So a Celebrity Died and People Wept

I'll be honest. I've always thought that people who are dumbstruck ("dumb" being the operative word) by celebrities are pretty sad. Is your life so pathetic that you need to keep up with the Kardashians or keep it "real" with the Housewives of Name-that-Place? Even if you are not personally supporting this sickness, there clearly are too many Americans who are fascinated with the lives of the rich and famous. How else would we end up with these ridiculous people on our TV and movie screens?

Need further proof that we are way too interested in the world of celebrities? People is the top selling magazine in this country. There are 46.6 million so-called adults who choose People as a source of reading material. That subscription costs over $100 a year. I know, because I've priced it. I'll admit that I enjoy an occasional issue, but I only look at it for the pictures. I swear.

Then there are those who go well beyond checking out Tinseltown's awards ceremony gowns. Some will search for celebrity homes, stalk them for photos and autographs, and even visit their grave sites. Our reaction to the death of celebrities is especially disconcerting to me. I have never understood the wailing, weeping and homage paid at the death of someone famous. Folks leaving flowers, candles, stuffed animals and photos at meaningful sites? I don't get it. Unless you knew John Lennon, Whitney Houston, Heath Ledger, River Phoenix or Marilyn Monroe personally, why would you react this way? There are reports of fans committing suicide when Michael Jackson died. Why do you mourn those whom you have never loved and in most cases, never met? You may have been touched by their performances, but is that enough to justify the tears? I see the irony in that statement -- me suggesting that tears need to be justified.

Part of the reason I am turned off by our reaction to the deaths of famous people is that it seems to speak volumes about what matters to us. We cry over lost lives in Hollywood and read every tribute and bit of gossip about those lost souls, but we're quick to turn the page or change the channel when we see photos and hear the stories of hundreds and thousands who are dying from disease and violence in countries we can't find on a map.

But then Robin Williams died.

I did not know him personally, but I still cried when I heard the news. And the more I read about his death, the more tears I shed. I cried because he was still in his prime and had much more to give. I cried because he made me laugh and it hurts to lose someone who gives us the gift of laughter. But perhaps the main reason I cried is because, as a friend of mine said, if Robin Williams couldn't fight the demons of depression, even with every resource at his disposal, what chance do the rest of us have?

If anything good can come from the loss of one of the world's comic geniuses, let it be that the conversation about mental illness continues and that in our darkest moments we recall this line from the Walt Whitman poem "O Me! O Life!" spoken by Robin Williams in one of his most extraordinary movies, The Dead Poet's Society:

That you are here—that life exists, and identity;  

That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

Fountain of Delight Just $15.99. No Shipping or Handling!

I don't usually go for more than a week without blogging, but given the mood I was in recently, I did you a favor. I wasn't in my usual state of whining, but instead found myself afflicted with a rare case of "I want to start a fight." I felt like Pink in "So What, I'm Still a Rock Star." At least I didn't hit anyone. 

I'm not exactly sure what started my rebellion. There was some element of feeling unappreciated at work and a sense I was being critiqued by family members for my parenting skills. Then there was the inevitable post-invitation regret that results whenever I decide to have a party or host a holiday meal. I experienced a major mood swing when I thought I had sold our timeshare, only to have serious doubts that "Shengli from Canada" was/is going to come through with the check. And then there's the "home work" that cries out to you when spring rolls around and you venture into your yard. Not the least of these assignments is filling in the "gap" left by five "widow maker" trees that were removed between our yard and our neighbors. Even though we love them (our neighbors, not the widow makers), we don't want to have to "watch Pedro in his wife-beater working in the garage," as his wife so eloquently put it. So we'll just throw another couple thousand on top of the $6K (we split) to cut down the trees. And did I mention we need a new kitchen floor and counter tops and a dishwasher? Home ownership is awesome. First world problems, I know.

But I don't want to get into what caused my angry mood because ain't nobody got time for that. And Dad, that's not bad grammar on my part, it's from a video that most people are familiar with. Here's a link. (He called into question my job qualifications based on my use of that expression on Facebook.) 

The good news is that I have found a simple cure for what ails me, and likely what ails you as well. For only $15.99 and no shipping or handling fees, you too can rediscover a long lost sense of contentment, simple joy and satisfaction. And unlike wine, it won't affect your driving or decision making skills! If you order now, I'll throw in a sunny glow for your cheeks and a skip in your step! You may think that's the Easter chocolate talking, but in fact, my fountain of delight was in no way candy, wine or shopping related. Here's the key:

A day off from work for which you have nothing planned. No must-run errands. No appointment to get the car fixed. No power washing the house or planting grass seed. No doctor visits. Just a day off on which you ignore your to-do list. Oh, and this is important-- for maximum enjoyment, the kids should be in school.

One of the few benefits of working for a Christian organization is a holiday known as Easter Monday. Aside from the egg rolling race at the White House, this Monday after Easter (hence the name) doesn't translate into much in the United States, except in the state of North Dakota (?). But, according to timeanddate.com, "Many Christians around the world celebrate Easter Monday as a day of rest. It is a day for many to enjoy the time outdoors in countries such as Australia and Canada. It is known as Dyngus (great name), or Splash Monday, among many Polish communities where children often play water games." There's a Polish joke in there somewhere. 

When I read about this "day of rest," I thought, "What the hell. Let's go for it." So yesterday I slept in and then went out for breakfast with Rob. We happened upon a local spot where we were the only diners under the age of 70. There, we were amused by smart ass senior citizens, providing a glimpse at who we'll be in a very short number of years. The 90-year-old birthday boy, flirting with one of the 70-plus year old girls, told her that she was welcome in the restaurant "even though you're a Republican" (indeed a rarity in Swarthmore), to which she replied, "You can't discriminate against minorities." Birthday boy told us to come back some time when the dancing girls were performing. 

Breakfast was followed by a solid workout at the gym, which I effectively rendered useless with Chik Fil A nuggets and french fries for lunch (and coffee cake and Easter candy snacks later in the day). The best part of lunch was a last minute picnic in the park with Freakin Angels Kim and Cathie and their littlest ones Weston and Gemma. I gave thanks to God not only for the food and friendship, but for the fact that I don't have kids under the age of five anymore. Way too stressful having to actually watch them on the seesaw and the spinning thing and near the creek, etc. Dating, driving, academic pressures, social influences, etc. are a breeze compared to the monkey bars.

Glad I don't have to deal with this stuff anymore

While Easter Monday was indeed delightful, I have to admit that my transformation appropriately began on Good Friday. The church choir sang at the evening service which was a lovely blend of scripture and music and none of the theatrical nonsense we've been seeing lately that brought me to tears. Saturday was a fast-paced mix of three soccer games for Abby, a choir rehearsal for me, the finale of Scandal on the DVR (Olivia's dad is EVIL), and Easter brunch preparations, all followed by some time spent around the fire pit on a perfectly beautiful evening. On Easter Sunday, the choir sang at both the 8:15 and 11 a.m. services and had brunch in between, during which time I got to chat with our director, the wonderfully open, honest and real Lisa - just another in a long line of amazing MPC women who keep me coming to church during this difficult time of pastoral transition (which I have, with great difficulty, refrained from blogging about).

Easter brunch (#2) with my parents and Rob's family, was also very nice, and most importantly, I didn't run out of food. I enjoyed having my new friend Aimee (also from MPC) and her kids (ages 9 and 10) join us for the afternoon, and was so proud of my teenagers for playing tag and soccer and keeping them entertained. In fact, Ian and Abby just may be a major source of my emotional transformation over the past week. Simply put, they've been awesome. Willing to help (even Ian, to some degree), funny, kind, affectionate. I wonder what they want. 

I've gone on long enough, but if you remember anything from this rambling post, remember this: A day off from work, preferably one with sunshine and a to-do list that you ignore for a mere 8 hours, can do wonders for your mental health. And at only $15.99 (for breakfast and lunch), it's a deal that's just too good to pass up.

Reaping Your Rewards?

Our gene pools provide us with all kinds of personality traits. On the downside, my family tree has provided me with a healthy dose of crazy. On the upside, I was also bestowed with an above average work ethic. Sometimes this hides the crazy (i.e. at work), other times it reveals the crazy (i.e. at home). Just ask my kids.

Recently I had a conversation with a friend who, like me, works for a large non-profit (albeit not a university). She expressed her frustration with a situation in which a coworker would have had to go above and beyond to take care of a time-sensitive project. Only a couple small steps were required to make sure the project was satisfactorily completed, but rather than take those steps, this coworker offered a (technically legitimate) reason why it couldn't be handled, and wrote it off. This led to my friend -- who shares my stubborn, hard-working Pennsylvania Dutch heritage -- having to trek through snow and ice, literally climbing over downed tree limbs, to get to her office and complete the mission. She, too, could have given her boss a legitimate reason for why the project wasn't going to be completed in time, but instead she made it happen.

Her experience made me think about some of the challenges in working for a non-profit. While those of us who pursue this career path recognize that we're never going to get rich (though I must state for the record that I feel more than fairly paid), the one thing we hope for is recognition for a job well done. Or even a raise based on performance. Yes, I said it! Imagine if your work determined your reward. It's such an old-fashioned concept. Because I've worked for non-profits for the past 12+ years, I haven't experienced this approach to employee compensation. In fact, this same friend noted that, after years with her organization, it was clear that whether your job performance was exemplary or average, everyone got the same annual cost of living increase. Granted, "non-profit" often translates into "no money," but I would argue that one whose performance is above-and-beyond should warrant, for example, a 4% raise, whereas a coworker who turns down every opportunity to take on more responsibility should only get 2%. That way we're still averaging out to that dismal 3% overall.

I had a conversation on this topic with my sister who works for a global health services corporation. She mentioned how she still calls home when she receives a great performance evaluation (even at our age we're still seeking our parents' approval). While I, too, tell mom and dad when something nice happens at work, my sister's evaluation means something substantially different than mine. For her, a superior review equals a bonus that's worth about 50% of my salary, as well as a raise for the new year. Again, I made a conscious choice to work in this world, and I would never survive in hers, but still, the financial differences, based on job performance, definitely sting a bit.

In light of this reality, I'm wondering if it still makes sense to work your ass off demonstrate an exemplary work ethic. At what point does this kind of employee succumb to thinking that "It makes no difference how hard I work, so I will no longer go above and beyond, giving up my personal time to get the job done." I have friends who are fiercely protective of their time away from the office. They refuse to check email, answer their phone, or schedule an important 30 minute conversation with a client if it needs to take place when they're "off the clock." I'm completely incapable of cutting myself off from my employer regardless of the time or day, but perhaps those individuals are the smart ones.

I think this approach to employee compensation, where everyone is treated equally, reflects one of the major problems with our society today. If we give people no reason to try harder, work harder, take pride in their work, or go above and beyond, why should they? If unemployment or welfare pay better than minimum wage, why bother pulling yourself up by your proverbial bootstraps and taking a low paying job? Whether you're with a large corporation, a medium-sized non-profit, or a small mom and pop business, if you've learned that your performance provides little reward, how long will you continue to give it your all? For some of us that work ethic is so ingrained, that we can't imagine ever giving less than 100%, but it certainly makes you think (and obviously harbor some degree of resentment).

I know Christians are supposed to take comfort in our reward being in heaven, but the parable of the workers in the vineyard (Matthew 20: 1-16), in which everyone is paid the same regardless of how long they work, just doesn't provide much comfort in today's secular world.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one.

If the World was About to End

In three weeks a giant asteroid is going to strike Earth, wiping out the entire planet.

Whatcha gonna do now?

How about Seeking A Friend for the End of the World?
That's the premise of the new movie starring Steve Carell and Keira Knightley.

Is it a drama? Is it a comedy? Is it a romance? Yes, but this isn't really a review of the movie, which I loved, by the way. It's more a reflection, or contemplation. After all, a movie about your (and everyone else's) last three weeks on earth is bound to raise some questions. For example, would you:

• Go back to your job for even a day?
• Keep exercising?
• Floss?
• Have a yard sale?
• Mow your grass?
• Spend it in a drug-induced haze?
• Leave your spouse immediately?
• Sleep with anyone whom you were attracted to?
• Drive across country to find the love of your life?
• Fly across the ocean to be with your family?
• Get married?
• Be baptized?
• Find God?
• Lose God?
• Hire a hit man to take you out before the asteroid hits?
• Destroy everything in your path, just for the fun of it?
• Make peace and forgive everyone who ever wronged you?
• Say your peace or take revenge on everyone who has ever wronged you?
• Recognize that regardless of race, ethnicity, religion, or sexuality, we're all one?

While many movies have considered life from the perspective of an individual who knows he/she doesn't have long to live, I can't think of another that considers life in the context of the end of the world. It's a shockingly difficult thing to wrap your head around, but one that deserves reflection. Not because the world is likely to end tomorrow, or in three weeks, but because you have to wonder why we don't live all of our days as if they were the last. Not only our last, but mankind's last. I imagine we could let go of our bitterness and anger, our judgements and condemnation.

Although Seeking a Friend for the End of the World was a sucker punch to the gut emotionally (with some good laughs thrown in to ease the pain), it left me with one comforting thought.

I'm already with the people I'd want to spend my last days with. I imagine I'd take my husband and my children and as many friends and family members as I could gather, and head to the ocean to finish out my time in a place I love, with the people I love.

What about you?

This Might Hurt a Little

I have a friend, Emily, who is not only bright, witty, and a terrific writer (check out her Mothers of Brothers blog), but also happens to be seemingly fueled by the next great challenge or opportunity in her life. Whether it's achieving her black belt, completing a triathlon, or appearing on national television, Emily goes for the gusto and then moves on to conquer something else.

I am not Emily. I am not a daredevil nor a thrill seeker. I don't crave a surge of adrenalin or a rush of endorphins. In fact, trying whipped cream on my pudding when I was a junior in high school was the first crazy thing I ever did and it's still pretty high up there on my list of life-changing moments.

So why do I feel so frustrated with my son when he refuses to grab the brass ring, live life to the fullest, or climb every mountain (a shout out to the Sound of Music)? He knows the translation for carpe diem but has seemingly never grasped the concept.

When he was little(r), getting Ian to swim or ride a bike was torture. Playing sports has never given him any joy. Watching a movie that I insist he'll love (Big, E.T., The Goonies, etc.) is a no-go. Even reading a book I recommend never pans out. Trying new foods is out of the question. I often wished the kid would give in to peer pressure and join his friends in these areas, but it seems everything with Ian has to be on his terms. This will be a great thing when it comes to sex, drugs, and rock and roll, but for now it's rather maddening.

I realize this reads like a major dissing of my son, but really it's not. If I'm dissing anyone it's myself (and can 40-year-olds effectively use the word "diss"?). I've come to realize that wanting the best for our children generally means wanting them to be better versions of ourselves. And when they possess our own weaknesses and idiosyncrasies, it's frustrating beyond belief. Let's face it, who wants to see those personality traits we least like about ourselves on display in this little person we brought into the world?

Yes, letting our children be who they are meant to be, letting them discover who they are and who they will become is not an easy thing for a parent. The best we can do is model attitudes, behavior, and beliefs that will point them in the right direction. For me, becoming a black belt was as much about my kids as it was about achieving something for myself. The "real Kim" is someone who would have given up on it years ago. (My personal motto is "when the going gets tough, I'm outta here" and "If at first you don't succeed, move on to something that comes easier."). But to quit, to admit defeat, to stick to what I knew, would have sent the wrong message to Ian and Abby.

So my resolution for 2010 is to cut my kids some slack. To let Ian be Ian. To celebrate the fact that he's been blessed with a wonderful sense of humor, the gift of kindness, a bright mind, and a personality that draws people to him. And I'll do my part by trying to be a better role model. Heck, last night I tried a crab ball and oyster, so I'd say I'm off to a tremendous start! Happy New Year!