Sunday, September 11, 2011

September 11th - Ten Years Later

On this memorial of September 11,  I, along with millions of Americans, pause and allow that dark day of death to seep into my living and breathing.  In a memorial service in my home town earlier today, our mayor shared moving words from Martin Luther King, Jr.'s speech, "Where Do We Go From Here?"
Fitting words for a nation healing from ten year old wounds.
As we released 1200 white balloons into the gloomy sky, I felt a catch in my throat as I worked to get out the words to Let There be Peace on Earth.
Yes! Let There Be Peace on Earth and let it begin with me.

 Excerpt from "Where do We Go From Here?" MLK Jr.
 I'm concerned about justice. I'm concerned about brotherhood. I'm concerned about truth. And when one is concerned about these, he can never advocate violence. For through violence you may murder a murderer but you can't murder murder. Through violence you may murder a liar but you can't establish truth. Through violence you may murder a hater, but you can't murder hate. Darkness cannot put out darkness. Only light can do that.

And I say to you, I have also decided to stick to love. For I know that love is ultimately the only answer to mankind's problems. And I'm going to talk about it everywhere I go. I know it isn't popular to talk about it in some circles today. I'm not talking about emotional bosh when I talk about love, I'm talking about a strong, demanding love... I have decided to love. If you are seeking the highest good, I think you can find it through love. And the beautiful thing is that we are moving against wrong when we do it, because God is love. He who hates does not know God, but he who has love has the key that unlocks the door to the meaning of ultimate reality.


God Bless America.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Momma's Football Psychology

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College Football is here. I'm a mom who deliberately channel surfs for football - quite a departure for women my age, and, yeah, well never mind my age.
Game one behind us.  Game two looming.

In my Sunday morning quarterbacking thoughts, I had a hunch and I am confident that I’m on to something. I came to a conclusion about the plight of football teams who suffer defeat at the hands of them selves.  Football analysts, sports journalists and coaches throw out their perceptive notions on this topic. But has anyone ever struck at the core of the problem? 

I see the problem as clear as day. Too many smiley faces. Yep!  You know the ones - the weekly progress reports that go home from elementary school with the smiles, the frowns and even in some cases, the neutral faces. Personally, I think the neutral face is the worst.  The poor child can’t evoke a smile or a frown?  Does the teacher just not like the kid? I digress.

Back to my theory. Could it be that those big, brawny football players did not get enough frowny faces during their elementary school careers? Did they only get smiley faces each week? Smiley faces don’t build tough guys.

My generation worked hard to paint smiles all over the world.  Society dreaded the frowny face.  But an abundance of smiley faces does not build mental toughness or grow a thicker skin.  The mental toughness that we look for in a Division I football player emanates from being able to face and handle adversity. Sadly, I think we have too many kids who earned only smileys, and thus never had to anticipate what followed a frowny face. They didn’t have to bounce back from disappointment.
Although I’m generalizing and offering up a little amusement, this is as good a reason as any for why a talented athlete would choke in front of 80,000 people.

 I acknowledge my responsibility in contributing to this problem.  As an educator in the 80s, I subscribed to all the behavior modification and other psycho-educational tools that brought order to the classroom.  Teachers dangled proverbial carrots in front of students and inspired them to greatness. Kids responded as expected for the most part. We had fewer discipline issues and only the egregious behavioral problems failed to respond to the system. It looked as though we had discovered the vaccine for the perfect learning environment. Parents gained access to these tools and soon everyone was humming the happy tune.  And the tune was sung by a purple hippo, a few puppets and a man in a cardigan sweater.  That alone should have bristled the short hairs.

Identifying the problem is only one part. What’s the solution?  How can this information impact the student athletes?  

Consider this, beloved and respected student athletes: So you got a horrible frowny face. Big deal. It’s not the end of the world, and it certainly isn’t the end of the season. Man up and get back in the game. Do what you bust your butt for. Do what you do best.  Do what you love. Play some awesome football!  And I will do what I do best – cheer you on with a big smiley face.

Friday, September 2, 2011

The Silence is Screaming at Me!



My youngest left home for real this time.  A college graduate, he opted for freedom and entry level poverty, rather than momma’s love and free rent. Who knew?

Don’t get me wrong.  A few hallelujahs gushed from my vocal chords when our youngest child meandered across the college stage.  Sing praise for no more tuition bills. Sing praise for no more back to school shopping. Sing praise for seeing the bottom of the laundry room floor. Those are worth celebrating – right?  Right?

Mingled with those cheers, I must admit, were a few tears.  Part of me wanted to experience a bearded, twenty something creep who lives in the basement, raids the fridge in a frenzy, hulks around the house in the middle of the night and then hibernates back to the cave at daybreak.
Don’t ask me why – it sounds repulsive.  But honestly ... it beats the sounds of silence.

I did not prepare myself for the deafening, screaming quiet of my house. I remember fondly when I locked myself in my bathroom, like every other devoted mother, just to escape the noise.  Even the pets mope around wondering, "Whassup with this? You're the only one left?"

Beginnings and Endings. Endings and Beginnings. Those clichés finally resonate with me.  I never fully grasped this idea until now.  I lived in a mommy bubble thinking that I would always be a mom, always taking care of somebody. Suddenly real life collided with my bubble - exploding it and exposing my vulnerability.

I invested my life in parenting, and I don’t regret that one bit.  I proudly boast of an EP at the end of my name  Some days the letters stood for Extraordinary Parent. Other days it stood for Eccentric Person.  I danced a fine line often and  there are definitely parenting moments that could have led to my incarceration. My hubby and my kids would gladly offer up some choice stories. But the truth is - you just do the best you can and at the end of the day, that is totally acceptable.  

And then one day ... the kids grow up.

So now what do I do?  Instead of Whaa! Whaa!  I decided to Blah! Blah!  My new therapy!