I've meant to be better about writing this year and so far I've failed miserably - both here and in my personal journal. Though I've started to Bullet Journal in place of my traditional planner and that has captured the other 10% of the space I'd use in my personal journal. There are a number of other goals that I have yet to begin, but I need to remember that it is only February and there are 10 other months left in the year.
My mother has been able to successfully start on one of her major goals - decluttering - and I could not resist asking her to send me a few of her old pattern books. I thought they might be useful items to sell in my Etsy shop and I am, therefore, considering it an investment in the future and not adding to my own clutter that desperately needs to be culled.
In the last six months, I cannot help but think of my mother and what she was like at my age. As a child you always have a limited understanding of your parents as people and it's only when you begin to live your own life that you wonder about theirs. I have found myself in the local art store coveting some of the fancier supplies they sell and wishing I had a dedicating space to work on projects. And then I remember the art corner my mother once had in our basement and all the amazing things she stored there.
Did she want to be an artist? Meaning a professional or semi-professional one that was able to create art that could be sold in coffee shops and local boutiques? I remember her sewing, cross stitching, and designing so many different things when I was younger. Had she ever considered working in a creative field like graphic design, cartooning, painting, or screen printing?
I always felt that my mother was this incredibly talented woman who could make anything. When I talk to her now, she will demur and say that she's not that good at x, y, or z thing when I know she is. She'll ask me to create things for her, that I know she could easily do herself, but for some reason she doesn't have the confidence that she could. I didn't develop my talents in a vacuum, they were learned from watching her or listening to her talk about her projects. So I wonder what happened between 36 and 65 to bring her to that point where she doubts her own abilities.
If I could go back in time, and meet my mother as a peer, what kind of person would she be? Would I be able to inspire her to follow some deeply hidden dream? What will I wish I had done now when I'm 65?
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Monday, February 27, 2017
Sunday, January 1, 2017
2016 in Review
There are so many reasons that 2016 should have been one of the best years of my life and perhaps, years from now, when I look back on it it will be. But with 2016 quickly coming to a close, I honestly feel like I won't be sorry to see it end.
At the beginning of the year, I graduated from Business School and finally took the sister trip we've been dreaming about for years. At the end of the year, my sister was able to marry her girlfriend in one of the best ceremonies I've seen in a long time. I was even able to finish the rough draft of a very promising novel during National Novel Writing Month. But it was around November things started to take a nose dive and they haven't been able to recover at all.
There is the obvious disappointment, for a registered Democrat, in November. But the fallout of that event and the friendships that have been strained have left me anything but Thankful in November. And now, in December, my mother's car has been stolen. Which makes it extremely difficult to feel goodwill towards men at a time when it is most needed.
Then there are the personal disappointments. I interviewed for a job that ticks off all of my needs for a career in Accounting. The interview went well and they actually offered me the position. Unfortunately, I had to decline because of the pay rate. No matter how I tried, I could not work my budget to accept a $10K pay cut to switch careers. My own car needing some extensive repair work was a painful reminder that I cannot accept less than my current salary.
And I don't think that my potential career growth in my current company will be enough to allow me to start a family. At 35, this is a major concern for me and I'm desperately trying not to get freaked out about the shrinking window of time before the biological clock goes off and I can't hit snooze on it anymore.
I have many things I want to accomplish before I have kids, but I don't know how it will all fit in with my current financial situation. Which is not to say that kids and my plans are mutually exclusive, kids are actually part of that plan, it's just going to be a lot more difficult to make it all work the way I'd like it to.
At the beginning of the year, I graduated from Business School and finally took the sister trip we've been dreaming about for years. At the end of the year, my sister was able to marry her girlfriend in one of the best ceremonies I've seen in a long time. I was even able to finish the rough draft of a very promising novel during National Novel Writing Month. But it was around November things started to take a nose dive and they haven't been able to recover at all.
There is the obvious disappointment, for a registered Democrat, in November. But the fallout of that event and the friendships that have been strained have left me anything but Thankful in November. And now, in December, my mother's car has been stolen. Which makes it extremely difficult to feel goodwill towards men at a time when it is most needed.
Then there are the personal disappointments. I interviewed for a job that ticks off all of my needs for a career in Accounting. The interview went well and they actually offered me the position. Unfortunately, I had to decline because of the pay rate. No matter how I tried, I could not work my budget to accept a $10K pay cut to switch careers. My own car needing some extensive repair work was a painful reminder that I cannot accept less than my current salary.
And I don't think that my potential career growth in my current company will be enough to allow me to start a family. At 35, this is a major concern for me and I'm desperately trying not to get freaked out about the shrinking window of time before the biological clock goes off and I can't hit snooze on it anymore.
I have many things I want to accomplish before I have kids, but I don't know how it will all fit in with my current financial situation. Which is not to say that kids and my plans are mutually exclusive, kids are actually part of that plan, it's just going to be a lot more difficult to make it all work the way I'd like it to.
Friday, December 11, 2015
A Season of Loss
Tomorrow, my sister and her fiancée, A, will say goodbye to A's uncle at a funeral service in Georgia. Shortly before the Thanksgiving holiday, he was found dead in his apartment. A had been concerned that she hadn't heard from him in a few weeks and she'd been calling around to friends and relatives to see if they'd heard from him. She even went so far as to search through John Doe lists in a couple of tourist spots he'd talked about visiting after his retirement was finalized in October of this year.
His loss has been an incredible blow to my sister and her fiancée. He was one of the few family member's A has that was supportive. He was able to offer advice in the same way that a father would and he gave her the sense of family that she isn't able to get from her immediate family. And vice versa. It's a truly tragic event.
I was not close to him and I don't know much about his story. I do know that his family cast him out for being gay and he had to make a life of his own at the tender age of 18. He did not get the same benefit of college or other financial assistance from his family yet he was able to have a successful career and do well for himself. I have heard so many other stories from the LGBT community where family disownment did not have such a positive outcome. So I know how difficult it must have been to carve out this life for himself.
We spent most of Thanksgiving going through papers. A was his closest relative so the handling of his estate has fallen to her until they can confirm the status of a will and his actual wishes. There were stacks of papers and photographs, thank you letters from his clients, travel brochures, and investment information. An entire life flattened and categorized.
There have been a few people at work that have also lost loved ones recently. The holidays are hard enough as it is and now they have this added burden that they'll remember every year. With the joy there will be the dull ache of the loss of this loved one. I know my grandfather dealt with the memory of his mother's death at Christmas every year.
His loss has been an incredible blow to my sister and her fiancée. He was one of the few family member's A has that was supportive. He was able to offer advice in the same way that a father would and he gave her the sense of family that she isn't able to get from her immediate family. And vice versa. It's a truly tragic event.
I was not close to him and I don't know much about his story. I do know that his family cast him out for being gay and he had to make a life of his own at the tender age of 18. He did not get the same benefit of college or other financial assistance from his family yet he was able to have a successful career and do well for himself. I have heard so many other stories from the LGBT community where family disownment did not have such a positive outcome. So I know how difficult it must have been to carve out this life for himself.
We spent most of Thanksgiving going through papers. A was his closest relative so the handling of his estate has fallen to her until they can confirm the status of a will and his actual wishes. There were stacks of papers and photographs, thank you letters from his clients, travel brochures, and investment information. An entire life flattened and categorized.
There have been a few people at work that have also lost loved ones recently. The holidays are hard enough as it is and now they have this added burden that they'll remember every year. With the joy there will be the dull ache of the loss of this loved one. I know my grandfather dealt with the memory of his mother's death at Christmas every year.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Historic News
Trying to write my thoughts down quickly. I just heard that the Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) has ruled in favor of same-sex marriages. The joy I feel is too immense to be captured.
We've been watching the rulings on the SCOTUS live blog for the last two weeks, waiting to see if they would rule on it or not. And finally, this morning in a 5-4 vote it was determined that the 14th Amendment included same-sex marriages - or, as I like to call them, Marriages.
This means that my sister and her fiancée can get married in their home state. They can move to any other state in the United States and still have the same rights and protections. If my sister gets a work assignment in England, her WIFE can go with her without any additional hassle or red tape.
We've been watching the rulings on the SCOTUS live blog for the last two weeks, waiting to see if they would rule on it or not. And finally, this morning in a 5-4 vote it was determined that the 14th Amendment included same-sex marriages - or, as I like to call them, Marriages.
This means that my sister and her fiancée can get married in their home state. They can move to any other state in the United States and still have the same rights and protections. If my sister gets a work assignment in England, her WIFE can go with her without any additional hassle or red tape.
Monday, June 22, 2015
Chosen Families
My sister, D, and I have been talking about the idea of "chosen families" lately. It started with the death of our grandmother and our mother's reaction to her mother's death vs. the death of her former mother-in-law. There are obvious differences, of course, like how my father's mother died suddenly and unexpectedly while my mother's mother held on for 5 days and was only unconscious for 1 of those. But the one thing my sister and I never realized was the difference in the relationships our mother had with each of those women. Even in the healthiest of families nothing is ever perfect and relationships are complicated at best.
We compared it to the close friendships our father has with other members of the LGBT community. How they would often opt to gather at a friend's house for traditional family holiday celebrations. My mother certainly did this with our father's family and I have often felt that the genuine care and concern was mutual. Sometimes we bend under the weight of parental expectations and fall into old family roles long after we've grown out of them. Returning home for a visit is so very frequently a struggle between who we were and who we've become. I have no doubt that this was a serious problem for my mother when she returned to take care of my grandmother seven years ago and I think there was a certain amount of relief felt.
Most recently, though, we've discussed the Intentional Family idea because of a situation she and her fiancée, A, are facing with their upcoming Wedding. One of A's grandparents has already told her they do not want an invitation to the wedding because they do not support their decision to marry, citing religious reasons. It's disappointing and upsetting. It was even worse when, after a relative's death, her mother and brother were invited to stay at her grandparent's house but she was denied the hospitality because they didn't support her "lifestyle." Regardless of your personal beliefs, especially at a time when family is grieving the loss of a loved one, there is still a human being at the core and they should be treated with the same level of compassion. Most recently, A suffered another disappointment when her brother declined the invitation to be a attendant at the wedding. Again, citing religious beliefs. This came as a major blow because, until that moment, she had no idea that her brother was not supportive.
My sister and I are very close. I've never taken that relationship for granted, but I've also never realized how truly rare that is. I can't even begin to fathom what it is like to hear that your sibling does not accept you for who you truly are. From almost the very beginning of their relationship, I have felt that A has been a member of our family. My mother has also been very welcoming, calling A her "third daughter" well before they were officially engaged. And I think this is because my mother knows what it is like to have a difficult relationship with one's birth family and she recognized a kind of kindred spirit in need of reassurance, acceptance, and love. My father and step-father have also felt that she's family. We've planned vacations together as a family and when our grandmother died, A was there. She was there not because she had to be or just to support D, but because she wanted to be there for our mother at a time when it was most needed.
And this is the point of family. Whether it is chosen, intentional, or birth, a family is meant to be supportive through the difficult times. They are a calm place where we can go and be loved for just being ourselves and sometimes in spite of being ourselves. From here we draw the strength to face the challenges of the outside world. We don't always have to agree on things but we have to always respect one another as individuals and as human beings.
And this is the point of family. Whether it is chosen, intentional, or birth, a family is meant to be supportive through the difficult times. They are a calm place where we can go and be loved for just being ourselves and sometimes in spite of being ourselves. From here we draw the strength to face the challenges of the outside world. We don't always have to agree on things but we have to always respect one another as individuals and as human beings.
Monday, June 1, 2015
The End of an Era
In May, my last grandparent passed away. We weren't exceptionally close, but she was still my grandmother.
It started with a call from my mother saying that Grandma had fallen and they were taking her to the hospital. I didn't think much about it because she had fallen before and was able to recover. But at 88 years old, there's always cause for concern. It turns out that she had a heart attack the previous day and had ignored the warning signs. She'd opted not to go to the hospital and went to bed instead. The damage to her heart was permanent by the time she fell and there was nothing to do but wait.
My sister and I arrived in Florida the same evening, but didn't get to see Grandma in the hospital until the following day. She stayed in the ICU for 3 days and was then moved to Hospice care. I have to say that the staff at Hospice of Marion County were fantastic. They were very respectful to my grandmother and very helpful to the rest of the family. We're also incredibly grateful to the help provided by the Salvation Army Center of Hope so that we didn't have to worry about ridiculous hotel fees.
When my father's parents died, it was sudden and we didn't have time to get there. When my mother's father died, I was very young so it affected me differently. For this grandparent, though, we were able to say goodbye and spend time with her at the very last of her days. It was a surreal experience that I hope to never repeat, though I know that at some point I may have to. With knowing that my parents are now orphans comes the realization that they're the next generation to go.
Certainly, there could be a terrible accident that could take another family member sooner, but for all intents and purposes they're the next on the list of possibilities. This is a frightening realization for me and something on which I try not to dwell. But it certainly makes me question a lot of things in my life and wonder what kind of story people will tell about me when they have to speak over my coffin.
It started with a call from my mother saying that Grandma had fallen and they were taking her to the hospital. I didn't think much about it because she had fallen before and was able to recover. But at 88 years old, there's always cause for concern. It turns out that she had a heart attack the previous day and had ignored the warning signs. She'd opted not to go to the hospital and went to bed instead. The damage to her heart was permanent by the time she fell and there was nothing to do but wait.
My sister and I arrived in Florida the same evening, but didn't get to see Grandma in the hospital until the following day. She stayed in the ICU for 3 days and was then moved to Hospice care. I have to say that the staff at Hospice of Marion County were fantastic. They were very respectful to my grandmother and very helpful to the rest of the family. We're also incredibly grateful to the help provided by the Salvation Army Center of Hope so that we didn't have to worry about ridiculous hotel fees.
When my father's parents died, it was sudden and we didn't have time to get there. When my mother's father died, I was very young so it affected me differently. For this grandparent, though, we were able to say goodbye and spend time with her at the very last of her days. It was a surreal experience that I hope to never repeat, though I know that at some point I may have to. With knowing that my parents are now orphans comes the realization that they're the next generation to go.
Certainly, there could be a terrible accident that could take another family member sooner, but for all intents and purposes they're the next on the list of possibilities. This is a frightening realization for me and something on which I try not to dwell. But it certainly makes me question a lot of things in my life and wonder what kind of story people will tell about me when they have to speak over my coffin.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
2014 Goals
Long ago, I decided not to have resolutions at New Year's - I felt that it set up for failure and disappointment. Part I my yearly ritual, after Danielle leaves for home and I start to feel the melancholy that inevitably follows, is to look forward to the new year and set a list of goals I'd like to achieve. Some of them fit in with a larger plan, i.e. Graduate School, and some are purely for the immediate future.
Even though I did not write them down in a formal blog post, there were several things that I mentioned throughout the year. So, to begin, let's take a look back at last year's 2013 goals:
Even though I did not write them down in a formal blog post, there were several things that I mentioned throughout the year. So, to begin, let's take a look back at last year's 2013 goals:
- Buy a House - this was most definitely achieved in 2013!
- Quit Hallmark - an ongoing goal for several years, but finally achieved in July of 2013.
- More creative writing - I have one story I've been working on this year. Mostly when I'm in an airplane and have nothing else I can do for 2 hours.
- Europe Trip with Danielle - we made it to London, Cardiff, and Dublin with Andrea in May/June of 2013.
- Pay off Credit Card Debt - refinanced with some student loan money and then wracked it up again :(
- More contact with friends who live out of state- didn't do so well on this. Because of goal#1 I didn't even make it down for my annual visit with J & H.
All in all, not a bad year for my goals. There were so many things that happened it's difficult to remember it all now. Dad was able to legally wed Stepdaddy M in Maryland. My sister graduated from business school and we took our youngest cousin to the ceremony in Atlanta.
2014 has some big shoes to fill, but I think it will be just as fantastic as this year. New Goals:
- Focus more on experiences and less on things
- Writing more during breaks from school.
- Plan one additional monthly event for the Scotch Sippers meetup.
- Go to the gym 3 times a week during breaks and at least 1 time a week during the semester.
- Paint the living room and/or master bedroom before the start of the fall semester.
- Have a housewarming party/birthday party.
- Listen more and complain less
- Apply to jobs in the accounting field
- Budget more effectively
- Plan a big trip for end of 2014, possibly early 2015.
Some of these are very practical and some are pie in the sky. Really curious to see where the new year leads and what I will be able to accomplish for myself.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Au Revoir Hallmark
After 14 years at the Hallmark Store, I've finally hung up my apron. I started out of high school, to help pay for college and my first car. When I graduated it became my part-time job to help supplement the income from my full-time job and pay down student loans. When my company folded unexpectedly, it was there to offer full-time hours while searching for a new job. Once I was on steadier feet, it helped me get my credit in order so I could buy my house. Then, it was a security blanket - something stashed in my back pocket to protect me from the dark.
The women that I have known through the years have taught me so much about life and friendship. They helped me grow up and were a substitute family when my own was unwelcoming. My first realization of my own mortality happened with the death of my manager's daughter (I was 21, the girl was 18). With the passing of a co-worker in our main office, I've seen the new generation of Hallmark girls experience the same realization (Our co-worker was 32, the next gens are 18-21). I know that I have contributed to their maturation as much as those that helped me. We've seen marriages, divorces, and pregnancies over the years. We've welcomed people back when they were down on their luck and then wished them all the best when they find a better opportunity. We've developed bonds with customers and looked for them at our major events year after year.
My chapter in this story has come to an end, but the book is not yet finished. There will be so many other women to pass through those doors and life will continue to go on inside those walls. The cramped back room with minimal storage space for product, larger than expected shipments, late night stocking and display changes while management is cursed. Friendships will flourish, secrets will be shared and kept, confidence will be gained. People will be stretched to their limits, pick up extra hours to makes ends meet, and some will move on.
The women that I have known through the years have taught me so much about life and friendship. They helped me grow up and were a substitute family when my own was unwelcoming. My first realization of my own mortality happened with the death of my manager's daughter (I was 21, the girl was 18). With the passing of a co-worker in our main office, I've seen the new generation of Hallmark girls experience the same realization (Our co-worker was 32, the next gens are 18-21). I know that I have contributed to their maturation as much as those that helped me. We've seen marriages, divorces, and pregnancies over the years. We've welcomed people back when they were down on their luck and then wished them all the best when they find a better opportunity. We've developed bonds with customers and looked for them at our major events year after year.
My chapter in this story has come to an end, but the book is not yet finished. There will be so many other women to pass through those doors and life will continue to go on inside those walls. The cramped back room with minimal storage space for product, larger than expected shipments, late night stocking and display changes while management is cursed. Friendships will flourish, secrets will be shared and kept, confidence will be gained. People will be stretched to their limits, pick up extra hours to makes ends meet, and some will move on.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Scary Future Plans
I have just sent off an e-mail to my step-father, telling him that I want to seriously talk to him about buying his old house, and I feel completely out of my depth.
Last night, he said that he didn't care if he made a profit off of the sale of the house so long as he didn't have to continue paying two mortgages. I know he and my dad have been struggling these last six months with not being able to sell their old place. Once we went over the numbers (down payments, interest, taxes, insurance, etc) it looked like a monthly mortgage payment would be about $40 more than I pay for my half of the rent right now. Sure I'd have to pay full utilities myself, but if it's not that much more than my current budgeted housing costs, why not?
There are things to consider, like maintenance and repairs, but I can also deduct the mortgage interest on my taxes next year. (Unless they change the tax code - but with the housing market as it is that's not likely) All I need to do is determine how much money I can use as a down payment and to cover closing costs.
Last night, he said that he didn't care if he made a profit off of the sale of the house so long as he didn't have to continue paying two mortgages. I know he and my dad have been struggling these last six months with not being able to sell their old place. Once we went over the numbers (down payments, interest, taxes, insurance, etc) it looked like a monthly mortgage payment would be about $40 more than I pay for my half of the rent right now. Sure I'd have to pay full utilities myself, but if it's not that much more than my current budgeted housing costs, why not?
There are things to consider, like maintenance and repairs, but I can also deduct the mortgage interest on my taxes next year. (Unless they change the tax code - but with the housing market as it is that's not likely) All I need to do is determine how much money I can use as a down payment and to cover closing costs.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Skype
My new computer arrived in the mail yesterday and I could not be more excited. There are so many new features on this one that I realize there will be a huge learning curve. So far, my favorite feature is the camera. I downloaded Skype and tried to talk my mother through setting up the same on her phone. There is only so much one can do over the phone and it may have to wait for her to visit my sister next month to get everything installed properly. But I was able to have a Skype conversation with my sister last night.
It really makes a huge difference in how we talk to one another. Even though she is not physically in the room, I find myself paying more attention to our conversation as if she were. Most of us are doing five different things while talking on the phone these days and things get missed or we don't completely listen to the other person. The result is that, even though we can talk to someone more often, we're not really communicating. I think the video call will help us to connect more genuinely and effectively.Of course, the entire time, all I could think about was this episode of the Jetson's where Jane receives a call from a friend and has to rush to put on her morning face. I was keenly aware of my appearance as I spoke with my sister and realized this would make a difference when calling anyone else. Will we get to a point, with this technology, where we can make a call and not care about our appearance? Certainly, we don't get dressed up to go on an airplane the way they did in the 50's and 60's. And we don't have special riding clothes for the car as they did in the early 1900's. Photographs are not the special event they once were but the invention of the digital camera has made sure almost all of our pictures meet our approval.
Like most things in our society, we are concerned with how we look or how people perceive us. We live our lives on display with sites like Facebook and Twitter. The mundane parts of our lives made more interesting for the consumption of others. We run the risk of pushing ourselves to meet unrealistic standards that everyone struggles to attain yet believes they're the only ones missing the mark. The video call will definitely help families and loved ones connect on a deeper level from greater distances, but it could also further entrench this narcissistic culture we've developed.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Chick-fil-A
There has been a lot of conversation about Chick-fil-A recently and my Facebook news feed is full of diverging opinions on the issue. One of my very dear, childhood friends has even posted in support of the corporation. On one hand, I completely support freedom of speech and will defend Chick-fil-A's right to say whatever they believe without fear of repercussions from the government, Mayor of Boston I'm looking at you. On the other, I have every right not to patronize that establishment and support those views or help fund those organizations that Chick-fil-A finances. But those aren't even the issues anymore. We're not fighting about freedom of speech, we're fighting about religion and who is more right than whom.
My friend's reasons are that Chick-fil-A supports the "biblical" definition of marriage and isn't afraid to stand up for its beliefs. She sees it as Daniel in the lion's den, being persecuted for the same Christian beliefs she has. This makes me sadder than Chick-fil-A Dan Cathy's announcement that they're "guilty as charged." It means that she also subscribes to the belief that homosexuality is against God and doesn't support same-sex marriage rights at all; that all of the conversations we've had are for naught. When my dad first came out to me, she was the first friend I told and it was never a big deal or a problem. It's only been after her marriage that we've started to disagree on these issues. I would say it's the influence of her husband, but her mother shared the exact same posts on Facebook. So perhaps I didn't really know her as well as I thought I did.
Part of the Dan Cathy announcement was that they believed in the "biblical" definition and all of Chick-fil-A's executives were married to their first wives. The implication is that the "biblical" definition of marriage doesn't include divorced/remarried and when they support Families, they don't include single parent households. When we start setting up these definitions of what is acceptable and what is not when it comes to love and family, where do we draw the line? Now, it is the LGBT community but it could just as easily be divorcees or interracial couples.
Then we come to the organizations that are actually being funded by a Chick-fil-A purchase. I don't want to support organizations that hate my family or would have rather seen me grow up in foster care than in the environment I did. (To be fair, my step-parent from age 14-24 was like a villain in a fairy tale but that had little to do with my dad being gay and everything to do with his partner being an asshole. If the step-parent had been married to my mother I'd have endured the same trauma.) I don't want to give money so that kids can be tortured into acting straight. I have a friend, who had first hand experience with Exodus International and it breaks my heart to know he, or any child, had to endure that.
The thing that really frightens me, though, is the rhetoric that is being used. It is far more damaging and dangerous than people realize. In this argument about whether or not people should boycott Chick-fil-A, the religious conservatives are using language that attempts to dehumanize homosexuals. When an organization or government succeeds in convincing the public that this or that group is less than human, there is no end to the atrocities that will be committed against those people. I think about Nazi Germany at times like these. It wasn't as if the entire country woke up one morning and thought let's put Jewish people in camps. It started with the little things in society and worked its way up to political campaigns. An entire nation allowed a group of human beings to be beaten, tested on, and murdered because they were convinced, over time, that those people were subhuman.
I would like to think that couldn't possibly happen again, especially on that kind of scale and especially in this country. But the hatred that is brewing in our borders (not just against the LGBT community but also the anger at foreign nationals and immigrants, as well as the animosity between the races, political parties, social classes, and even religious organizations) it feels like that cycle could start again. The economy isn't great, it's getting better, but it's still a long road. People are frustrated with the speed of recovery, but we're not the only country that's suffering. All of these things could be ingredients for that level of violence if we're not conscious of it.
My friend's reasons are that Chick-fil-A supports the "biblical" definition of marriage and isn't afraid to stand up for its beliefs. She sees it as Daniel in the lion's den, being persecuted for the same Christian beliefs she has. This makes me sadder than Chick-fil-A Dan Cathy's announcement that they're "guilty as charged." It means that she also subscribes to the belief that homosexuality is against God and doesn't support same-sex marriage rights at all; that all of the conversations we've had are for naught. When my dad first came out to me, she was the first friend I told and it was never a big deal or a problem. It's only been after her marriage that we've started to disagree on these issues. I would say it's the influence of her husband, but her mother shared the exact same posts on Facebook. So perhaps I didn't really know her as well as I thought I did.
Part of the Dan Cathy announcement was that they believed in the "biblical" definition and all of Chick-fil-A's executives were married to their first wives. The implication is that the "biblical" definition of marriage doesn't include divorced/remarried and when they support Families, they don't include single parent households. When we start setting up these definitions of what is acceptable and what is not when it comes to love and family, where do we draw the line? Now, it is the LGBT community but it could just as easily be divorcees or interracial couples.
Then we come to the organizations that are actually being funded by a Chick-fil-A purchase. I don't want to support organizations that hate my family or would have rather seen me grow up in foster care than in the environment I did. (To be fair, my step-parent from age 14-24 was like a villain in a fairy tale but that had little to do with my dad being gay and everything to do with his partner being an asshole. If the step-parent had been married to my mother I'd have endured the same trauma.) I don't want to give money so that kids can be tortured into acting straight. I have a friend, who had first hand experience with Exodus International and it breaks my heart to know he, or any child, had to endure that.
The thing that really frightens me, though, is the rhetoric that is being used. It is far more damaging and dangerous than people realize. In this argument about whether or not people should boycott Chick-fil-A, the religious conservatives are using language that attempts to dehumanize homosexuals. When an organization or government succeeds in convincing the public that this or that group is less than human, there is no end to the atrocities that will be committed against those people. I think about Nazi Germany at times like these. It wasn't as if the entire country woke up one morning and thought let's put Jewish people in camps. It started with the little things in society and worked its way up to political campaigns. An entire nation allowed a group of human beings to be beaten, tested on, and murdered because they were convinced, over time, that those people were subhuman.
I would like to think that couldn't possibly happen again, especially on that kind of scale and especially in this country. But the hatred that is brewing in our borders (not just against the LGBT community but also the anger at foreign nationals and immigrants, as well as the animosity between the races, political parties, social classes, and even religious organizations) it feels like that cycle could start again. The economy isn't great, it's getting better, but it's still a long road. People are frustrated with the speed of recovery, but we're not the only country that's suffering. All of these things could be ingredients for that level of violence if we're not conscious of it.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Aunt Louisa
Today would have been Great Aunt Louisa's 82nd Birthday.
She was like a second mother to my father and a second grandmother to me and my sister.
As I've gotten older, I can look back and appreciate her more and I wonder what she would have been like to know as an adult. I was in my early twenties when she died, but I was still trying to figure things out and couldn't really see her as anything other than a "grown-up." I have questions, now, that I wish I had known to ask her when she was alive.
Did she and my grandmother have a similar relationship to me and my sister?
Did she ever want kids of her own?
What did she think her life would be like when she was younger?
Did her current life meet or exceed those expectations?
Who is the first person she would want to greet her in heaven?
What was it like for her when Mommom died?
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| Mommom and Great Aunt Louisa |
Today would have been Great Aunt Louisa's 82nd Birthday.
She was like a second mother to my father and a second grandmother to me and my sister.
As I've gotten older, I can look back and appreciate her more and I wonder what she would have been like to know as an adult. I was in my early twenties when she died, but I was still trying to figure things out and couldn't really see her as anything other than a "grown-up." I have questions, now, that I wish I had known to ask her when she was alive.
Did she and my grandmother have a similar relationship to me and my sister?
Did she ever want kids of her own?
What did she think her life would be like when she was younger?
Did her current life meet or exceed those expectations?
Who is the first person she would want to greet her in heaven?
What was it like for her when Mommom died?
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
30 days to live....
The theme of the Easter sermon I heard on Sunday was "30 days to live" and the pastor asked everyone what they would do if they found out they only had that long left in their lives. He was trying to make a point about how we live our lives on a daily basis and what we should be focused on instead. Basically, stop worrying about keeping up with the Joneses and start thinking about the legacy you're leaving here on Earth. Pastor Skip, I'll call him, gave a list of things that he would do if he only had 30 days to live and, though they were admirable, they were not the first things that popped into my mind.
If I were told, with absolute certainty, that I was going to die in 30 days and there wasn't anything I could do about it, I would probably spend the first day completely shell shocked. The next day I'd probably cry, the third I'd fall apart completely, and by the fourth I would make a list of all the things I wanted to do before my final day.
Which is probably Pastor Skip's entire point. It's important to take a look at one's life and really question why we do the things we do. What is important? How do we waste our time and how could we use that time more effectively? We are not guaranteed tomorrow, at any age, and we shouldn't take the days we have for granted.
If I were told, with absolute certainty, that I was going to die in 30 days and there wasn't anything I could do about it, I would probably spend the first day completely shell shocked. The next day I'd probably cry, the third I'd fall apart completely, and by the fourth I would make a list of all the things I wanted to do before my final day.
- I'd fly my mother up to Maryland.
- I'd fly my sister up to Maryland.
- Take the trip to Japan with my sister.
- See Paris one more time and actually go to the Louvre.
- Give my 15 year old cousin a driving lesson.
- Buy the most expensive bottle of Scotch I can find and drink it with my family and friends.
- Get in a bar fight, knock someone over the head with a bottle, and throw a stool through a window.
- Go home with a stranger.
- Get a tattoo.
- Ride a horse.
- Swim in the Pacific Ocean.
- Have a photo session with my photographer friend
- Challenge my dad to see who can eat the most Goll's Bakery Donuts and Apple Turnovers before getting sick.
- Break all of my dishes.
- Throw a huge party and invite everyone. And the biggest gift had better have a card attached that says, "Thank you, for being a friend."
Which is probably Pastor Skip's entire point. It's important to take a look at one's life and really question why we do the things we do. What is important? How do we waste our time and how could we use that time more effectively? We are not guaranteed tomorrow, at any age, and we shouldn't take the days we have for granted.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Le Weekend - Or - Revisiting a Childhood You'd Rather Forget
I came off of last weekend, with my sister, feeling very positive and happy. She really went out of her way to make it special and it meant more than I can say. This most recent weekend, in contrast, was very disappointing. It made me feel very alone in a place where I have both family and a social network. I was headed out to meet the dads for my birthday dinner. Which sounds like it should be a happy occasion and something that would propel me even further into a good mood, but it didn't end up that way at all.
The dinner reservations were made for 3:00pm on Saturday and I was supposed to meet everyone at the Dads' house at 2:30pm so we could all drive together. Between getting over this cold that won't seem to go away and trying to catch up on laundry from the trip, I knew I wouldn't make it to my dad's by 2:30. So I called them as I was headed out of my neighborhood and asked them to text me the address for the restaurant. I wouldn't make it to their place on time but, as I live closer, I wouldn't be late to the restaurant. Dad agreed to send the address and ended the call but didn't hang up. He has this problem of not hitting the "end call" button on his phone and I've gotten numerous phone messages with a lot of background chatter. Normally this is just amusing, but on Saturday he proceeded to complain after he thought he'd hung up.
I heard him tell the other people in the car that I "always do this" and "couldn't be on time for anything." His friend, O, offers the suggestion of telling me to meet a half an hour earlier, like she does with her son, so I'll get there in time. At this point, he realized that his phone was still on and quickly hung up. Had I not been using the blue tooth feature in my car, I would never have heard the details of the conversation but I did and I proceeded to lose my shit. I thought about calling back and saying I couldn't make it after all but I knew they had people coming. So I called my sister in an effort to calm down before I would have to pretend was normal.
I am not a person who is habitually late to things. I value promptness and see chronic lateness to events as a waste of my time. I get this from my father. However, more often than not I will be ready to go at their house and have to wait for one or the other to finish getting ready. The times I have been late, or called to say I'll meet you there instead, have been due to traffic or having to work late - things completely out of my control. At first, I felt like my dad's comments were very two-faced and he was putting on some kind of act for his friend. Second, it made me feel like I was 5 years old again and he had told me he was very disappointed. I was the kind of kid who would punish herself if told her parents were disappointed in her behavior.
But the part that caused me to have a complete meltdown in my car was the residual effects of living with his last partner. It was like he was saying I was irresponsible to his friend. I have a gut reaction to anyone implying or outright saying I am irresponsible, careless, worthless, or stupid. I know most people would have a strong reaction to this as well, so it shouldn't be surprising. But I spent almost every day of ten years being told how terrible I was, but never to my face. My dad's old partner would wait until I was just out of the room, but still in earshot, to say what he really thought of me. He would wait until my dad wasn't around so that no one would catch him. He would belittle me and make me feel like I was a terrible person because I came out of my room. And this is was exactly how this situation on Saturday felt to me.
I know that my dad doesn't intentionally leave his cell phone on after ending a call, but my knee-jerk reaction was feeling like it had been done on purpose. And then I was 15 years old again, just waiting for someone else to come home so I could breathe, so I didn't feel so alone. It wrecked that entire feeling I had from the previous weekend and I just wanted to curl up in my room. But I went to the dinner and I even went to the wine bar with everyone afterwards. Still, I went home earlier than I would have and just hid in my room the rest of the night.
It was the worst feeling. And, of course, I haven't said anything to my dad about it. This is not the type of family we are. We don't even talk about what happened when he was with his old partner. We just pretend like everything's okay until it is.
The dinner reservations were made for 3:00pm on Saturday and I was supposed to meet everyone at the Dads' house at 2:30pm so we could all drive together. Between getting over this cold that won't seem to go away and trying to catch up on laundry from the trip, I knew I wouldn't make it to my dad's by 2:30. So I called them as I was headed out of my neighborhood and asked them to text me the address for the restaurant. I wouldn't make it to their place on time but, as I live closer, I wouldn't be late to the restaurant. Dad agreed to send the address and ended the call but didn't hang up. He has this problem of not hitting the "end call" button on his phone and I've gotten numerous phone messages with a lot of background chatter. Normally this is just amusing, but on Saturday he proceeded to complain after he thought he'd hung up.
I heard him tell the other people in the car that I "always do this" and "couldn't be on time for anything." His friend, O, offers the suggestion of telling me to meet a half an hour earlier, like she does with her son, so I'll get there in time. At this point, he realized that his phone was still on and quickly hung up. Had I not been using the blue tooth feature in my car, I would never have heard the details of the conversation but I did and I proceeded to lose my shit. I thought about calling back and saying I couldn't make it after all but I knew they had people coming. So I called my sister in an effort to calm down before I would have to pretend was normal.
I am not a person who is habitually late to things. I value promptness and see chronic lateness to events as a waste of my time. I get this from my father. However, more often than not I will be ready to go at their house and have to wait for one or the other to finish getting ready. The times I have been late, or called to say I'll meet you there instead, have been due to traffic or having to work late - things completely out of my control. At first, I felt like my dad's comments were very two-faced and he was putting on some kind of act for his friend. Second, it made me feel like I was 5 years old again and he had told me he was very disappointed. I was the kind of kid who would punish herself if told her parents were disappointed in her behavior.
But the part that caused me to have a complete meltdown in my car was the residual effects of living with his last partner. It was like he was saying I was irresponsible to his friend. I have a gut reaction to anyone implying or outright saying I am irresponsible, careless, worthless, or stupid. I know most people would have a strong reaction to this as well, so it shouldn't be surprising. But I spent almost every day of ten years being told how terrible I was, but never to my face. My dad's old partner would wait until I was just out of the room, but still in earshot, to say what he really thought of me. He would wait until my dad wasn't around so that no one would catch him. He would belittle me and make me feel like I was a terrible person because I came out of my room. And this is was exactly how this situation on Saturday felt to me.
I know that my dad doesn't intentionally leave his cell phone on after ending a call, but my knee-jerk reaction was feeling like it had been done on purpose. And then I was 15 years old again, just waiting for someone else to come home so I could breathe, so I didn't feel so alone. It wrecked that entire feeling I had from the previous weekend and I just wanted to curl up in my room. But I went to the dinner and I even went to the wine bar with everyone afterwards. Still, I went home earlier than I would have and just hid in my room the rest of the night.
It was the worst feeling. And, of course, I haven't said anything to my dad about it. This is not the type of family we are. We don't even talk about what happened when he was with his old partner. We just pretend like everything's okay until it is.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Atlanta: 2012
As always, Atlanta is a seductive mistress. I have never gone to visit my sister and not had a passing thought about moving to the city. It could be the fluffy white dog that refuses to wake up to an alarm clock and snuggles harder into the crook of your arm. It could be the slightly warmer weather, no matter what time of year I visit, and being able to walk to most destinations. It could be the social network of friends that my sister has and how they are always so welcoming when I visit. It could be the Flying Biscuit.
But really, I think it's being able to stay up late talking to my sister about whatever thought enters our heads at midnight. Receiving a gift that only has meaning for us. Having the not so quiet time in the car when we're singing to our favorite old and new pop songs. Or baking a cake that turns out a little less than perfect. It's missing out on these moments together, from the mundane activities like washing dishes to the more exciting stuff like hiking Stone Mountain, that make the idea of moving to Atlanta so appealing.
I always have a hard time after a visit. Whether it's her visiting Maryland, me visiting Atlanta, or going on Family Vacation in North Carolina. The day before we're ready to leave and return to our normal lives is always the worst and I have about three or four days after where I just feel lost. There is this very important part of my life that isn't where I want it to be. My life is full, I have wonderful things going on for myself, but it just isn't complete. This is the only way I can think to describe it. I don't know for certain that being in the same city with my sister would be the answer to a lot of the issues I've been having lately. But I know that things make a lot more sense when we're together.
Home can be a lot of things. For me, that feeling is where ever the two of us are together.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Dad's 59th
My father's 59th birthday was this weekend and it amazes me how my parents seem so much younger than my grandparents did at the same age. It could be because the pictures of my grandparents at that age were taken in the 80's, or it could be their behaviors. Of course, I would never have seen the side of my grandparents that I see of my dad simply because of my age at the time.
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| Dad and his friend, Ona, circa Friday night |
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| Mommom and Poppop, circa 1980's |
Sunday, October 23, 2011
In Case You Didn't Believe Me....
They could be body doubles....
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| Mom and Dad 1977 |
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| Annette and Frankie |
They could be body doubles....
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
October 5th
I always find myself a little melancholy on this day. I could completely forget it was the fifth, but I would still wake up on this day just feeling out of place; just slightly left of center, not quite normal. 14 years ago, it was a Sunday. Friends of mom's, from church, had dropped us off and we received some of the worst news I've heard in my young life.
I'm re-posting a story from Creative Non-Fiction class back in 2004. When I wrote it, I was trying to capture how it felt during that time and a little bit after. I think about my grandmother's death every year on the anniversary, but it's not something that bothers me as it once did. I have come to terms with the events of that weekend and what it has meant in my life. I say this because a note from my professor, when I turned in the story, suggested that I talk to a counselor at school if these things were still a problem. I was taken aback when she said it 1)because it was a story somewhat based in reality but amped up, but not indicative of my, then, current feelings on the matter and 2) it was the first time anyone had suggested it to me. No one had thought about it when I was going through the grieving and subsequent bullshit and I just didn't realize it was something people did. Go to counseling because you can't deal with something? Only normal people do that.
It's weird to read through it now. My writing style feels completely different to me. It's almost like someone else wrote it. It sounds very young to me and the transitions from topic to topic feel disjointed. I remember that when I wrote it I tried to imagine delivering it as a monologue, so that probably accounts for some of it. If I wrote it today, it would be completely different. It would be a little more positive, I think, more nostalgic. I remember thinking it was one of the better things I'd written and that's part of the reason I was going to re-post it here. But reading it now, I don't think that's true. Or if it is one of the better things I've written, I give myself too much credit on more recent things I've written. Still I'll re-post, give me something to reflect on in about ten years or so. We'll see how much my writing style has changed by then.
Anyway, here it is, pretty much unedited, though ,so be nice in the comments, if you leave any.
I'm re-posting a story from Creative Non-Fiction class back in 2004. When I wrote it, I was trying to capture how it felt during that time and a little bit after. I think about my grandmother's death every year on the anniversary, but it's not something that bothers me as it once did. I have come to terms with the events of that weekend and what it has meant in my life. I say this because a note from my professor, when I turned in the story, suggested that I talk to a counselor at school if these things were still a problem. I was taken aback when she said it 1)because it was a story somewhat based in reality but amped up, but not indicative of my, then, current feelings on the matter and 2) it was the first time anyone had suggested it to me. No one had thought about it when I was going through the grieving and subsequent bullshit and I just didn't realize it was something people did. Go to counseling because you can't deal with something? Only normal people do that.
It's weird to read through it now. My writing style feels completely different to me. It's almost like someone else wrote it. It sounds very young to me and the transitions from topic to topic feel disjointed. I remember that when I wrote it I tried to imagine delivering it as a monologue, so that probably accounts for some of it. If I wrote it today, it would be completely different. It would be a little more positive, I think, more nostalgic. I remember thinking it was one of the better things I'd written and that's part of the reason I was going to re-post it here. But reading it now, I don't think that's true. Or if it is one of the better things I've written, I give myself too much credit on more recent things I've written. Still I'll re-post, give me something to reflect on in about ten years or so. We'll see how much my writing style has changed by then.
Anyway, here it is, pretty much unedited, though ,so be nice in the comments, if you leave any.
My grandmother’s death was very unexpected. The entire family was surprised, though we shouldn’t have been. We should have known. We should have known every time we walked into her house, when we were greeted by a wall of cigarette smoke. Every time she would say, “ I am so sick with my head,” we should have known. Her breakfast of coffee and Excedrin, everyday, should have been an indication, but we were still surprised. Even if some of us had heeded the warning of her cough, she never did. Even if we had heeded the warning it would pass from memory soon after.
She was everything to the family, everything. Of course she would never allow her self to become anything less than the very center, the heart, of the family. She was the cause and the comfort in almost every family conflict. All of the adults in the family had suffered her wrath at one point or another. She had her set opinions and guidelines for everyone’s life. Any alteration from these specifications was justification for reprimand.
When my aunt was younger, she would sneak out of her room to meet with the neighbor kids. One night, when my grandmother finally caught her, my grandmother asked her, “ When are you gonna quit acting like a gyp-dog in heat?” My grandmother was never at a loss for words or clever turn of phrase. She would exact her revenge quickly and often when least expected. When my father finally came out of the closet to me and my sister, my grandmother used her spare key to let herself into the apartment one day while everyone was gone. That day she emptied my father’s home of all the things she had ever given him. His grandmother’s plate, with the colonial couple painted on it, was removed from its hanger on the wall and given to my aunt. My father came home that weekend to find his walls bare, save the hanging fixtures. He says that was one of his most depressing days.
I forget how my father found his way back into her good graces. Undoubtedly, my aunt had done something to fall from favor momentarily. They were always on this teeter-totter of approval. I cannot remember a time when they were both on my grandmother’s good side, but there are plenty of occasions where they were both banished. Then, my father and aunt would be friends and not rivals. These times, however, did not last long as they were always seeking my grandmother’s approval.
I was not made aware of these antics until much later in my young life. Thanksgiving was always my favorite time. We had a tradition of hiding a rubber cockroach in someone’s plate. When I think about it now it seems really gross, but at the time it was so much fun. When I look back at the videos of thanksgivings past I can see the struggle between the adults. It’s not very pronounced, but whichever family member was out of favor usually received the cockroach. It was not until my seventeenth year that I realized what it meant to be an adult. She’d always been the perfect grandmother. Watching me and my sister, while my parents worked. My grandmother was always on this pedestal for me. In the summer time she would make ham sandwiches for me and my sister, making sure to cut the crusts off and layering the ham the way our parents never would. She made the best chicken noodle casserole, and all of my memories of her are positive. Save one, save one.
It was October of my junior year in high school, early October. My mother had fallen on some ice earlier in the year and was still using a walker to walk. She wasn’t driving and we relied on friends and relatives to transport us to and fro. My grandmother had stopped by my mother’s apartment earlier that day to invite us up for the afternoon. Of course, we accepted. Mom wanted to watch some Christian Men’s rally on TV with my grandmother. That had been a big topic of discussion at church since a group of our "Christian brothers" were planning to go. I had stopped going to church when my Sunday school teacher told me my father was going to hell. My father was a fine Christian and I saw no reason why he should be condemned to an eternity of suffering when he had enough of it on Earth. My decision to support my father in his lifestyle did not bode well with my grandmother, but she had yet to tell me her opinion.
I remember it was a Saturday afternoon and we’d picked up a pizza from Pizza Hut. Everyone else had finished eating and I sat at the table eating the last slice of cheese pizza. My grandmother was in her usual Pink chair with her gnarled feet resting on the matching ottoman. There was a cigarette dangling from her fingertips. She and my mother were discussing the rally, the fine moral characters of the men at the rally. Then, for some reason I can’t remember, I said, “Mommom, Can’t you see that these men are closed-minded hate mongers?” These were the exact words my father had used when he talked about the Christian rally.
She looked directly at me, flicked her cigarette ash in the ash tray beside her chair, and said,” You’re just repeating what your father told you. You couldn’t possibly think that’s true.”
“I do,” I told her, and I really did believe that at the time. I told her that they wouldn’t allow minorities to attend the rally and that was wrong.
Again, she flicked her cigarette. Then she exchanged a glance with my mother and then immediately back to me. I felt like I was under scrutiny by some meticulous drill sergeant. “You’ve changed, Becky, and not for the better.” She then turned her attention back to the TV , but her words resounded in my ears like an echo in a hollow cave.
The judgement doesn’t sound so severe when written down, but it still echoes in my heart today. You’ve changed, Becky, and not for the better. She said little else to me that day and when she called Sunday afternoon she only spoke with my sister about the Orioles score. Mom’s newly married friends were driving us back to our father’s house that evening and I resented her for it. I barely new these people and did not want to spend the better part of an hour in their smelly car. Unfortunately, I had no choice in the matter and was locked in their car. My sister said, “Goodbye,” to my grandmother, hung up the phone and joined me in our prison for the next hour. I wish that I had know what was to happen and I would never had left.
When we finally reached my father’s house, I noticed that only Jim’s car was in the driveway. This meant that my father wasn’t home, only his domestic partner. Jim was waiting for us. “Your father went to your grandmother’s. He tried to wait for you, but had to go. I don’t know the best way to tell you this. Your grandmother is in the hospital.”
My mind was flooded with a million questions but there were no answers until my father called a few minutes later. He was crying, and I have very few memories of my father crying. She had had an aneurysm. Apparently when she had gotten off the phone with my sister, she had gotten up to go to the bathroom. On her way there, she collapsed. The paramedics say she was dead before she hit the floor. If that was supposed to make me feel better, it didn’t. We were surprised, but we shouldn’t have been.
And every night before I go to sleep I hear those words. You’ve changed, Becky, and not for the better. You’ve changed, Becky, and not for the better. I hear those words and I hear her saying them, and I cry in to my pillow so I won’t wake my sister. I cry silent tears every day and wish that I could go back. At the funeral, everyone thought it was great that each family member had gotten to spend time with her before she died. I agree, but they don’t know the words that are rumbling around inside my head and beating in my heart. You’ve changed, Becky, and not for the better. I wish I hadn’t fought with her that Saturday. I wish I had talked to her on the phone that Sunday, then I could remember her saying something else. I wish a million different things about that weekend, but it’s not reality. I didn’t know, and I was surprised.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Dream Screens
A friend of mine posted this article on Facebook the other day: Gizmodo Article - Scientists Reconstruct Video Clips from Brain Activity. And I couldn't help but find it fascinating. Of course, the idea of being able to record one's own dreams is exciting. Most of mine are pretty entertaining and make for great story ideas. But, of course, I never seem to finish them before the enthusiasm runs out or before pieces of it start to fade. Others are confusing or down right embarrassing, so I don't know that I would want to relive those in my waking hours. It would certainly help with the analyzing of dreams as one must rely entirely upon one's own memory for these things.
I was thinking mostly of the movie, Bicentennial Man, and the scene where the father asks to have his daughter's wedding replayed so he can relive the memory. Aren't there a few memories you wish you could revisit with a little more clarity? Once they perfect this new scientific ability, and include sound, there are a lot of things I would like to remember. Like the sound of my Mommom's voice. I can almost remember it, but it's been so long I'm not even sure if it's close any more. My Poppop dancing with a broom while I waited for the school bus.
Then I wonder, if you could perfect this technology to the point where one could call up memories at will. Would this be viable evidence in court cases? Could we monitor brain activity as a person goes through their day? One could almost go paranoid about the possibilities. I mean the thought police could become a legitimate thing. For every cool possibility there is also a frightening application.
I was thinking mostly of the movie, Bicentennial Man, and the scene where the father asks to have his daughter's wedding replayed so he can relive the memory. Aren't there a few memories you wish you could revisit with a little more clarity? Once they perfect this new scientific ability, and include sound, there are a lot of things I would like to remember. Like the sound of my Mommom's voice. I can almost remember it, but it's been so long I'm not even sure if it's close any more. My Poppop dancing with a broom while I waited for the school bus.
Then I wonder, if you could perfect this technology to the point where one could call up memories at will. Would this be viable evidence in court cases? Could we monitor brain activity as a person goes through their day? One could almost go paranoid about the possibilities. I mean the thought police could become a legitimate thing. For every cool possibility there is also a frightening application.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Beach Time with the Fam
I just spent the last week at the beach with my family. It was definitely an experience and a break I really needed.
The photo to the right was taken on our last day after we'd packed up the cars and were getting ready to leave for our respective homes. My dad thinks it looks like a promo shot for a bad family sitcom. Personally, I think television needs our smiling faces and positive outlook. Or perhaps that's just me....
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| At the Lemon Drop - courtesy of Litlesam |
The photo to the right was taken on our last day after we'd packed up the cars and were getting ready to leave for our respective homes. My dad thinks it looks like a promo shot for a bad family sitcom. Personally, I think television needs our smiling faces and positive outlook. Or perhaps that's just me....
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