My guru, Oprah, always says she has discovered people really need basically two things; to be loved and to be listened to. There may be a few things I would add to that but that's another blog.
Getting a response from many of you on my last blog brought the message home to me. I am definitely one of those people who needs feedback to know I have been heard (or read, whatever).
It's not enough for me to get my thoughts down or express myself creatively...I want to know what other's reactions are. Anyone else feel the same? By the very act of writing I am asking for
readers and what they think. I know that professional writers feel that way. Several times I have emailed an author or Tribune columnist and immediately receive a reply from them.
Another topic, but related: yesterday I received one of those "jokes" that get mailed around to dozens of people at a time. This was from a friend who usually sends religious messages as he is a born again fundamentalist Christian. So I read it. It was a vile racist piece about Hindus and the spot women wear on their foreheads. It was demeaning and insulting. I think my friend forgot the story of the Good Samaritan; so I wrote him a note that I was offended and didn't think my Hindu friends would find it funny. Do you think I'll hear back from him? I am eager to see if I get feedback on that communication (he is our insurance agent and does a fair piece of business with us!)
Anyway, thanks for the feedback folks. I needed that!
Friday, September 14, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
All alone in blogsville
I gotta tell you...it's beginning to feel lonesome out here.
Every morning I check the family blog sites and the new entries are far and few between. Oh, the talented niece checks in pretty regularly, but the rest of you aren't even responding to my posts, let alone keep me posted on your exciting lives. I guess that's it...your lives are so exciting and busy you don't have time to post.
On the other hand, old gimpy here has the time but no excitement whatever. Not that I am playing for sympathy...I wouldn't ever do that, right?
Let's see...I am going for a haircut today; will even try some errands even though the doctor
thinks I should be sitting around with my leg elevated.....boooooring! I am now on my third book for the week.
Now see folks...I have managed a new post without saying anything of import at all...you could do that too! (at least I spared you any poetry!)
Every morning I check the family blog sites and the new entries are far and few between. Oh, the talented niece checks in pretty regularly, but the rest of you aren't even responding to my posts, let alone keep me posted on your exciting lives. I guess that's it...your lives are so exciting and busy you don't have time to post.
On the other hand, old gimpy here has the time but no excitement whatever. Not that I am playing for sympathy...I wouldn't ever do that, right?
Let's see...I am going for a haircut today; will even try some errands even though the doctor
thinks I should be sitting around with my leg elevated.....boooooring! I am now on my third book for the week.
Now see folks...I have managed a new post without saying anything of import at all...you could do that too! (at least I spared you any poetry!)
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Quietly
The dark lingers longer
like a curtain half shut the view is partial.
The cicadas left still sing their song,
but quietly, quietly.
No matter, I wake at 3 or 4
And my time in darkness,
moniter reflecting words,
stretches, stretches.
Pre-parent I was night owl
just now tumbling into bed.
Now hours before the sun
Crawling, crawling out.
The biggest draw of dark?
The silence that embraces
aloneness in purest form.
So quietly, so quietly.
like a curtain half shut the view is partial.
The cicadas left still sing their song,
but quietly, quietly.
No matter, I wake at 3 or 4
And my time in darkness,
moniter reflecting words,
stretches, stretches.
Pre-parent I was night owl
just now tumbling into bed.
Now hours before the sun
Crawling, crawling out.
The biggest draw of dark?
The silence that embraces
aloneness in purest form.
So quietly, so quietly.
Friday, September 7, 2007
The Knee
I am sick of talking about this knee, but today it had a starring role and I would feel guilty about not giving it it's 15 minutes of fame. We've been leading up to this for at least 3 months; every single day of those three months it has been living on Tylonol and it certainly has earned the right to have it's ordeal immortalized here.
Yes, today was surgery day and a long day at that. I was supposed to report in at noon for 2 pm surgery but got call in the am that surgery was moved up to 11, so I needed to be there by 9. That required a shift in limo service as Dotty was in meetings until 10.30, thankfully Howard and Sue came to the rescue and took the first shift of staying with me. By 10 they had me in the staging area where one is lying alone without benefit of drugs watching people running from one room to another all in maske and hair nets, etc. They finally came for me around 11 and i woke up about 12.thankfully had no sideeffects from anesthesia; just hungery and thirsty.
I will spare any more details except to say that the doctor thought from the MRI months ago that it was a small tear and he was wrong, It was much larger explaining the daily pain, I get to take off bandage and icc pack Sunday morning and will hopefully dump the walker for a cane then too,
And if all goes well, i promise to shut up about this blasted knee!
Yes, today was surgery day and a long day at that. I was supposed to report in at noon for 2 pm surgery but got call in the am that surgery was moved up to 11, so I needed to be there by 9. That required a shift in limo service as Dotty was in meetings until 10.30, thankfully Howard and Sue came to the rescue and took the first shift of staying with me. By 10 they had me in the staging area where one is lying alone without benefit of drugs watching people running from one room to another all in maske and hair nets, etc. They finally came for me around 11 and i woke up about 12.thankfully had no sideeffects from anesthesia; just hungery and thirsty.
I will spare any more details except to say that the doctor thought from the MRI months ago that it was a small tear and he was wrong, It was much larger explaining the daily pain, I get to take off bandage and icc pack Sunday morning and will hopefully dump the walker for a cane then too,
And if all goes well, i promise to shut up about this blasted knee!
Amelia's first day in 1st grade
This was the message on my voicemail:
"Um, Nana, I had a good day at school, but I cried a little; then it was gym class, but I didn't know about gym and I wore tappy shoes!
So we went to gym; the weather was sunny and hot. We count the days on the calendar; we have one day in school. We had recess, we had lunch, we had a snack. And we did some work stuff.
I hope your knee feels better. I'm sorry your knee is hurt. I hope the hospital will take care of it goodly. Goodbye, I love you"
Priceless.
"Um, Nana, I had a good day at school, but I cried a little; then it was gym class, but I didn't know about gym and I wore tappy shoes!
So we went to gym; the weather was sunny and hot. We count the days on the calendar; we have one day in school. We had recess, we had lunch, we had a snack. And we did some work stuff.
I hope your knee feels better. I'm sorry your knee is hurt. I hope the hospital will take care of it goodly. Goodbye, I love you"
Priceless.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Chain emails
I don't want anyone to take this personally, but I don't send on "chain" emails. I didn't send on chain letters either in the old days. I was prompted to write about this because I received one from my sister-in-law, whom I love dearly, but she will not receive it back from me. And it wasn't that I disagreed with the sentiments expressed...they were right on....so this is my attempt to figure out why I will not respond to them.
I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I don't pass them on primarily because they tell me I have to pass them on, and usually the number is specific and I must include the sender so she/he knows she/he is loved. Well, there's a problem right there. If I want someone to know I love them I am going to say it directly in my own words; I am going to tell them in person or on the phone.
I have always harbored the thought that a little bit of the rebel of my youth lives on and only gets to express herself in small ways...this is one of them.
And then there are those mass emails that present a political message or an attack on a whole catagory of people and those usually manage to offend me; I can't imagine giving them continued exposure.
Or the religious ones that do not express my thoughts, and besides I believe we are all free to believe whatever gets us thru the night.
Now I do admit that with the humorous ones I have been known t o pass on to some specific friends, because if it is genuinely funny (and even that is a matter of individual taste) we can all use more humor in our lives.
I think that is enought on that subject. And by the way, Patty, I love you and I agree, "Carpe Diem".
I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I don't pass them on primarily because they tell me I have to pass them on, and usually the number is specific and I must include the sender so she/he knows she/he is loved. Well, there's a problem right there. If I want someone to know I love them I am going to say it directly in my own words; I am going to tell them in person or on the phone.
I have always harbored the thought that a little bit of the rebel of my youth lives on and only gets to express herself in small ways...this is one of them.
And then there are those mass emails that present a political message or an attack on a whole catagory of people and those usually manage to offend me; I can't imagine giving them continued exposure.
Or the religious ones that do not express my thoughts, and besides I believe we are all free to believe whatever gets us thru the night.
Now I do admit that with the humorous ones I have been known t o pass on to some specific friends, because if it is genuinely funny (and even that is a matter of individual taste) we can all use more humor in our lives.
I think that is enought on that subject. And by the way, Patty, I love you and I agree, "Carpe Diem".
Monday, September 3, 2007
Labor Day
No other holiday is such a demarcation line in my life. Labor Day is the big one. End of summer, but most importantly, the beginning of school. (Yes, I know that that is not true everywhere now).For years and years of my life as a child, teenager, young adult, mother the first Monday in September was the real start of the year.
`Tomorrow Amelia Ruth Hertz starts first grade in Delmar, New York. By all accounts she is not as excited as her Nana was 60 years ago. ( What a different world that was 60 years ago! ) But some things don't change. Shopping for school supplies from the teacher' s list, hoping she asked for the 64 box of Crayolas (and she usually only wanted us to get the 24), #2 pencils, of course, the three ring binder, the pencil box. the big fat pink erasure (very important). And of course,what should that special outfit be for the first day, because even at that age we sensed how important that first impression would be, and, besides, it was an important event! Although, I think the significance of that outfit went unnoticed by the boys.
`
`School was my refuge, my joy, my place to shine, my door to other worlds and finally my escape from the lifestyle of my family and literally from my family. It was the place I wanted to be instead of home. It was the path to picking a family that I liked and wanted to be a part of.
After three years as the teacher, not the student, I finally realized I wanted out of the classroom. But that didn't change my attitude about September. It is the beginning of a new year, a new season, the end of that special quality of summer nights still.
It is a fresh start in a new space wearing a new outfit. It is the hope of making new friends, the joy of reading, and an entry into the big world where you can try out being different yous.
It has been the ladder up for generations of immigrants, the one true escape from a life of poverty, racism, sexism; whatever way the culture tries to limit you.
And all of that starts with a new box of Crayolas; I can smell them now. Lord, I love September!
`Tomorrow Amelia Ruth Hertz starts first grade in Delmar, New York. By all accounts she is not as excited as her Nana was 60 years ago. ( What a different world that was 60 years ago! ) But some things don't change. Shopping for school supplies from the teacher' s list, hoping she asked for the 64 box of Crayolas (and she usually only wanted us to get the 24), #2 pencils, of course, the three ring binder, the pencil box. the big fat pink erasure (very important). And of course,what should that special outfit be for the first day, because even at that age we sensed how important that first impression would be, and, besides, it was an important event! Although, I think the significance of that outfit went unnoticed by the boys.
`
`School was my refuge, my joy, my place to shine, my door to other worlds and finally my escape from the lifestyle of my family and literally from my family. It was the place I wanted to be instead of home. It was the path to picking a family that I liked and wanted to be a part of.
After three years as the teacher, not the student, I finally realized I wanted out of the classroom. But that didn't change my attitude about September. It is the beginning of a new year, a new season, the end of that special quality of summer nights still.
It is a fresh start in a new space wearing a new outfit. It is the hope of making new friends, the joy of reading, and an entry into the big world where you can try out being different yous.
It has been the ladder up for generations of immigrants, the one true escape from a life of poverty, racism, sexism; whatever way the culture tries to limit you.
And all of that starts with a new box of Crayolas; I can smell them now. Lord, I love September!
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