My Father's Hands

My hands have never looked like they belonged to a real lady.  They are short, stubby and not very glamorous.   Even when I used to pay good money every two weeks to get my acrylic nails done, they never really looked all that feminine.    Genetically however, they are just like my dad's hands.     They have well earned calluses and little scrapes and scratches because I have a tendency to go full force with my hands, whether it's typing too hard on the keyboard or trying to pull a scared cat out of a bathtub that they accidently fall into and getting scratched in the process.  Like my dad, my hands are also there to hug my children and tell them they are great even if they don't believe it themselves.   One day, I hope that I can give them a hand up as adults in the countless ways my parents have for me and my brothers and sisters over the years.  

When I was a little girl, my dad was a lot like Kevin Arnold's dad on the Wonder Years.   He had a temper but underneath it all he was a guy with a heart of gold who would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.   Like Kevin's dad, he eventually started his own business exporting office products to the Caribbean.   He would go out on business trips - usually one a month.  I remember back in the late 1960's and early 1970's, that he would come home smelling of ink and cigarette smoke.   He stopped smoking before I was born, but because people could smoke anywhere, anytime (yeah, those episodes of Mad Men are pretty accurate -  there was no Non-Smoking section -  you just inhaled that second hand smoke).   He would always bring us back gifts from the places he traveled - the Bahamas, Aruba, Jamaica, and Haiti (back in the days when it was Papa Doc and there was some tourist trade).   I remember his hands giving us small wood cravings, or woven art pieces, t-shirts or hats made from straw.   He would also get samples of pens before any of the stores would - so we could bring pens that had lollypop tops, or flowers to school.   We were the first kids to get fuzzy neon pens that had perfumed ink which in the mid-1970's was quite a coup - Walgreens and Zayre's were months from having them yet.    When he was out of town, it always felt weird.   My mom did a great job holding down the fort, getting us up for school, dressing us, getting us out the door, then fixing dinner, bathing us and getting us back to bed.    She always seemed happy to see him when he came back and he'd help with the "babies" as he would call me and my sister Sharon  - we were the last two kids out of five and were just 16 months apart.    We adored our dad and would sit on his lap at the same time. I remember the both of us putting our arms around his neck and saying in unison, "Aren't you glad we married you?"  Even though the decision for my parents to marry had happened 11 to 12  years before Sharon and I were a glimmer in anyone's eye, we still felt like somehow we had a say in the decision making process.    I remember that he loved the movie Gigi and would sing Thank Heavens for Little Girls to us which we loved - what little girl wouldn't?   I know that my older siblings memories of him are a bit more stern but I think by the time that we came along - he was getting his equilibrium.     I have two kids and have a hard time balancing - I can't imagine trying to do it with five especially if you had a short fuse which my father sometimes had.   

I remember my dad's hands as he held onto the steering wheel while we took summer trips with a 22 foot Holiday Rambler trailer in tow.   I remember him trying to connect the trailer to the hitch on the back of the white station wagon.    He always had the very undignified duty of hooking up the sewer from the trailer to the hole that was attached to the camping site we'd lodge at when we vacationed at Fort Wilderness which was the trailer resort at Disney World or the Red Coconut Trailer Park at Fort Myers Beach, as well as the electricity and the water.   The sweat would pour off his face as he would try to turn the wheel to get the hitch and the bumper to line-up so we could be on our way.    Once we were on the open road, my Dad's hands would relax and he would tap his thumbs on the steering wheel and would talk to my Mom while us kids would read or sleep in the back of the station wagon with the seats down and a flat area where you could move around freely.  Oh those crazy 60's and 70's when there were not those pesky car seats and seat belt laws.  A kid could be the king of the back seat - who needed safety when you were having fun?  

I also remember my Dad's hands when he would try to fix something around the house.    Being a handyman was not his strong suit and yet he wanted to be the go to guy for repairs so bad.    Grandpa Sanborn, his stepfather, was an expert craftsman but Dad just was not but he never was able to admit that until much later in life.   My mother would wait until he was out of town to get things fixed and then when he got back they were magically working again - that was our story and we stuck to it.   Luckily as my mother started working as a realtor, my dad took over the cooking and found out that he was pretty damn good at it.   My mother was a good cook but it was more of a means to get us fed not really anything she had a passion for so when my dad took over, she was more than happy to let him do it.  He would even do all the grocery shopping.  He loved finding new recipes and I remember him sitting in his easy chair with a cookbook in hand reading recipes and asking if he made something with spaghetti squash, would we eat it.   The first time I tried that stringy squash, I thought that is was an impostor for real honest to God pasta until I got used to it and now I love it.   I remember how my dad would fill out his grocery list and then rather than crossing out what he brought, he would tear the side of the list so that he knew he got it and didn't have to carry around a pen.   That always seemed so smart to me and it's a technique I used to this day when I grocery shop. 

As he got older, he would show his love more openly, giving hugs more freely and encouraged us to dream big.   I remember when I produced my first show on South Beach in Miami, my parents would let me use my grandmother's house while she was still in Boston as a rehearsal space.  My parents never felt that theater was a stupid pursuit - they loved it and took us every chance they could when we were kids.  So when I was out of college and decided to start my own improv group - The Eclectic Company - they were right there at almost every show and sometimes they were 40% of the audience.    When Max wanted to do his first movie Gentlemen in Black, my dad was happy to help and wanted to get the title of Best Boy on the credits because that title always tickled him when he saw it in the movies.   He even got a cameo as a prison guard and loved every moment of it.   When my brother Steve wrote his first book, Lying in State, my dad was there to help edit, proofread and offer anything he could to help.   The same thing when my sister Kathy started her consulting business for home healthcare and my brother Bill started as a disability consultant.   He was proud of my sister Sharon's photography.  He was there - ready to lend a hand to his kids - because above all else, he believed in us.   He would always ask if we needed money because it wouldn't do him any good once he was gone.   He was just that kind of guy.  

He loved taking us out to dinner or lunch - all his kids, his children's spouses, their kids, really anyone who wanted to go.  It could sometimes be a zoo but it felt like one big happy family as we navigated the brunch buffet at El Toritos at the Falls.    He really believed in us being close and being together.   But sometimes despite his and mom's best efforts, the kids get older, get married, move away and it's harder and harder to get the family to gather around the same table.   Sometimes their families have complications and things get in the way - pride, disagreements and the kids that he nurtured and loved so much just aren't as close anymore.  I think about my dad's hands and how they would try to fix any problems between us but sometimes love and a good lunch out on the town are not enough.   You see, the last time his kids were all together around the same table was the weekend of his funeral 10 years ago.  He had passed away suddenly from a heart attack.  As shocking as it was, I was grateful that it was so quick and he was not sick or in pain - my heart could not have handled that. It was a tough time, sure but at least the kids were there for each other talking about dad and all the things he did for us.   I remember being at the funeral home with the casket open while we joked about dad trying to fix things and for an instant I thought I saw a smile on his face.   I looked down at his hands which looked so much like mine and realized he would never hold mine again.    We went back to my brother Steve's house and talked some more about Dad.  We released balloons up to heaven with thoughts and prayers so he could read them with the angels - it was something that the grandkids could do to help them grieve for their grandfather.   My mother took a picture of us like it was the old days, but it wasn't really and never would be.  

I guess that Father's Day can bring stuff like this flooding back.   We're trying to do a family reunion to get all of us together for my mother's sake this summer.   She's not in the best health - Parkinson's has taken it's toll but having her kids together in one place would mean so much.   Being able to do that should be a slam dunk, but sometimes that distant baggage can get in the way and now one of us might not be able to be there.   I can imagine my father throwing up his hands and saying - "For God's Sake, sprout a pair and just do it - if someone doesn't like it too damn bad! You need to be there for your mother because the time will come when she'll be with me and you won't have the option - any issues you have you won't be able to work out!"   I hope that message is heard and we can all get together this summer and put our differences behind us.  

It's funny but this week I was going to write on the demise of bookstores and then I thought about Father's Day and my dad and all these ideas came flooding in.   It was like my father was channeling through me to get the message out to his kids who I hope will read this.  My hands are on the keyboard writing furiously - the hands that look like my dad's.   He wanted to be a writer too.   It's interesting that this week his is - inspiring me and asking me to write what needs to be said.   I've never appreciated my hands that much till now.  Today I'm glad that I have my father's hands.  

The SNL Shuffle

Just on the heels of Kristen Wiig's departure from Saturday Night Live, Andy Samberg announced this week that he was leaving as well.    Now everyone is holding their breath to see if Jason Sudeikis will make a hasty exit as well to follow his movie career.   As cries of "It's the End of an Era" ring out from Perez Hilton - you have to put these career changes into perspective.  Since the very beginning of SNL, actors have left the show looking for movie glory.   It's the natural evolution of things.   It's normal - so relax citizens there is another awesome player waiting in the wings just hoping they can get out on stage and show you what they've got.  In August 2005, you had never heard of Kristen, Andy or Jason and now you're wondering how the show will survive without them.   Lorne Michaels, the veteran producer has seen it all before - smart, funny, and talented people coming on the show and smart, funny, talented people leaving the show.   People coming and going - that's life whether you have an accounting firm, a non-profit, a church or a comedy troupe.    It can be painful but fate has a way of bringing new people into your life even if you hate change.    The funny part is, you usually feel richer for the fact that they showed up just when you thought that other person could never be replaced. 

Chevy Chase left Saturday Night Live after about a season and a half.   That seemed like a huge loss - who was going to do prat falls, Weekend Update and Gerald Ford once he left? But Bill Murray came along and created his own world of crazy and it seemed like the show would survive.   It's certainly had it's ups and downs - like the years when Lorne Michaels left in 1980 to pursue other things because he was exhausted from the pressure of producing and writing every week.    When he left, the woman left to pick up the pieces, Jean Doumanian was sabotaged by the writers left behind and NBC slashed the budget by 65%.   The show struggled for a few years until Eddie Murphy revived it and then left in 1983 to pursue a monster acting career. The history of SNL has had it's share of fights, creative struggles and controversial sketches and yet after 37 seasons, it's still one of the longest running TV shows and has over 120 players on the show.   Old farts like me remember the first shows with George Carlin and when the Muppets used to do sketches as well because Jim Henson wanted to something a bit edgier than Sesame Street.   I've seen SNL's evolution since I was in junior high so I guess it's helped me be more philosophical when I've had to deal with things that have happened in the comedy troupes I've been a part of.  

When I performed with Mental Floss in Miami, they had a pretty stable group of players to perform.  In fact it was too stable, a better word might have been intractable.   The male players were gold and the women players were expendable.    As a woman, you had to be twice as funny to be taken half as seriously.  Sort of how I imagine things were in the early days of SNL - from what I understand John Belushi was pretty dismissive of Jane Curtain, Gilda Radner and Loraine Newman.   The men were with the Mental Floss company for years and rarely left to do plays.  It was like they had peed a circle around the theater to keep any new funny guys from daring to enter - girls were fine because we were not a threat.  So the same guys did the same bits for years and years and after awhile, it became very incestuous - creatively they inter-married and the comedy offspring became mutants of their former selves.  I've heard that happens a lot in comedy groups - you have the founding core of four or five actors refusing to move on and not wanting to let new people in for fear that their own status within the group would be compromised.   But as you look at Saturday Night Live and the iconic characters have been created over the years - the ebb and flow of actors has brought in a new cavalcade of ideas and sensibilities.  Let's face it - if Bill Murray and Chevy Chase were still on the show - they would look like tired old men doing the same lounge lizard and prat falls over and over - it wouldn't be fresh - it wouldn't be funny. 

As I've found that out any number of times myself with the OTC Comedy Troupe - people move on and at first it's a blow but then someone new comes along that you had no idea existed before that audition and all of the sudden you're excited by the prospect of them joining the company.   I guess because of my work with Mental Floss that I'm totally cool with people that I cast working with other theater companies - but sometimes it bites me on the ass.   I have the uncanny ability to cast talented people who other theater producers see in our show and then they get approached to do plays thanks to the OTC showcasing their talents - and of course they take the offers.  The holidays are the worst with every theater company in town doing a holiday review or play, so I've actually stopped trying to do performances around then because it gets to be a logistical nightmare to have enough people either not in other shows or in town to do them.   I guess sometimes I bemoan that loss of loyalty but then I've never wanted to hold anyone back either.  I've had actors who've done other projects and been right back after they ended to start doing improv again.   

The one actor I've worked with pretty much since the beginning in 2005 is Adrian who is my "Improv" husband.   We've worked together since early 2002 when we were both in Bric Players - a small improv group that was performing in a theater in Duluth.   We got each other right away and could figure out our own inside jokes like the fact that my butt and a black man's fascination with booty can make for some really funny moments in the shows.  Adrian has his own interests including a really cool comic book named Ms. Johnnie which he took time away from the group to pursue.   I was glad that he took that time because I'd hate to have someone choose something that I'm doing out of duty and turning down other opportunities that they might regret later.  I have had actors come back with theater horror stories about directors from hell, terrible casts and wishing they had saved all that aggravation by staying with the group to begin with.   I always welcome them back glad that they've seen how things could be under someone who might not have their best interests at heart. 

I've also had to deal with my share of egos, divas and total nut bars.   As anyone whose ever produced or directed can tell you - actors are not always the most stable lot.   Most are wonderful team players but some are out for their own personal gain and will screw over anyone to get there - which always amuses me because I'm not the big time.  Screwing me over is not the next step to getting that standard rich and famous contract - it just hurts your karma more than anything else.   I've had actors show up  in the middle of the web show and expect to go on the minute they arrived.  I had one actor who wanted to make fun of handicapped people and then was royally pissed when I told them no.  I had another actor that wanted to do a sketch about pedophiles and was told by the entire cast that it was inappropriate.   I had another male actor who would try to sneak in jokes during a show about smacking women around - really?  Was he not paying attention to who was running the group?   I always found it interesting that they would complain on their way out that I wasn't edgy enough to let a sketch like violent incest with the handicapped into a comedy show.   Another actor wanted to run a workshop by having the group work to exhaustion in 100 degree weather and then try to create when they were dehydrated and near heat stroke because that's where "true inspiration comes from."  When I told him that was a bad idea, I was accused of being a fascist and that I lacked vision.   He later went to another improv group where he felt "totally accepted."   When the OTC was rehearsing out of that group's space - I found out later that he was pretty much impossible to work with and had to be evicted because he got weird and started to live at the theater.   Another player used to come to workshop late, leave early because she was doing stand-up, never helped set up or tear down after shows and was very rude to the sound guy in a theater for a New Year's Eve show we were doing.  I guess the fact that this guy could determine whether the audience could hear her was a non-issue.   All these people were talented but their emotional and creative baggage weighed the group down like an anchor on a ship that just wanted to set sail.  When they were asked to leave privately the thing that I noticed was that the rest of the players never asked me what happened.  There was just this shared sense of relief that they were gone. 

I guess the thing that I've learned the most in doing working in theater and improv groups in general is that no one is irreplaceable.  Every time I've lost a major talent in the group - someone else has managed to show up just in time to fill the void.  Sometimes it's a new actor, sometimes it's another actor who I haven't put in different pieces because those other actors had their signature characters and I stupidly never thought to give them a chance to shine in that piece.  I can count the number of times on one hand that I thought that the OTC was down and out for the count. Then I would hold auditions knowing that if I didn't get a least three or four decent people - the group would just fade away - game over.   I once started doing stand-up because at one point it felt like it was just me.   But then the word get out that I needed people either through audition notices or e-mails or Facebook and I would have the actors that I needed for the corporate gig or performance.  Probably my best advice for anyone whether they are show business or any other business is that you are replaceable but you can certainly make yourself indispensable.  Do crazy things like help out without being asked, go above and beyond and just flat out be easy to work with -it helps.   As Charlie Sheen found out - you can be a major talent but if you are disrupting what everyone else is trying to do - they will find a way to replace you with someone who is a whole lot less trouble.   Even Sheen admits now that his antics and being fired was not "Winning!"  

So for you loyal SNL viewers fear not - season 38 will come along just fine.   They have a talented group of people and writers who have been through this before.   Lorne Michaels has a great eye for talent.  When Tina Fey and Amy Poeler left, they thought the show would never be able to replace them and yet, there was Kristen Wiig, ready to step into the void.   Before Tina and Amy, there was Molly Shannon.  Before 1995, no one had even heard of Will Ferrell.    While I might not be producing on the level of SNL, I have been doing improv comedy since the late 1980's and there are a ton of talented improv actors out there doing their thing - making people laugh and enjoying every minute of it.   They will find the next big talent - hey it might even come from someone who has worked with the OTC - you never know.    For me, the comedy world is unpredictable, fun and one hell of a crazy ride and you don't have to be live from New York see that.  

Mary Poppins, Jeannie, Samantha and Me

I have loved the idea of strong powerful women ever since I was a toddler.   In 1964, the movie Mary Poppins came out with all the pomp and circumstance any three year old girl could ask for.   Forget Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella and Snow White, Mary Poppins had a bottomless carpet bag filled with coat racks, mirrors, magic and the ability to conjure joy out of thin air.   She could make cleaning your room extremely fun - your clothes practically flew into the drawers.    Taking medicine was loads of fun as long as it tasted like a spoon full of sugar which for me was what Dimetapp used to taste like.   She could sing to the birds and they would sing back.   A chalk painting could be an imaginary wonderland of merry-go-round horse races and penguin waiters.   The dark scary rooftops of London exploded with chimney sweeps dancing, singing and playing baseball with fireworks.    Tea parties could happen in mid-air especially if you loved to laugh.   Mary Poppins could see a situation that needed fixing and would work to fix it but with the realization that the people she was trying to help would have to help themselves.   Mr. Banks had to realize that not paying attention to his children came at a price  - that they feared him more then they loved him.  Mrs. Banks had to be more hands on rather then relying on nannies to fix everything.   In the end, they all learn their lessons even if they lose sight of the fact that it was Mary who guided them to their epiphanies.  She leaves as a true hero - not waiting for a grandiose thank-you but knowing that the "children love their father more than you" is her reward.   She takes her umbrella and flies back up to the heavens maybe to hang out with the other guardian angels that come to earth in human form to help those that need a little divine guidance. 

I remember how much I adored this movie as a wee one.  I bought into the fantasy - hook, line and sinker.   When I got a Mary Poppins umbrella that Christmas, my mother told me that I would stand outside when it was windy and wait for it to take me up to see Mary Poppins.  When it was stormy I was worried that Mary might be blown around and soaked in the clouds.   I would sing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, Spoon Full of Sugar and Chim-Chim-Cheree around the house in my broken little three year old voice until I was hoarse.   I wished that our Miami home had a chimney so we could invite a chimney sweep over, shake his hand and get good luck.   She seemed so practically perfect in every way and I wanted to be like her.   She made me see the world as this magical experience and the flight of your imagination was all you needed to take you places.   I just wished that I had more than that one visit in the movie theaters to spend with her.  Back then, you usually only saw a movie once and there were no videos or DVDs to watch it over and over again - you simply had to absorb it all that first time.  I'm sure plenty of people saw it more than once, but growing up in family of five kids in a middle class neighborhood meant you got one shot at seeing a Disney movie period.  The first video's didn't come out until the 1980's.  I remember getting one from my mother and being absolutely delighted - the years had not dulled my affection for Mary and she was still cool, musical and magical in my eyes - that movie is still my Jolly Little Holiday.   

It was only natural that I would transition to two women with whom I could watch every week on TV who were also taking that magic carpet ride in the mid-1960's.  I saw Elizabeth Montgomery on Bewitched I knew I had found a pretty blond lady that I also could be like who opened her home and family to me.   She was a witch but not like the Wicked Witch of the West - all green and mean.   She was like Glenda, the good witch of the North, pretty and very patient even when her idiot mortal husband was always yelling at her for being the magical person she was.   Now that I'm a married woman myself, it's harder to watch the old shows that are close to 50 years old without wincing at the constant drinking (Good God Darrin and Larry - another three martini lunch in which your pour your heart out to the running drunk character at the bar you always frequent? - try an AA meeting.)  I mean it's not like you work at a high pressure ad agency like Don Drapper on Mad Men - oh wait you do - scratch that.   At least Don never had a meddling mother-in-law who would literally drop in anytime she wanted to make your life hell.  Okay that might explain Darrin's drinking.   

But some of the other remarks show a lack a huge lack of respect to his magical partner like the time that Samantha had to turn a lecherous client who was making an aggressive pass into a dog who then ran away.   When Samantha explained why she had to do that - Darrin's response was "A client is more important than a wife any day."   At the end of the episode, Darrin finally gets the balls to deck the guy but he didn't believe Samantha at first and the client over the wife comment really gripes me now.   But as a kid, I wouldn't have caught that - it was just a lady who was as pretty as a princess trying to be a mom in a house in a neighborhood like mine.   We also had nosey neighbors like the Kravitz's -Mrs. Cunningham would rat my brother Steve out for popping wheelies with my stroller when he had to take me out for a walk around the block.   My parents would have dinner parties like the Stevens, but without the Witches Council dropping in unexpectedly.  I literally almost got my nose out of joint trying to do Samantha's signature move only to find out later that it was impossible because it was stop motion cleverly edited together.   But still even after switch from the original Darrin to a gay Darrin, Samantha kept on trying to squelch her power to fit in.   Maybe the show was a paranoid fantasy by a bunch of white guys about women being happy to just be homemakers while the feminist movement swirled around them.  "If we can just convince the gals that they are happier at home, maybe we can preserve our way of life," they must thought after a third martini at lunch.  Eventually the show evolved when Elizabeth Montgomery took the producing reigns with her husband and they did take on topics like racism in the episode when Tabitha decided to give herself and her black friend polka dots so no one could tell their true skin color.   Unfortunately, by that time the ratings had dropped off and the show ended in 1972. 

Then there was I Dream of Jeannie a story of a astronaut who finds a bottle with a beautiful blond girl in it.  Even after Tony Nelson frees her, our magical Jeannie rolls her bottle into his duffle back and goes back with him to Cocoa Beach, Florida where he works in the Air Force at Cape Kennedy.   Once there, she works diligently to get Major Nelson to fall in love with her so that she can be his wife and not have to sleep in a bottle all the time (all though the round couch was really, really cute).   She like Samantha is not allowed to use her powers but of course when you try to keep someone from being who they truly are - things are likely to go extremely wrong.   Jeannie spends a lot of time trying to placate Major Nelson who can actually out bellow Darrin (not to be confused with Dr. Bellows who rarely bellowed).  She spends most of the first few seasons in a harem costume and which for censorship reasons does not show her naval - but showing half her boobs was just fine - go figure.    So for four seasons, only Tony's best friend Roger knows about Jeannie.  After a bitter break-up, Tony realizes that he loves Jeannie and offers to marry her.  They finally marry and the plot switches from Tony trying to hide her to trying to hide that fact that she's a genie.  They even get to sleep in the same room together.   She also stops calling him "Master" and starts to call him Anthony.  Once again, little Kelley was transfixed by the pretty blond lady who could conjure up things in the blink of an eye (she magical move was also much easier to master than Samantha's nose twitch).   I even got my older Sister Kathy to do my hair just like Jeannie's.   I never got the harem outfit - probably not the thing for a four year old to be wearing. 

Maybe the point that Bewitched was trying to introduce to a white audience the reality of a mixed marriage- either between cultures or races and the ramifications of what it would be like to have one person abandon who they are to try to please the other person and society to blend in.   To his credit, Darrin does put up with a lot of crap and still ends up loving Samantha in the end - but there are times when he doesn't respect her very much.    For Jeannie, I think the producers saw how popular Bewitched was and created another sitcom with a hot blond but one better - one who was scantily dressed and willing to do anything to please her man.    It was like the Tale of Two Realities, it was the best of times for women's rights and it was the worst of times for how they were treated on TV.  Thank god, the 1970's ushered in Mary Richards, Maude and All in the Family.   My guess is that Darrin and Major Nelson would be lost in this brave new world of women's rights and that they would have to give more to the relationship to even things out. 

Now as a wife and mother, I see how outdated the ideals of Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie are.   My kids just don't get into those shows even if they happen to be on.   But when I watched Mary Poppins for the first time with them when they were seven and three, they loved it.   The whole look of the movie appealed them - the fantasy horse race was wonderful, the tea party was fun, the penguins were delightful and they cried when Mary Poppins left and so did I.   I loved sharing it with them and the fact that it's still a smash Broadway musical still shows it's mass appeal.  As a grown woman, I've managed to find a husband who loves me for me and does not try to limit me because he's afraid I won't fit in.   Unlike Jeannie and Samantha's marriages, Max and I have a relationship based on mutual trust.  I would never limit his creativity and he would never limit mine. 

I guess thing that separates Mary Poppins from Jeannie and Samantha (besides an awesome soundtrack) is that she is her own woman.  She doesn't take crap from Mr. Banks or really much of anyone.   Her best friend Bert doesn't try to limit her power - he's fine with it and is happy to go along for the ride.   She does things to help the world around her for the right reasons and not for the love of a man - which for my money is a very empowering message for girls.    She's a woman of the 1900's yet is way more modern then the supernatural girls of the 1960's who were in the middle of the women's right movement.   If Mary Poppins worked at MacMann and Tate, she would have wiped the floor with Darrin and Larry.  She'd then smile sweetly, adjust her hat, and fly out the high rise window with her trusty umbrella as a chorus of executive women sing "Let's Go Fly a Kite" as they smash their own kites through the glass ceiling.  Now that's supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

Love the Warrior

As a liberal, I naturally hate the idea of war.   I don't think it's just a liberal thing - if you ask most people - they will tell you that war is a bad thing.    Politicians will tell you that they use it as a last resort when all other diplomatic means break down and if there is an immediate threat to the safety of innocent people.  Force must be used to maintain the order.  However, you would have to wonder how quickly those same politicians would go to war if they had to fight it themselves or if their own children were immediately going to be on the front lines - then it seems like restraint would rule the day.   In a perfect world, war would be nonexistent.    Peace would be the reigning principal and the world leaders would work to uphold that ideal.  Unfortunately this is not a perfect world - not by a long shot.   According to the GlobalSecurity.org - there are over 42 armed conflicts or wars around the world and the US is involved in four of them in places like Iraq, Iran, the Philippines, and Djibouti.   But this blog is not about discussing the political fall-out of war.  It's about appreciating those men and women who serve because it's their sense of duty and honor to do so.   

My father served in the army in the 179th Signal Repair Company in World War II.   He was in Normandy, Northern France, Rhineland, Ardennes, and Central Europe.   He was lucky enough not to see any direct combat, but I'm sure there were people that he knew in boot camp or even in his hometown of Lexington, MA who went to war and never came back.  He would talk about being in France and learning to speak French pretty fluently.  He talked about giving a shipment of wool sweaters to the people on the French countryside who were cold and didn't have enough clothes to keep them warm.   The soldiers passed out the sweaters and blankets out to a very grateful village.  He'd smile when he thought about that - soldiers being good will ambassadors instead of warriors.   There were also the humorous stories about soldiers trying to mail back a whole jeep back home which was amusing but you would think the supply sergeant would notice after a while.   If my dad had a really bad experience during the war, he never let on.   From what I understand, he got out relatively unscathed physically and emotionally, but others were not so lucky.   Max's dad, George, saw combat -  really bad things that forever scar the soul.  Friends and commades being blown to bits.   When he lived with us, he'd talk about the war.  There was no romance just sadness.    He prayed that Max would never experience the same thing.   But at least when both my dad and Max's dad came home, they were treated like heroes and got a chance to go to college on the GI bill which is how my father met my mother.    Back then, we did the right thing for the greatest generation.  

When I was a young girl growing up in the late 60's and early 70's, the Vietnam war was as close as your TV screen.  I remember seeing it on the 6:00 p.m. news while we all sat around eating our sausage noodle casserole.   It was violent, gritty and very scary.  I remember my mother being afraid that my brothers would be drafted and saying that she would take them to Canada if they were.   My father would voice an objection or two, but in his heart of hearts, didn't want his boys over there.   It must have been hard trying to reconcile his sense of patriotism and still see the war we were embroiled in as being so wrong and not wanting your sons to have any part of it.   My sister Kathy demonstrated against it and was very vocal about her opposition.   For me at six or seven, it seemed like anyone who went to the war would be killed and the thought of my teenage brothers going over there terrified me.   What were the adults thinking?  Sending people off to a foreign place to kill other people never made sense to me but then war never does - it doesn't matter what age you are. 

When those Vietnam vets came home, they were treated so shamelessly.  They were called baby killers, spit on, and generally humiliated because it was such an unpopular war.   They didn't get the applause at airports that our soldiers do now (thanks to the realization of how badly we treated the Vietnam vets).   Again, I was a little kid and confused by the fact that those men could have been my brothers and yet they were being treated like criminals just for doing what the government had asked them to do.    Most of these guys were not enlisted, they were drafted - they had to serve whether they wanted to or not.   After giving what they could to this country - how did we repay them?  By shunning them because we couldn't admit that the US had lost a war and it wasn't their fault.  No wonder the Vietnam vets had the mental health problems they did - you sacrifice your youth and vigor to be treated like an outcast?   It took decades before they finally got the help they needed from the VA hospitals. 

The Vietnam Memorial has the names of the 60,000 men and women who lost their lives in that conflict and it's a shiny black marble so that you can see yourself in the names of the those that have fallen.   It's a chilling reminder about the human cost of war.  Too often, we just get the numbers, the billions of dollars that it costs but seeing the names of 60,000 people cut down in their prime is awe inspiring and sad.   They were like us - with hopes and dreams and we didn't love them enough when they came home from that horrible war.  They ended up broken.  Every member of Congress should be required to go there, see it and talk to the families of the fallen before they can even think of declaring an act of violence like war.   They need to listen to a heartbroken mother and say "Dammit there has got to be a better way - our soldiers don't need a war to prove themselves!"

Wars are mostly about land, political or religious extremism.  Most of the time it's about all three.   We call upon our warriors to fight the good fight that we can't do ourselves.   They become symbols for our freedom.    But they are more than just symbols, they are sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, cousins, teachers and friends.   They have people that they love dearly and that dearly love them and both sides of the equation are losing sleep worrying about each other and all the milestones they are missing - the birth of a new child, birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, school plays, championship games, etc.    While we sit down bitching about the economy and which political party is right - they are over there hoping they'll be back safely to witness that next milestone.    They truly live their lives from day to day and we often don't give them much thought if you are not friends or a relative of a person in the service.    It takes Memorial Day or Vetern's Day or a holiday like Thanksgiving or Christmas for us to really think about letting them know how we feel to send them letters of support or CARE packages.   Is it that we're ungrateful?  Maybe, but I think it's more than that for those outside the realm of military service.  We can't comtemplate the sacrifice and it's just too overwhelming to think about so it's easier to not think about it at all - to not thank a serviceman when we see them in uniform when they come home for leave.   But it's important to acknowledge that sacrifice - to acknowledge the emotion.  A soldier surprising their child at school to see their play when that little one thought their mom or dad was 5,000 miles away and seeing the looks on both of their faces as they hold each other tight is enough to make even the bravest general wipe a tear.   We take those moments for granted but a soldier just can't - they are too precious.    Everyone has an opinion on whether we are right or wrong to get involved in our present conflicts - that is the complicated part.   But we can agree on one simple thing: you don't have to love the war, you just need to love the warrior.  

What a Boob! - Adventures in Parenting

Call it the boob seen around the world.  For those who have been under a rock for the last week, this Time magazine cover shows a young hot mom breast feeding her three year old son who happens to be standing on a chair.  The title of the article - "Are you Mom Enough?" - attempts to throw more gas on the Mommy wars - pitting working moms vs. stay at home moms vs. the moms who would rather bottle feed (both working moms and stay at home moms can fall into that category).  The look on the young mother's face seems to challenge women to "man-up" - to be willing to have the balls to whip out a boob and feed their kids - no matter what, where or when.  It's part of a movement called Attachment Parenting  which encourages moms to breast feed at will - anytime time of the day or night and to be completely available to their children including having the child sleep with mom and dad.  In short, the child is the center of that parental universe - there are few limits. 

Just to be clear, I have nothing against mothers want to nurse their children into toddler-hood.  I actually breast feed both my kids until they were at least two and a half years.   I did it as a working mother for both.  With Amber, I had an office job in Miami and nursed her in the morning while taking my "Pump-N-Style" to work to pump my utters two times a day.  I found that I could pump almost a quart of milk daily that would be quickly frozen when I got home so that Max would have it to feed Amber during the day.  At that point, Max was a stay-at-home dad.  In fact Max was so good at taking care of her that if he'd been able to nurse, I would have been completely unnecessary.  When I got off work, I was so full that I had to feed her and would ask Max to not give her much in the two hours before I got home.   The feeling of full breasts was very uncomfortable as I would ride home from the office on Metro-Rail.  My breasts would engorge to twice the size leaving at night then they were in the morning which would sometimes get me more attention then I wanted from lonely businessmen who were also riding public transit.   But the best time of the day was coming back to my baby, sitting in the rocking chair and having that quiet time with the two of us - it also gave Max a break. 

My work situation when I had Daniel was completely different - I was working as the marketing director of a theater in mid-town Atlanta which was filled with women, a few gay men and one straight guy.   I'd work from home half the time and then bring him with me into the office where he was welcomed with open arms.   He'd be part of the staff meetings - sometimes being used as the truth stick - for instance if you were holding the baby while giving your report, you couldn't tell a lie or embellish - the infant kept you honest.   When it was time to nurse him, I'd cover his head and be discreet while writing press releases or memos.   The young unmarried women thought it was sweet.  The gay men were surprised that boobs had another function rather then holding up strapless gowns and the straight man of the group was just totally weirded out.  But the job at the theater was probably the most kid friendly that I ever had.  When I left there to go work for an healthcare organization within  Rotary International - I was back to the working women's hours and breast feeding around my working day.   

Breast feeding certainly had it's hazards and public support for this natural act has not always been there.   I remember taking five year old Amber swimming when Daniel was just 12 months old at a water park.   Daniel was getting fussy and I decided to feed him as discreetly as I could with my hand over his face because I didn't want to leave her while she was in the water to get a towel to cover Daniel.   My feeding breast had more coverage than the other side which was in a simple halter top.   Not only that, the pool had tons of kids around who weren't noticing or bothered by this since they had probably seen their own moms do the same thing with their little siblings hundreds of times.  But it caught the attention of a teenage female lifeguard who told me that I would have to leave the pool area to nurse.   When I explained that the in the state of Georgia, I had the right to feed my son in public, I was informed that according to her "it was not appropriate for young children."   Huh?  I mean if not for infants or young children, who exactly is breast feeding appropriate for?   I wanted to scream - "Look, you Baywatch wanna-be - this what God designed them for - not just to be fun muffins for your boyfriend!"  

Another time when Amber was a baby and I was at a conference, there was no place designated to pump at Florida International University - so I had set up in a bathroom and sat in a make-shift lounge area to pump.    A young woman came into the bathroom saw me hooked up with tubes and baby bottles hanging out of my shirt and exclaimed "Is this a science project?  Oh my God, what have they done to you?"   Her face was horrified until I told her that I was a nursing mother and that I was expressing my milk so I my baby could have it the next day.   "And here I thought it came from cows - this is crazy!" she said as she quickly exited the bathroom never to drink another glass of milk again.    Yet another instance of the importance of explaining to our young women what breasts are really equipped to do. 

When they both got to be over two years, I would begin to plan my exit strategy.   I had put in the time and now I wanted my body back but it was always with a bit of remorse.  After all, I was the "Lactonator" - a superhero that could soothe my babies in a way that no one else could.    I also had a fabulous bust-line for the first time in my life (I would go from a 32 A+ to a 38 C+ cup).   I would be lying if I told you that breast feeding was all about the babies - it gave me Vegas showgirl hooters for the first time in my life and it was hard to let go of that.   But the middle of the night feedings were wearing me out (even if I brought the kids to bed with us - it was still hard to really sleep deeply if you were worried about rolling over on the baby).   I needed a break and I needed to be my own woman again without a child velcroed to my breast.   It's a choice that I hope I would not be criticized for anymore than a woman who decides to bottle feed should feel guilty about her decision.   We're all just trying to do the best we can with what we've got.  

Which is why the cover of Time Magazine bothers me.    What the hell does asking "Are you Mom Enough?" really accomplish other than making everyone defensive?  Why does parenthood and being a mother in general have to be such a freaking competition?   Are we really trying to turn out a better super baby?   Why are working mothers made feel so bad about not being home all day with their kids by other women?   Why can't working mothers understand that staying home all day with a baby or toddler is not a break - it's being on call 24/7?   Why can't we all admit that sometimes we just don't have all the answers - that despite our best intentions, our children are going to be just that - children who will blurt out an overheard  comment about that bozo at work or church at the worst possible moment?   That they will melt down in public and there's just nothing anyone not even the best parent can do about it.    There are times when I think I have it perfectly together and times when my kids will do exactly what I ask them and peace reigns supreme.   I'll step back and think "Damn, I have this mom thing down."  Then there are times when I'm shrieking at my kids like a fish wife and monologuing like a super villain and wondering who or what gave me the right to reproduce.   

Look, as a parent, you're going to have up days and down days.  Days when you love your kids beyond reason and days when you won't like them very much.   I'll tell you one thing that those perfect parenting books won't tell you - that despite your best intentions, you child is not an extension of you.  They are their own person and they will become the person that they are meant to be.  The best you can do is offer limits, support, love and be there for them.   I guess that's my issue with Attachment Parenting is that if you want time for yourself - it means you're selfish.  Well screw that - it makes you human to want to sleep in your bed with your husband without a little body flaying around all night.  You're human and as a parent you are going to make mistakes - own up to them and your kids will respect you for not being perfect.   Getting into Harvard might be your dream but not theirs - so ease up on the insistence on the 4.0 average.  Stop over scheduling them so they can get a scholarship that they might be too burnt out to enjoy by the time they actually get to college.  Childhood goes by in a blink - let them have their time in the sun without constantly taking them from one after-school activity to another.   In my opinion, there is no way you can be a completely perfect parent, but there are thousands of ways to be a good one.  Find your own path and enjoy - your kids will thank you for it. 

Gadget-cide

At the risk of sounding like an old fart, I remember a time when phones had cords and when you needed to talk to someone, you had to stay in one place to talk.   You might do something else like read or draw while you were on the phone, but you didn't have the ability to walk around the house.    When cords got to be 10 feet, it gave you a little more mobility to make dinner while you were on the phone.   Multi-tasking wasn't much of a concept back in the 1970's - you just did one or two things at a time like your mom catching up on her soaps while ironing.    When you got into your car, you put in the radio and that was it - your job was to drive.   Sure, there were moms then as now, who needed to keep their kids entertained while they drove to errands, but that's what books were for.   People were able to focus better, actually talked to each other either in person or on the phone and made eye contact when they spoke in person.   These days we have cell phones that can text, give you GPS, let you know when you have appointments and gaming systems that can give the the sensation of running, bowling, playing tennis, dancing, playing games over the internet with someone in a another state or country.  What these these things can't give you is basic human interaction so that you can gauge how the people you are talking to are really doing and (gasp) give you some quiet down time to think. 

In improvisation, one of the first things I teach is how important it is to stay present.   We live in a world where even if you are talking directly to someone, there is the constant threat that your cell phone might buzz to let you know that you have an e-mail or text.  The person might glance to their iPhone to see if it's more important then you.   Worse, even if you don't have that infernal smart phone buzzing, you're still thinking about the text you need to send, project you need to finish, e-mail you need to respond to, phone call you need to return and bill you need to pay on the web.   You might be looking someone eye-to-eye, but your brain is giving them, at best about 30%.   When did being able to focus on one thing become a liability.  If you're constantly being asked how you are at multi-tasking, generally the person asking probably means - "Hey I have a hard time managing just one project at a time, and I hope you do too, so I won't feel so bad."   I've seen entire staffs share a collective ADD because they have to handle so much.  It all manages to get done, but usually not as well as it would have if everyone had been able to focus on just doing one thing at a time.  And yet, being able to juggle multiple projects and still take on more seems to be a twisted badge of honor.   I'm not saying that you have to just do one project for a week at a time but at least while you're focusing on it for an hour you're not also trying to do six other things.   It creates a whirlwind that just sucks the life out of you and you feel like nothing is getting done.  

One thing I will say for Skype is that at least you can see the person that you are talking to see how they are responding to what you have to say.  It's also hard for them to try to do something at the same time because the other person would see it.   Because the laptop camera is stationary, you can't really wander away to another room because that would take you out of view.   So, just like the days with the short phone cord, you can't really move around that much and have to stay present. With a smart phone, you can move around but who wants to be having a conversation while walking and web casting at the same time?   That sounds more like a trapeze act then a conversation.    In my recent job search, I've had countless phone interviews.  For me, that 's a tough way to interview - you can't see the body language to know if you are truly answering their questions the right way or if you need to give them more.   I had one phone interview and when I finished answering I was met with silence.   I wondered if the call had been dropped or I had said the wrong thing.  I then heard the clacking of the key board and realized that they were typing and might have been sending an e-mail while I was talking.  Of course they could have been taking notes but then they would have noticed when I stopped talking and would have mentioned that they were in fact taking notes. 

Another reason to like is that Skype it keeps you in touch with the people you hold near and dear.  I'm always touched by the fact that military families are able to Skype so that the soldier, their kids and spouses can be reassured that everything is alright.   The soldiers get to see their children as well as talk to them and the kids can show their dad or mom their latest grade, art project or loose tooth.   Even if they are half a world away, for that moment it seems like the only thing separating them is a slim computer screen.  The children can hear their parent read a bedtime story and go to sleep with the image of someone they love reading Winnie the Pooh.  Skyping is the next best thing to being there.   

Technology is supposed to make our lives easier and yet the more plugged in we are, the less down time we have.   It was supposed to cut our work time in half but it seems to have doubled it.   You can't go on vacation without promising to check your job e-mail or voice mail once a day so if there's a crisis, you know about it.   Wanting to say, "Hey, I need to unplug, so I'll check my e-mail when I get back," makes you seem like you're not a team player.  I once worked for a guy who expected me to check my e-mail at least twice a day while I was on vacation to justify the time that I was taking off.    It was my vacation time, yet that wasn't good enough.  I had to stay in touch in case I had to put out any fires by remote and I needed to be able to text back within an hour if he needed me.    Frankly, that's not a vacation it's just not being in the office.  

Facebook is another technological entity which is a two edged sword.    It's a vehicle that's supposed to let people know who are and what you think.  You can use it to network and let others share in some good news.  You also have be careful about what you post if it's not always positive.   I've posted a few political quips only to be roundly criticized by my "Facebook friends" who didn't share the same opinion.   I'm all for differing ideas, but I have to wonder if the vehemence of the response would have been so strong if it were in person or on the phone.    I'm guessing I could would couched my terms more carefully, and the responses in dealing with a live person would have been more muted.   It's also interesting that when people don't have anything to say or anything new happening in their lives, they often rely on some really cute kitten pictures with a caption just to get people to notice them.   

Probably the most disturbing technological trend is texting and driving.   It should be a no brainer that in choosing between maneuvering a gadget that weighs a few ounces versus a vehicle that weighs a few tons - the car should win out.   Yet some people - particularly teens are so addicted to texting they can't let it go once they are behind the wheel of a car.   Unfortunately that behavior affects more than just the errant texter: 

• About 6,000 deaths and a half a million injuries are caused by distracted drivers every year.

• While teenagers are texting, they spend about 10 percent of the time outside the   driving lane they’re supposed to be in.

• Talking on a cell phone while driving can make a young driver’s reaction time as slow as that of a 70-year-old.

• Answering a text takes away your attention for about 5 seconds. That is enough time to travel the length of a football field.

There are apps that you can get on your phone to let people know you are in your car and you'll return their messages later - no one deserves to lose their life over a LOL :p.    Yet our obsession with being plugged in is killing us and taking it's toll on our quality of life.   It's okay if you can't be contacted every waking hour of the day - it doesn't make you less worthy - it just makes you sane. 

I guess some of us are afraid to be alone with our thoughts. I once worked for a woman who had to schedule and double schedule every hour of the work week.   I'd also notice on her calendar that she tons of events planned for the weekend.    There was no down time, no time for introspection.   It didn't make me admire her ability to juggle tasks it made me wonder what she was running from - why couldn't she stop - why couldn't she just say no?   She was frequently frazzled and late for almost every appointment but she had to keep going - her schedule was handling her - she was not handling her schedule.  And yet, if you tried put in an hour to two in which she was not meeting with someone or on her way somewhere - she'd rail like somehow she was losing her edge.   In reality being so over extended was making her less sharp not more.    

I try as much as possible to unplug before I go to bed and read.   I also like to run with music and then pull off my ear buds for my last mile so I can feel the rhythm of my breath with the sound of my feet on the earth.   I try to listen the birds in the trees who use their own songs to talk to each other.   I like to take long walks in the park and have found my own thinking spot that's quiet and has the sound of a stream running nearby.   It's calming for me to be near water and just listen - to hear the sound of life running quietly on it's own.  (click here to see video) 

I sat for 20 minutes and watched a bird clean itself in the stream and then fly to a tree to be with his flock.   It was calming, it was uncomplicated - it was simply nature.    I think we all need to unplug on a regular basis.  It doesn't make you less important, it makes you more human.   This new technological frontier has benefits but without limits it can push you towards gadget-cide.   To quote Albert Einstein, "Why does this magnificent applied science which saves work and makes life easier bring us so little happiness? The simple answer runs: Because we have not yet learned to make sensible use of it."  If Einstein could see it 80 years ago, we need to see it now.   So go outside, breathe in the spring air and just be - trust me, you'll feel much smarter than your phone.