the street to hug them when they made their way toward me. Surprising them to share in their joy and standing in the streets of Milwaukee hugging and crying was a most incredible feeling.  It was as if the vibrational energy of our whole community had elevated as justice was served.  Even though on so many fronts we still have far to go, I am so happy that I got to see this happen in my lifetime.

3)  BFF Time.  I spend time with my life-long best friend Mindy every year, usually more than once. This year was no different.  We met up in the summer for a weekend of shenanigans, and I went to see her again in the fall when she needed me and I needed to be there for her in that moment.  We spent a day dilly-dallying all over eastern Iowa and ultimately landed in our college town bar on the Saturday afternoon of what happened to be Homecoming weekend.  We sat in a booth and drank cheap, crappy drinks. We shared our tales of woe and our vision for a happy life and everything in between.  And at least four times during that hour long conversation, I laughed so hard I had to put my head down on the formica table and wipe away tears of laughter.  It’s just so amazing to have someone in your life who you can say anything to.  Anything.  At all.  Does not matter how sassy or crass it is. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this friendship or the freedom that comes with it, but it is one of my life’s greatest blessings.

4)  Kissin’ Cousins.  OK, we don’t have kissing cousins in our family – at least not that I know of. But we do have an awesome group of family members who like to be together and we make a point to do it with some frequency.  This year we resumed our annual Cousins Weekend in Spooner, Wisconsin.  It is a tradition that we all love, and it incorporates a lot of hanging out, pontooning, getting sun-soaked, eating, laughing and storytelling.  There was a precise moment of hilarity during this year’s Cousins Weekend that is etched in my memory.  My cousin Joel, my brother-in-law David and I were playing a rousing game of Qwirkle, which is a strategy game that involves matching shapes and colors.  Joel and I were ramping up the smack-talking with one another and relishing each and every “Qwirkle-tunity.” We were laughing so much that everyone in the vicinity joined in on the laughter and fun.  It was wholesome and pure and everything I love about my family.  More, please.  I need more of that.

5)  Nashville Cats.  In July my sister, brother-in-law and I took a trip to Nashville to see our friends Kate and Eric.  We have been to visit them several times, and each visit brings new adventure. This trip was no exception.  We saw a bluegrass show at the Ryman Auditorium, went to the Johnny Cash Museum, went to Jack White’s incredible record store, did some shopping, ate great meals and maybe one night drank (way) too much.  The entire weekend, there were repeated reminders of my dad, who would have surely loved everything about Nashville. It was notable because the specific weekend we were there was the anniversary of his passing so many years ago.  This all culminated for me when I stopped at a grocery store with Kate and Eric, and upon entering the store my dad’s favorite song “Aimee” was playing on the radio.  I had just experienced sign after sign after sign that Dad was with us and this one blew me away.  I strolled through the store looking for ingredients for our dinner and periodically wiped away my tears.  I miss that man every day, but he is always by my side.  I was grateful for this reminder.

6)  A Challenge Met.  In January I decided I was going to set a new crazy challenge for myself: Write 52 blogs in 52 weeks.  I was inspired by my friend Jan who has more than once now written 100 blogs in 100 days.  I pretty much stayed on course with one blog per week, and found this relatively challenging, enlightening and very, very fun.  The weeks I traveled or felt I had nothing to say got me a little behind, and then in November Jan came at me with yet another challenge:  30 blogs in 30 days. I was hesitant, but honestly I needed to make up some ground anyway.  So I dug in, and met that challenge, too.  It was haaaaaaaaaard.  Not every day, but many days, and I think that pushing through that was in fact the beauty of it.  I realized at the end of this exercise that I have more to say than perhaps I originally thought and that by writing with greater frequency, my storytelling and my writing skills improve significantly, as does my thoughtful observation of the world.  The precise moment of meeting a big challenge – when I hit 52 in even less than 52 weeks – was a great feeling. Onto the next writing challenge…whatever shall it be?  Stay tuned.

7)  A New-Old Friend.  In addition to the wonderful Mindy, I have another friend who has known me almost my whole life and is still part of my life to this day.  Her name is Ellen, and she is beautiful, sassy, smart and funny.  Even though we grew up in Iowa, Ellen and I both ended up living near Milwaukee.  Even so, our lives were so full and so different, we typically only saw each other once or twice a year.  All that changed this year, when Ellen went through a personally challenging time and we reconnected in an incredible way.  There were dinners and overnights and parties that were all very fun.  But my favorite moment with Ellen was one night when we were instant messaging one another. The conversation turned sassy (hard to believe, I know) and we were laughing so hard at each of our computers that Ellen claims she actually frightened her cat.  As I pointed out to her some months later – sometimes when something bad happens, something wonderful happens at the exact same time.  A renewed friendship with someone who knows your past is a glorious thing.  Thanks, universe.  (And Ellen.)

8)  One Happy Memory.  My sister and I made a commitment this year to take a trip using some money we had inherited from our step-mother earlier in the year.  It was an unexpected windfall, and we were determined to create a happy memory with it.  After months of planning, we set out for a ten day tour of the Pacific Northwest and our first stop was Vancouver, British Columbia.  Vancouver is a stunning, cosmopolitan city and we loved everything about it.  Our second night there, we set out to find some sushi which wasn’t hard to do.  After considerable research, we landed on a little hole in the wall restaurant called “Sushi Mart” with long, plain tables, fluorescent lights, counter service and zero ambiance.  That being said, we had the opportunity to gorge ourselves on and incredible platter of sushi for less than $20.  Even better, Jess and I had an incredible conversation about life, love and the pursuit of happiness.  That’s what this trip was all about, right there.  Love, love, love.

9)  Two Happy Memories.  After Vancouver, Jess and I hopped on the train and made our way to Seattle, Washington.  Quite unexpectedly, I loved this city.  I mean I loved, loved, loved it.  We met up with friends who were local to the area and our travel partner for the next leg of the trip, my friend Vance.  One afternoon, we hit up the Chihuly Garden and Glass Museum.  Glass is my favorite artistic medium, and Chihuly is the master to end all masters of it.  There was a moment in the museum where we turned a corner to enter a new exhibit, and it was so stunning that I think it took my breath away. There was another moment at the same museum when Vance I returned at nightfall to see the outdoor garden exhibit in all its colorful lit-up glory and I’m pretty sure I was breathless again.  I could spend days in this magical place.

10)  Three Happy Memories.  We left Seattle and made our way toward Portland, Oregon where plenty more fun with friends and family awaited us.  But before we got to Portland, we spent a night on the Oregon coast in a sleepy little resort town named Manzanita.  We went to the local grocery store and purchased bread, cheese, a couple bottles of pretty low-brow wine and some cheap plastic glasses to drink from.  Jess ducked out early, but Vance and I sat at the beach for hours drinking, talking and mostly quietly taking in the powerful beauty of a rugged coastline and crashing waves.  It was the kind of moment that has a way of making your life feel big and small at the same time.  It was humbling and awe-inspiring, and precisely what my soul needed at that moment in time.

So for each precious moment I experienced in 2014 – some described in this blog and so many more that were not – my heart remains full and my life better than ever.  If happiness is the goal – and I believe that it is the only one that really matters – I am almost always there.  To which I simply say to the universe, my creators and all the people who contribute to it – thank you.  Each passing day and year leaves me more and more humbled.

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The Dirty Thirty

Posted on November 30, 2014 | 2 comments

On November 1st, my friend and blogging mentor Jan sent out a blogging throwdown challenge to another friend and me:  30 blogs in 30 days. Unbeknownst to me, November is a big month for writers.  Blogging website BlogHer was hosting their “NaBloPoMo” (National Blog Posting Month) challenge, and apparently a whole lot of writers take the month of November to write a 50,000 word novel.  Who knew?  Now mind you, Jan has already done the decathalon of blogging twice by completing 100 bogs in 100 days.  Thirty in thirty days was chump change to her. To me, however 30 in 30 days was a big deal.  But, my pride was at stake and I had some catching up to do if I was going to meet my previous self-imposed challenge of 52 blogs during the course of 2014.  Challenge accepted.

I started the challenge a day late because her challenge was presented to me late in the day and I had company in from out of town.  So On November 2nd, I wrote two blogs and from that day forward, I wrote a blog a day every day thereafter.  Let me tell you, it was haaaaaaaaaaard. There was more than one day that I whined about it to my fellow throwdown companion.  There was more than one night that I sat with my laptop perched upon my lap, cats softly purring at my side, staring at the blinking cursor on my screen for what felt like hours on end.  And twice, I feel that I “cheated” by writing a 33-word challenge – I simply didn’t have the time or the energy to write anything grander than that on those days.

But….but.  I did it, with this entry I have written 30 blogs in 30 days, and I am very excited to have met this challenge!  Not only that, but I actually wrote several pieces that I love.  If I had written at my usual pace of one per week, I would have written four blogs at most – and it is doubtful I would love all four.  But now, I wrote 30, and I think at least five are keepers.  Thus proving the point: the more you write, the better you write. Lesson learned.

As for the clunkers I churned out, I simply offer a sincere apology to my faithful readers.  I know that I clogged up my Facebook feed with daily blog posts and nothing more…who has time to write clever status updates when you have blogging assignments to complete?  I promise I will get back to my old, sassy self starting tomorrow.  In fact, I will start thinking of something hilarious to post right away.

But in case you missed them, or you are wondering what my favorites are from the last month, here they are in no particular order:
1. A Single Girl’s Guide to Not Finding Love
2. Fiddlesticks
3. A Healing Hug
4. Rocking Chairs and Gold
5. I Am Running for Mayor

Thanks for hanging in there with me for the last month, everyone…and happiest of holidays to you!

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Oh Tannembaum

Posted on November 30, 2014 | Leave a comment

I love seeing the inside of homes, especially once I get to know a person. I think a home is reflective of who the person is.  Are they messy?  Neat? Layered?  Readers? Entertainers?  There is so much you can tell in just a quick walk-through….I guess it really appeals to the nosy side of me.  I love my little home, and per my own assessment, I would have to think it says this about me:  Colorful! Whimsical! Bright! Modest! and Hyper-organized!

As I was trimming the tree today (as in decorating it, not anything involving a power saw), it occurred to me that one’s Christmas tree may also reflect the individual to whom it belongs.  There are people who go all out, year after year – new decorations, new theme, new levels of extravagance. There are people who have more than one tree – a tree for every room, even!  And then there are people like me, who delight in having the same old tree, year after year.  I like tradition to include a little of the expected and the ordinary.

So as I reflected on this today, I realized that this is what my Christmas tree says about me:

I like convenience.  My friends and family tease me because I love all things convenient.  And really, if you have the option, why would you not?  I pay someone to mow my lawn – a life-changing decision I made three years ago.  I have my Chinese food delivered to me rather than going out in the elements to get it myself.  So a few years ago, in line with my adoration of convenience, I decided enough with this “real tree” nonsense.  It doesn’t suit me.  It’s hard to find a good tree, and even a “good tree” can be a “bad tree” once you get it home.  It’s too tempting for the cats to use as a scratching post and knock it over (which of course has really happened).  Real trees drop needles everywhere that are still sticking around by the 4th of July.  I broke down after a few years of resistance and got an artificial tree. Three easy clicks and a flip of the switch and voila!  Convenient holiday cheer.  I love it! There is no turning back.


I am a sentimental fool.  Putting up the tree is a walk down memory lane.  I have ornaments from my childhood.  I have ornaments that friends gave me.  But some of my favorite ornaments of all are the ones my mother and grandmother made for me.  I have a set of ceramic holiday mice that are in all kinds of silly holiday situations interspersed throughout my tree.  They warm my heart and remind me of my humble roots.  This one sleeping in the matchbox is my all-time favorite.

I love to travel.  There are a whole bunch of things I like to do in this beautiful life of mine, but traveling is near the top of the list.  I love to travel to a new city and spend four days tearing it apart, finding every tiny little thing that city has to celebrate.  In the past, I used to buy all kinds of things when I would travel.  Over the years, however, I’ve simplified.  I now typically buy myself just one thing when I travel:  a new Christmas ornament depicting that place.  So now, years later, my tree is filled with all kinds of happy memories.  Each year, it is a delight to remember trips from the past and unwrap the new ornaments I’ve acquired for the year.  The new ornaments always go front and center on the tree. This year I added Seattle and Multnomah Falls, which is just outside of Portland, Oregon.  Such happy memories!

I am loyal.  I hope this is something the people closest to me know and understand…deeply.  I think loyalty is very important in this complicated world.  In any relationship – family, friends, colleagues – there will be times when the relationship may be tested. Times that are hard or unpleasant where you have to stand by one another.  I am that friend.  I will come see you at the hospital.  I will bring a platter of Jimmy Johns sandwiches when you move.  I will listen to you tell your tales of woe over and over.  And, it turns out, I will still hang you on my tree year after year, even when one of your legs fell off.  (Sorry, Northshore of Lake Superior Santa – you may be an amputee but I still love you.)

I have a sense of humor.  Maybe I don’t take life seriously enough, but really – if you are not laughing, what is the point?  I don’t get being anything other than happy, if I can help it.  And so, I try to add a little whimsy to everything I do.  I like to be a little weird.  I like to crack jokes at inappropriate times.  I like to work the room.  It’s just who I am.  When it comes to my Christmas tree, I like to think that the Elvis ornament I got in Memphis (one of the most fun trips I ever took with my best friend) really sets the tone.  Love you. Elvis.  And for the record, I could not agree more – we could use a little less conversation and a lot more action.

So all of that being said, Christmas is a time to reflect on all that matters. The life I’ve built for myself is full.  It has love and laughter and meaning. It’s funny how something as simple as an ordinary tree can depict all that, and yet somehow it does.  So from my house to yours…enjoy this wonderful holiday season.  Here is my tree in all its glory:

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