Old people scare me. Just wanted to get that out into the universe. I know I'm usually all "love and tolerance" on here, and that's partly why I've felt called to confess. Time to stand at the alter of the internet and admit my shortcomings and ask forgiveness...
Crying babies, difficult kids, unruly teenagers, non-English speaking students, driver's ed students- bring 'em on. I've worked with each of those populations with poise and near infinite patience. But stick me in a room with one old person trying to have a conversation with me, and watch me sweat. Look at my choice of words even, "trying to have a conversation with me." What kind of characterization is that?!? Clearly I have a problem. But I'm working on it. You know, admitting you have a problem is the first step.
The upcoming presidential campaign has really brought my prejudice out in full force. It doesn't matter how much I agree with a certain candidate's politics, if they are near 70, or worse over 70, all I can think is how can we let someone that old run the country?!? I know. I should hang my head in shame. It's almost as bad as judging someone for their gender or race. Almost. I mean, my fear is a little justified, right? Wait, no. Breathing deep. Starting over...
So the Netflix series Grace and Frankie has been good for me. Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda play single women in their 70's who are both cooler and living life more fully than I was in college. I cannot tell you how mind-boggling that is to me. And if this show is to be believed, there is little difference between my longings and motivations and theirs! Like they are regular people, just in their 70's! And I have no reason to doubt the authenticity of a Netflix show. House of Cards and Orange is the New Black are pretty much like documentaries...
Back in my real-life world, I can see the writing on the wall too. I'm getting older. In fact, as I age, (now 41) my social circles are aging too. Which honestly keeps
taking me by surprise. I now have friends in their 50s and 60s (see
how progressive I am!) and they seem ok... so I've been trying to open
my mind to the possibility that old people are regular people too. People who I do not need to fear... unless they control the nukes. I stand by that worry. Baby steps...
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Thursday, May 28, 2015
Life lessons learned from writer AJ Jacobs
Next week I'm going to the Global Family Reunion where I'll meet AJ Jacobs. So before he totally seems like a real person to me, I'd like to share what I've learned from the writer AJ Jacobs.
A.J. is a journalist and author of four New York Times bestsellers. All of them fantastic. If you read them you will laugh and learn lots about lots of interesting things. But those aren't things I want to tell you about now. Now I want to be a little more big picture. Share life lessons I've learned from AJ that we could all use.
Since then I've read and listened to countless pieces he's done on the Global Family Reunion for various and diverse press outlets. And guess what? His message is consistently the same. But the examples he gives, the tone he takes, the stars he name-drops, those change almost every time.
And while I am impressed with his mastery at writing for different audiences, I'm even more impressed that his message always stays the same. He does not change his core to please others. He changes his communication style to reach others. And it works. Did I mention the four best sellers?
Life lesson- Don't change who you are to fit in somewhere, but consider changing how you communicate who you are. Keep your message consistent, but know your audience.
AJ practices radical inclusiveness. When he is writing on a topic, he interviews someone from just about every side imaginable. He is consistent in representing what he believes, but he is respectful and fair in his treatment of what others believe. He finds common ground in normally contentious topics like religion, and he builds on it. And this approach gives a depth to his projects, and therefore his writing, that is rare. His work is full of fresh perspectives. Most of them not his. Reading about his projects, it seemed he would accept help or advice from seemingly anyone who would give it.
And now I know that to be true. Last summer I emailed him a suggestion for his new project, the Global Family Reunion. Instead of being skeptical of me as a potential stalker fan from Alabama, or vetting me in anyway, he said-great idea- would you like to help? Short time later I'm on the Who We Are tab on the Global Family Reunion website. I joined his team. As have countless other volunteers helping with this effort all around the world in large and small ways. And he cheers for all of us. Which only makes us want to help him more...
Life lesson- Instead of trying to build the best team, build one team. Pick everyone.
In recent press, AJ described what keeps him going as "delusional optimism." And his current vision as an "admittedly quixotic dream." And although I don't remember him using those terms exactly to describe his past projects, the same spirit was present in them as well. That's what made them great. And successful. And that's why people raise their hands to join his team. It's like when people want to drink what the happy drunk is having. You can't listen to AJ and not want to share in his delusions...
Life Lesson: Dwell in possibility. Don't let perfectly reasonable fears stop you from attaining greatness. Practice delusional optimism.
A.J. is a journalist and author of four New York Times bestsellers. All of them fantastic. If you read them you will laugh and learn lots about lots of interesting things. But those aren't things I want to tell you about now. Now I want to be a little more big picture. Share life lessons I've learned from AJ that we could all use.
1. Keep your message consistent, but know your audience
The first time I read an article AJ had written for Esquire, I was a little taken aback. To that point I had only read his books. Books that read like we were in conversation. So I clicked on an Esquire article expecting the same feeling that he was writing to me. Instead, it seemed like he was writing to a man! And a somewhat crass man at that. Even referenced masturbation in the article. So I sat there staring at the screen in confusion for a few seconds, and then it hit me. He was writing to a man. Because Esquire is a magazine for men. But I kept reading. And I shook off my prudish tendencies for a few minutes, and I let myself laugh and even learn a little. Because at the heart of what he was saying, was still the same heart in all of his other work. His message was the same, he had just written it for a different audience.Since then I've read and listened to countless pieces he's done on the Global Family Reunion for various and diverse press outlets. And guess what? His message is consistently the same. But the examples he gives, the tone he takes, the stars he name-drops, those change almost every time.
And while I am impressed with his mastery at writing for different audiences, I'm even more impressed that his message always stays the same. He does not change his core to please others. He changes his communication style to reach others. And it works. Did I mention the four best sellers?
Life lesson- Don't change who you are to fit in somewhere, but consider changing how you communicate who you are. Keep your message consistent, but know your audience.
2. Pick everyone for your team
I've never been in an elementary gym class with AJ, but I imagine the scene this way- when asked to be the team captain, AJ picks every one who has their hand raised until the whole class is one big team.AJ practices radical inclusiveness. When he is writing on a topic, he interviews someone from just about every side imaginable. He is consistent in representing what he believes, but he is respectful and fair in his treatment of what others believe. He finds common ground in normally contentious topics like religion, and he builds on it. And this approach gives a depth to his projects, and therefore his writing, that is rare. His work is full of fresh perspectives. Most of them not his. Reading about his projects, it seemed he would accept help or advice from seemingly anyone who would give it.
And now I know that to be true. Last summer I emailed him a suggestion for his new project, the Global Family Reunion. Instead of being skeptical of me as a potential stalker fan from Alabama, or vetting me in anyway, he said-great idea- would you like to help? Short time later I'm on the Who We Are tab on the Global Family Reunion website. I joined his team. As have countless other volunteers helping with this effort all around the world in large and small ways. And he cheers for all of us. Which only makes us want to help him more...
Life lesson- Instead of trying to build the best team, build one team. Pick everyone.
Practice Delusional Optimism
AJ thinks big. And then he commits. Throws himself into things. Totally. I've decided that is not a life lesson I want to learn- the throwing oneself into things part I mean. Because he does some crazy stuff for his writing. I'd rather just read about his adventures than throw myself into crazy diets or lifestyles. But I do admire his belief that he can accomplish whatever goal he sets out to accomplish. And I do love the loftiness in his ideas about the world.In recent press, AJ described what keeps him going as "delusional optimism." And his current vision as an "admittedly quixotic dream." And although I don't remember him using those terms exactly to describe his past projects, the same spirit was present in them as well. That's what made them great. And successful. And that's why people raise their hands to join his team. It's like when people want to drink what the happy drunk is having. You can't listen to AJ and not want to share in his delusions...
Life Lesson: Dwell in possibility. Don't let perfectly reasonable fears stop you from attaining greatness. Practice delusional optimism.
Sunday, April 12, 2015
I am an ally because...
I heard an inspiring talk today by Brett Jones author of Pride: The Story of the First Openly Gay Navy SEAL. Brett instructed as all to take the high road in moving equality issues forward. He was open, authentic and giving in his sharing of his story. When his eyes filled with tears as he recounted his parents kicking him out of the house as a teen for being gay, we felt his pain. And it would have hardly been surprising to hear an angry, bitter response to that and to his outing while in the Navy. But that was not his tone. Instead, he modeled compassion and integrity. He called for all of us to be our best selves in response to injustice. He reminded us progress is made by good people making tough decisions and taking difficult action.
I didn't actually just hear the talk; I helped to organize it. Because I am proud to say that I am an ally working toward equality in my sweet home Alabama. Because the LGBTQ cause is my cause. It is my cause not because I share a sexual orientation, but because I share a human orientation. Their story is my story. It is one of vulnerability and longing for acceptance. It is one of trying to find yourself and learning to be comfortable with who you are. It is often a story about friendship and acceptance. It is also sometimes a story about loneliness and isolation. And it is all too often a painful story to tell.
And so I write this to thank Brett for his willingness to so publicly share his story. And to say to anyone who might not yet feel comfortable telling theirs, we are here to listen if you ever need to tell it. And to anyone who might think this is not their story, not their cause, I encourage you to listen again. To hear the truths and vulnerabilities common to us all. To our human orientation.
Last year I wrote a post about a secret I had hid most of my life. A secret that really no one but me probably even thought needed to be hid. In the last year since writing that post and sharing it publicly, I have changed. I feel more authentic and comfortable in my own skin. I worry less what people think. I feel more whole. And again, my secret in no way rose to the level of feeling the need to hide a core aspect of my being for fear of being hurt or discriminated against. But whenever I hear a coming out story, or a story of someone who felt forced to hide part of themselves, I understand. I empathize. I feel connected. And so I choose to be their ally. And I believe when we are being our best selves, we can listen to others' stories with an open heart to hear the ways our stories our the same. To see that we are not so different after all.
True confession, I am not just an ally because I empathize with LGBTQ stories. I am also an ally for more selfish reasons. I have been blessed by intelligent, funny, caring, giving people in my life who happen to also be gay. My life, and the lives of my children, would be greatly diminished if I limited my friendships and interactions to people with whom I share a sexual orientation. Not because these friends have exposed me to what it's like to be LGBTQ- but because these friends have taught me so much about so many things. My goal is to be a well-rounded human being, so I try to keep my circles wide. And each person who crosses in brings something new. And I am the richer for it. And today I was richer for hearing a former Navy SEAL tell his story of love. Thank you Brett.
I didn't actually just hear the talk; I helped to organize it. Because I am proud to say that I am an ally working toward equality in my sweet home Alabama. Because the LGBTQ cause is my cause. It is my cause not because I share a sexual orientation, but because I share a human orientation. Their story is my story. It is one of vulnerability and longing for acceptance. It is one of trying to find yourself and learning to be comfortable with who you are. It is often a story about friendship and acceptance. It is also sometimes a story about loneliness and isolation. And it is all too often a painful story to tell.
And so I write this to thank Brett for his willingness to so publicly share his story. And to say to anyone who might not yet feel comfortable telling theirs, we are here to listen if you ever need to tell it. And to anyone who might think this is not their story, not their cause, I encourage you to listen again. To hear the truths and vulnerabilities common to us all. To our human orientation.
Last year I wrote a post about a secret I had hid most of my life. A secret that really no one but me probably even thought needed to be hid. In the last year since writing that post and sharing it publicly, I have changed. I feel more authentic and comfortable in my own skin. I worry less what people think. I feel more whole. And again, my secret in no way rose to the level of feeling the need to hide a core aspect of my being for fear of being hurt or discriminated against. But whenever I hear a coming out story, or a story of someone who felt forced to hide part of themselves, I understand. I empathize. I feel connected. And so I choose to be their ally. And I believe when we are being our best selves, we can listen to others' stories with an open heart to hear the ways our stories our the same. To see that we are not so different after all.
 |
| with Brett Jones |
Friday, March 6, 2015
Planting apple trees
I live in Alabama. Two days ago it was 70 degrees outside. Yesterday the whole town was shut down due to an ice storm. True story. So this got me thinking about the end of the world. Obviously. Which reminded me of a quote I posted on my facebook page on MLK day:
"Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces I would still plant my apple tree.” -Martin Luther King Jr
I like this sentiment. But since the day I posted it, I've been feeling a little guilty. See technically speaking, I would be lying if I claimed I would plant an apple tree the day before the world ended. In all honesty, more likely I would wait until the morning of the last day. Or I'd wait till the morning of the last day to buy the seed. Then I'd plant it mid-day.
Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I'd think about planting it the day before the world ended. I'd probably even plan in my head where it should be planted. Might even check on the inventory of apple seeds. But actually plant it when there's a whole other day left in which to do it? Unlikely.
See I'm not crippled by pessimism, but rather optimism. A pessimist might think why plant an apple tree when the world's going to end anyway? Me, I dwell in possibility. So I would say, why plant an apple tree today when I'll have so much time tomorrow? And who really knows if the world will end? However it occurs to me in either case, the apple tree is not planted as soon as it could be...
Perhaps my optimism slows me down in areas of social justice. When I don't participate in a march or a protest or a movement, it's not because I don't think those things will help. It's because I think lots of things will help, and that I'll have time to do some of them. I truly believe in the goodness of people. I tend to think things will work out. That the arc of moral universe is long, but it does bend toward justice as King believed. And so sometimes I wait. Since I believe in the end it will be all right, perhaps I don't try hard enough to speed up the arc's journey. I try a little; if I see an injustice, or I'm presented with an opportunity to help, of course I do that. But perhaps I'm missing the urgency that comes with thinking things are crap and always will be crap unless we do something now...
Not that I want to think things are crap. I think some things are unjust. Some things are wrong. Some things are horrible. Some things are unacceptable. But I never think things in general are crap. And so I wait to plant my apple tree. So what to do?!?
I need to make friends with more tree planters. I may not always believe I need to take a stand for a cause. But I always believe I need to stand with my friends. I do see the urgency in supporting people I love. And so if I belonged to a community of tree planters who spent the whole day before the world ended planting trees, I would be right there with them.
To make a difference in the world, I'm motivated not to fight for a cause, but to fight for friends. I'm spurred to action by community. Which is why I believe in building as diverse of a community as possible. The more diversity in the community, the more depth in the ways to help the world. When we lift up the cause important to one member or our community, we lift up the entire community bit by bit. I hope you'll join us. I'll bring the shovel. You get the seeds...
"Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces I would still plant my apple tree.” -Martin Luther King Jr
I like this sentiment. But since the day I posted it, I've been feeling a little guilty. See technically speaking, I would be lying if I claimed I would plant an apple tree the day before the world ended. In all honesty, more likely I would wait until the morning of the last day. Or I'd wait till the morning of the last day to buy the seed. Then I'd plant it mid-day.
Don't get me wrong, I'm sure I'd think about planting it the day before the world ended. I'd probably even plan in my head where it should be planted. Might even check on the inventory of apple seeds. But actually plant it when there's a whole other day left in which to do it? Unlikely.
See I'm not crippled by pessimism, but rather optimism. A pessimist might think why plant an apple tree when the world's going to end anyway? Me, I dwell in possibility. So I would say, why plant an apple tree today when I'll have so much time tomorrow? And who really knows if the world will end? However it occurs to me in either case, the apple tree is not planted as soon as it could be...
Perhaps my optimism slows me down in areas of social justice. When I don't participate in a march or a protest or a movement, it's not because I don't think those things will help. It's because I think lots of things will help, and that I'll have time to do some of them. I truly believe in the goodness of people. I tend to think things will work out. That the arc of moral universe is long, but it does bend toward justice as King believed. And so sometimes I wait. Since I believe in the end it will be all right, perhaps I don't try hard enough to speed up the arc's journey. I try a little; if I see an injustice, or I'm presented with an opportunity to help, of course I do that. But perhaps I'm missing the urgency that comes with thinking things are crap and always will be crap unless we do something now...
Not that I want to think things are crap. I think some things are unjust. Some things are wrong. Some things are horrible. Some things are unacceptable. But I never think things in general are crap. And so I wait to plant my apple tree. So what to do?!?
I need to make friends with more tree planters. I may not always believe I need to take a stand for a cause. But I always believe I need to stand with my friends. I do see the urgency in supporting people I love. And so if I belonged to a community of tree planters who spent the whole day before the world ended planting trees, I would be right there with them.
To make a difference in the world, I'm motivated not to fight for a cause, but to fight for friends. I'm spurred to action by community. Which is why I believe in building as diverse of a community as possible. The more diversity in the community, the more depth in the ways to help the world. When we lift up the cause important to one member or our community, we lift up the entire community bit by bit. I hope you'll join us. I'll bring the shovel. You get the seeds...
Sunday, March 1, 2015
My Formative Tree- for David Duckworth
I clearly remember the moment I first realized it was possible for me to be wrong. I was 18 and in the middle of an argument with a friend's sister in England. I was defending our American lifestyle and feeling righteously indignant. My favorite state of being really when I was 18. Then she said something about how if we were serious about the environment we could build public transportation systems to decrease our dependance on cars. And it hit me. She might be right. I had nothing to say back. A rare occasion for me up to that point.
I tell that story not to say anything about the specifics of transportation policy or my opinions now of it. But rather to illustrate a formative moment in my life. Whenever I've felt myself digging into a position without looking at the other side, I remember that conversation. And that feeling of realizing there was another side. Someone else might have a reasoned point. And I'm grateful to her. To my friend's sister I only knew for 2 weeks more than 20 years ago. Grateful for an interaction in all likelihood she has no memory of having.
Formative experiences are like that. Something seemingly small and insignificant to one person, could change another person's whole life. Wouldn't it be interesting to map out these formative memories the way we do our family trees? In the same way we trace back to find our ancestors to gain insight into our DNA, perhaps we could make a formative tree with those people who had real impacts on our emotional maturity. Really see everyone who helped make us- us. To honor and remember their contributions the way we honor our ancestors.
Some people might appear on our formative trees as tiny twigs signifying short encounters like the conversation I remember with my friend's sister. But other people, old friends, might be represented with huge branches or even large parts of our root systems. Friends who were there being fused to our hearts while we were being formed.
One of my formative friends, David Duckworth, passed away last week. I was fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend an evening with him and his wife a few years back while my husband and I were in London where David and his wife lived. That was the only time I had seen him over the last 20 years. And yet when I heard he had died, I felt real sadness and a need to mourn. For a second, I felt like that might be inappropriate. Like I had no right to mourn for someone I hardly knew anymore. That I should feel for his wife and children (which of course I do) but not sadness on my own account.
Then after hearing of his death, two other old friends reached out to me through messaging about their feelings, and I've read other friends' comments on Facebook, and I realized, of course I should mourn for David. We all should. He was important to me and to so many others. If I can feel affection for an ancestor I've never met, how much more appropriate is it to feel sorrow at the loss of someone so important on my formative tree? We are intertwined. He is a part of me. And when a part of you dies, you mourn.
I'm not sure if David knew how much I admired him. How much I thought of his character. But I hope he knew I was glad to have been his friend. And if you're an old friend reading this, please know I was blessed by you too. I am certain you would appear on my formative tree. And no matter how long it has been since we've spoken, just like David, you'll always be fused to my heart. My memories of you- make up me.
I tell that story not to say anything about the specifics of transportation policy or my opinions now of it. But rather to illustrate a formative moment in my life. Whenever I've felt myself digging into a position without looking at the other side, I remember that conversation. And that feeling of realizing there was another side. Someone else might have a reasoned point. And I'm grateful to her. To my friend's sister I only knew for 2 weeks more than 20 years ago. Grateful for an interaction in all likelihood she has no memory of having.
Formative experiences are like that. Something seemingly small and insignificant to one person, could change another person's whole life. Wouldn't it be interesting to map out these formative memories the way we do our family trees? In the same way we trace back to find our ancestors to gain insight into our DNA, perhaps we could make a formative tree with those people who had real impacts on our emotional maturity. Really see everyone who helped make us- us. To honor and remember their contributions the way we honor our ancestors.
Some people might appear on our formative trees as tiny twigs signifying short encounters like the conversation I remember with my friend's sister. But other people, old friends, might be represented with huge branches or even large parts of our root systems. Friends who were there being fused to our hearts while we were being formed.
One of my formative friends, David Duckworth, passed away last week. I was fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend an evening with him and his wife a few years back while my husband and I were in London where David and his wife lived. That was the only time I had seen him over the last 20 years. And yet when I heard he had died, I felt real sadness and a need to mourn. For a second, I felt like that might be inappropriate. Like I had no right to mourn for someone I hardly knew anymore. That I should feel for his wife and children (which of course I do) but not sadness on my own account.
Then after hearing of his death, two other old friends reached out to me through messaging about their feelings, and I've read other friends' comments on Facebook, and I realized, of course I should mourn for David. We all should. He was important to me and to so many others. If I can feel affection for an ancestor I've never met, how much more appropriate is it to feel sorrow at the loss of someone so important on my formative tree? We are intertwined. He is a part of me. And when a part of you dies, you mourn.
I'm not sure if David knew how much I admired him. How much I thought of his character. But I hope he knew I was glad to have been his friend. And if you're an old friend reading this, please know I was blessed by you too. I am certain you would appear on my formative tree. And no matter how long it has been since we've spoken, just like David, you'll always be fused to my heart. My memories of you- make up me.
 |
| from my 18th birthday party- Anna, Dharmesh, Sheri, David, Stephen- some of my favorite branches. |
Friday, February 20, 2015
Some of my best friends are from Alabama...
My husband and I moved to Alabama for his job when I was pregnant with our oldest daughter. We've lived here more than 11 years now, and I'm still a little in denial about it.
A while back I was talking about the civil war with my daughter. Conversation went like this:
me: we won the war so...
her: wait, Alabama was part of the North?
me: well no, not "we" Alabama, "we" Ohio. Mommy is from Ohio.
her: you've lived in Alabama 10 years. You're a southerner.
I felt like she slapped me.
And that was not the first time she had tried to get me to understand that we are Alabamians. When she was about 4, she wanted to be a cheerleader for Halloween. I offered to buy her an Ohio State Cheerleader Outfit. She looked at me with disdain (yes, even at 4 she could pull off disdain) and said, "why would I want to be an Ohio State Cheerleader? I am from Alabama. I want to be an Alabama Cheerleader." Naturally.
She's now 11 and still totally firm in her love of Alabama. In fact, recently she said she wanted to live in Mobile when she grew up. I asked why. She said cause they have a beach. I told her there were beaches all over the world. She said, yes, but that beach is in Alabama.
So I'm trying to learn to accept the fact that my daughters were born and raised in Alabama. Today I saw some study where Alabama ranked near the bottom again in well-being surveys. And I had my first moment of feeling like I should stick up for my daughter's home state. A state she loves.
So here goes. Yes, there are political realities here that make me cringe every time I think about them. Yes, I wish the state did better in a lot of things. But the truth is, while those things make for great punch lines on the Daily Show, and make me occasionally feel like hanging my head in shame, they do not define our life in Alabama.
We have found a community of like minded people. Many of whom grew up here. Of course, that I feel I need to add that fact proves I'm not totally past my stereo-types about Alabamians. And as my 8-year-old likes to tell me, stereotyping is not good. And the truth is, some of my best friends are from Alabama...
I like to think I'm open-minded and tolerant. One of my best friends once told me, "liberals always think they are tolerant. But they mean they are tolerant of everyone but conservatives." There is some truth to that. I make little to no pre- judgements about people from exotic cultures. But I'm surprised a bit every time I meet someone intelligent and well-rounded who grew up in Alabama. And again, I live, work and play among them. So I should know better.
I should know that loving Alabama or Auburn football means just that your a fan of football. Speaking with a southern accent reveals only a birthplace, not an intelligence level. I should know that you can not judge a person's character by their zip code.
My daughter has every right to be proud of her home. And I need to learn to say with pride that I am from Alabama. I don't have to be proud of every policy or historical event. But I can find satisfaction in the life we've built here. I can take ownership in the state and work to improve the well-being for all here.
I can be proud that I am raising thoughtful, compassionate, educated children who are proud to be from Alabama and want to grow up and live on the beaches of Mobile.
A while back I was talking about the civil war with my daughter. Conversation went like this:
me: we won the war so...
her: wait, Alabama was part of the North?
me: well no, not "we" Alabama, "we" Ohio. Mommy is from Ohio.
her: you've lived in Alabama 10 years. You're a southerner.
I felt like she slapped me.
And that was not the first time she had tried to get me to understand that we are Alabamians. When she was about 4, she wanted to be a cheerleader for Halloween. I offered to buy her an Ohio State Cheerleader Outfit. She looked at me with disdain (yes, even at 4 she could pull off disdain) and said, "why would I want to be an Ohio State Cheerleader? I am from Alabama. I want to be an Alabama Cheerleader." Naturally.
She's now 11 and still totally firm in her love of Alabama. In fact, recently she said she wanted to live in Mobile when she grew up. I asked why. She said cause they have a beach. I told her there were beaches all over the world. She said, yes, but that beach is in Alabama.
So I'm trying to learn to accept the fact that my daughters were born and raised in Alabama. Today I saw some study where Alabama ranked near the bottom again in well-being surveys. And I had my first moment of feeling like I should stick up for my daughter's home state. A state she loves.
So here goes. Yes, there are political realities here that make me cringe every time I think about them. Yes, I wish the state did better in a lot of things. But the truth is, while those things make for great punch lines on the Daily Show, and make me occasionally feel like hanging my head in shame, they do not define our life in Alabama.
We have found a community of like minded people. Many of whom grew up here. Of course, that I feel I need to add that fact proves I'm not totally past my stereo-types about Alabamians. And as my 8-year-old likes to tell me, stereotyping is not good. And the truth is, some of my best friends are from Alabama...
I like to think I'm open-minded and tolerant. One of my best friends once told me, "liberals always think they are tolerant. But they mean they are tolerant of everyone but conservatives." There is some truth to that. I make little to no pre- judgements about people from exotic cultures. But I'm surprised a bit every time I meet someone intelligent and well-rounded who grew up in Alabama. And again, I live, work and play among them. So I should know better.
I should know that loving Alabama or Auburn football means just that your a fan of football. Speaking with a southern accent reveals only a birthplace, not an intelligence level. I should know that you can not judge a person's character by their zip code.
My daughter has every right to be proud of her home. And I need to learn to say with pride that I am from Alabama. I don't have to be proud of every policy or historical event. But I can find satisfaction in the life we've built here. I can take ownership in the state and work to improve the well-being for all here.
I can be proud that I am raising thoughtful, compassionate, educated children who are proud to be from Alabama and want to grow up and live on the beaches of Mobile.
She occasionally shares random thoughts in no consistent way at...
So AJ Jacobs shared a sermon I wrote on the Global Family Reunion Blog. Before he posted it, he sent me the intro to look over. Originally it said, "she blogs at..." I was like, I don't feel like I blog. I feel like I occasionally write stuff and post it to a blog and share the link on Facebook. So AJ was kind and changed it to "she writes at..." Which last night sounded great to me.
Then my crazy kicked in a little bit. So this morning I sent AJ an email saying, "so she writes at is also now making me crazy. I have real problems I know. Started to think I don’t write at something the way you write at Mental Floss or Esquire. More like I record random thoughts at…"
He was kind again and indulged me and sent an email to the Blog editor to change it. But she had already posted it with the aforementioned "she writes at..." intro. And so now I feel compelled to write something here on this blog today.
The problem is I have no process. I don't consistently write on here. And when I do write here, the topics are all over the place with no real theme connecting them. It's a creative outlet for me. One that I usually only indulge in when I have something to say.
So if you've found this blog today through the link on the Global Family Reunion, I want to say thank you. Both for your interest in the Global Family Reunion and your interest in my random thoughts. Hopefully you will find something here that resonates with you. And I'm glad we're family now.
Then my crazy kicked in a little bit. So this morning I sent AJ an email saying, "so she writes at is also now making me crazy. I have real problems I know. Started to think I don’t write at something the way you write at Mental Floss or Esquire. More like I record random thoughts at…"
He was kind again and indulged me and sent an email to the Blog editor to change it. But she had already posted it with the aforementioned "she writes at..." intro. And so now I feel compelled to write something here on this blog today.
The problem is I have no process. I don't consistently write on here. And when I do write here, the topics are all over the place with no real theme connecting them. It's a creative outlet for me. One that I usually only indulge in when I have something to say.
So if you've found this blog today through the link on the Global Family Reunion, I want to say thank you. Both for your interest in the Global Family Reunion and your interest in my random thoughts. Hopefully you will find something here that resonates with you. And I'm glad we're family now.
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