As I arrive at the end of my fourth week at my new job, I thought it might be wise to jot down a few thoughts and impressions on my life, career and family. Concerning life, I’m very much in a happy, content place right now. Relaxed and comfortable are the two terms that most readily come to my mind. Am I still single? Yes. Am I OK with that? Yes, actually, I am. When it’s right, it will be right and until then, I’m enjoying time with my family and friends, doing the things that enlighten, excite or just plain entertain me.
The family couldn’t be better right now. Both boys are settling into school nicely. Although, I’m running my tail off to soccer and football practices. Everyone is elated about the impending additions to the extended family from my baby brother and my two cousins. Babies. Babies. Babies. I couldn’t have started working for an infant formula company at a better time. Funny how that’s worked out.
Now on to the fun and exciting part, the new job. Culturally, it is a foil of the environment that I came from. Some of that is probably due to the fact that I reside in the corporate office and not at a manufacturing site. People here aren’t directly tied to production or a product, so they aren’t under the constant strain to produce, produce, produce at lower and lower costs with fewer and fewer people. But, even the mindset at the plants is very different from the commodity, drive to a lower cost, maintain minimal margin mentality that I came from.
We build a product that helps babies live. We help them thrive. Quality is absolutely the number one priority and it is never sacrificed…not under any circumstances. Wow! Defect ratios? PPMs for field failures? Total cost of quality? What are those? They just don’t exist in this company. Yes, reject, scrap and rework exist, but only at the plant level or if a product isn’t purchased before it’s expiration date. Do we strive to reduce in plant waste? Absolutely. But, the pressure is more on producing to demand and on innovation, developing products that make a difference for babies and their families.
Everyday, I wait for the curtain to fall so that I can see people that are cynical, beaten down, unhappy or just plain tired and mistrustful. I must say that I’m happy bleakness and disparity are not present here. Is there pressure to be more efficient? To maintain market share? Increase profits and revenue? Yes, and it’s stressful, but in a really good, I make a difference and I’m important kind of way. People are treated with dignity and respect. Everyone is a contributor and everyone does their part to live up to those expectations. It’s a thing of beauty that the lifers here do not appreciate.
Finally, I commend the company on assembling what I truly believe is a diverse and balanced work force. With the exception of the “top” floor, the glass ceiling does not exist here…not for anyone....regardless of sex, creed or nationality. Individual thought and creativity are rewarded and encouraged. It’s an amazing thing.
Perhaps, this is what many employees experienced in the 50s and 60s, but it seems a rare commodity now, to find a place where people enjoy their jobs, look forward to coming to work, where their individual contributions make a difference.
As many of my friends can attest to, I truly believe that you reap what you sow. Everyday, I make a conscience effort to be positive and to appreciate the many gifts that I have in my life. My life isn’t perfect; it never will be. But, that is why it is just perfect me.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Finding Happiness
Increasingly, I am aware of a staggering number of family, friends and co-workers that seem to be struggling with their lives, searching for the magic place known as happiness. And, I must confess that I am often in the trenches with them. Fortunately, I’m eternally optimistic and have strove to perfect the practice of self-evaluation and introspection over the last several years. Whether from maturity or natural sensitivity, I have for many years clung to the belief that I had to be happy with myself, first and foremost.
Curious as to why I write on this topic today? Well, I happened across an insightful and easily readable piece on Oprah.com, “The Truth about Magic Lists.” ( http://www.oprah.com/spiritself/omag/ss_omag_200802_mbeck.jhtml) The piece was written by Martha Beck, a life coach and published author. The piece struck a nerve with me because it speaks so openly about the difference between what we want on the surface and what truly makes us happy and fulfilled as human beings. Her contention that “….no external person, place or thing can ‘make’ us happy.” is exactly what I’ve been telling myself for years.
Perhaps, this is why over the last several months, as I’ve finally allowed myself to relax, to enjoy my family and friendships, as I’ve learned to love my body as it is and without recriminations, as I’ve let go of trying to please everyone else and worrying about monetary possessions, that I’ve finally started to feel some small measure of true peace and joy. Not happiness based on someone else’s attention or approval, not contentment due to financial independence, but sheer joy in the connections of my life, in who I am, what I may become, who I love and treasure.
And, I think it is for this same reason that the flood gate of positivity has finally swung my way. No longer lost in the shadows of self doubt and insecurity, I’m finally the positive influence that I always knew that I could be. Am I blissfully happy with everything in my life? Of course not. There are so many things that I still want to accomplish and experiment with, but I’m happy with myself.
So, according to Ms. Beck, now is the time for me to make my Magic List. It won’t contain a physical description of Mr. Right. It won’t contain a manifest of monetary possessions. A description of the perfect job with an obscene salary will be noticeable absent. My happiness lies with me…I want family, friends, comfort, companionship, understanding, joy, fun, amusement, challenges, passion and security.
Wish me luck! But, I don’t think that I’ll need it.
Curious as to why I write on this topic today? Well, I happened across an insightful and easily readable piece on Oprah.com, “The Truth about Magic Lists.” ( http://www.oprah.com/spiritself/omag/ss_omag_200802_mbeck.jhtml) The piece was written by Martha Beck, a life coach and published author. The piece struck a nerve with me because it speaks so openly about the difference between what we want on the surface and what truly makes us happy and fulfilled as human beings. Her contention that “….no external person, place or thing can ‘make’ us happy.” is exactly what I’ve been telling myself for years.
Perhaps, this is why over the last several months, as I’ve finally allowed myself to relax, to enjoy my family and friendships, as I’ve learned to love my body as it is and without recriminations, as I’ve let go of trying to please everyone else and worrying about monetary possessions, that I’ve finally started to feel some small measure of true peace and joy. Not happiness based on someone else’s attention or approval, not contentment due to financial independence, but sheer joy in the connections of my life, in who I am, what I may become, who I love and treasure.
And, I think it is for this same reason that the flood gate of positivity has finally swung my way. No longer lost in the shadows of self doubt and insecurity, I’m finally the positive influence that I always knew that I could be. Am I blissfully happy with everything in my life? Of course not. There are so many things that I still want to accomplish and experiment with, but I’m happy with myself.
So, according to Ms. Beck, now is the time for me to make my Magic List. It won’t contain a physical description of Mr. Right. It won’t contain a manifest of monetary possessions. A description of the perfect job with an obscene salary will be noticeable absent. My happiness lies with me…I want family, friends, comfort, companionship, understanding, joy, fun, amusement, challenges, passion and security.
Wish me luck! But, I don’t think that I’ll need it.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Feminism in the New Millennium - Part I
Yesterday’s blog elicited such a strong response that I felt it was prudent to follow up my “Is women’s liberation a crock?” blog with a more in-depth explanation of my intent when writing it. What has surprised me so greatly is the number of men that have very strong opinions on the subject, demonstrating once again, that perspective definitely colors our perception of reality.
First of all, I am a bitch. Part of the manifesto’s premise is that women do and should self classify themselves as such. It is perhaps wise for me to define why I am a bitch, as there appears to be some confusion, perpetuated by my giving only a sampling of Ms. Freeman’s work. (The entire piece can be read and reviewed at Jo Freeman.com.) My self definition, as a bitch, is not derogatory in any way. It serves only to define who and what I am and embraces the independent spirit of the feminist movement.
Personality - I am aggressive, assertive and strong-minded, blunt, candid and hard-headed. Through the years, I’ve learned to restrain my competitive drive and boisterousness to a certain extent, but I am still driven, ambitious and demanding. Ms. Freeman states, “A bitch occupies a lot of psychological space. You always know she is around.” My friends can attest to my embodiment of the statement. I live it, breathe it and embrace it.
Physical - I am big, tall, strong, large, loud, and somewhat brash at times. I differ with Ms. Freeman when she states that bitches are ugly. I think this is perhaps one of the areas that I struggle with the most in my day to day life. Ugly for me is a choice. I choose to be pretty, feminine in appearance and well put together.
Orientation - Always striving to be a subject, rather than an object, my identity is clearly defined by my own actions, behaviors and attributes. I am not your wife; I am Christine. I am not your girlfriend; I am Christine. I am not Kendall’s mother; I am Christine. I choose to fulfill the role of wife, mother or girlfriend, but first and foremost, I am Christine. It is a very subtle difference that is often overlooked by the population at large.
Proudly, I wear the badge of a bitch, because I choose to, not because someone defines me as such. And, it is not by their definition, but my own that I choose to live.
The purpose of the blog was not to complain that life isn’t fair or that I’m tired of being judged and classified, but rather to lift up a voice to state that I choose not to fit the stereotype, the role defined by the feminist movement. My choice is to fight, daily, to maintain a balance between the traditional woman and the feminist.
The purpose of the blog was to declare at the top of my lungs that I want more. But, then again, perhaps, what I want is less, less independence and more of a partnership, less competition and more cooperation.
My opinion is that the feminist movement was about striving for more. Woman wanted their own identity, their own self-worth and self-reliance. Many of us now have that. What I’ve learned is that I don’t want or need everything on my own. The pendulum has swung from one extreme to the other and I find that what I want is to be in the middle. I do not want to dominate, but I want to be equal. I do not want to be militantly independent; I want to co-depend.
So, for the men in my life, friends, co-workers, family, my blog was not about bitching, but about embracing the spirit of the bitch, while proudly proclaiming that I’m still a woman, a little girl, a daughter, a mother and a friend.
For the women in my life, the blog was about validating the questions, shedding light on the struggle and opening a door for discussion and self discovery.
First of all, I am a bitch. Part of the manifesto’s premise is that women do and should self classify themselves as such. It is perhaps wise for me to define why I am a bitch, as there appears to be some confusion, perpetuated by my giving only a sampling of Ms. Freeman’s work. (The entire piece can be read and reviewed at Jo Freeman.com.) My self definition, as a bitch, is not derogatory in any way. It serves only to define who and what I am and embraces the independent spirit of the feminist movement.
Personality - I am aggressive, assertive and strong-minded, blunt, candid and hard-headed. Through the years, I’ve learned to restrain my competitive drive and boisterousness to a certain extent, but I am still driven, ambitious and demanding. Ms. Freeman states, “A bitch occupies a lot of psychological space. You always know she is around.” My friends can attest to my embodiment of the statement. I live it, breathe it and embrace it.
Physical - I am big, tall, strong, large, loud, and somewhat brash at times. I differ with Ms. Freeman when she states that bitches are ugly. I think this is perhaps one of the areas that I struggle with the most in my day to day life. Ugly for me is a choice. I choose to be pretty, feminine in appearance and well put together.
Orientation - Always striving to be a subject, rather than an object, my identity is clearly defined by my own actions, behaviors and attributes. I am not your wife; I am Christine. I am not your girlfriend; I am Christine. I am not Kendall’s mother; I am Christine. I choose to fulfill the role of wife, mother or girlfriend, but first and foremost, I am Christine. It is a very subtle difference that is often overlooked by the population at large.
Proudly, I wear the badge of a bitch, because I choose to, not because someone defines me as such. And, it is not by their definition, but my own that I choose to live.
The purpose of the blog was not to complain that life isn’t fair or that I’m tired of being judged and classified, but rather to lift up a voice to state that I choose not to fit the stereotype, the role defined by the feminist movement. My choice is to fight, daily, to maintain a balance between the traditional woman and the feminist.
The purpose of the blog was to declare at the top of my lungs that I want more. But, then again, perhaps, what I want is less, less independence and more of a partnership, less competition and more cooperation.
My opinion is that the feminist movement was about striving for more. Woman wanted their own identity, their own self-worth and self-reliance. Many of us now have that. What I’ve learned is that I don’t want or need everything on my own. The pendulum has swung from one extreme to the other and I find that what I want is to be in the middle. I do not want to dominate, but I want to be equal. I do not want to be militantly independent; I want to co-depend.
So, for the men in my life, friends, co-workers, family, my blog was not about bitching, but about embracing the spirit of the bitch, while proudly proclaiming that I’m still a woman, a little girl, a daughter, a mother and a friend.
For the women in my life, the blog was about validating the questions, shedding light on the struggle and opening a door for discussion and self discovery.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Is women's liberation a crock?
As I’ve moved past the uncertainty of my 20s and in to the calm and comfort of my mid-30s, I catch myself doing much reflection on who I am, what I want, and how I fit in the world in which I find myself. By and large, I feel good about myself, who I am, and what’ve accomplished. But, increasingly, I feel isolated and at odds with people’s perception of who and what I am or at least what they think that I should be.
In Jo Freeman’s, “The BITCH Manifesto”, originally published in the late 60’s, she talks about the duality that is a bitch; she is female, but never a true woman. She goes on to define the three basic characteristics of bitches. I have reproduced them in part below:
1) Personality. Bitches are aggressive, assertive, domineering, overbearing, strong-minded, spiteful, hostile, direct, blunt, candid; […] A bitch occupies a lot of psychological space. You always know she is around. A Bitch takes shit from no one. You may not like her, but you can’t ignore her.
2) Physical. Bitches are big, tall, strong, large, loud, brash, harsh; […] They have loud voices and often use them. Bitches are not pretty.
3) Orientation. Bitches seek their identity strictly thru themselves and what they do. They are subjects, not objects….They are independent cusses and believe they are capable of doing anything they damn well want to…. More often they are accused of domineering when doing what would be considered natural by a man.
According to Freeman, one must posses at least two of the qualities above in order to be considered a Bitch. “Their attitudes toward themselves and other people, their goal orientations, their personal style, their appearance and way of handling their bodies, all jar people and make them feel uneasy.” ~ J. Freeman
Much of what is contained within the manifesto strikes a powerful emotional cord with my psyche, but I believe that the pendulum of expectation has swung far and wide from the reality in which Ms. Freeman found herself in the mid 60s.
In the forty years since the feminist movement, much progress has been made by women to penetrate careers and occupations that were once male dominated. But, I wonder at what price? Why after 40 years are woman that are perhaps different, not quite as defined in the manifesto, still persecuted and made to feel uncomfortable and uneasy.
Why is it now wrong for a woman to want the role that was traditionally defined as female? I, often, feel guilty because I’m not happy, not completely satisfied, with my life as it exists today. Shouldn’t I be? I’m the very definition of a bitch in so many ways, the very type of woman that the feminist movement sought to uplift and liberate. I’m single, with a great job in a predominately male oriented field. I have two awesome kids and absolutely no one on the earth that I hold myself accountable too.
Why is it wrong for me to want a man in my life? The five years since my divorce have been driven by the primary purpose of proving that I don’t need a man in order to succeed, only to learn that success is not necessarily happiness and is often very hollow and unrewarding. Why can’t I want someone just to hold me? Protect me? Make a decision or two for me? Why does society dictate that I always lead?
Finally, I wonder if I’m the only woman in the world that feels this way. Am I the only one struggling with an identity that is both powerful and strong, yet vulnerable and sensitive?
The feminists believed that you could have it all…career, family, independence and that you didn’t need anyone but yourself in order to be happy, fulfilled, and successful. Now, 40 years later, I wonder if anyone has actually reached that magical balance or like me, do they have a million roles they are juggling and a sense that perhaps they are only performing each function at a certain level a mediocrity.
I’ll write more on this subject later. I have multiple topics in mind:
* Now that I posses the traits of a bitch, is there even a man out there that would want me?
* How much of my bitchiness am I willing compromise?
* Why can’t bitches get along? Home. Work. Socially.
* Why can’t bitches be pretty? Does it make me more intimidating than the societally approved bitch if I am pretty or feminine?
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Withdrawal???
If this is what withdrawal is like, I'm glad that I've never experimented with drugs….
As some of you know, I was phone-les most of yesterday and last night. Now for some, that may seem like a welcome respite from endless text messages and needless phone calls. But, for me, it was anguish, sheer torture.
The precious attachment to my left hand is never far from my side and I was aghast to discover yesterday morning that I had failed to bring my USB cord to work; leaving me unable to charge my phone. I scurried to email recent photos to my work account and tapped off a few frenzied text messages before she predictably abandoned me and turned herself off.
Anxiously, I awaited the end of the work day, where I would be able to run home and properly connect my little friend to her much needed power source. She was in desperate need of some juice, and I was apprehensive of what messages, I might have inadvertently missed while she was slumbering.
I scurried to pick up my offspring, rushing to the back door and fumbling with my key in my haste to recharge her. Intelligent and observant, the boys stayed well clear of my path. I was single minded in my pursuit of a charge; she needed to enlighten my world with her high-resolution, full color graphic, liquid crystal display.
My hands shook slightly as I slide the charger into her. My breath quickened and I exhaled in an effort to calm my nervous and my ever growing excitement. She blinked and quivered. But, full color did not come as expected. OH, no. I had dallied too long and know she was completely discharged. Patiently, I must wait for her to build back her strength before powering her up. The minutes ticked by into hours. It seems that I was endlessly pushing her little buttons in the hope of resuscitation.
Valiantly, she clung to life and even teased me with a brief view of my inbox. But, alas, she would stop, hovering on the brink of death until I would take pity and pull her battery once again before reconnecting the charger.
As I crawled into bed, now almost 12 hours into my forced disconnection from the outside world, I reflected on how much I might have missed and how I would recapture those lost phone calls, emails and texts.
At approximately 10:45 PM, I was startled from the first stages of slumber by my ever watchful guard dog, Rosie. This was immediately followed by the sound of tires on the gravel in my drive way. I sprang from my bed, flipped the blind and grabbed my little baby off of the night stand. My first thought, however will I call for help? She was still not responding to even the slightest, most gentle touch. I flew through the house, checking doors, turning on lights. The crisis passed and I once again settled into my bed and turned off the light.
My precious friend was still being a tease and would light for just a few seconds before locking up or shutting down. I closed my eyes and hoped for a miracle. Not long after I drifted into slumber, I was once again awakened by thelow pitched growls and then excited barks of my ever vigilant guard dog. My heart raced. My blood pumped. My breathing quickened. I reached for my salvation and still she ignored my pleas for life. Whatever was I to do? The unmistakable sound of gravel meeting cold hard rubber was echoing through my home and I was alone with a large dog and two small children.
But wait, I raced to the kitchen and grabbed the cordless phone. Yes, I did have a land line. With my connection to the outside firmly in my hand, I raced from room to room, but not before the potential intruder had vacated my property.
Once again, I settled into bed and snuggled deeply under the covers. I checked my BFF and still she would not talk to me. I, fitfully, slumbered for several hours. Tossing and turning, I awoke from my non-restful sleep several times. Each time, I checked on her and each time she was struggling to regain her strength.
At around 3 AM, I gave up all pretense of sleeping, turned on the table lamp and proceeded to man-handle what had once been my closest friend. I pushed and prodded. I plugged and un-plugged. I ejected her battery, but each time she would light and then lock up. I tore through the desk looking for her operating manual. I even went so far as to locate her predecessor in a drawer and plug him in. If she was going to abandon me, then, perhaps, I was better off without her and would look at replacement options.
I was nearing the point of true physical violence. My mouth watered at the thought of sending her sailing across the room, hopefully to lodge painfully in the drywall or crumbling into a hundred pieces on the hardwood floor. I took a deep, calming breath. My hands shook and my breath was shallow, but I placed her back on the night stand and rolled away from her.
I awoke an hour later and determined that a little peek wouldn't hurt. Oh, joy! Low and behold, I could once again view my background graphics. I had text messages awaiting my perusal. My breath quickened in excitement and the tension eased across my neck and shoulders. She was not yet at 100%, but she was communicating with me. There was hope for our future.
Finally, I was able to get a few hours of good, restful slumber. My baby is once again lying quietly at my side, keeping me calm and connected. She is perhaps a little too quiet today, but that will change as friends and family learn of her miraculous recovery and near death experience.
Your favorite redhead,
Christine
As some of you know, I was phone-les most of yesterday and last night. Now for some, that may seem like a welcome respite from endless text messages and needless phone calls. But, for me, it was anguish, sheer torture.
The precious attachment to my left hand is never far from my side and I was aghast to discover yesterday morning that I had failed to bring my USB cord to work; leaving me unable to charge my phone. I scurried to email recent photos to my work account and tapped off a few frenzied text messages before she predictably abandoned me and turned herself off.
Anxiously, I awaited the end of the work day, where I would be able to run home and properly connect my little friend to her much needed power source. She was in desperate need of some juice, and I was apprehensive of what messages, I might have inadvertently missed while she was slumbering.
I scurried to pick up my offspring, rushing to the back door and fumbling with my key in my haste to recharge her. Intelligent and observant, the boys stayed well clear of my path. I was single minded in my pursuit of a charge; she needed to enlighten my world with her high-resolution, full color graphic, liquid crystal display.
My hands shook slightly as I slide the charger into her. My breath quickened and I exhaled in an effort to calm my nervous and my ever growing excitement. She blinked and quivered. But, full color did not come as expected. OH, no. I had dallied too long and know she was completely discharged. Patiently, I must wait for her to build back her strength before powering her up. The minutes ticked by into hours. It seems that I was endlessly pushing her little buttons in the hope of resuscitation.
Valiantly, she clung to life and even teased me with a brief view of my inbox. But, alas, she would stop, hovering on the brink of death until I would take pity and pull her battery once again before reconnecting the charger.
As I crawled into bed, now almost 12 hours into my forced disconnection from the outside world, I reflected on how much I might have missed and how I would recapture those lost phone calls, emails and texts.
At approximately 10:45 PM, I was startled from the first stages of slumber by my ever watchful guard dog, Rosie. This was immediately followed by the sound of tires on the gravel in my drive way. I sprang from my bed, flipped the blind and grabbed my little baby off of the night stand. My first thought, however will I call for help? She was still not responding to even the slightest, most gentle touch. I flew through the house, checking doors, turning on lights. The crisis passed and I once again settled into my bed and turned off the light.
My precious friend was still being a tease and would light for just a few seconds before locking up or shutting down. I closed my eyes and hoped for a miracle. Not long after I drifted into slumber, I was once again awakened by thelow pitched growls and then excited barks of my ever vigilant guard dog. My heart raced. My blood pumped. My breathing quickened. I reached for my salvation and still she ignored my pleas for life. Whatever was I to do? The unmistakable sound of gravel meeting cold hard rubber was echoing through my home and I was alone with a large dog and two small children.
But wait, I raced to the kitchen and grabbed the cordless phone. Yes, I did have a land line. With my connection to the outside firmly in my hand, I raced from room to room, but not before the potential intruder had vacated my property.
Once again, I settled into bed and snuggled deeply under the covers. I checked my BFF and still she would not talk to me. I, fitfully, slumbered for several hours. Tossing and turning, I awoke from my non-restful sleep several times. Each time, I checked on her and each time she was struggling to regain her strength.
At around 3 AM, I gave up all pretense of sleeping, turned on the table lamp and proceeded to man-handle what had once been my closest friend. I pushed and prodded. I plugged and un-plugged. I ejected her battery, but each time she would light and then lock up. I tore through the desk looking for her operating manual. I even went so far as to locate her predecessor in a drawer and plug him in. If she was going to abandon me, then, perhaps, I was better off without her and would look at replacement options.
I was nearing the point of true physical violence. My mouth watered at the thought of sending her sailing across the room, hopefully to lodge painfully in the drywall or crumbling into a hundred pieces on the hardwood floor. I took a deep, calming breath. My hands shook and my breath was shallow, but I placed her back on the night stand and rolled away from her.
I awoke an hour later and determined that a little peek wouldn't hurt. Oh, joy! Low and behold, I could once again view my background graphics. I had text messages awaiting my perusal. My breath quickened in excitement and the tension eased across my neck and shoulders. She was not yet at 100%, but she was communicating with me. There was hope for our future.
Finally, I was able to get a few hours of good, restful slumber. My baby is once again lying quietly at my side, keeping me calm and connected. She is perhaps a little too quiet today, but that will change as friends and family learn of her miraculous recovery and near death experience.
Your favorite redhead,
Christine
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Wake Up Evansville!!!!
I, consistently, hear that there is nothing to do in Evansville…. "It's so boring." "I'd really like to do something different." "Why can't we have things like other cities?" Well, I'm really tired of listening to the fussing, moaning and muttering. Quit complaining and start doing something about it.
Last night, I took my children to see the Harlem Globetrotters at Roberts Stadium. Not surprisingly, it was a really fun and entertaining time for all of us. But, the turnout was dismal. I would estimate the crowd at around 3500 to 4000 people. It wasn't even half full.
So, Evansville isn't willing to support the Globetrotters? What are we willing to support if not wholesome, family entertainment?
Bands playing original music have a hard time getting booked at the bigger clubs and the crowd is never exceptional. Support for the Freedom Festival is all but nonexistent. Classic rock concerts have to give hundreds of tickets away just to have a decent size crowd. Aces basketball doesn't even fill the Stadium anymore.
Surely, enlightenment will be forthcoming. Please, people. Tell me what will bring you out to support various entertainment options in our community? Have we become so sedentary that we refuse to actually put down the remote and get up from the couch long enough to enjoy some great live entertainment? Some interaction with neighbors, family, and friends?
Last night, I took my children to see the Harlem Globetrotters at Roberts Stadium. Not surprisingly, it was a really fun and entertaining time for all of us. But, the turnout was dismal. I would estimate the crowd at around 3500 to 4000 people. It wasn't even half full.
So, Evansville isn't willing to support the Globetrotters? What are we willing to support if not wholesome, family entertainment?
Bands playing original music have a hard time getting booked at the bigger clubs and the crowd is never exceptional. Support for the Freedom Festival is all but nonexistent. Classic rock concerts have to give hundreds of tickets away just to have a decent size crowd. Aces basketball doesn't even fill the Stadium anymore.
Surely, enlightenment will be forthcoming. Please, people. Tell me what will bring you out to support various entertainment options in our community? Have we become so sedentary that we refuse to actually put down the remote and get up from the couch long enough to enjoy some great live entertainment? Some interaction with neighbors, family, and friends?
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Reality Check
This morning, I received an incredibly liberating reality check.
My youngest, Carson, is one of the most adorable children on the planet. (OK, I might be slightly biased, but he is pretty darn cute.) He has the blondest hair, very thick, but still baby soft, and piercing blue eyes. Petite for his age, he is still a pistol, which is probably due to competing with his older brother since birth. My boys are only nineteen months apart, so they are very competitive, but in a close, best friend sort of way.
Anyway, Carson has really struggled with language, reading, speech, etc… since he first started school. His struggles to grasp basic phonics and vocabulary really came to light this year when he entered 2nd grade. Fortunately, he goes to an incredible elementary school and has a wonderfully patient, kind and persistent teacher. She believes in him, his potential and his ability to successfully complete 2nd grade.
The school organized an educational intervention, which consists of doing periodic testing to gauge his progress and various strategies to help improve his reading, phonics and vocabulary skills. Everyone takes a part of the plan…parents, reading aid, teachers, etc… and then we meet every few weeks to review his progress, what is working and what needs to happen next. Kudos to Castle Elementary!!! The process works and I'm very impressed with it. I'm an engineer…I like measurable results.
Anyway, this morning, we had our third meeting of the school year. Carson's progress has been phenomenal. It's a true testament not just to the intervention process and dedication of the teachers and staff, but to my son as well. He is so eager to learn and to succeed that I am often speechless. (Those of you that know me can attest to the rarity of that state!) I admit that sometimes I really just want some peace and quiet, but he's a sponge and his thirst for knowledge allows me to rarely see a quiet moment. Now, I fully appreciate what my parents went through with me.
The last couple of days, I've allowed myself to get sucked into anger, confusion and self-recriminations over petty, insignificant and irrelevant items. At the end of the day, I'm a very lucky woman. I have incredible kids….they are smart, polite and very well rounded. I have a pretty great job that while not always stimulating has allowed me to see the world, develop my own sense of self, shored up my self-confidence and allows me to live independently in a nice home with my children.
So, why do I allow others to interfere with my happiness? I'm really not sure. And, today, I feel fantastic about who I am, where I am at and where I am going. I don't owe anyone explanations about my life. And, quite frankly, their opinions really don't matter, do they? My opinion matters. God's opinion matters. But, everyone else is either true friend or foe. My true friends love me unconditionally and I am very thankful for that. They see me for who I am…human, flawed, but beautiful and full of potential none the less. I'm not perfect, but I don't have to be. I can make mistakes. It's OK. I'm still a great person and I still have a really great life.
My youngest, Carson, is one of the most adorable children on the planet. (OK, I might be slightly biased, but he is pretty darn cute.) He has the blondest hair, very thick, but still baby soft, and piercing blue eyes. Petite for his age, he is still a pistol, which is probably due to competing with his older brother since birth. My boys are only nineteen months apart, so they are very competitive, but in a close, best friend sort of way.
Anyway, Carson has really struggled with language, reading, speech, etc… since he first started school. His struggles to grasp basic phonics and vocabulary really came to light this year when he entered 2nd grade. Fortunately, he goes to an incredible elementary school and has a wonderfully patient, kind and persistent teacher. She believes in him, his potential and his ability to successfully complete 2nd grade.
The school organized an educational intervention, which consists of doing periodic testing to gauge his progress and various strategies to help improve his reading, phonics and vocabulary skills. Everyone takes a part of the plan…parents, reading aid, teachers, etc… and then we meet every few weeks to review his progress, what is working and what needs to happen next. Kudos to Castle Elementary!!! The process works and I'm very impressed with it. I'm an engineer…I like measurable results.
Anyway, this morning, we had our third meeting of the school year. Carson's progress has been phenomenal. It's a true testament not just to the intervention process and dedication of the teachers and staff, but to my son as well. He is so eager to learn and to succeed that I am often speechless. (Those of you that know me can attest to the rarity of that state!) I admit that sometimes I really just want some peace and quiet, but he's a sponge and his thirst for knowledge allows me to rarely see a quiet moment. Now, I fully appreciate what my parents went through with me.
The last couple of days, I've allowed myself to get sucked into anger, confusion and self-recriminations over petty, insignificant and irrelevant items. At the end of the day, I'm a very lucky woman. I have incredible kids….they are smart, polite and very well rounded. I have a pretty great job that while not always stimulating has allowed me to see the world, develop my own sense of self, shored up my self-confidence and allows me to live independently in a nice home with my children.
So, why do I allow others to interfere with my happiness? I'm really not sure. And, today, I feel fantastic about who I am, where I am at and where I am going. I don't owe anyone explanations about my life. And, quite frankly, their opinions really don't matter, do they? My opinion matters. God's opinion matters. But, everyone else is either true friend or foe. My true friends love me unconditionally and I am very thankful for that. They see me for who I am…human, flawed, but beautiful and full of potential none the less. I'm not perfect, but I don't have to be. I can make mistakes. It's OK. I'm still a great person and I still have a really great life.
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