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Mar 5

12 Comments

Religion and Faith

Dear Loch,

Every night before I go to bed I come in to check on you. I check to see if you’re covered up, or sleeping across the bed, if you’re too hot or cold, and if needed, I adjust things to make you more comfortable. Then I kiss you, tell you I love you, and go to bed myself. The other night I was so overcome with love for you, that I felt the need to kneel down at your bedside and thank God. I thanked him for giving me such a blessing. I prayed for your health and safety. For your happiness and joy. I prayed that you’ll be blessed with love and success. And finally, I asked God to keep me around for as long as possible. I told him that I wanted to be a Grandmother.*

truthlighthouse.com

The thing is, I realize now that I should speak to you about faith – about religion – because it’s something that people learn from their families. It’s something, that should I be around, you will learn via osmosis, but if I’m not here for you to just absorb the lessons, I’d like you to know where I stand. People say never to discuss politics or religion, as the issues themselves are too polarizing. At the end of the day faith and religion are very personal choices and something that you’ll have to decide for yourself. I just want you to know what your father and I believe, so you go into that choice with a point of reference. You might decide to take a different path, but you should always know where you started.

My childhood church, St. John's York Mills. Image from wikipedia

I think it’d be fair to say I come from a “Church” background. Not Religious, capital R, but Church, capital C. I went to St. Johns York Mills almost every Sunday of my life (excluding summers when we were at the cottage) till I was 15 and confirmed. After that we stopped going regularly.  I’m not really sure why that was. I guess I had essentially completed all my “schooling” and didn’t have a place there anymore aside from the general congregation and that didn’t interest me. Maybe my parents went every weekend for me – to give me a good foundation – and once I had it, we could do something else…. I don’t really know. What I do know is, after 16, sleeping in on Sunday morning was more appealing than church. I just didn’t feel the need to go anymore and Granny and Granddad didn’t see the need to force me. I had taken what I could out of my religious training, and now could run with it. Looking back though, I can say that those foundation years were wonderful for me. I loved Sunday school. The stories. The songs. The friends. I joined the church choir and drama club. I loved the annual Church Bizarre (Granny was in charge of prizes and I got to choose them with her every year), and I loved my Confirmation class – though in hindsight, perhaps that was more for a particular boy, than the class itself. For a long time I would have described myself as religious. I took it all very seriously. A friend once told me I wasn’t just a Christian, I was a Creationist. Meaning I believed everything the Bible said as truth, and at the time, she was probably right. It wasn’t till years later that I really started to think about those beliefs I’d held since childhood.

Over the years I’ve had the opportunity to question everything, and have come to a place where I’d say I’m Christian because it’s the path I’m most familiar with on my way to God. I feel comfortable with the Christian concept of God. With God’s forgiveness and love. With the Anglican/Episcopalian church, it’s traditions and inclusivity. And, I believe our spirits go somewhere when we die. I believe we can be with our loved ones again after death. Or at least I believe we’re blissfully happy. I realize this is not a belief that everyone shares, but it’s one that I’ve always held on to, and now that I’m sick I find great comfort in. When I was first diagnosed with PH I ordered a book called Pulmonary Hypertension: A Patient’s Survival Guide. In it there’s a first person narrative told by a PH patient who’s had the disease since 1983 (Take that 2-3 years!!!). The story stands out because the rest of the book is written in a clinical and informational way so you can better navigate the disease. This particular section is a personal memory, included I’m assuming, to reassure those of us dealing with our diagnoses. In the story the writer remembers a time before she knew she had PH and was driving in the mountains with her husband and 8-year-old daughter. When she got out of the car to walk around she passed out. Altitude is not kind to PH patients. According to her husband she stopped breathing and had no pulse. He got her out of the snow to the front seat of the car to try and revive her. During this time she writes that she floated above the scene “looking down through the metal roof of our car at that poor unconscious woman.” She says she felt wonderful. That there was a warmth on her back and it seemed as if her “very molecules were loosening” so that she “was expanding into the universe.” Then her little girl screamed “Mommy! Mommy!” and she writes she had to “squeeze back into her body” to soothe her. In that moment she recalls her body feeling “cramped and limiting.” She finishes her story by saying, “I don’t know what to make of all this. But we seem to come equipped with all we need to deal with the entire course of our lives, including the end. It is a great comfort to me to know this.”**

adampowers.wordpress.com

Her story was a great comfort to me.  It wasn’t, however, the first time I’d heard such a thing, nor would it be the last. There are many stories of “seeing the light” or floating above our own bodies. My dear friend’s father was apparently talking to people who weren’t in the room just before he died, and telling her family things that he couldn’t possibly have known, unless his visions were true. Even your own dear Grand Mimi was as spirited as a school girl in the month before her death, talking animatedly with old friends she could see, but others couldn’t. Who am I to say they weren’t there? Frankly, I like to believe they were. I wondered aloud once what age we are in heaven. Like, if we die very old, I’m sure we don’t remain old in heaven…I’ve decided to believe that we are whatever age we want to be – the best we were – and appear to our loved ones as the best they remember. So if I die young and Sean old, we’ll be the same age in heaven. My mom won’t appear to me as a young girl even if she might appear to herself as such. At this point, whether heaven is a real place or not, is almost immaterial. I believe it’s there. I believe in God, and light, and hope, and something bigger than myself. I don’t believe when we’re gone it’s all over. And, I believe that if I have to die early, I’ll still be able to hear and watch over you. That my love will find you no matter what.

I’ve actually have had a taste of “the bigger picture” myself. When I was 16 I was in a terrible car accident with Granny and my first dog, Bailey. I was driving my mom’s VW convertible on the 401 extension to the cottage. Bailey came into the front seat and, as I pushed her back with my right elbow, I pulled the steering wheel ever so slightly to the left. Granny, who’s a panicky passenger on a good day, freaked out. She yelled “You’re in the shoulder of the road! You’re in the shoulder of the road!” Her alarm made me react too aggressively and, as I yanked the wheel to correct, I overcompensated and the car took a hard right in the middle of the highway. The fact that I didn’t hit another car still astounds me. The car, which was now going 60m/h at a right angle to the rest of the traffic, drove off the road and took a nosedive into a small ditch. But, since we had so much momentum, the car started to roll. We ended up rolling 6 times. 3 times front to back, and 3 times side to side. During one of the rolls, my seatbelt released. When Granny came to, I was about 40 feet from the wreckage lying in the grass. But here’s the thing: there were rocks everywhere, but I ended up in grass. My seatbelt released but not on the first roll, so that I flew through the windshield, but at some other point after the roof had ripped off, so I more flopped out of the car rather than anything else. The car could have rolled on me, but it didn’t. I could have landed on my head or neck but I landed on my face. Bailey, who ended up running against traffic on the highway with a with a broken leg, was picked up and taken to a local vet. The first person on the scene was a nurse – with blankets in her trunk and extensive first aid knowledge – and, despite the fact that everyone said I should be dead, I was fine. Immobile and needing nasal surgery, but otherwise fine. People always say to me, you must have been so scared. But that’s the thing, I wasn’t. As the car started it’s first roll, and the windshield filled up with grass, I was incredibly aware of how calm I felt. Not like “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.” But more like “Huh.” There was nothing I could do but I didn’t feel out of control. I felt, serene. Something was with me. Someone. Some spirit or higher power or purpose and, if that had been the end, it was alright.

I try and remember that feeling as much as possible. Someone once wrote me that if God had decided it was my time to go, then I should go in peace and not fight it. That acceptance in itself was a lesson worth teaching you. I understand and appreciate the sentiment, and I hope that when my time does come – and I’m 94 and fully in control of my body and senses – that I will go in peace and calm. But for now, I’m not that person. I’m more a “rage against the dying of the light” type. I want to be here, and I will continue to work with science and pray to God that it happens. As far as I’m concerned faith and science go hand in hand. I’m convinced there is a place for both. There certainly is in my life.

analytical.wikia.com

I also accept there’s a place for all Religions. A religion, in itself, is a man made construct of faith. Religions are subject to the time and place in which they were created. I’m a believer in the mountain theory. That we are all on a road to the same mountaintop, the same goal, the same point. We’re all just starting at different places, depending on our geographic location or religious persuasion. All routes are legitimate. All make sense. All end up at the same summit. How else did we get flood stories from over 100 different cultures and time periods? So if you want to be a Buddhist, be a Buddhist. If Judaism speaks to you then do that. If Christianity or Hinduism or being a Muslim are your comfort then make that choice. Find your truth and don’t judge others for theirs. Even atheists have a place. Their choice is no choice. They choose not to believe. And it is my belief that they’ll end up in the same place as the rest of us. I just think it’d be hard to live in a world where you feel there is nothing else out there. That you’re all alone. But if that works for you, it works for me. As long as you live your life as a good, decent, non-judgmental person, I have no place to criticize.

randomviewpoints.wordpress.com

Currently we don’t have a church home. We used to go to a great Episcopalian church in Beverly Hills. We loved it and fit in right away. It had a great balance between the old school pomp and circumstance -the hymns, the robes – and a new world mindset – openly accepting gay couples and parishioners, and an out spoken female canon. We did a couple classes there (Alpha/Beta) that allowed us to question our own beliefs and what were were taught. In one class I said, “I feel God, I feel the Holy Spirit, I’m just not sure I feel Jesus.” Some churches would be horrified by such a discussion, but not this one. It encouraged us to find our own path within an environment of acceptance and belonging. We ended up leaving that church for 2 reasons. 1, we moved and it’s now quite far away, and 2, after the first year, not a day went by that we weren’t asked for something – time, money, to be a committee member – and we started to feel pressured and guilty. We didn’t have any time or money, and we ended up drifting away because we simply couldn’t meet their requirements. I have to say though I kind of miss it.

Nowadays, though we don’t go anywhere Sundays other than brunch, we still have a faithful house. We pray. Not all the time, but if we’re all together before dinner, and often before bed. We teach the Christian stories that go with the holidays, like Christmas and Easter, and I think if we found the right fit we would probably go back to church. Lately though, I’ve found that all the places we look at are just too much. Too many rules. Too much criticism. Too much us versus them. And that’s my problem with organized Religion. There’s all together too much judgement. I believe in living by values and parables like, ‘do unto others’, but what I have a problem with, is any kind of religion or group that dictates how someone should behave. Not how they should live – like being good or kind or thoughtful or giving – but how they should BEHAVE. Behavior like how you dress, or wear your hair or whom you should marry (or if you can marry at all). I struggle with being told what you can and can not eat, or who you should or should not hate. I understand that many of these things are centuries old rules and traditions, but I feel uncomfortable with the concept that this kind of doctrine is God’s will. I believe that when you start dictating what people should DO, it is more about control than faith. More about man than God. More secular than spiritual. Because at some point, some person, some human, wrote down those rules. And though they were written as God’s will, they were written by man, and man, by nature, is corruptible. Man seeks power and control. Man is fallible. There are too many directives in too many books that keep one group separate from the rest. Too many mandates that degrade one sex over another. Too many conflicting stories within individual texts themselves. The Christian Bible calls for an “eye for an eye” but also says, “thou shall not kill”. They can’t both be right. I don’t believe my beliefs negate your beliefs. I don’t believe God values one kind of person over another. I don’t believe that any God would sanction the killing of others in his name. And I certainly don’t believe that God meant for a woman who’s been raped to be stoned to death for infidelity.

I’m also reticent of religions that make you pay to move up or forward within them. If that’s not a man made construct I don’t know what is.

free-extras.com

I guess my advice to you would be to use your best judgement and to see the great religious works for what they are, man’s version of the story. There has yet to be a scripture that claims to be a direct rendition of the word of God.  It’s not fact. It’s interpretation. It doesn’t mean don’t respect it, it just means understand it’s origins. We have family members that see the Bible as the only truth and it’s a bit of a strain. Any court of law will tell you that many different people will come up with infinite versions of the “truth”. The Bible, as with all the other great tomes of religion, has hundreds of different authors writing over many different centuries, translated into multiple different languages. Don’t get me wrong, I think you should be familiar with the Bible, it’s a great book filled with amazing stories. It will help you with art and history and multiple points of reference.

Like if someone alluded to a situation being a ‘David & Goliath’ thing, you wouldn’t know what they were talking about if you didn’t know the story. Or if someone referred to wielding their celebrity like Samson’s hair, you could make the connection.

admavricks.com

The Bible is a great thing to know. I’m just saying don’t be too rigid – whatever faith you choose. Don’t let men’s words from centuries past be the light that guides your way. Accept the light faith brings but navigate by your own stars. Find what’s right for you and always treat others with respect. You probably won’t go to church the way I did, but I do hope that you get some religious education both in school and at home, to fill in what you’re missing on Sunday mornings. I’d like you to you have something that helps you feel that you’re not alone in the universe. I also hope you, as I do, will find solace in prayer. Find the time to thank whatever power you believe in for the gifts you’ve been given. I always cry in church at Christmas because I feel overwhelmed. I’m filled with the spirit of the holiday, and family, and giving, and yes, God. I believe I’m loved. I believe I’m protected. I believe we’re not alone.

Whether I believe a virgin mother actually laid her baby in a manger is just semantics.

God Bless you baby,

xo mom

panhala.net

* I picture God as a man because that’s how it’s ingrained in my head, not because it’s right. It’s just how I see him.

**Pulmonary Hypertension: A Patient’s Survival Guide 3rd Edition “If Treatment Fails: Congestive Heart Failure” p. 161

Feb 27

18 Comments

Boundaries

Dear Loch,

All kids, whether they know it or not, need boundaries. Just as society needs rules and laws, you need to know what’s appropriate behavior and what’s not. Boundaries give us a sense of order that allow us the security to know where we stand. It’s also helpful to know what the consequences will be if we step out of line. Though you’ll discover these boundaries by osmosis living with us, I wanted you to know upfront what’s not ok and what it is you’ll get in s*&# for. I have yet to decide on the consequences. I have no real point of reference, as I didn’t really need them growing up. I was, as my friend Jeanette once told Granny and Granddad, “A parent’s wet dream”. That’s not to say I was a church mouse. I had a great time, but I was always honest about what I was doing and who I was doing it with. I followed the rules, did well in school, and didn’t do anything to disrespect the faith or trust my parents had in me.  Your father on the other hand was a delinquent-in-training until high school, so, you could go either way. Though we both agree that taking after me in this department is better for everybody…

From where I stand now, these are your perimeters. You will get in trouble for the following:

Mouthing off and generally being a brat. I expect you to be respectful and polite. You will speak to your father and me with courtesy no matter how much we’re bugging you. I’m not saying you can’t lash out, or ever say things you don’t mean. That’s bound to happen. I’m just saying, that kind of behavior is not acceptable and when, and if, it happens, I want you to know it’s not ok, and you will be expected to apologize. This rule applies to any authority figure (though I would advise you to avoid mouthing off to your peers too). I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the world opens for people with manners. Have them, use them, and you’ll not only be liked and respected, you won’t have to hear me lecturing to you on your behavior. You and I have an ongoing conversation right now that goes something like this:

Me: What kind of boy do you want to be?

You: A nice boy.

Me: Not a…

You: Whiney boy.

Me: Or a…

You: Bratty boy.

Bratty is not ok. Bratty, expectant behavior is unacceptable. We, your family, plan to sacrifice a lot to give you all the opportunities we can. Acting like a spoiled, sullen, overindulged child will not be tolerated. Neither will being disrespectful of people or things.

shoutingatco.ws

Never destroy anything purposely or for kicks. People work hard for the things they have, and those things have value. Right now if you break something you have a tendency to say “We’ll just get a new one ok, Mommy?” and I have to explain that’s not always the case. You have to respect your things – and most definitely someone else’s – and it’s not as simple as just buying more. Help clean if you made a mess. Listen to the rules as they’re given. Take care of your stuff. Take care of other’s stuff. If a friend says don’t touch something, don’t touch it. If you break it, fix, or when you’re older, offer to pay for, it. Learn that there are consequences to your actions and work within those perimeters.

Bullying. Never be cruel or mean to anyone, ever. Remember the Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I was bullied as a child and it was awful. I remember those days, and feelings clearly, even now. Don’t be part of someone’s bad memories.

heidikwells.blogspot.com

Lying. It’s not necessary and not worth it. I love you. Dad loves you. Anything you say, think, or feel is ok. Don’t lie. Don’t feel you have to lie. The truth is always the better choice. Plus, you don’t get confused and caught up in your story. Whatever’s happened we’ll work through it. Just don’t lie about it. The truth always comes out in the end. Don’t mess with the trust we have in you. It’s not worth it. The only time lying is ok is when you do it by omission in order to spare someone’s feelings. This is what is commonly referred to as a “white lie”. “Do you like my dress?” She’s already wearing it and has no chance to change? You say “You look great” . Someone asks, “Did you like the show?” and it was 3 1/2 hours of pertenscious BS, you say, “Yeah, I can’t believe how cohesive the cast was…” or, “The sets were incredible.” or what they really want to hear, “You were amazing in it!” Pick something that is actually true and say that. Just never say something you don’t believe or won’t do. Be someone who’s word means something.

Stealing is unacceptable, and I hope you know that without my saying it. Granddad tells a story of the one and only time he stole. He took a comic book from the General Store, got home and felt so bad about stealing it, he couldn’t read it. He told his parents and had to go back to the store, return the comic and apologize to the shop owner. I can only imagine that feeling. I’m the kind of person that tells waiters they left things off my bill, or if I’ve been given the incorrect change in my favor. Your Dad will tell you a story of how he once got caught shoplifting a Playboy. He panicked and ran, but because he lived on a US Military base in Japan, everybody knew everybody and later that day the MP’s came to his house and took him in. He’ll tell you he was overwhelmed by embarrassment because of what he’d done – and what he’d stolen – but mostly he was scared. Scared of what they’d do, or what the repercussions would be. When all was said and done Grandpa took him home and he went straight to bed. The next morning he felt like he couldn’t leave his room. He was too ashamed. Finally Grandpa came upstairs and instead of grounding him or yelling, he simply said, “If you ever need anything, come to me first. We’ll see what we can do.” He proceeded to tell Dad he loved him and then sent him outside to be with his friends. Dad had learned his lesson, and Grandpa, in his infinite wisdom, didn’t feel the need to rub it in. Frankly, I’m not sure I’d be quite as forgiving, but the point is, you don’t take things that aren’t yours. Good people don’t do that. And you are a good person.

Cheating is tough. More and more kids do it every day. I never would have dreamed of cheating, but I was a goody goody and it was a different time. The thing about cheating, as cliche as it sounds, is you’re truly only cheating yourself. It’s the easy ride. If you don’t learn it, then you get nothing out of it. If you don’t do the work, you don’t deserve the grade, and you’ll only have to cheat again to keep up with what you don’t know. Cheating only leads to more cheating. This goes for sports, games and work too. There is nothing worse than being in a situation where you’re in over your head. If you got there by less than honest means, you don’t deserve to be there, and you know it. No matter how many accolades you get you’ll never feel worthy. It’ll breed insecurity and make you act even less authentic. You’ll eventually lose yourself completely to your own dishonesty. Just buckle down, make the effort and do the work. It takes more time and energy but trust me, it’s worth it.

Doing Drugs. Drugs are illegal. If you get caught with drugs it can screw up your life. If you do the wrong drug it can take your life. Take my advice from The Importance of Safety and really limit, if not avoid, drugs altogether. They are so prevalent for young people now. When I was in high school I knew a couple people who smoked pot, but that was it. I didn’t even try it till University and it made me either neurotic or starving. Both pretty harmless reactions but, you can definitely do too much. One summer I smoked pot pretty regularly as a source of recreation with a boyfriend. We had some very laid back, goofy fun, but by August I was both fatter and dumber. I literally found myself struggling to find the right word for things a LOT. I might not have been stupider, but I was definitely slower, and it was a bad feeling. I stopped right away and didn’t go back. Look, between you and me I think marijuana should be legal, both medicinally and recreationally. I think it is no worse for you than drinking, and if it was monitored and controlled by the government the way alcohol is, I think we’d have way less bogus arrests, court appearances and clogging of jails. Public funds could be allocated to something more serious and we could put more truly “bad guys” behind bars. But that’s just me. The other drugs out there I can’t really speak to, aside from saying don’t do them. Seriously. Don’t. Do. Them. Drugs made in a lab can kill you in a hot second, and nothing is ever as good as the initial high. You can chase that feeling for the rest of your life. Don’t waste your time. Find another vice.

flickr.com Jon W. Howson

I’m not going to get on you for drinking. I’m not saying do it, I’m just saying be responsible with your choices and respectful of your body and situation. But, if that’s what your friends are doing – providing you do it in moderation and a safe environment – you won’t be in trouble for it. Drinking can be fun, but it can also make you do really stupid things, and it can get you really sick. You don’t need booze to have fun. Truly. I hope you’ll learn to respect alcohol in our house so that it won’t be such a big deal when you do start drinking. Being Canadian, with a drinking age of 19 in Ontario and 18 in Quebec, drinking starts a lot earlier than in the US. I personally believe the US drinking age is too high. 21 seems crazy in today’s world. If you can go to war and vote for your leaders by 18, I think you should be able to have a glass of wine.  Most of my pals started drinking in Grade 7. I didn’t start until Grade 9 . In retrospect, both seem a bit young, but it was normal to us. That being said, it took me a while to understand how to properly handle it. Many of my peers weren’t as lucky, and found themselves with serious alcoholic tendencies by the time they were in University – Drinking only to get wasted. Drinking until they blacked out. Not knowing how to function socially without drinking. Turning into a different person when they drank – By my mid-20’s I had at least 3 friends in AA. Drinking can be a good time, but if you abuse it you can find yourself down a rabbit hole you can’t control, and your best possible solution is to stop drinking forever. I admire my friends that said, “no more” to their destructive behavior, but I can’t help but feel it’s kinda sad they can no longer enjoy a glass of bubbly on New Year’s Eve, or a cocktail in a bar. Seek to control your drinking lest it control you. I actually think the Europeans have it down. You must be 18 to buy spirits over 16.5% but adults can purchase for minors. Beer at 4.5-8% is fine before you’re 18. Alcohol is simply part of the culture, and I’m of the opinion that learning to drink earlier – in the safety of your home – allows you to better control and maintain yourself when you do turn 18, and can drink anything at any time. I believe when you make things taboo, and force people to do things in secret, it makes it worse. I think that’s why American kids tend to handle drinking so poorly. No one taught them differently, and when they turn 21 they just go crazy. I’m hoping to avoid that. We’ll just pretend our house is France. You don’t often see Parisian kids puking their guts out on the street. I told my parents when my friends started drinking, and then when I did. They chose not to punish me, but  to educate me on how to handle drinking with some sense of decorum. They also gave me taxi chits to get me home from parties and keep me safe. So, aside from a handful nights where I truly over indulged, and there were some blotto nights, for the most part I’ve had a healthy respect for alcohol my whole life. I also have seen what a drinking problem can do to a family and I have no interest in going there.

As a side note on drinking, you will not get out of things you’re expected to do if you are hung over. That is not a legitimate excuse. So if you have something to do the next day, keep that in mind the night before. I’m cool. I’m not that cool.

Finally, no drinking and driving ever. Ever. There is no flexibility on this. Not only can you be arrested and have it on your permanent record, it can KILL YOU, or someone else. Life is truly precious. You don’t F around with life.

Smoking is a big one for me. I know kids smoke and 5 years ago I would have advised you not to get into the habit because it’s expensive and gross and bad for your teeth and lungs. But now, having been diagnosed with a lung disease, and living with compromised lungs, I can’t be more adamant about this. Don’t smoke. Period. You’ve been born with perfect, healthy lungs and to f*@# them up deliberately is to spit on everything I’m dealing with. Having a lung disease is horrendous. Not being able to breathe properly, needing oxygen, not being able to walk up stairs or carry your own child, having to shower with the bathroom door open because the steam makes it too hard to take a deep breath, these are all things you don’t want. I didn’t get PH from smoking. My minimal social smoking – which I never really mastered or liked – was not the cause of my disease. But if I had been a smoker, my diagnosis and response to the disease would be way less rosy. Keep your lungs healthy and I’ll continue to pray that my disease isn’t genetic. Deal?

Being Lazy. I was at Subway the other day getting a sandwich and there was a teenage boy there with his Mom, Granny and sister. They waited in line while he sat like a blob at a table. I’d love to say he was saving seats for his family, but I can’t. There were plenty of tables. He sat there and deep sighed, put his head on the table, and generally acted like everything was just the biggest burden. Answering his family’s questions on type of cheese or bread he wanted was like a horror show for him. Groan, “Provolone!” Sigh. I was one step away from telling him to get his a#@ up and stop being such a tool. I’ve got no time for lazy dude. I’m not talking about sleeping in on the weekends, or bumming around at the cottage in the summer. I’m talking about just not bothering. Not making an effort. One of my biggest pet peeves with you right now is you say “I can’t” a lot. I don’t mind helping you, but most of the time when you say “I can’t”, you really mean, “I don’t want to” or “I won’t”. That’s annoying when your 4 but if you’re 14 or 24, it’s pathetic. You get out what you put in. Right now, you’re always so proud – and a little surprised I think – when you complete something without me. You fight it like hell – say putting away your toys, or getting dressed on your own – but when you finish, you look at me like hey….wow. I think that feeling follows you right through life. There’s pride in a job well done. Pleasure in a sense of completion. Get to the gym. Look for the better job. Do a better job. Work at your relationship or get a new girlfriend. A little more effort adds up to a lot more life. I’ll be all over you if you’re lazy. It’s so lame.

You know what else is lame? Being a Bad Sport. Being a bad loser or a bad winner. The guy who decides not to dress up for the costume party, or refuses to play the game everyone is playing. Play the game. Wear the costume. Put on the tie. Shake the winner’s hand. Buck up. Put a smile on your face and have a good time. Don’t be the putz that’s too cool or the a-hole who rubs his greatness in everyone’s face.

Not Asking. We’ll want you to always ask our permission. We’ll do this not to control your life, but so we can help you navigate it. You want to have a party? Ask. Want to stay out late? Ask. Want to go to someone’s house after school? Just ask. We want to know where you are. We want to know you’re safe. We want you to make smart decisions that won’t mess around with the bigger picture that maybe only we can see right now. We aren’t trying to jack up your fun. Don’t treat us like we are. Just ask.

Be cool. Don’t be a punk. Use your manners and your head when making decisions. Remember, you are building the person you want to be. Start with a good foundation. I want people to say, that Lochlan is a nice kid, let’s have him over again, or honor him with that award, or give him that promotion. A*^holes might sometimes get those things too, but trust me, people wished they didn’t.

I love you baby. Choose wisely.

xo me

Feb 20

23 Comments

President’s Day

My plan was to post about Boundries today, but yesterday was my baby’s 4th Birthday and today is President’s Day and it’s got me to thinking, so I’ve bumped my prepared post for this, my train of thought on politics in America.

When I married Sean I remember being struck with the idea that if we had a child, that child could grow up to be President of the United States. Growing up as a Canadian, that was a trip to me. I’m sure other countries would have cause for debate, but with the power that the United States has wielded for so long as the “leader” of the free world, you could argue that being the President of the United States is, perhaps, THE most important job in the world.

The thing is, where we stand now, it’s a job I wouldn’t want my son to touch with a 50 foot pole. Loch is currently on the “I want to be a policeman” kick, and as much as I hate the idea of him strapping on a gun and doing the honorable, yet hideously dangerous and underpaid, work of a law enforcement officer, I think I’d prefer it to President of the United States. What does that say about our country?

I’m currently awaiting my interview for American citizenship. I’ve been living in the US for 13 years and am only now truly eligible for a passport. I did the work visas. I did the temporary green card after my marriage. I got my permanent green card after Sean and I had been married for 2 years and could prove our marriage wasn’t in fact a scam,and now, after thousands of dollars in legal and processing fees and countless hours of preparing and gathering the right documents and information, I’m finally writing my citizenship test and having my interview in March. I don’t need to do it. I can legally and happily live on my green card indefinitely. The thing is, I want to do it. I love this country. I want to be a part of it. I want to be the same citizenship as my family. But mostly, I want to vote. I want to be part of the democratic discussion. I want to count.

My problem is, will I?

I’ve lived in the country for the past 3 elections, Bush, Bush and Obama, and I’ve become increasingly disillusioned with both the electoral college voting system and American politics in general. From an outside perspective the whole process seems innately flawed. Ignoring idiocies like the “hanging chad” fiasco of the first George W election, I find it perplexing that the person who wins the popular vote (i.e. more people want him/her as President) can lose the general election. The way the states are played against each other, some being worth more than others is, in itself, undemocratic. The way you have to win some particular state to  win the election is, not only confusing, but somehow unfair. I’m sure Republicans in ‘Blue States’ are fed up with feeling like they don’t count, just as Democrats in ‘Red States’ must feel uninspired to get themselves out to a voting booth. It’s kinda like, what’s the point?

Coming from Canada, I used to think America’s 2 party system made it easier to decide. Less dissemination of votes, made for a clearer cut winner. You don’t end up with a leader, as you can in Canada, who only received 30% of the vote. But now that I’ve lived state side for over a decade, I see that, in someways, this isn’t a great system either. There’s no room for middle ground save candidates themselves that are either left leaning conservatives, or fiscally conservative liberals. America’s become, even more so lately, a ‘my way or the highway’ way of  “representing” the people. The parties are so at odds with each other that, again from an outsider perspective, very little is able to be accomplished. If you hold the Presidency and Senate or House, you can, in many ways, bully your policies through with little, to no, viable opposition. If you hold the Presidency but not the majority in the House or Senate, then you’re a lame duck, unable to do anything but watch your potential policies get debated to death and torn to shreds. This isn’t what’s best for the American public. We aren’t thriving under this system. If anything, we’re in the worst position we’ve ever been in both domestically and globally.

I tell Loch, you have to be flexible, you can’t always get your way, let’s make a deal. Politicians could learn a bit from my preschooler in the ways of listening and compromising. It’s like the leaders of America need a mom to come in and say “Enough! Work this s*#@ out!”  The way the government is running now, it’s as if, politicians are disagreeing for the sake of disagreeing. Republicans actively and vocally loathe the Obamacare Health Plan, yet there is no other developed country in the world without some form standardized and subsidized health care for all. People dying because they can’t afford health care shouldn’t happen in a country like this, but nor should the few be responsible for the many. In Canada, you don’t worry about getting hurt or sick because you can’t afford it, you worry because it’s awful to get hurt or sick. Yes, Canadian’s pay a lot of taxes but frankly, we pay a lot of taxes here too. The only people that seem to be getting major tax breaks are the very, very rich and the very, very poor, and like I said in my post School: A Diatribe, where does that leave the middle? We need some compromise. We need our representatives working together.

I would skew liberal in today’s politics. Since there is no middle ground, I’d be considered a Democrat. But, I also don’t believe you should have to give away all your hard earned money to the government. I don’t think we need as big a governing body as we have. I think things (and money) easily get lost when there’s too many cooks in the kitchen. I’d like to see less elected officials getting more things done.  I’m pro-a-woman’s-right-to-choose and pro-gay marriage. I’m pro-military AND pro-repealing Don’t Ask Don’t Tell. I’m against an open door policy for all illegal immigrants but I’m pro-immigration. I don’t think people should be asked for their papers on the streets like we live in Nazi Germany, but I do believe they should have papers. As an immigrant myself, I’ve had to go through infinite proper channels and jump thorough hundreds of government hoops to work and live in this country. It’s upsetting to me that I can no longer comfortably send my child to the local public school because of overcrowding, underfunding and the fact that over 68% are non-english speaking students. It’s upsetting to me that the statistics say that by 2035 the most spoken language in America will be Spanish. I’m all for learning another language. Canada itself is bilingual. But what other county in the world has had their primary language changed due to their immigration? If I chose to live in Italy, I better learn to speak Italian. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a moderate amount of assimilation.

The bottom line is, I come down right in the middle of American politics and I think what we need is to be flexible and work together. Human rights should be non-negotiable. Fiscal, medical, environmental and immigration policies should be up for debate. Compromises must be made.

I said I wouldn’t want my son to be President, and the way things stand right now, I mean it. Look at Obama. Had I been able to vote in 2008, I would have voted for him. I, like many of my generation, wanted to believe in change. I wanted to believe in hope. I wanted to see a new kind of government. One of transparency and working together, where the will of the people dictates policy and the country is not run by a few back room boys wheeling and dealing in Washington. I wanted more FDR ‘The New Deal’ and less wars for oil. I wanted to feel safer from terrorist attacks not like we were asking for it by acting more and more like the gross infidel we’re made out to be. I wanted to see new jobs and less dependence on foreign debt buyers. I wanted to believe in “Yes We Can”. Has Obama delivered on that hope? No, probably not. Does he deserve another 4 years do try and do so? Yes, he definitely does. And not just because the potential Rebulican Presidential candidates range from rich, bland, nothings to appalling, bigoted freak shows, but because Obama has had about the worst 4 years ever to be President. He inherited 2 unpaid for, unpopular wars, the worst fiscal crisis since the Great Depression, near a collapse of the housing and job market and the oil spill in the Gulf, all the while being barraged with inane questions about his birth certificate. When I drive around town and see bumper stickers that say ‘Worst President Ever’, with the O of worst begin the Obama symbol I think, really?! Really?! He ended the Iraq war. Killed Osama Bin Laden. Took out over 30 top Al-Queda leaders. Helped topple Qaddafi’s reign of terror. Closed Guantanamo. Put regulations in place so we can’t be F-ed by wall street and the banks again, and helped avoid total catastrophic financial fallout set up by a number of monumentally, greedy and self serving politicians and bankers. And people HATE him? Hate him? I literally don’t get it.

We shouldn’t hate our President. I can tell you I was not a Bush fan, and I didn’t think he was up for the job of President, but since he was President, I felt he deserved my respect and, at the very least, my grudging support. I didn’t agree with his policies but  I believed in the democratic system to work through the issues. But to loathe him with the hatred usually reserved for murders? No. Totally disrespectful and inappropriate. It used to be that a few crazies or zealots might want to kill you if you were President. Now, it’s like half the country. To hate just because. To disagree for the sake of disagreeing. To work against because you simply refuse to work with. These aren’t qualities that made America great and they aren’t qualities that will make America better.

I’m nervous for America’s future. I love it here. It’s the land of opportunity. The land of free and the home of the brave. A country based on the ‘Can Do’ attitude of a frontier people carving their own path. But we didn’t make this country great by working alone. By looking out only for ourselves. Leading this country now is a lesson in negotiating. Negotiating a coming together. The Right has to stop shutting the Left down. The Left has to stop negating the Right.

As the quote goes: In War, is it whose Right or who’s left? This country is at war against itself. As we look back at the Presidents, leaders and history that came before, we have to collaborate to move forward. To become a country, American’s came together. To save our country we’ll have to do it again.

Otherwise we’re looking at a civil war of undereducated citizens in a country owned by China.

Why would I want my son to be a leader of that?

Feb 13

11 Comments

Love and Dating

Dear Loch,

So, this past weekend we hosted your wedding. It wasn’t our intention, but you and your friend Shiloh were so into the idea of getting married that her mother finally called and said, “I think we’re going to have to do this thing.” Once confirming that the bride and groom both understood it was, in fact, a (said in a whisper) “pretend” wedding, the parents got to planning. The thing about me and your Dad (and, as it turns out, the bride’s parents) is that we can’t do something at 70%. A wedding to you guys basically consisted of fancy clothes, an aisle, vows and cake – with cake being the big draw. The adults added flowers, snacks, a decorated venue, ring pop favors and, thanks to Shiloh’s mom’s job, a limo – so guests under 5 could drive around the block for 20 minutes. Ridiculous? Maybe. Super fun playdate with a theme? Definitely. When I asked the flower guy at the grocery store if I could have any roses they were going to throw away, he asked me what they were for. I said I wanted to use the petals to decorate a 4-year-old wedding. He said, “For someone who’s been married 4 years?” and I said, “No, for a wedding of 4-year-olds.” He looked at me like I was cracked. I explained that everyone involved knew it was just for fun. But this morning when you told me that, now that you’re married, you and Shiloh would be “getting an apartment”, I wasn’t so sure. I said, “You’re not getting an apartment. You’re staying here with me. You know you’re not really married right?” You looked at me like, duh… and said, “I knooooow Mommy. But when I really marry Shiloh one day, we’ll get an apartment.” I said, “I hope you get one before that.” 

The thing is, if you grow up and marry Shiloh, that would be fantastic. She’s a darling girl and we love her family. Plus, telling people you got married for the first time at 4, would be pretty hilarious. But, you don’t know who the heck you’re going to marry, and I’d hate you to rush headlong to the finish line of relationships before exploring the whole exciting gamut of love and dating. As I’ve said before, I love being married and I’d love it for you, but there are so many wonderful things to happen between now and then. Don’t miss out by trying to achieve the end result.

Your Dad was a long-term-relationship guy, and judging by your adoration of the female sex – your penchant for complimenting women, and the fact that you notice things like when I’ve had my hair or nails done – you might be too. I, on the other hand, dated a lot, and had only a handful of real relationships before I met your Dad. That was good too. I’d hazard to say I probably had more fun than your Dad, but I also had more heartbreak, so it’s a toss up to which is better. I’d like to see you have a lot of experiences. To date women that aren’t right for you, and women you think are, but turn out not to be. I’d rather you to go all in, and feel the crushing sting of a failed relationship, than hang back and choose the safe or easy path. Love in itself is a risk but it’s a risk worth taking over and over again.

As you start your dating adventures I have a couple words of advice. Keep in mind I was a pretty avid dater in my time and I ended up with a great spouse, so I kind of know what I’m talking about. Plus, I’m a woman, and that gives me some insight you wouldn’t otherwise be privy to.

I'm not saying you have to date any of these scarf models from nunatinnit.net. I'm just saying you don't have to stick to only one type of girl.

Try not to have a “type”. I can’t speak to who you should be attracted, that’s just chemistry, but try to avoid limiting yourself to a certain hair color or look. Avoid saying things like, “I don’t date (fill in the blank) type of girls.” You never know where you’ll make a connection, and if you close those doors without finding out what’s behind them, you might be missing out on a great love affair – or at least a great story.

When asking a girl out, be direct. Decide what you want to do- go to a dance, a movie, dinner – and man up and ask.  You can be casual, “We should go out sometime” or “I’d like to take you out this weekend. You interested?” “Are you going the dance?”  Yes? “Great. You want to go with me?”  I’m not sure? “Well you should. Let me take you.” Or something like, “I want to check out this new restaurant/band/movie, you wanna go?”  I can’t promise everyone will say yes. Keep in mind what I said about regrets, the ones that say no often do it for reasons that have nothing to do with you whatsoever, but at the very least she’ll be flattered and impressed by your confidence. Just be sure you’re clear with your intentions. You go further being bold. You don’t want people to say, I think he was asking me out…

Oh, and a smile never hurts.

My first date was with a boy named Andrew Westlake. I was 9 or 10 and he asked me to the movies.  His mother drove us to the theatre and sat behind us with his little brother. I remember his brother teasing us and Andrew freaking out. I remember chocolate covered raisins. I remember his mom trying to give us some privacy by not talking to us. But mostly I remember feeling special.

Make your dates feel special. Pay attention to what they say and act like a gentleman. It’s always nice to start with a sincere compliment. Not random, placating niceties, as they come off as shallow and calculated, but something you believe to be true and say out loud. “You look really pretty”. Or, “Those jeans look awesome”. You want to be candid and genuine. Trust me, girls know the difference. Plus, I guarantee she put some serious energy into how she looks. Acknowledge the result. It’ll make her more confident, which makes her more comfortable, which ultimately makes the date more successful.

A successful date is one where the conversation is easy, the company is good, and the time just flys by. If the physical attraction is there too, then you’re golden. Sometimes you’ll find yourself on a date with someone you found physically attractive, but once you’re out with them, it’s kinda tough. I dated an investment banker in New York once who was handsome, smart, romantic, and had a ridiculously enormous 2 floor apartment that I hosted a number of parties at (trust me, that was a big deal). Sadly, we just didn’t click.

wallpaperswide.com "Snowy Park at Night"

One winter night, we were walking through a beautiful, empty, East Village park. The trees had ice on every branch so they sparkled in the lamp light, the ground was lightly dusted with snow, and there was a slight mist, so everything just seemed magical. I commented on the beauty and asked if he had to choose a way to describe it, what way would he choose? When he looked at me with consternation, I elaborated. Take a photo? Write a poem? Draw a picture? His face was blank, and he said something like, “Why would I want to do that?”  I let it go, but in that moment, I knew we were over. Zero. Imagination.

That’s the thing, someone can be good on paper, and not right for you in real life. When I first moved to LA, I met a guy on Halloween. I was, if you can stand it, at the Playboy Party – sadly, not at the Mansion. I met a guy dressed in a full superhero costume. Afro wig. Tights. Mask. The whole deal. He was pretty funny so I gave him my number. We talked a couple of times on the phone and then met for a date. This sounds ridiculous, but when I saw him again, out of costume, I was disappointed.

Rick Eades, eadescomics.blogspot.com

I was disappointed not because he was unattractive, but because he was too attractive. Too chiseled. To generically handsome. I guess I’d gotten it into my head that he was this quirky dude, and this guy was not what I expected. But I thought to myself, Really Leigh? He’s too handsome?! Get a grip! At dinner I found out he was not only an ex-fighter pilot for the air force, but a Harvard Grad who lived at the beach and worked for a Hedge Fund. He had a motorcycle and took weekend trips to Palm Springs and Vegas. On paper he was perfect. In real life, I wasn’t sure if I was attracted to him. For our second date he invited me to a BBQ at a friend’s house. I drove to his place in Manhatten Beach thinking, Ok, this might be something… When I got there his house at the beach turned out to be a glorified frat he shared with multiple buddies. It was the kind of place you’d be afraid to walk barefoot or use the bathroom, not the place of a 30-something man. I was happy to leave it to go grocery shopping, until we got to the store and he was all, “Babe this” and “Hon, that”. “Grab the mustard, kay babe?” When did we become a long term couple? We’d skipped like 15 steps. By the time we got to his friend’s, he was acting like he couldn’t wait for our wedding and I was weirded out. When he got hammered and hit me with a “You can drive, right babe?”, I was done. On paper can be deceiving. I thought I could ignore the lack of chemistry by focusing on his credentials and, subsequently, looking at me on paper, he thought he could just plop me into the girlfriend box. It doesn’t work that way. When he leaned in to kiss me that night, I put my hand in front of my face and high fived him. I think I actually said, “High Five!” It was pretty awkward. I never saw him again.

As a general rule, I think men should pay on a date. I know we’re liberated and all that, but I’d advise you to still pick up the tab. It’s old school, but classy, and chicks dig it. Don’t go broke dating a girl, or try to impress her with expensive places or gifts. Sometimes too fancy/expensive is a turn off in itself. It comes off as needy. Thoughtful gifts almost always trump pricey ones, and if you don’t have the cash don’t pretend you do. Just don’t be stingy with your attention or your  wallet. Cheap is unattractive.

Consider your date’s interests. See what she likes before making plans. Never show up with the thoughtless, “I don’t know. What do you want to do?”  Take charge. Just be sure not to push or try too hard. I dated a guy that always had to plan a big thing. A grand gesture. Going to see Rent and then going to the top of the Empire State Building. Tour of the Hudson on a riverboat and then dinner at some swanky place. He was more into showing off than getting to know me. I told him I wasn’t ready to be committed. I was. I just wasn’t ready to be committed to him.

Don’t get wasted on a date. At least not alone. If you’re out having a ball and you’re both buzzed, fine. Just don’t get sloppy (try and avoid this whether you’re on a date or not). Don’t get her wasted to make things easier. It’s obvious and weak. Earn the action you want, don’t try and trick her into it.

Jon Pratt Photo

I went to the movies with a guy in Montreal once who hadn’t bothered to check the times, so we were an hour and a half early. We went to a pub and he proceeded to order 6 shots of tequila. I didn’t want tequila but he didn’t care. I did one shot, to placate him and stop the barrage of “Don’t be a pussy“, and he did the other 5. He proceeded to get in a fight with a guy he claimed owed him money, made me write down the guy’s contact information, and ordered and drank 3 more beers. During the film he kept trying to grope me, and when the movie was over he ended up screaming at me on the street because I’d had the audacity to hold the door for him. His arm was in a sling from a rugby injury and, in his mind, I was trying to emasculate him by treating him like an invalid. I told him he wasn’t an invalid, he was an idiot. I never saw him again either.

Be on time. This is a good rule for life. Promptness is both appreciated and respected. I wasn’t so great with being on time growing up, so I’m putting more emphasis on it now. If you’re going to be late, let the other person know. There is no excuse for not doing it in the cell phone age. And if you are late, for goodness sakes, apologize. I once went on a date with a guy I’d met shooting a deep sea fishing television pilot. (Don’t ask) I was one of the only people that didn’t barf on the very rough sea. For this reason, and this reason alone, I came off as more attractive than my model costar. All 5’10” of her Swedish body was literally green. My future date was a friend of the producer financing the shoot. We made plans to meet for dinner at a little Italian place in the West Village. I ended up sitting at a table in the window for 45 minutes drinking alone. No call. No text. Nothing. I was about to leave when he breezed though the door without the least bit of contrition. Everything in my body said, Get up. Go. Leave him with the bill. I wanted to say something cool like, “Ok, I’m glad you’re alive. I had too Pinot’s. Be sure to pay the man.” But did I do that? No. I let him talk me into staying for dinner where he proceeded to talk about himself for the whole evening. I knew I was better off not to return his calls after that.

If you’re on a date that isn’t working out, see it to the end, and then exit as politely as you can. Don’t extend it. Don’t go for drinks.  Don’t say you’ll call. Be kind and hit the road. If it’s just unbearably terrible – she’s a fall down drunk, or a racist, or crazy – then call a spade a spade and excuse yourself. “This isn’t really working out. I think we should call it a night.”

If you’re ending more than a date, do it with grace and class. Don’t use social media. Don’t have a friend do it. My first boyfriend – and I use the term loosely as I’m not sure if we were ever alone in the same room – had his best friend tell me he wanted to end it. Even as a 12-year-old I knew that was lame. At minimum, make the call yourself. In person’s better, but not without mess. My boyfriend from first year theatre school blindsided me with a a breakup in Central Park and I lost it. I acted like a crazy woman. I stumbled out of the park in a haze of tears. I’m sure the people on the subway thought someone had died. In my defense, I was in a pretty dramatic phase in my life and that breakup was a culmination of many bad breakups, so my reaction was a bit extreme. I was also devastated because he gave me no reason. It was just over.

Always try and give a reason. One she can learn from like “This is just too intense”. You’re basically saying, “You’re too intense” but in a way she can process and maybe learn from. Or give her one she can move on from like, “I don’t want to be in something serious right now” or “I have to concentrate on my work”. She’ll be sad but she can feel it wasn’t her, and she can’t fix it or change your mind because it’s not up for negotiation. Just be compassionate. Being dumped hurts like hell. Do it as nicely as possible, just make sure you do it. I dated a guy for 2 months that literally left my apartment one morning and just stopped talking to me. Nothing had happened. It was just as if we’d never met. At least, by that time in my life, I had the foresight to tell him off when I ran into him on the street months later. I was calm and concise. I told him he handled what had happened with us ‘badly’. I said next time he shouldn’t be such a coward, and just have the balls to tell the girl it’s over instead of just running away. His mouth was hanging open as I walked away. It was a great moment.

If you’re the one getting dumped – and I’m sorry you are – it’s the same thing. Have dignity, class and balls. Never argue or debate their decision. It’s made. Challenging it only makes you look desperate and doesn’t improve your chances of getting back together, if that’s what you want. My first boyfriend in NY dumped me out of the blue after we’d seen each other, at his insistence, every day for 3 months straight. He’d invited me away for the weekend to meet his mom, but I had to work. When he got back he told me he “needed space”. I acted cool, like it was totally normal that he’d asked to go away to meet his mother and now wasn’t sure if we should be together. When we had lunch about a week later, I brought him a postcard of the Grand Canyon. I thought I was being light and funny. That’s space isn’t it? But it was already over. I’m glad I acted cool, but I regret not asking some questions. What had changed? Why was he doing this? It wouldn’t have altered the outcome but I could have saved me months of wondering.

If you’re in a relationship enjoy it. Who cares if your friends ride you for being AWOL for a while. They’ll get you back eventually. Relationships, especially new relationships, are so exciting. Being wrapped up in love is the best. Just remember there’s a whole world out there, and once you surface from the initial haze, broaden your horizons.

If you get to a point in the relationship that you feel like straying, have the courtesy to break up with her first. I only cheated on one boyfriend. I knew it wasn’t going to work out long term, and when I met this other guy, I thought I’d see where it went before I made any changes. Essentially, I hedged my bets. My boyfriend was away most weekends so I started casually dating the other to see if it was something worth breaking up for. The affair imploded – as things tend to do when you’re not being honest – and I stayed with my boyfriend for another 3 months, but it was never the same. I had one foot out the door and should have just ended it when my affections had strayed. It doesn’t work out much better when you’re the “cheatee”. I’ve been the ‘other woman’ a couple of times and it’s sexy for a moment, and then it’s just depressing. One guy’s girlfriend lived across the country and we’d never met. As far as I was concerned she didn’t exist. But it was almost as if he was just filling his time with me till he could be with her. It made me feel used and shi**y. The other time I thought I’d found my soul mate our connection was so strong. I truly believed he’d leave her for me. He did leave her, but for one of the other girls he was fooling around with. I was heartbroken…and stupid. Affairs only lead to pain. In the world of dating if you find yourself about to cheat, hold off. It’s much more fun if you’re both available. Maybe not as sexy, secrets can be hot, but definitely more worthwhile.

One last note on cheating: I’m of the belief that if you cheat, it’s on you. You’re the one who screwed up, so you should be the one to suffer. People confess to alleviate their own guilt, but it only serves to hurt the person who did nothing wrong and doesn’t deserve the pain. Don’t rub your dalliance in their face. If you cheat or want to cheat, accept the obvious – the relationship is probably over – and be mature enough to end it. In a long term relationship like a marriage, my opinions on this issue are slightly less cut and dry. But sufficed to say, I’m anti-cheating.

When dating be confident. No girl wants a guy she can push around. Flexible, but not whipped. Girls like puppy dogs but they don’t respect them. Be honest with what you like – food, movies, people, interests – but also about how you feel – regarding issues, behavior, and feelings.  Be yourself. Have, and be proud of, your opinions and if she doesn’t get you, f*$# her. Her loss.

onlinedatingranking.net

Dating and love are exciting. Sometimes painful, but for the most part pretty awesome. Every new person teaches you something about what you want, and what you don’t want. What you need, and what you like. What works for you, and what doesn’t. When I finally found your Dad, it was easy for me to get married. I’d done single, and I’d done it well. I didn’t need to wonder what else was out there or if I was doing the right thing. I knew. I knew because I’d done the work. I knew the landscape and I could say with all certainty this was a good plan. I believe it can work if you marry young, or marry your high school/college sweetheart, I just think it’s those couples who are more likely to wonder what they missed, or be the ones pining for the things they never got to do. I got to do them. It was fun. It was painful. It was wild, and then it was over. On the first date with your Dad I turned the page and understood that one chapter was closed, and another one was beginning. And I was ready.

Enjoy the ride until you’re ready.

I love you.

xo your mama

The exact moment your Dad proposed. Taken from a video camera your Dad hid in the trees..

Feb 6

71 Comments

Reality versus Positivity

Recently I’ve been getting some emails and responses to the blog that have perturbed me. The basic gist of the feedback – some trying to be helpful, others to be critical – is that by writing this blog I am, in some way, propagating my own demise. That I shouldn’t be giving weight to the fact that I might not be here, but should, in fact, be creating a mantra that leaves no room for any other result but my continued life. It’s the “what the mind dwells upon, the body acts upon” idea.* One person suggested I should write from the perspective of myself at 97. As if I’ve lived a full life and am looking back and reflecting on all the good that happened. Though I think this is an interesting exercise – along the same lines as writing your own obituary in order to reveal what kind of life you’d like to lead or what kind of person you want to be remembered as – it isn’t what I’m doing here. I have not lived a full life. I am not looking back. I am looking forward and can only speak the truth as I know it now, from the perspective of the person I am today. I’m looking to give Lochlan advice on who I want him to be, not muse upon who he has become. Who he’ll be is still a mystery. An exciting mystery and one that I have no interest in speeding along or guessing the outcome of. All I’m hoping is to give him guidance on how to stay grounded, safe and happy on his journey, whether I’m around or not. You don’t have to be sick to worry that you won’t be able to tell or teach your children all you want. I could die tomorrow in a car accident (God forbid) or in 60 years in my bed. It doesn’t change the fact that I want to leave a legacy for my child. Nor do I think it makes me negative.

One woman recently wrote to “reframe my language”. She claimed that people like me get too “attached” to our “labels and stories” and if I wanted to be around for a long time I had to stop using the “sick” and “in case I won’t be here” language. She told me to “live my life from the perspective that things are wonderful, perfect, healthy and happy” and I would be “amazed at what could happen.” Now, after I cried at the criticism – because no matter how positive I feel on most days, I am very sensitive to someone suggesting that I am, in any way, making myself more sick – I got angry. I am a huge believer in the power of positive thinking. I’ve seen The Secret. I’ve done my mantras in the mirror – “I get better and better every day” – and after the mourning period of my diagnosis I brushed myself off and got on with my life. But there’s a big difference between being positive and being in denial. Everything isn’t wonderful and perfect. I’m not perfectly healthy no matter how happy I am, and to suggest that I just have to reframe my thoughts to see the magic happen, is not only naive but slightly insulting.

When Sean and I were first married we got a call about life insurance. Our insurance company suggested that now that we were married we should think seriously about our futures. At the time I couldn’t deal with it. I just got married. I had my whole life ahead of me. Why would I want to sit down and talk about my death.

When Sean turned 30 they called again so he could “lock” in the 20-year-old rate. We just figured it was all about making a buck and frankly, we still weren’t ready to think about it. Hindsight being 20/20, I should have done it before I got married. Now that I have PH I don’t qualify for life insurance. I’m too big a risk. Right after my diagnosis Sean and Loch signed up immediately – the concept of death was now part of our reality, so preparing for it didn’t seem so weird – and I’d advise anyone who asked, to get on it as soon as possible. It’s not depressing to get your affairs in order. It’s responsible. Having life insurance, or a living will, isn’t tempting fate, it’s accepting the inevitable and handling it in a mature way.

What I should have done with my life insurance I’m doing with these letters. The reality of my situation might have prompted the initial step, but at this point it’s less about writing the letters in case I’m gone, and more about writing the letters themselves. They make me happy. They make me feel productive. In doing something proactive for my child, I feel more alive and connected to the world as a whole. To the people who think I make myself weaker – accepting and referring to my reality – I humbly disagree. If anything I’m stronger because I’m less afraid.

I believe in the power of the human mind. In the strength of a positive outlook. In making your own destiny by framing your own reality. But I also believe in Reality. In Truth. In Fact.

The fact is, I’m sick.

The reality is, we don’t know how long I’ve got.

The truth is, no one does.

I’m doing the best with what I’ve been given. As I say in the intro to my blog: I’m just playing the cards I’ve been dealt and still trying to win. Pretending reality is different doesn’t make it so, but having faith and taking steps to ensure the best possible outcome certainly helps.

Expect the best, plan for the worst, and prepare to be surprised.**

It doesn’t hurt to plan ahead. It wasn’t raining when Noah built the arc.***

Thanks for reading.

xo leigh

*Denis Waitley  – motivational speaker

** Denis Waitley  – motivational speaker

*** Anonymous

Jan 30

18 Comments

The Importance of Safety

Dear Loch,

Being a parent is a major lesson in staying calm. One I often fail. Question after question after question…I’m pretty good at. Whining, whining, whining…I’ve been known to crack.  But for me, I struggle the most to keep calm about your safety. Once you have a child you’re constantly preoccupied with their well being. Their health. Their milestones. Their welfare. Sure we all want you to be gorgeous geniuses in happy relationships with great jobs and fulfilling lives, but mostly we want you to be safe. To be healthy. To be secure. And, unfortunately, the world you live in is filled with things working against our goal.

From the moment we bring you home from the hospital we are doing things to protect you. We baby proof our houses within an inch of their lives. For the one child that drowned in the toilet, we have a million parents with toilet guards that make it nearly impossible to use their own facilities. We put you in 5 point harness carseats and dress you like American Gladiators to ride your bike. We lather you in sunscreen and scour the internet with every apparent illness or behavior (Or at least I do. Getting sick turned me into a raging hypochondriac). It’s a tough gig, and for every hurdle you clear – he’s over 5, we’ve passed the autism window – there’s another one ready to rear it’s ugly head – sexual predators, driving, drugs… There’s always something that can happen to you, and as parents, it’s our job to try and shield you from as much as possible. But we can’t do it without your cooperation. Really, we’re like Jerry McGuire – a character in a popular 90’s movie by the same name I suggest you see – We need you to “help us, help you.”

Listen to what we say. We aren’t trying to be pains in your a^*. We are literally trying to get you to adulthood with all your limbs and a fully functioning brain. If we suggest you do something or avoid something else, know that we say it in hopes of saving you some pain or anxiety. The fact is, we’ve lived longer and seen more. In this case, we truly know better. Defer to us.

One of the first things I taught you in terms of safety was to put your hand out first so a dog can smell you. Even as a really tiny guy you would stick out your chubby, little mitt for a dog to sniff. At the time you were still too nervous to pet them, but you liked the connection. As you get older though, this is a good lesson not just for animals but life in general. Be innately cautious when dealing with things that can potentially hurt you. Go in slowly and let the situation unfold organically. Assess the risk and proceed as you deem appropriate. Check if there’s rocks under the water. Sometimes, even when you do the right thing, you still get bitten. But it’ll happen a lot less. It’s also a good rule of thumb to ask the owner if you can pat the dog, or use the equipment, or swim in the pool… I learned that lesson the hard way when a ridiculous doggie on a pillow attached itself to my lip when I was 8. As far as I’m concerned if you brought your dog to a workplace or social situation it should be friendly. Don’t bring your bit*^y, bitting, yip of a dog to a place to launch itself at children’s faces. That dog stays home. But I should have asked.

One thing you also learned early was the danger of taking pills that aren’t for you. I take a litany of medications daily. They’re prevalent in our house. I keep all my PH drugs in a box on my dresser, but it’s not locked, and every night there are 2 cups filled with pills beside my bed for 11pm and 7am. I also take pills at 3pm when we are usually together. I’ve borrowed your sippy cup more times than I can count to wash them down. You can’t help but see them. They are an ever present part of your life. So as early as I could I taught you that you don’t take pills.

Medicineamigo.com

Me: Do you take pills Lochie?

You: No.

Me: What happens if you see a pill on the ground?

You: I don’t touch it and tell a grown up.

Me: What if someone tries to give you a pill?

You: I don’t take pills.

Now, obviously as you get older you will take pills for pain or illness but I think the lesson stands. You don’t take pills that aren’t for you. You don’t steal your Dad’s Adderall, you don’t take your friend’s mom’s valium. You don’t mess around with perscription drugs and you don’t take recreational drugs made in a lab. Those things will eff you up. If you experiment with drugs at all, please just limit it to things that grow out of the ground. Once something has been messed with scientifically you don’t know what you’re getting. Nothing in your life was made to be snorted or injected. Nothing good comes from that s#^@. No high is worth what you could possibly lose.

We have guns in our house. Not real guns but toy guns. For big boys and little ones. Your Dad is an avid competitive paintballer and his gun looks like a semi automatic weapon. You’ve seen him clean it numerous times and he’s shown you all the components and ammunition so you really understand what it is. You have Star Wars laser guns and two very excellent marshmallow guns. I thought, not having grown up with guns at all, that I would be very anti-gun in our house but to be honest, it’s hard to keep a boy away from a weapon. If I don’t give it to you you’re just using your fingers, and with your Dad’s military background, boy scout sharpshooting and weekend hobby, there is no way I can keep guns out of your life. I just want you to be responsible. We’ve discussed that there is a difference between what we have and a real gun, and what to do if someone ever shows you a real one. You are not to touch it. You are to get away as quickly as possible and tell a grown up. I reiterate this lesson a lot. Too many kids have been killed accidentally looking at their father’s gun or showing off for their friends. I want you to know that a real gun is not a toy but a weapon designed to kill. They need to be treated with the utmost respect.

This is the actual target. I took a picture because I was proud. Freaked out, but proud.

As a side note on guns, I’d never even held one till this year. Dad took me to a gun range one night so I could get a feel for one. We chose a revolver and went into the range. First of all, it’s so bloody loud I don’t know how people do it without flinching. It’s also really scary to be in a place where everyone has a loaded gun. Even blanks can kill you. I kept picturing the guy with the glock shooting next to us just turning around and opening fire. It made me unbelievably nervous. I ended up shooting a full round of bullets. My very first shot ever was like a joke. Dead center of the target. Perfection. Every other bullet wizzed by his head or went through his arm. But as my friend said, “It’s really the first shot that counts.” And my first shot was awesome. After, Dad asked me if I wanted to try a semi-automatic hand gun but I declined. I’d had enough. I got the hell out of there and watched through the glass as Dad and his friend decimated a target. He’s a good shot your Dad. After, we had a conversation I never thought I’d have. We debated the merits of having a gun at home. We decided that it’d be pointless in a home invasion as we’d have the gun and the ammo in separate locked boxes and it’d be totally impractical. We really would just want one for when the zombies came and we weren’t quite ready to sign up for that. We got an alarm system instead.

I guess when I really think about it, other than you getting sick, the thing I worry about most isn’t you, but others. How other people and their choices will effect you. Right now, those other people are strangers but when you’re older it’ll more likely be peer pressure and poor decision making. Strangers are a real issue for parents. We have a Berenstain Bears book called Learn About Strangers. In the book Mama Bear shows Sister Bear, using a barrel of apples, that most people are essentially good but it’s the one bad apple that you have to be careful of. She shows sister a bumpy, misshapen apple and Sister says that must be the bad one because it looks funny. When they cut it open though, it’s a perfectly good apple. The bad one turns out to be one that looks totally pristine. The book goes on to illustrate that you can’t judge a person based on how they look and, though we don’t want our children to be afraid of everyone they don’t know, we want them to be cautious so they have a better chance of staying safe. Not talking to strangers is a good rule of thumb – especially if you’re alone – but if you are with a grown up you trust,  look to them for guidance. Granny was recently bemoaning the state of the world that she can’t even say hi to a child in the grocery store anymore. They’re so drilled with stranger danger that they’re immobilized by fear. People talk to you all the time Loch and I encourage you to respond. Have a conversation. Politely answer their questions. Just do it when you’re with a grownup who can assess the situation. Most people just want to talk to little kids because they’re so cute. It seems a shame that children no longer feel safe to do that.

Get into the habit of saying “I have to ask my Mom/Dad/Sitter.” The lady at the Dry Cleaners loves you and wants to give you gifts. I know and trust her, so you can have them. But if you get into the habit of asking, you won’t find yourself in the position where you take things or go with strangers. If your answer to any offer is always, “I have to ask”, you’ll discourage most of those kind of potentially dangerous situations. If there’s no one there to ask, then the answer is always NO. “No. I can’t come see your dog in the car. No. I can’t take that candy. No. I can’t go to your house. No. I don’t want to be your special friend.” Our co-op members recently heard a speaker on predators. According to the speaker, the number one fear of Predators is getting caught, and the children that are taught to ask their caregivers before doing anything, the ones that are well educated on their body parts, that take ownership of themselves, the ones that aren’t afraid to tell their parents anything, are the least appealing victims. We’ve taught you, much to my horror with society, that you are the “boss of your body”. That no one should touch you but you. Sometimes doctors and parents have to help you but you’re in charge and you say what you’re comfortable with. Even as you age you still have to be on the lookout for unsavory characters looking for an adorable boy like you.

Stay by your grown up. If you get lost, go to a mother with kids or the sales person at the cash register. Apparently security guards are no longer safe. Too many predators dress up like them to lull children into a false sense of security. And you wonder why we worry. Mother’s with children and sales people are the most secure choice. Sad but true. Finally, I’ve taught you that if, God forbid, someone picks you up or tries to take you anywhere you scream at the top of your lungs “I don’t know you! I don’t know you!” over and over again. You can also say, “Help! Police!” All too often we see parents picking up screaming, thrashing kids, feel sorry for the parents and ignore the situation. If something is happening you want people to KNOW it’s happening. Don’t let them tune you out.

When I was young they taught us if a man attacked us to scream “Fire!” instead of “Help!” or “Rape!”, because people want to see a fire but they don’t want to get involved in an attack. I also learned that if someone tries to get you into a car or van using a weapon, FIGHT and RUN, because getting stabbed or shot is better than what will happen if you get in that vehicle. Remember, predators want passive victims. They avoid fighters as being too much trouble. That’s the kind of trouble you want to be.

Sadly, you also have to be careful of people you know. More often than not abusers aren’t strangers. Never do anything you’re not comfortable with. Listen to your gut. If the situation seems funny or wrong. Trust that it is. You’d rather be embarrassed than hurt. In David Fincher’s film version of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the villian points out that the Hero came willingly into his house knowing something wasn’t right. That his need to be polite overrode his need to be safe and now he would pay for it with his life. I’m all for manners but this is a good lesson. Be rude if you have to be. Your safety is more important than what someone might think of you. Don’t get into a car with a friend that’s been drinking because he’s riding you to do it. Don’t not use protection with the girl you just met because she says “it’s ok.” Don’t help that man you don’t know carry his TV into his house. I don’t care how big or strong you get, everyone is vulnerable and you have to be your own best judge.

Finally, as I always remind you, you live in the cyber world. Predators are on line en mass. They are there to steal your identity. To steal your stuff. To lure you into hazardous situations. You have to be vigilant. We’ll put parental controls on things but, watching you navigate and iPad right now, I think you’ll have access to whatever you want no matter what we do. Knowing that, I say, BE CAREFUL. These people are dangerous. Stay within the designated lines. They are set up to protect you. Your teenage self wants to see porn, we can work that out. Just don’t send your information or picture to some stranger on Facebook or have someone from Craigslist come get Gears of War 8 when we’re not home. And tell us immediately if you receive anything that seems inappropriate or makes you uncomfortable. Don’t keep secrets from us. We are here to look after you. Let us. We aren’t trying to ruin your fun, just protect you from ruining your life.

Your father is nervous that my concern for your safety will scare the adventure out of you. He wants me to ensure you understand that everything above is there as a precaution. But I’m the mom, and it’s my job to give you all the facts so you can protect yourself. Your dad can work on the daring. He’ll run headlong off the dock with you and I’ll check the temperature of the water. We’re a good combination that way. For now I’ll just say…

Don’t play with fire. Always note the Emergency Exits. Have an Earthquake kit at home and in your car. Take a first aid course. Don’t go to sleep smoking or with a laptop on your bed. Charge your cell phone. Carry a spare tire. Be alert when you drive. And if you’re ever robbed, give up everything without question. Don’t give them any reason to hurt you. Stuff is replaceable. You aren’t.

Be smart. Use your head. And if your head’s a bit fuzzy, call your parents. We’ll come get you. No questions asked.

I love you. Take care.

xo Mom

Jan 23

18 Comments

Friendship: An Overview

Dear Lochie,

Friends are one of the most significant things you can have in your life. For many, friends are even more important than family. I’ve heard it said that “friends are the family you choose for yourself” and I believe that to be true. In many ways it’ll be even more applicable to you because you’re an only child. You have no peers genetically linked to you. I know there lots of siblings that don’t get along, but at the very least, I always saw siblings as a built-in ally, if not a best friend. Even if they don’t see eye to eye, for the most part, siblings have each others backs. From having someone to talk to in the back seat of the car to weathering the burden of aging parents, people with brothers and sisters aren’t alone. Whether the relationship is cultivated or not is up to the individual. My sickness robbed you of a sibling so your friends will be especially important to you.  Your dad and I will do all we can to make sure you aren’t lonely. As an only child myself I always had friends around. Granny and Granddad went out of their way to include my pals as much as possible. I went on a trip with a friend (or friends) every year in high school. Parties were often at our house and my girlfriends had an annual weekend at the cottage for almost a decade. My parents made a real effort to know my circle and to make sure to include them as much as possible. As a result my friends remain close to my family today. I’m hoping to cultivate that same environment for you. I just bought a new car and the question arose of why I would need a third row of seats when there only 3 people in our family. It’s for your friends. I want there always to be room for them in our lives. I want them to feel as welcome at our house as my group always was at mine.

My 16th Birthday at the cottage with my girls. I'm the moon face in the front.

Right now Dad and I are your best friends. You tell us everything and want to be with us as much as possible. And as much as my heart hurts to know it won’t always be like that, it’s an important step in growing up for your parents to be usurped by your friends in order of importance. So, knowing it’s coming (sniff) here’s my advice. I want you to have killer friends and the only way you get that is by being one yourself.

To make friends you have to do two things:

1, BE YOURSELF– you can’t make real friends without putting your real self out there. People have to know you to befriend you. Don’t change to try and fit in. If you have to change, those aren’t the right people for you. You don’t have to be the same as everyone – lots of friendships are based in similarities but solidified by differences – you just have to stay true to yourself and the right people will find you.

2, CARE WHO THE OTHER PERSON IS – When I was little granny tacked a piece of birch bark on my wall that said, “You can make more friends in 3 days by being genuinely interested in other people than you can in 3 years by trying to make other people genuinely interested in you.” Take the time to listen and really understand people.  You are incredibly interesting but so are others. I’ve alway been a devoted friend, but when I was younger I was preoccupied with how I was perceived. I wanted so much to be “cool”, to be “accepted”. That’s pretty normal teenage behavior – self absorption and the need to fit in – but it’s not something I’m particularly proud of. What I am proud of though, is that I had, and continue to have, great friends. I cared about them and they knew it. I hope they still do. I also took the opportunity to be friends with a number of different kinds of people and that was a smart choice.

Here’s the thing, I’ve always felt that cliques had a bad rap. Some people click. Others don’t.  Essentially a clique is just a group of people that get along better than others. It only is classified as a clique when the folks involved are “cool”. A bunch of kids that let’s say, love D&D, and hang out with each other exclusively would not be considered a clique and yet, technically, they are. I think cliques are only bad when others are excluded maliciously. Exclusion itself happens organically. People with similar interests tend to hang with each other. That’s just how it is.

23 years old. Our first friend's wedding. Same group of girls. I'm the head on the bride's shoulder.

You will, in all likelihood, end up in some sort of clique. You’re a boy so they’ll call it a “group”. Enjoy it. It’s nice being part of a pack. I myself was part of a group internally dubbed SITC (after a game played on the original 90210 called Skeletons in the Closet, not after the popular TV show that took over my early 20’s called Sex in the City, though that’s not so far off) To this day, those girls remain some of my closest friends. At this point we’re more like family than friends, our knowledge of each other is so deep. We accept each others shortcomings as fact and have a vernacular that only comes from 25 years of friendship. Our relationships within the group – who’s closer to whom, who drives who crazy, who we’re worried about – changes from year to year. It’s a constantly evolving relationship. So, if I were to say “don’t be cliquey” I’d be a hypocrite and, I think I’d be advising you wrong. If you’re lucky enough to find yourself in a crowd where you feel you belong – whether there are 3 of you or 13 – respect and cultivate those relationships. They can be a huge source of strength for you throughout your life. When I was diagnosed, the first person I called was one of my girls. The one I knew wouldn’t cry. I gave her the facts and she relayed them to the rest of the group. She had exactly the right attitude to keep me from breaking down. Once I’d learned to handle the idea of being sick, I could then talk to the others without tears. To this day I wear the Tiffany’s bracelet they got for me (coordinating in 3 separate countries) to let me know they were there. It makes my medical alert look much more tolerable.

29 years old. My Bachlorette. Same girls. C&W theme to lovingly mock my solitary love of country music.

There’s a real intrinsic value in being part of a group, should you be blessed enough to find a good one, but I would also advise you not to segregate or limit yourself to only those people. I was a  joiner. The member of lots of teams and clubs so I took full advantage of mixing it up in the friendship department. I also went to camp and some of my dearest friends are still from those summers. I’d encourage you to branch out. Try not to get too caught up in who’s cool or not cool. If you’re not traditionally cool don’t write off the cool kids and vice versa. There are so many interesting people out there. I have a number of friends who, at first glance, I have little in common with and yet we adore each other. Their perspective is different. Their humor is divine. They give me insight I wouldn’t otherwise have and I’m a better and more well rounded for having them in my life. But keep in mind, with friends in different circles it’s very important that you stay consistent. If you make an untraditional friend, remain his, or her, friend no matter the circumstance. Your friendship should not be contingent on environment.

Friendship is also not perfect. Like any good relationship, it has it’s ups and downs. When I started a new school in Grade 6, I was accepted right away by a girl who was, for all intents and purposes, the leader of the grade. She took me under her wing and introduced me to a whole new world. One day in late spring our group went to an event called May Fair (a small local fair with a BIG social element if you’re 11-17). I arrived at her house in flowered boxer shorts and a bright fushia t-shirt (1987, lest you judge) and all the other girls were wearing cut off jeans and white shirts. That may not sound like a big deal, but for the 10-year-old new girl it felt like the end of the world. When my friend realized my discomfort she immediately went upstairs and cut a pair of her jeans for me to wear. She cut her jeans for me. I have no idea what her parents thought, but I’ll never forget that kindness. 2 years later, that same friend and I had a falling out and she ostracized me. The power she had used to bring me in, she used to cast me out. I would talk and she would pretend she couldn’t hear me. What was worse is that the whole group went along with it. I fought and cried and rallied against it, to no avail. No one would talk to me. I was dead to them. (For the record, girls can be a lot tougher than boys in the mind game department – kinda glad you can avoid that)  So, I dried my tears and, for the second half of the year, I got another set of friends. There was talk of Granny and Granddad pulling me from the school because I was so miserable, but I knew that was the wrong choice. I had to learn, if not accept, how to deal with the problem, and getting new friends was the first step to that.

The thing is, once I accepted it, it mattered less and less, and eventually it didn’t really affect me anymore. People only have power over you if you let them. That’s a hard thing to see when you’re in the middle of something, but still a good thing to know in the back of your head. Friendship shouldn’t be hard just as love shouldn’t be pain. Sometimes you just gotta let go. As it turned out, once I was over it, it was over. In the summer between Grade 8 and 9, my old friend called to apologize for treating me so badly. It was a nice call to get. One I had dreamed about getting all fall, but by August mattered much less. When we got  back to school – High School – no one person seemed to have the power anymore. New girls came in and I met the person who would be my best friend and closest ally for the next 8 years. We too eventually had a falling out and coming back together. Life is like that. Don’t write off a friendship because of a fight. Sometimes you need time or space to grow. Sometimes it’s just over. That’s ok too. Not all friendships make it. Not all are supposed to.

For the record, that jean short cutting friend/Grade 8 nemesis is now your God Mother so…you just never know.

What I learned in that year though, is that you can’t put all your eggs in one basket. Friends can let you down. They can disappoint you. And though I ultimately ended up back with my old group, I knew I had to remain branched out. You might ask yourself, why did I go back? Why after being ignored by this group of girls for a year did I return to them? Why didn’t I continue to hang with the group that accepted me when I was an outcast?  I just think it was an organic swinging of the pendulum. I’m not sure if there’s a lesson to be gleaned from my experience other than to be open and kind to people always. Things have a way of working themselves out.

Now, because I made a lot of dear friends early, I have few close friends from University or Grad School. There were plenty of great people I hung out with, but as far as retaining those relationships long term, it didn’t really happen. My dance card was full. I have a couple great pals from my days in New York but I don’t get to see them enough. You might find the opposite. Your close friendships might occur after your childhood/teenage years. Your Dad lived all around the world as a kid so most of his tightest bonds (with a couple notable exceptions) are from his adult years. There’s something special about old friends – who know your family, where you come from and who you were – but there is also something exceptional about the friends you make as an adult, as the person you are, not the person you’re perceived to be. Adult friends are, in some ways, less complicated. As time goes by you make less friends because you need less friends. Friendship takes time and commitment and as adults we don’t have a lot of either. So if you connect with someone as a grown up  it’s really special. You’ve chosen that person because they truly add to your life. They accept you for the person you are without the shadow of the person you were.

Some of my closest "Adult" friends. We don't see each other nearly enough. Grown up schedules are a killer!

Finally, as I’ve said before in my letter about Technology, you live in a socially networked world. Please don’t judge yourself on the amount of friends or followers you have on line. In my opinion, no one needs 500 friends. It’s too much work. However, you can sometimes reconnect with or get to know people you wouldn’t have otherwise using technology. It’s a brave new world for that. Acquaintances I had earlier in life have become friends on line. Sometimes the get to know you phase is simpler without the pressure of getting together. It’s often easier to share your feelings in the cyber world within the protection of a well crafted email or note. I know things about people that I’m not sure they would have told me had we been speaking in person. You can be more open on line. Plus, you can edit what you’ve said before you send it, a luxury so many of us wish that we had in real conversations. Finally you can be friends with people who aren’t in your day to day life. I can retain my friendships with people all over the world by remaining part of their lives on line. So when we see each other it’s not like we lost track. We can just pick up where we left off. And isn’t that, in itself, the definition of a good friendship?

Choose your friends wisely. Don’t cultivate relationships with people who are petty or cruel. Remember, if you can’t trust someone it isn’t real. Be the kind of friend you’d like to have and let people know how much they mean to you. Be loyal and forgiving. Everyone wants to be liked and accepted and ultimately everyone makes mistakes. Find common ground and build on it. Because friendships will carry you through life. They will be the life raft to your drowning man and champagne that launches your boat.

Never underestimate the power of a true friend.

Your best friend always,

xo Mom

Jan 16

34 Comments

Regrets

Before I begin let me just say what an honor it was to be chosen for Fresh Pressed last week. Thank you to all who took the time to read my post on The Death of Anticipation and to those of you who responded. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get back to everyone but I thoroughly appreciate the support and positive feedback. I am also very grateful to those of you who took the time to peruse the site and read and respond to other posts. This process of writing to Loch is a real labor of love and I am thrilled that so many of you see it as a useful and engaging endeavor. I hope you will continue to read both old and new posts and find that them worthwhile. But, since I planned to do a new post a week, the time has come to move on. Thanks again and keep reading.  xo leigh

Dear Lochie,

Here’s the thing about regrets, you want as few as possible. Some are inevitable, and you shouldn’t beat yourself up about them, but if you’re really using your noodle they should be few and far between. It’s a pretty good rule of thumb to ask yourself, will I ever regret this? Maybe not now but later? If the answer is anything other than no, rethink it. That doesn’t mean don’t take risks. It just means be accountable for them.

When I was in my 3rd year of University at McGill I went to dinner with your Granddad. I went with the express intention of telling him that I didn’t plan to do an Honours (spelled with a U in Canada) degree in my final year.  I believed it was unnecessary. I had no plans for Graduate school, Law School or any other school, and the work required, not to mention the extra classes and 100 page defendable thesis, seemed excessive without the goal of further education. Granddad listened to my argument without interruption. Then, as I drank to this day the best chocolate martini ever, (clear, not milky, served with raspberries) he laid it out for me. He didn’t veto it outright, as he had when I expressed my thoughts of deferring University altogether for theatre school, he simply asked me two questions: “Can you tell me without hesitation that making this choice will never matter?” and “Can you tell me that you will never wish you’d chosen differently?”  How could I know that? All I knew was that I had no plans of higher education so why would I mire myself down with a last year of someone who did.

Granddad: “So, when you’re applying for a job one day and you don’t get it, you can tell me it wasn’t because the other person had a graduate degree and you didn’t?”

Me: “Well no. How would I know that?”

Granddad: “Well if you had a graduate degree, you’d know it wasn’t a lack of one that didn’t get you the job. ”

Me: “Right…”

Granddad: “Then why make a choice now that effects all your future choices?”

Me: “But I don’t want to go to Graduate School.”

Granddad: “And you might not. But if you don’t do the degree then you probably can’t. Why close that door now when you might regret it later? ”

His argument made sense and we left that dinner with my decision to do the Honours degree changed. I’d do the degree and if I didn’t need it, no harm done, but if I changed my mind, I had it.

I changed my mind.

As the end of University approached I realized I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and I’d be better off deciding while in school – improving my chances of further job opportunities – than I would be working in some random job. I applied to a very prestigious Graduate program in Broadcasting at Ryerson University (3rd in North America at the time after USC and NYU) and was one of the 40 students out of 1500 applicants accepted. I’d be naive to say that honors degree didn’t help.

It also turns out that I was right about not wanting to go to Grad School. I finished only one of the two years as I was offered a job in Film Distribution in January of my first year. A group I was in won a business award called “The Pitch” in which we had to present our project and findings to a room full of television industry people. I guess I made an impression as I was offered a number of jobs after that event. I worked and went to school for 6 months and by June, I was working full time. One thing I did do though was fulfill all my scholastic requirements for that year to the best of my ability. That way in case I ever wanted to return to school I could. I didn’t ever want to regret leaving.

I never did.

I did find however, that working full time selling Television and Film didn’t make me happy. I hated my days in an office. Just because I worked in a “cool” industry didn’t make my job cool. Every day felt the same. I switched up the monotony by taking a different route to work, or having a cappachino instead of a latte. It just wasn’t for me. One day, after being there just over a year, I left work early for a “doctor’s appointment” and went to a movie instead (!!). The movie was Center Stage, a story about young people – in this case, dancers – living out their dreams in NYC. I sat in the theatre, surrounded by numerous little girls in ballet outfits, crying. I knew I was on the wrong path.  I knew had to do what the kids in the film were doing. I’d always wanted to be an actor and not following that dream was killing me. I left the movie theatre and went home and said, “I’m quitting my job and moving to New York” and I wasn’t kidding. I knew I’d regret never giving it a real shot and when I laid the plan out for my parents I think they must have seen that too. They agreed to support my move and pay for acting school. As it turned out, the only legitimate school I hadn’t missed the deadline for was Circle in the Square, a 2 year theatre conservatory program set 2 floors underneath a working Broadway Theatre in Times Square. So, I FedEx-ed my application, was on a plane within the month to audition, and 3 months later I moved and never looked back.

Now, I did quite well in New York as an actress. I had some pretty cool credits to show for myself and when I graduated I was one of the first of my classmates to sign with an agency and manager. I did a whole lot of theatre and just missed a couple of really excellent permanent TV gigs. When I moved to LA 5 years later I thought it was the right time. I wasn’t getting any younger and I really wanted to do television. The exit of Friends had left an opening for sitcom darling and I thought I’d just breeze in and take it. Not so much. LA is a tough town. As soon as I got here I realized how old I really was. 28 in LA is like 45 in regular years. All my theatre credits were practically worthless. It was like I’d been a dental hygienist in Omaha and had just decided to become an actress. It was horrible. I had moments where I cursed my family for telling me I couldn’t go to theatre school right out of High School. If I’d done that I wouldn’t be so old now! But I couldn’t regret my years at McGill. I loved University. I became an adult there. I learned who I was and I had so much fun doing it. I wouldn’t give up those days for anything. I also don’t regret following my dreams to NYC. Though I’m no longer an actress it put me on the right path. It brought me joy and inspiration and ultimately lead me to your father and you.

You’ll never regret following your dreams even if those dreams change along the way. You will, however, regret taking the “safe” road and always wondering “what if…”

When I got to LA I switched from my New York agent to the LA office with some difficulty. None of the agents really knew me, and any money I made went back to NY as they were the ones who originally signed me. So I found the LA office had no vested interest in me. I didn’t have a champion so I tried to make some connections. I took one agent out to lunch. Made friends with him and learned his son loved frogs. When his daughter was born, I gave him a present but also included a froggy stuffed animal so his son wouldn’t feel left out. I sent cards and left messages to stay fresh in their brains. I changed managers at their request and did everything I could to ingratiate myself. Then I did something that, to this day, I regret. I had recently seen Dirty Dancing 2 and found the acting appalling. Not working had made me angry so anybody in a public and well recognized role that did a s^*#y job just pissed me off. I ended up taking a box of cupcakes to my agency (another ploy to make them like me) and on the top of the box I wrote: “Just saw Dirty Dancing 2. If SHE’s working then I definitely should be! Let’s make this happen! xo Leigh” It literally makes me feel sick to think about it now. I got a call later that day from one of the agents balling me out for my “inappropriate behavior” and “extremely poor” choice to write such a thing. She told me she had ripped the top off the box and I should “think” before I do things. She further informed me that this particular actress was a very big star in England (she was well known) and a “friend of the agency” and that I should use my brain before I “disparage” someone again. I was humiliated. Apologetic and humiliated. I was also soon dumped from that agency. I’ll tell you this babe, I don’t for one minute regret having that opinion. She was terrible in the film. Wooden, fake and two dimensional. What I DO regret is having that opinion in a public and professional forum. I’ve seen that actress in many films since and she’s quite good (especially when she remains British) but my choice to voice negativity in that way was the wrong one and I paid dearly for it.

If you have an opinion of someone, unless you are a critic whose job is to critique, mind your audience. Your Dad has worked with some big name actors who are, for lack of a better term, total a-holes. When people ask him what they’re like the best answer he can give is an upbeat “fine”. Hedge your bets. Be ambiguous. Answer in a way that allows you to be truthful without being critical. You never know who knows whom. You don’t want to be the guy talking out of turn, and unless someone is just truly intolerable think about what Granny used to say, “If you can’t say anything nice. Don’t say anything at all.” In the privacy of your personal life feel free to rip on people if they deserve it, just be careful of how widely your opinions are known. Don’t let them come back to bite you in the a*^. It’s a terrible feeling. Trust me.

virgonova.wordpress.com

My first kiss was an excellent one. Grade 9 March break on a cruise. His name was Zeb Ripple and he went to boarding school in Connecticut. He was about the coolest boy in the world and I was just crazy about him. When we held hands for the first time electric shocks went through my whole body. And when we first kissed I thought I might die of happiness. We spent the whole week together and when he left the ship he gave me his hat and I slept with it for weeks crying my eyes out. The thing is, the feelings were mutual and he called and wrote me all the time. We made a plan to have him come up to Toronto for my first Semi-Formal ever. He was excited. I was excited. My parents were ok having him stay with us. It was like a dream. Then, I panicked. I was quite insecure about my looks in comparison to my friends. It wasn’t till University that I even thought I was that attractive. During High School I was “the funny friend of So in So.” or “The cool girl that hangs out with Blank”. I started to panic that Zeb would come to Toronto and fall in love with one of my friends. I felt that would be worse than never seeing him again. So I uninvited him. I UNINVITED him!!! Good God. What an idiot. I can’t even remember what I said to make him not come. He was really disappointed but we made a plan to meet up in the summer when I was going to be in Maine. I thought, Yes, that’s safe. He’ll just see me. It’ll be the same and I won’t’ lose him to someone else. But, the day before he was scheduled to come he got in a car accident and couldn’t make it. I never saw him again. What a fool I was. I let fear and insecurity ruin what could have been a magical night and possibly a wonderful relationship.

I made a similar mistake a year later when I fell for this boy who had a cottage near me. His brother was a big hockey player and the family got a lot of attention for it. We connected the spring of Grade 10 and had a pretty cute little thing going. When I had my annual girls weekend at the cottage that June, he came over with bunch of his buddies to hang out. My friends teased them mercilessly. The thing is, they went to an all boys school that wasn’t as traditionally “cool” as the guys we normally hung out with. They were all hockey players and as a group did come off a bit “meat heady”. Individually, I’m sure they were all pretty nice, I know the guy I liked was. But as a group they didn’t do themselves any favors, and my friends, being smart, educated, ladies, just decimated them. It wasn’t good. The boys resorted to tactics like going swimming so they could show off their not unimpressive physiques but it came off as cheesy and lame and only increased the awkwardness of the situation. So when the boy I liked called me later in the week I blew him off. My friends wouldn’t approve, and at the time that was more important than the fact that I liked him and wanted to be with him.

So that boy turned out to be a big NHL hockey star too. Gorgeous and fun and after University all the prettiest and coolest girls were after him. The same girls that had dismissed him years before were interested in him now. One weekend I ended up at his cottage (now on a more expensive and swanky lake than before) and he told me how much I’d hurt him in High School. That he’d really liked me and I’d dropped him for no reason. I had nothing to say but sorry. Sorry that I hadn’t been strong enough not to bow to my friend’s perception and that I was fully aware I’d screwed up. He agreed and ended up dating one of my best friends for about 6 months. It was pretty hard to swallow. Now, it also turns out that fame had made him a bit of a player and he didn’t stay with any girl for long, but the regret is still mine. I shouldn’t have done what I thought my friend’s would have done. I should have done what I wanted to do.

Never make choices based on others opinions. Be confident enough to do what makes you happy. Others will fall in. And if they don’t, f^*k em. It’s your life. You’re the one who has to live it.

For the record, there’s a difference between a regret and wishing you’d made a different choice. Regrets are the things that still make you shake your head years later. Dating the guy that treated me like garbage in University? I don’t regret that. It taught me what I didn’t want, what I was really worth and how to say “no, this is not good enough for me.” It took me 2 years of totally unhealthy behavior, but I learned it. Dating the weird bartender dude in NY with the mohawk and very probable secret drug problem? Don’t regret it. It was fun and different gave me one of the coolest memories ever – driving across the Brooklyn Bridge at dusk in late summer on the back of his vintage Triumph motorcycle, the orange and pink clouds highlighting New York’s beautiful skyline and the summer wind on my face. Did it work out? Of course not. But it was fun while it lasted.

Brooklyn Bridge Sunset Photograph - Brooklyn Bridge Sunset Fine Art Print - Susan Candelario

Dating the supermodel with 5 kids? Absolutely no regrets. I did that for almost 2 years and it was a lovely relationship. It taught me how important it is to be with someone kind (and handy) and it enforced my belief in boundaries for children. Plus, I knew it wasn’t forever. The thing is you can date people and do things that teach you lessons that stay with you long after the situation changes. Things I regret are actions like drinking too much on my 3rd date with a famous actor I’d met at a bar. We’d gone out a couple of times and everything was going really well. He invited me to come and see him headlining in Shakespeare in the Park and then for drinks at his private club. I was so into this guy (and maybe a little intimidated by his celebrity) that I got really nervous and overdid it on the booze. I ended up kind of acting like a tool. He never called me again and I still look at that night and groan. Do I regret not being with him? No, I was meant to be with your father. Do I do regret my behavior? Hells yes. Try to avoid that feeling. It still makes me cringe.

Make your decisions in life with a clear head using your own mind, rather than using others opinions as your guide.  Be aware of making decisions under the influence of anything. Drugs (though I hope we can avoid this one), alcohol or other people. Try and ask yourself if there’s any chance you’ll regret the decision later and adjust your actions accordingly. Be aware of your audience when sharing your opinions and remember that professional situations require different, more guarded behavior. Follow your heart and know that at the end of the day you’re the one that has to live with the success or fallout of your decisions.

Be happy. Be safe. Use protection. Believe me, those are regrets you don’t want to deal with, ever.

Life is a wonderful adventure. Try to have as many experiences as you can with as few mishaps as possible. As Frank says, “Regrets, I’ve had a few. But then again, too few to mention…” Do it your way and be proud you did.

I love you always.

xo Mom

Jan 9

288 Comments

Death of Anticipation

The Christmas season is over and as I reflect back I see that for all it’s rushing and busyness, there is something to be said for a time of year that forces us to wait for something. Christmas Day is the one day of the year that still has the build of anticipation. That giddy feeling that something you really want is coming. That the promise of what’s ahead is so exciting you can barely sleep. It’s a special feeling, and one we are sorely lacking in today’s highly technological and immediate world.

Years ago I read an article in Cookie Magazine about the Death of Anticipation and it stuck with me. Our modern world leaves less and less room for expectation and excitement and in many ways I think that’s a shame. I’ll take you through the top points heralded in Cookie to better illustrate what I mean:

In 1969 Nathaniel Branden wrote The Psychology of Self Esteem which established a link between healthy self esteem and future success. Though I believe this to be true, that a healthy sense of self worth is essential to future success, I believe we might have gone a bit too far. Every child is important and every effort is worthy of praise but we’ve found ourselves in a world where every child gets a medal. Where simply showing up is considered success. A world where children aren’t to be singled out for bad OR good behavior. Loch got his first medal at his pre-school annual Thanksgiving fundraiser. It’s called the Turkey Trot. The kids run as many laps as they can around the school and then everyone gets a certificate printed with their name and number of laps and a medal. I thought this was terrific. He was proud. I was proud.  The kids are all included. Whether you did 50 laps or 5, no one is left out. But they’re in preschool. The oldest kid is 5. I think the problem stems from extending this mentality straight through high school. Why should anyone get excited about winning a race when the people who just put on their shoes get as much fanfare. In 1996 Dr. Jean M. Twenge published a fascinating book called Generation Me. Generation Me is defined as anyone born in the 1970’s, 80’s and 90’s. Though being born in the mid 70’s myself, I’d say I see this phenomenon more in the 80’s and 90’s babies, but for the purpose of the example you can lump us 1970’s kids in there. The Me Generation is the generation that take it for granted that self comes first. We’re also known as the Entitlement Generation. “Generation Me has never known a world that put duty before self, and believes that the needs of the individual should come first. This is not the same thing as being selfish – it is captured, instead, in the phrases we so often hear: “Be yourself,” “Believe in yourself,” “Love yourself before you can love someone else.”* These have become some of our most deeply entrenched beliefs.

“We live in a time when high self-esteem is encouraged from childhood, when young people have more freedom and independence than ever, but also far more depression, anxiety, cynicism, and loneliness. Today’s young people have been raised to aim for the stars at a time when it is more difficult than ever to get into college, find a good job, and afford a house. Our expectations are very high just as the world is becoming more competitive, so there’s a huge clash between expectations and reality. More than any other generation in history, the children of Baby Boomers are disappointed by what they find when they arrive at adulthood.” ** The question becomes are we raising our children, and have we ourselves been raised with, unrealistic hopes, undisciplined self-assertion, and endless, baseless self-congratulation.*** You find examples of this in the school system every day. In Canada you can no longer fail a student. Grade inflation is a big gaff of the United States that runs right into college, and “independent spelling” and self grading has become way more accepted than it should. According to Twenge 30% of students polled believed they should pass a class simply because they showed up. If everything we do is fabulous and worthy then how do we adjust when everything doesn’t go our way?

If just being there earns us a medal, it creates a disconnect in our brain regarding what we are worth and what we deserve with very little effort on our parts. In a world where reality stars make more money than doctors what are we teaching our children? It’s the Teen Mom / Kardashian empire phenomenon. I was recently talking to a 17 year old who was graduating from High School and when I asked her what she wanted to do she said she wanted to be a reality star or, tongue and cheek, a trophy wife. It was depressing. She wasn’t really joking. But why shouldn’t she want that? Lack of talent and shame is now a calling card in our society. It’s as if we’ve been told we’re so great for so long that we buy our own press. Why wouldn’t everyone want to know what I’m eating for dinner? Tweet. Why should I start at the bottom of this company? I’m really smart and special. Quit. Why should I work for a company in the first place? I’ll just start my own business. Fail. It’s tough. Upbringing and celebrity culture are at a real cross roads with reality. Dr. Mel Levine, a pediatrics professor at the University of North Carolina Medical School and author of a book called Ready or Not, Here Life Comes, says  “We’re seeing an epidemic of people who are having a hard time making the transition to work — kids who had too much success early in life and who’ve become accustomed to instant gratification” .

I’m all for going out on your own. For entrepreneurial endeavors. For thinking outside the box. Some say it’ll be the new generation of “Me thinkers” that get America on it’s feet again. They’re referred to as “productive narcissists”. Michael Maccoby, author of Narcissitic Leaders: Who Succeeds and Who Fails, argues “that businesses that rely on innovation, new technology, and globalization require far bolder leaders who can take risks, shrug off conventional wisdom, project confidence, formulate hyper-ambitious plans, and charm the pants off investors and underlings alike, so that they, too, will make a leap of faith and believe in the next cold-fusion-powered car or the iPod that pays your bills and runs your household.” It is just my opinion that self esteem can be healthy without being over blown, and that once you get past preschool the best project, runner, swimmer, etc. should be the one who goes home with the ribbon. Why would anyone ever practice, strive or work to uncover their talents if they’re taught that everything they already do is amazing and worthy of praise? Who are these people auditioning for American Idol who can’t sing? Or So You Think You Can Dance who can’t dance? Why are their families there with signs that say they’re the best. Why can’t we believe in our children without blowing smoke up their a*%es. Why can’t we love them and support them within the frame of reality? Egos become very fragile when they aren’t based in truth.

It’s hard to anticipate your future successes if you think by simply existing you will succeed. The only people that works for is trust fund babies and supermodels.

But, I digress. Other things we have ceased to anticipate….

In the 1980’s strawberries became available all year round. This might seem simplistic and not worth mentioning but I think it’s indicative of a culture that has placed value more on quantity over quality. Have

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you seen strawberries lately? They used to be my favorite fruit. Juicy, sweet, red all the way through and the size of a quarter. Now, you bite into one and it’s almost always white, flavorless and more often than not, the size of a plum. Strawberries were not meant to get that big. We were supposed to eat apples in the fall and strawberries in the spring and summer. To this day I think there is nothing more delicious than a Ontario grown summer peach. But I don’t want one in the middle of February. Just like I don’t want Turkey in May. I’ll wait for Thanksgiving or Christmas. In our efforts to give everyone what they want when they want it, we’ve sacrificed the very thing we desire. It’s the waiting that makes it special.

In 1987 the sonogram was perfected to let us know the sex of our baby with almost 100% certainty and without a great aunt twirling a spoon over our belly. Now, I would be a hypocrite to critize this technology as I found out what we were having before Loch was born.Though I was happy to know I’ll readily admit it does take the surprise out of it. Personally, it was a surprise I didn’t want. Not so much so we could do the baby room in the right color or get appropriate non-gender neutral baby gifts, but more because I was favoring a girl and I didn’t want to have even one moment of confusion or disappointment in the delivery room. I wanted to be happy and adjusted and feel nothing but joy. And that was the right choice for me. As I’ve said before, it took me about a month to get over pig tails and party dresses and the fact that most children’s stores are 3/4 girl stuff, till I was psyched to have a boy. When Loch came out, I was thrilled to see him. However, I think it’d be fair to say that the sonogram and it’s subsequent technology has also lead to scheduled C-sections (of which many of my friends are big proponents of), early inductions pre-delivery date to avoid those last pounds, and official birth plans that rarely go as expected and more often than not cause mothers endless extra hours of grief as they try and keep on point. Sometimes you just have to let things unfold as they will.

mmncs.com

The 1990’s were probably the biggest blow to the concept of delayed gratification. We saw the birth of the internet, the creation of caller ID, answering machines or services in almost every home and the creation of digital cameras. No more waiting all day for your song to come on the radio. Or for your pictures to be developed. No more trying to time a call just right to make sure someone was home. You can avoid people you don’t want to speak to with caller ID but our kids will never know the joy of hoping that that ring is for you. “Please let it be Jeff. Pleeease let it be Jeff. ” There is an entire generation of kids that don’t realize that you didn’t use to be able to look at a picture right after you took it and quite frankly, it’s just made us all more vain. “Ugh, I look terrible. Delete it. Take it again.”

We don’t get telegrams. We don’t wait for letters. We have email and voice mail and text messaging. Everything is right away. Every new step is faster than the next.

You no longer have to wait for your show to come on TV as you can watch it at your leisure on whatever DVR device you happen to be using now. Personally I often miss the television season altogether and watch the episodes back to back on Netflix or On Demand later. You don’t have to hope that Blockbuster isn’t out of the movie you want, because they’re all available on streaming services in your mailbox, on line or on your TV.

I can remember as a child waiting all week for The Wonderful World of Disney to come on on Sunday nights. It was so exciting to hear those first few cords of When You Wish Upon A Star knowing I had one whole hour of television just for me. Loch has been watching kids shows on demand since he was a baby. He’ll never know the joy of that suspense. And, not that it matters like it used to with all of today’s viewing choices, but 1994 also saw the Olympics switched to an alternating schedule. Instead of waiting 4 years between Olympics we now wait 2 and really are only one trial away from the next one. The Olympics used to be an event. Capital E. It was the only time we ever brought a TV to the cottage. Now you watch the opening ceremonies and TiVo the rest. I’m still glued to it, but will the next generation be? The more available something is the less exciting. Or maybe, we have so much now, very little even registers as exciting at all…

Kids still await summer but with the talk of year round school really becoming a reality – LAUSD is starting mid August now – what summer will they really be awaiting? And, to be a real downer – if you look at the environmental shifts, the Greenhouse effect is making our earth warmer and warmer every year. Without a real change we could be looking at a future of summer all year round. Let’s try to avoid that shall we?

It’s the little things as well as the big ones. It’s being grown up enough to wear high heels. Nope, Suri Cruise, age 3 has them, I want them too. Earning money to buy your first car. No way dude, I’m 16, where’s my ride?! Waiting till you’re in a serious relationship to sleep with someone? Who does that? Trading sex for favors in grade school or jr. high sex parties are becoming the NORM. I’m literally afraid for my kid.

The biggest things we anticipate nowadays is new technology (if you’re my husband) or sequels to films and books (if you’re me). Ah, Deathly Hallows how I loved you. I eagerly awaited you in print and celluloid and you didn’t disappoint. But please, can more people do this? It’s so fun to look forward to something.

That’s the thing, kid’s need to look forward to things. Adults do too. It makes things special. Loch is blessed at Christmas time to have a Gigi that gives us a present for every day (!) of advent. It’s incredibly thoughtful and we love it, but when I watched Loch wake up every morning in December excited to open a present, I wondered how much it was distracting from the excitement of Christmas Day itself. When I was young I did an advent calendar with pictures for every day. Some years I even added a chocolate one. I loved it but I didn’t get any presents till the 25th. I’d certainly never tell my mother-in-law to stop. It’s a lovely tradition that comes from her heart – and I’m sure it’s different for Sean’s brother’s family who have 3 children, so that the majority of the gifts aren’t for just one child – I’m just not crazy about Loch seeing December as one big smorgasbord of gifts. Maybe I should stop letting him unwrap Sean and my gifts. It’s become more about the present itself than the meaning behind it.

I’m hoping to instill some sense of suspense into Loch’s life but it’s hard. Everything in his world is so readily available. So instantaneous. He asked to do something the other day and I said, “We’ll see.” and he said, “Yay!!!”. I realized in that moment that though I don’t give him everything he asks for, I do give him a lot, and a lot right away. If he wasn’t going to get it I would have just said, “No.” My saying “We’ll see.” to him meant “Yes”. It also leads to a “what’s next” mentality. When you get what you want right away, you’re often off to the next thing before you really enjoy the first. Without anticipation. Without waiting. Without having the time to truly want, it’s hard to appreciate and ever really, truly enjoy.

Anticipation in itself is a gift. One I’m going to have to work harder to give.

Lovely Kid waiting for Santa wallcoo.net

* Generation Me, Jean M. Twenge, PhD

** Generation Me, Jean M. Twenge, PhD

***Roy F. Baumeister, author of The Cultural Animal: Human Nature, Meaning, and Social Life, and Eppes Eminent Professor of Psychology, Florida State University

Dec 27

43 Comments

Marriage: A Recommendation and Disclaimer

Dear Loch,

Upon rereading my post about how to be a man, I realized that it was, in many ways, a love letter to your father. He is a marvelous man and someone I am so very grateful to have in my life. I am a big believer in marriage. It’s not for everyone, but it was definitely for us, and something I truly wish for you. Finding someone that you want to share your life with is one of the greatest gifts you could ever have. Someone who’s lived your history and is part of your memories. Someone who, at the end, knows you were here. Someone for whom you truly mattered. But lest you think it’s all puppy dogs and rainbows, I want you to know that it’s not just get married, happily ever after, that’s it, the end.

I once MC-ed a friend’s wedding and in my speech I said that marriage is like picking the person you want to spend the rest of your life in a car with. You don’t road trip with just anyone. You have to really like a person to do that. The road will have it’s ups and downs, you’ll go through good weather and bad, you’ll be lost then find your way, you’d stay in some great places and some where the water doesn’t work, people will join you for a while and then they’ll be gone. To navigate that kind of trip properly you have to like the same things but not be the same person and you have to truly enjoy and accept the other’s company because after all the games are played, the magazines read and the radio’s off, it’s just the two of you forever, and that’s not something to be taken lightly. Lately, I feel like marriage in general, is up for debate. Should gay couples be given the same right to marry as straight ones? My answer is yes. Should it be harder to get out of a marriage so people take getting into it more seriously?  I’d answer a provisional yes. Should you be able to be married to more than one person at the same time? I’d go with no. And are same sex marriages undermining the state of marriage? No, straight celebrity marriages are. I’m talking to you Kim Kardashian/Britney Spears/Renee Zellwiger…

If you find someone you want to marry – truly spend your life with, not, we’ll see how it goes –  then treat it with respect. It’s not about the wedding. A beautiful wedding does not a beautiful marriage make. Don’t get me wrong, a fabulous day that celebrates you as a couple is a wonderful way to spend your money, but you still have to work on the marriage itself. When Dad and I got married (June 22, 2005) lots of people asked us why not just take the money we would spend on one day and use it for something more practical like the down payment on a house. That never occurred to us. We really wanted that day. Our day. And we never regretted it. To be able to make those promises to each other in front of our family and friends was so special for us. On my death bed, whenever that may be, I won’t be patting myself on the back for my practicality but reliving my most wonderful memories, and my wedding (and subsequent honeymoon) is  right up there on that list.

Our wedding party in our “Vanity Fair” shot. Shot by Wedding Day Memories, Toronto.

It’s that memory. That day. That look you see on bride and groom’s faces that says “Oh my God we’re really doing this…” The way your relationship feels different after, no matter how long you’d been together before. It’s that legal and, if you believe it, spiritual bind that makes you truly family, truly an “Us” that makes marriage so special. Subsequently it’s that same feeling that makes same sex marriage a no brainer to me. Someone Granny’s age once said to me, “But why do they have to get married? They have all the same rights…” I responded with, “Why did I have to get married? Why did you?”. It’s different to be married. It means something different. It’s the ultimate statement of love and commitment and if you feel that way and are really willing to put your hands in and do the work you should be allowed to. No matter who it is you want to marry.

The thing is being married is no joke. It’s hard bloody work. It’s changing your pronoun from me to we. And though I’d advocate retaining your own identity within your marriage, you can no longer make decisions just for yourself and that’s hard adjustment to make. Your choices directly affect one another. You can’t just do what’s best for you. I’d hazard to say that’s why so many celebrity marriages fail.

Didn’t Work. As Scarlett rightfully said, she just wasn’t willing to settle in and “do the work”.

When you’re a celebrity or married to your job, you live in a world where you are #1. In a celebrity’s case you have a team of people behind you who’s livelihood depends on your success. People who put their jobs first find they can’t just scrap it all based on what’s best for the marriage. They have to stay on their game. Do what the job asks of them and not what the marriage needs from them. Subsequently the marriage falters. Living in a different city than your spouse? Never going to work. Both people trying to be #1? Never going to work. For a marriage to succeed there has to be give and take. And that means one person has to give. It doesn’t always have to be the same person but it always has to be someone. You can’t be both looking out for yourself. It just doesn’t work that way.

Worked. She adjusted and took a back seat to his career. It’s a tough gig but worth it. Just ask Paul Newman & Joanne Woodward.

Your father’s dream is to be a successful actor. When we met I was also an actor. Watching him go in and out of auditions with such confidence and success is one of the reasons I changed paths. He was loving it and I was becoming a neurotic mess worried about my hair and age and wrinkles. And when we decided to get married there just seemed like one too many actors in the family. At the time I likened it to being in Vegas where one of you is on a hot streak and the other is losing all their money. It just made sense for me to cash in my chips and give them to Sean. He had a better chance of winning for the both of us.

The trouble is, that was 8 years ago and though your father continues to earn a living as an actor, he still hasn’t “made it” and we struggle. We struggle to pay our bills. We struggle with my A type ambition and lack of “career”. We struggle with my realism vs. his “it’ll all work out” optimism. We struggle with my being sick and his having to earn almost all our income alone. We struggle when he’s away working one of his 3 jobs (on top of acting) and not seeing him enough. We struggle when he is home and working on one of the projects he hopes will take over from the side jobs, and we don’t see him enough. We struggle with the lack of time left in the day for me to get my dreams off the ground. We struggle with our fiery personalities and the fact that with 2 actors in the household someone always has the ability to get a little dramatic…

Baby, for all the great love your dad and I share, tying your life to another’s is a struggle. It’s worth it in our case, but it’s NOT EASY. When you were very little and we’d fight you’d scream. It upset us so much. We said we shouldn’t fight in front of you, but we weren’t so good at that. Now that you’re older you act like a little referee. You come into the room and if we’re raising our voices (which, despite our best efforts, we do often) you tell us to take a “Time Out”. I told you you could do that. I thought it might give you a sense of control when you might be feeling nervous about Daddy and me. It works. You like bossing us around and it gives us a chance to cool down. Your dad and I have a tendency to get on a bit of a train that neither of us can stop and our fights often escalate because of it. Having a period away from each other can help keep things in perspective. Sometimes, however, we don’t heed your advice and we keep at each other until we are both exhausted. That’s the thing, fighting is exhausting. I also think it can be healthy. We stopped trying to hide our disagreements from you for that reason. Is it pleasant? No. Does show you the truth of life? Yes. If you believed your parents never fought and then you got into a relationship and inevitably ended up fighting, you might say, “Well, this isn’t working. My parents never argued. This obviously isn’t the right person for me.” But if you see us fighting, then compromising, then understanding and then finally hearing and accepting each other you learn something much different. If we were parents that fought dirty, undermined each other and called each other names then perhaps you would just be learning nothing more than how to be cruel. But, for all your father and my bluster, we always work it through. We always come back to the table. We always end with love and that, in all it’s imperfection, is worth knowing.

And the things you fight about in a relationship are not all big things. More often than not is about dumb, everyday things like how you load the dishwasher. Sure, money, or our lack there of, is our biggest source of tension, but our most recent fight was about our cable provider. Dad wanted to switch and I didn’t. Everytime we switch something always goes wrong and we end up switching back. I wanted to avoid the anxiety and quite frankly I liked it all the way it was. I understood and could use it – and we have like 6 remote controls so that’s saying something. But the savings was $100/m, and I couldn’t in all good conscience say no, even though I really, really wanted to. The TV is my domain (your Dad’s more of a video gaming computer relaxer) so I’m a little testy about anything to do with it anyway.

So… we switched, and it broke down like this: Cable guy shows up and it’s not what they promised on the phone. We aren’t getting what we thought but are assured it’ll be “just as good”. The modem they install is faulty so they have to send us another one. The one they send us is different and doesn’t fit with the parts they’d installed. They have to send a technician to fix it. We go without cable, internet and phone service for 3 days. (Our cell phones don’t work in our house without our modem so we were really SOL). I stayed home from 8-12 to wait for a technician who never shows and when we call, they tell us that when they said “tomorrow” on Monday the person we spoke to was in INDIA and “tomorrow” actually meant Wednesday. I wait again the next day from 8-12. By the time I could actually turn on the TV, I found that my shows were now being broadcast with black bars on either side like I had a TV from 1987. When your Dad told me that was an SD channel and I had to find the HD channel to watch my show without the bars, I lost it. I told him I didn’t want to find it. I didn’t want to think this hard or try and relearn a whole new system that made me feel as technologically inept as my mother. I told him I was infuriated that I could no longer work the DVD player which was now his X-BOX and who’s controller felt like an alien in my hand. I went crazy and he was defensive and we subsequently lost it on each other. Terrible. Hideous. Behavior. 4 hours and multiple texts and phone calls later we realized that all he needed to say was, “I’ll fix it” and all I needed to say was, “Great, thank you” and the rest was just noise. But that’s the kind of noise you deal with when you tie your life to someone else. If I was single I’d just get the TV I liked and be done with it. But I’m not, so now I have to play You’ve Got Mail like I’m setting up for Modern Warfare 3 and do it with a smile on my face.

I think if we fought about major things like the way we treated each other or how to raise you it would be different, but for the most part we fight about ridiculous things like emptying the garbages (this never gets done) or opening the curtains (which is a must for me in the morning and for your father is a, justifiably, obscure and irrelevant issue). At the end of the day you have to put the relationship first. Is it more important to be right or to be happy? Does it really matter that I have to open the curtains? No. Shouldn’t I just be happy he makes the bed? Probably. This is not to say you should just roll over in a marriage, you should just ask yourself what’s best for it and try and make your decisions accordingly.

Your Dad and I talk about everything. Years ago when I was maybe 14 or 15, I was eating with Granny and Granddad in the dining room table and Granddad finished, thanked Granny for dinner and got up to leave. I told him (in the cheeky way that only a child can) that if he was going to leave the table first it would be great if he cleared. He didn’t even bat an eyelash. He was like, ok, sure. And he took our plates so Granny and I could keep talking. You could have knocked Granny over with a feather. After, she expressed how she couldn’t believe I’d said what I’d said, and more so, she couldn’t believe how easily Granddad had complied. I told her at the time – and have told her many times since about my own marriage – if you don’t ask for it, how will you ever get it? You have to say what you want. Don’t secretly seethe for 30 years that someone doesn’t do what you think they should. Everything is a compromise but most things are much simpler than we give them credit for. If the compromises are too big then maybe that’s not the right person for you anyway.

For all the difficulties that come with marriage there are also so many amazing things. To truly feel like part of a team. To have that kind of trust. It’s priceless. I read an article in Vanity Fair a couple of years ago about a classic old Hollywood star, her husband, her lover and her husband’s lover all vacationing together in the 1940’s. Sean and I discussed it. Affairs vs. Open Marriages. What works. What doesn’t. And what it came down to – after a very lively “what if” discussion – is that we wouldn’t want to mess with what we have. That any short term pleasure could never compare with the long term security and unity we have with each other. That even knowingly accepting that breech of trust would be like poisoning the well and it wasn’t worth it. Committing yourself to one person for the rest of your life is hard but it makes it so much easier to know that all your feelings, and all you are, are accepted within that relationship. Nothing is taboo. Nothing is off the table. Anything is possible but everything is not necessary. We also discovered we wanted to take more vacations together.

Your Dad and I have made a pact to get remarried every 5 years. It’s fun. We get to have a different kind of wedding and re-commit to each other and remind ourselves of why we got married in the first place. It’s not for other people. It’s just for us. On our 5th Anniversary we renewed our vows in Vegas. Elvis did the ceremony in a total of 4 and a half minutes (no joke, we have a DVD) and though we laughed through the whole thing saying the vows again meant something totally different 5 years later just as it will 10, 15, 40 years later. When you first start out you think everything is going to be perfect. Life isn’t perfect. For richer for poorer means more now. So does in sickness and in health.

Our Vegas Wedding for our 5th! Just us, Elvis and the guy who took the pics, Dave.

Marriage is a journey and you have to celebrate your triumphs because not everyday is good. A couple that had been married for 60 some odd years was asked the secret of a lasting marriage and they said that neither had fallen out of love at the same time. That’s the thing. There’s ebbs and flows. You just have to keep growing and changing together. Encourage and help each other to become the best possible version of yourselves. Don’t swallow your feelings and be willing to trench it out to get to the other side of an issue. Keep working and keep finding new ways to respect and love the other. There are times when, at the end of the day your dad sits beside me on the bed and we just look at each other. As corny as it sounds, there is a stillness in his eyes. A calm I don’t have on my own and one I absolutely couldn’t live without. I’m safe with him. I’m happy. I’m cherished. I’m not alone. And that is worth everything.

Find it for yourself angel. Find it and don’t let go.

xo Mrs. McGowan (your mom)

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