Category: Everyday Life

New York, New York

Before we made our way to New Haven, Connecticut this afternoon, we picked up our middle son, Christopher, in Manhattan. He had been staying there for four weeks in an Airbnb.

New York is such a fascinating place for so many reasons. I found myself snapping photos right and left as we drove (slowly) through the city. 

In front of Christopher’s apartment building were several cars parked very close together. The blue Mini Cooper was in its spot as snug as a bug in a rug. It wasn’t going anywhere. If the owner came out and wanted to drive it, the only way to do so would be to find four to six strong men and lift it out of its spot.

That is New York existence. There are millions of people walking, working, shopping, living in very close proximity. And as pictured here, if you are lucky enough to own a car in this city, parking is in extreme close proximity also. 

The above photo is a snapshot of life in New York. It feels like every inch of space is spoken for and occupied. But It is also a place where people have learned to live small in a huge place. Or perhaps they have learned to live huge in a small place. 

Either way, they have adapted and that is the key. If they can make it there, they’ll make it anywhere. Ain’t that right, Frank?

The BMV

Today, a trip to the BMV, or as some call it, the DMV. Either way, we know what happens there.

You wait. 

I was with Christopher. We had been running a few errands and this one was on the list. As soon as we walked through the door we could feel it. An aura. It surrounded everyone in the room, like a nimbus above their heads. Eyes are glazed over. There is very little movement. It is like the sitting walking dead.

Christopher commented about the chairs. Since he is a designer, he notices everything. There are three throws of folding metal chairs. A thin padding covers the seat and back. But it is a mirage. It is faux padding. You sit, expecting softness but it does not come. It is actually worse than no cushion. You expect more, but get less. 

Christopher said that there should be rows of easy chairs in here; reclining La-Z-Boys, perhaps a cashmere throw laid neatly across the arm.

I would like a coffee bar, too. You could sit in comfort and warmth while sipping a hot cappuccino. These things would bring a sense of peace in a non-peaceful setting. Tension would melt away. People may actually smile. And if you are not in too big of a hurry, when your number is called out, you may even say “Oh, I’m fine. Go to the next number. I want to finish my caramel macchiato.” 

Yes, I am dreaming. But there must be something that can be done to bring a brightness.

It is dismal in there. The employees are kind but they quietly chat and laugh about private jokes. We are at their disposal. They have all of the power in this section of frozen time. 

Finally, your number is called. Angels voices start to warm up. The clouds part slightly.

And then, victory! The dripping golden words of the clerk…”You are all done. Have a nice day.”

You open the heavy glass door and re-enter a world where all is familiar; where things make sense.

The angels are in full-singing mode. The sunshine is warm upon your face. You have powered through, mostly unscathed, for one more year. 

Nail Clippers for Jesus

The print business runs by the calendar, and sometimes by the clock.

I am a writer for a media company. Last week I was up against a deadline, not only a day deadline but an hour deadline. I was awaiting final confirmation on a story for the magazine. The communication had been difficult from the get-go. The headquarters of the business are in Asheville, North Carolina. There was no face to face interview, only email and phone connection.

It was Thursday at 4:00 p.m. My boss was calling me ad nauseam. He said that I was giving him gray hairs by the moment. Sigh. 

I was out running a few necessary errands when the final edit of the story dinged in my email. Hallelujah!  I found the closest McDonald’s to duck into a booth with my computer and a cup of coffee to dash off the story to my boss. The magazine was going to print in two hours.

I found a quiet booth. As I was working feverishly with my head down and glasses on the bridge of my nose, I noticed a shadow over the table. I glanced up to find a woman leaning over the top of the booth staring at me. She said: “Do you have a fingernail clipper I can use?” Wait…what?

I have a mindset of “you never know what you might need, so be prepared”, meaning, I most likely had a nail clipper in my cosmetic bag. 

Within milliseconds, I had to process the question and the answer. Several things were awry here.

First, she startled me. Second, she was hanging over my booth in my personal space. Third, she had to notice that I looked like Lois Lane on a writing deadline. Fourth, she asked for a personal thing…a fingernail clipper, for goodness sake!

Aspiring to live a life after the perfect model of Jesus, I desire to live and speak and be an honest person. In those slow-motion moments, I wrestled with what my response would be. 

My purse was on the seat next to me, but not touching me, which was my “Christian loophole”. I said to her: “I don’t think I have one on me at the moment.”

Again, so many things. One, if I did take the time to rifle through my cosmetic bag and find the clipper, I would most likely have said, “Oh, just keep it.” Please, just keep it. Two, I would rather have given her 75 cents and directed her to the Walgreen’s across the street. 

Later, at home, as I was reflecting about this, a terrible thought occurred to me. What if that was Jesus in disguise and He was testing me to see if I would be honest and giving and kind. 

Major fail. Oy vey. 

After a bit of unmerited negative self-talk, I came to the realization that it was just a thing, just an event, just life; kind of like knocking my coffee over in the car or dropping my phone into the toilet or slipping on an icy patch on the sidewalk. In the famous words inspired by Forrest Gump, sh*t happens. 

However, there is a lesson to learn. I will, in the future, carry around two fingernail clippers. One for myself and one for the next person who oversteps my personal boundary. It may indeed be Jesus. I will purchase the deluxe one, just in case.

Clarity

Spanish philosopher José Ortega y Gasset said “The human has a mission of clarity on earth.”

*When our minds become confused because of today’s overwhelming problems, unclear thinking and mental gibberish shows up. We owe ourselves clarity.

We also owe it to others. When we give the wrong signals to someone close, a family member or friend, that relationship can become strained or even broken.

I know from experience, how frustrating it is when someone misunderstands us. However, often I have discovered that I caused my own frustration. Perhaps my directions were unclear or my answer was a bit soft and non-definitive which may have created a mixed message in the other person’s mind.

When I put the shoe on the other foot, I realize that when I receive confusing signals from others, I, too, experience disheartened head-shaking.

Befuddlement and discombobulation can demean careers. They can build a wall. They can wedge a movement. They can fracture love.

How well I remember the childhood saying, ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can ever hurt me.’ Au contraire.

Words hurt deeply. At times I would RATHER have a broken bone than a misunderstanding of communication with someone for whom I care deeply.

Writers deal with words. Artists deal with color and shapes. Clear words and images communicated from one person to another are what make us human. They help or hurt humanity.

True clarity originates with God. He understands and forgives our imperfections, even when we have difficulty recognizing them. He communicates clearly the message of love and grace. There is no bafflement, bamboozlement or bewilderment. All of that messy fog comes from our own heads.

The goal: “A mission of clarity on earth.” Are we all clear on this now?

 

*Inspired by the book “When True Simplicity is Gained”

 

 

Wear the Gloves

I have a beautiful pair of black leather gloves. They are buttery soft and smooth with no lines or fringe or anything fussy. The fingers do not have extra space at the end of my true fingers. They fit me like, well, like a glove.

Usually when I have worn gloves throughout this winter, I have grabbed one of my other two pairs of black gloves. I have a pair for running, that fit snugly and keep my hands warm if I venture to the park on a somewhat warm winter day for a quick jog.

I have another pair of sturdy gloves that are my usual “go to” gloves for snowy days to scrape my car windows and for carrying in groceries and other items.

And there, on the top shelf of my hall closet, sit my beautiful black leather gloves.

We awakened this morning to a beautiful blanket of Ohio snow. Yesterday was Easter and I, as well as many other women I saw at church, donned our spring dresses and bared our legs. And today I pulled the boots back out of my closet and zipped my puffy jacket up to my chin. I was heading out to meet Christoper, my middle son, for breakfast.

I was just pushing the coat closet door closed when I spied my lovely black gloves. I have only worn them two or three times this winter. I am always trying to protect them and keep them special.

But this morning I grabbed them. I wore them to drive and then on inside of the restaurant. They felt great and they looked great. How silly to not enjoy these gloves more often.

I think it may be an older person’s mindset. We keep the new, delectably scented candles in a drawer rather than burn them. We display, rather than use, our crystal goblets in the glassed front cabinets for ‘show’. We store our gifts of ‘fancy’ lotions in our linen closets. We are always saving things for special events, special moments.

On this (hopefully) last snow of winter 2018, I completely enjoyed my beautiful gloves. Lesson learned.

Enjoy the special things. Burn the candle. Use the crystal goblets and fill them with champagne. Slather on the fancy lotion.

We have these things for one of two reasons; they have either been gifted to us or we were blessed enough to be able to purchase them. Either way, they should be appreciated, embraced and loved.

Wear the leather gloves.

Blitheness

You may be thinking…”What is blitheness?”

Blitheness is the state of being blithe. Did that clear things up?

The word blithe means joyous, merry, or happy in disposition; glad, cheerful: a blithe spirit.

We all know that person who boasts of holding positions that are always and only fulfilling. To which we say (at least to ourselves) “Seriously?”

Even exciting assignments and positions involve drudgeries. Let’s see…laundry, filling out forms, following steps, getting ready to go out for the day. Duties can be irritating.

But, why are some people thrown off by irritations while others remain lighthearted about them?

That question can most likely apply to every one of us. A specific duty may on one day be met with lightness and ease while the same duty on a different day may irritate. To a degree, that is simple human nature.

According to the Shaker lifestyle and mantra, in God’s realm, it is not the number of our petty duties or the lengths of our to-do lists that make life difficult. The answer appears to be the spirt in which we address our day’s details.

That is not to say that we always “grin and bear it” (that saying seemed befitting here – wink, wink). The adage of grinding our teeth and pushing through will not change our spirits. Those attitudes often fail us.

The hope is to be able to laugh in defiance at the often self-imposed daunting lists and to keep a perspective that allows blitheness to develop. The word develop, of course, insinuates practice.

Chores and duties will always be with us. That fact is an example of “accepting the things that cannot be changed.”

However, a blithe spirit; a serenity, will bring an ease and a lightness to the tasks.

Cheerfulness, like gloomy pessimism, is contagious. Blitheness is one germ I won’t mind catching.

 

Sufficiency

I have been on a self-imposed fast from clothes buying. A bad habit had become a routine. I found myself buying some kind of clothing every week, sometimes several times a week.

The fast is not about money. I am a frugal shopper who loves quality. Those two don’t always go hand-in-hand. It takes time and research to get those concepts to marry.

Often it would be a typical chain department store or an upscale resale shop or even the Salvation Army Thrift store. Which, by the way, I have found some amazingly high quality clothing for $3, $4, $5. Some of these items have become my “go-to’s” that I wear over and over and love.

It is a treasure hunt, for sure. And I sometimes wonder if I do not enjoy the treasure hunting as much as I enjoy the find.

Over time I accumulated too much. I have often looked through my closet and found clothing with price tags still attached, items so sardined that they were overlooked. That is a red flag.

From yesterday’s post about the Shaker Village book entitled When True Simplicity is Gained, this is what I read:

“The gift of simplicity frees us from obsession with things. In a vivid gospel word, Jesus tells the disciples to travel light. Heavy luggage and surplus clothing got in the way of their response.”

“True simplicity does not ask us to throw away all things but to understand their source and, by concentrating on the grace of the Spirit, to be free of the hold that piled-up possessions can have on our hearts. Then we can see, no longer blinded by the distracting glitter of things.”

The fast is not so much about the clothing, but about my heart. It is also about time. Again, to match quality with frugality takes a chunk of time. I do not need more clothes, plus I have things to do in this life.

As a disclaimer, my husband does indeed need more room in the closet. I have, slowly and subtilely narrowed his hanger room. It is very much like nudging closer and closer to him at night when I am cold till eventually he is clinging to the side of the bed like a giant panda on a tree limb.

My fast was originally intended to last through Lent, meaning on Easter Sunday I could shop like it is Black Friday. But I’m not sure I am ready for that.

Honestly, I am enjoying the challenge. I have given away four large bags to the Vietnam Vets organization. There were a few items I was uncertain about but when they are gone, they are gone. The indecision is over.

Additionally, I heard the sweet and wise voice of my precious daughter-in-law asking “Does it spark joy?” And I have to admit, no, not one of those pieces that initially brought a sense of dubiosity sparked joy. Time to let it go.

There is a lightness in my spirit every time the Vietnam Vets truck rolls into my driveway and the guy tosses that large, yellow bag into the back. A sense of freedom indeed.

It is truly lovely to declutter the closet, which in turn, beautifully declutters the mind.

Grin and Bear It

The sign is real. In my little niche of the world, a lovely suburban region about 25 miles north of Cincinnati, is this geographical intersection well recognized by all who live in the area.

Yep, to all of the locals it is known as the corner of Grinn and Barret.

It is fun to give directions to an “outsider” when you tell them to turn right at the corner of Grinn and Barret. They are usually quick to respond: “Seriously?” Oh yes, it is quite serious.

The intersection is located in a nicely established neighborhood of delightfully comfortable homes with treed yards, kids on bicycles and a community swim club.

The dictionary defines (the real) ‘grin and bear it’ this way: To accept something unpleasant without complaining. Perfect. That is exactly the way most of use the phrase.

I do sometimes wonder what responses that intersection may have brought throughout the years.

Some may see it and smile (or preferably, grin). Some may see it and feel frustrated or angry, thinking “Forget that! I don’t WANT to gin and bear it.” And I understand. There are times we want to frown and throw it, rather than grin and bear it.

Another take on the phrase came to mind the last time I passed the intersection. That interpretation was “grin and bare it.”

For a 60 year old, that may not be such a great idea, but if someone much younger than I decided to grin and bare it, perhaps it would truly make someone smile (or preferably, grin).

#notgonnabeme

 

Healthy Thursday

In church a couple of weeks ago, the pastor showed a snippet of a TED talk with psychologist and author Susan Pinker. She talked about the blue zones; how people who live in remote mountainous regions get to be centenarians.

According to longevity research, it’s not a sunny disposition (although there is new research out of Yale that boasts the benefits of positivity. More on that another day), or a low-fat gluten-free diet that keeps people alive so long. It’s their emphasis on close personal relationships and face-to-face interactions.

Apparently genes account for only about 25% of longevity. It sounds like the rest may be up to us. A significant factor appears to be staying in community with others.

In her research, Pinker studied and interviewed the people in Villagrande, a village in the Province of Nuoro in central-eastern Sardinia, Italy. It is a (literally) connected community. You cannot walk out your front or back door without being in the alley/walkway of your neighbors. They speak to each other every day. They cannot HELP but interact.

Pinker notes that ANY kind of physical interaction is valuable. That may be a handshake or a ‘high-five’ or even eye contact. Those things are enough to release oxytocin, a powerful hormone that acts as a neurotransmitter in the brain. It regulates social interaction and plays a role in maternal-infant bonding, which is some pretty strong bonding, let me tell you.

Interestingly, oxytocin is the hormone that underlies trust. Trust is a feeling of security, based on the belief that someone or something is knowledgeable, reliable, good, honest and effective. Every aspect of life involves trust, in one degree or another.

Physical connections also release dopamine, which instantly gives you a little ‘high’. It is important to understand that even something as simple as face-to-face contact (versus sending your co-worker a text message or using the self-checkout), can release neurotransmitters that encourage trust, reduce stress, kill pain and induce pleasure.

It should be noted that healthy eating habits and exercise are important factors in overall health. It is advisable to not toss those out the window, even if your window happens to be in lovely Villagrande.

However, the obvious and glaring data appears to be the significance of community and physical interaction, even as simple as eye-contact or a smile. That certainly sounds easy enough.

I am currently a sexagenarian. Relax, that means a person in their 60’s. I would like to some day be a centenarian.

I may need to be more intentional about connecting, even with strangers. I will choose the grocery store line with a real person. I will try to make more phone calls and send fewer texts. I will smile and say hello and make eye contact.

If that appears to not be helping, I may need to move to Italy. You cannot argue with the data.

 

 

Healthy Thursday overflow into Friday

Yesterday was Thursday. It was Healthy Thursday but I wrote about Kohler hopes that were dashed. Perhaps in some strange way that was indeed a Healthy Thursday post. I will elaborate.

It is healthy and important to spend time together as a couple. We do not do it nearly enough. We have both worked hard throughout our marriage. We have held back from doing some things for ourselves, which is completely normal when you are raising a family, getting through school, dealing with work and simply covering the bases.

Taking even small trips together requires a large amount of planning and effort and even money. But, as Mike says, it’s always worth it. And it is.

Another factor about our Kohler hopes is that we dealt with disappointment and reality. Weather is unpredictable and fickle. It cannot be counted on. Things happen in life, almost daily it seems, that remind us that our plans must be made loosely.

Andrew played football in high school. I remember him talking about catching the ball with “soft hands.” Meaning, let the ball fall right into your hands with no snatching, grabbing, stiff, violent movements.

That is how much of life is. We should make plans, of course, but those plans must, must, must be held with soft hands. When they change, and they will, we can let go of them easily rather than prying our white knuckled hands away from something we thought was set in stone.

Wisdom does indeed come with age, I suppose. However, there were certainly a few moments that I jumped up and down and screamed like a three year-old. Of course that tantrum was inside my head. That is what mature 60 year-olds do.