I Love My Mom And Other Ironies

If you're like me, you have several lists running through your head at all times: Stuff I Have to Get Done Before The Kids Get Home, Stuff I Can't Ignore Anymore, Stuff My Clients Will Melt Down About If I Don't Send That Email, Stuff I'm Going to Deal With As Soon As I Do This Other Stuff. And stuff like that. Unlike me, you probably do not have a list labled "Stuff That's Completely Outside My Control But Drives Me Bananas Anyway." I do have that list and thought I'd share a few items with you:

Bathroom stalls where you have to straddle the toilet to close or open the door.

Are you kidding me? What life-sized penguin invented this crap? Should we talk about how it's made all the more acrobatic and ridiculous when one is wearing boots and a heavy coat and carrying a purse and briefcase? I look like a new born colt with bad hair trying to turn, hold my stuff and put my tush down. And I'll not get more graphic than that, but you and I both know I'm from the generation where my mom told me to put paper down, so I do, and it ain't pretty. If I were being video taped during one of these exercises I would expect an applause lamp to go off because I'm pretty darn sure several of those teeny Cirque babes are getting paid an awful lot of cash to do that in a quarter my size and a shiny leotard. Try it with an accordian file folder under your chin, then I'll pay $125 a ticket. Also, did an army of ant-sized toilet-paper installers corner the market on installing the paper rolls? Why, why, why are they six inches off the ground instead of at hip height which you could reach without having to crack a vertebrae or two? As a public service, I think this stuff should be addressed, and soon. Adding those extra five minutes of stress to my pottie experience only makes the rest of the world more suceptible to some outrageous act of frustration on my part. (I bet if you polled all the crazy women on the Broadway bus, a large percentage of them had some recent encounter with a bad bathroom stall. )The most mind-splintering effect of going to the bathroom like this is that by the time I'm done I've either tinkled myself or spent so much time arranging myself in and out of the stall that I have to go again. Look for me on the bus.

Children and Laundry.

Yesterday I went upstairs and told the kids to finish putting away all the folded clothes they'd left languishing in the three baskets scattered throughout their rooms and the hallway. I'm sure that sounds rational, but the way I did it had a little more flair to it, bordering on the diagnosable. Suffice to say that certain medical conditions were threatened and I'll thank you not to discuss this with any child protective authorities. Some time later, my oldest came downstairs to dig through the one basket of unfolded laundry at the bottom of the steps. I started laughing and asked what she was doing. "I'm looking for pants," she looked at me with the 'duh' expression one can only wear so perfectly at that age. "You just put away all your clothes. Go get pants upstairs," I looked at her puzzled - a look we wear so well. "I'm saving those," she said to me plainly. "For what?" I didn't get it. "For the week," exasperated. "So you have twenty pairs of pants upstairs folded and put away but you need to come dig in this one basket to get pants?" "Yes." For the record, I did not leap over the couch, shake my exceptional child and scream unintelligibly at her. But I wanted to. Real bad. The real comedy here? This morning when I went to smell the clothes to make sure they were clean so I could fold them I ended up with the business end of a pair of jeans perfuming the rest of my day. So she was digging in a basket of dirty clothes. Nice.

Phone calls with my mother.

I'm a visitor to a blog labled "Texts From Bennett." It's filthy, foul stuff, but it's really quite hysterical if you can get past the vernacular. It's given me the idea that I ought to, in some way, record conversations with my mother so that others can derive joy from my pain. I love my mom. Honestly. But the conversations are a little muddling. Today for instance, we had this: Mom: "Well I just fed you a bowl of toxic soup from your family and now all you're going to do is go be social with Tony's family. It's just sweet cereal with them." Me: "What?" Mom: "I know they're all so cheerful and all you get from me is toxic waste. Our relationship consists of you taking me to Jewel." Me: "That's not right, mom." Mom: "Well that's what it feels like." Me: "Mom, have I done something to upset you?" Mom: "Did I tell you your uncle and I are not speaking to one another? He won't let me talk to my sister without getting on the phone. Isn't that goofy? Who's goofy like that? By the way, honey, before I forget, do you want me to save the Smithsonian magazines for you?" Me: "What?" Mom: "I don't want to take up your time at work. Although when I used to work you would spend so much time with me on the phone, even if I was busy." Me: "Mom...." Mom: "What, Carmen?" (exasperated) Me: "Mom, I have to go." Mom: "Yes, I know. You're always too busy. I can never talk to you."

Great. Now I have to go to the bathroom.

Education and The Road Not Taken

Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken is one of my all-time favorite pieces of written work. Whether I've consciously done so or not, I've often stood at that fork in the road and chosen the path less traveled and it has, indeed, made all the difference.

That's what I'm hoping will be the case with my children. I hope they'll travel far and wide and, whenever possible, mark the unworn paths. I hope their choices will be informed by a broad variety of experiences, conversations, books, adventures, curiosity, interest, excitement. I'm not sure that's what CPS is trying to accomplish.

So I'm a little at odds with my partner. And I say partner because that's what it is, a partnership. I've hired CPS, with annual property taxes near $10,000 every year for more than 10 years --that's roughly $100,000-- to partner with me in educating my children. I'm a little disappointed that what CPS has to offer me by way of innovative solutions to the declining scores on CPS students' tests is 90 minutes. 90 minutes?

Ask a child what makes it hard for them to learn in school, and you might hear:

- it's hard to focus when I'm sitting in the hallway to read and people keep walking by
- I can't talk to my teacher in class because she's too busy with other students (32 of them)
- we don't have a computer in our class anymore because it was taken to a testing room

Ask a teacher what makes it hard for them to teach and you might get:

- I know it doesn't make sense, but I have to get this in before the test
- the problem is, he's not eating at home, so I can't get him to focus
- she's working independently because she can; I have to pay attention to those who can't

So if you had these and other problems in education, would you suggest that 90 minutes would cure these difficulties? 90 more minutes of the same stuff that's failing? Why? What about taking what's great from other educational systems that are succeeding (and no one seems to agree that more time is one of those elements of success) and applying our own best practices to create a dynamic, rigorous new path for our children to travel?

The folks at CPS, even if well-intentioned, are displaying a real lack of interest in or understanding of what needs to happen. I think they need to show us why those 90 minutes matter more than other ideas to improve our educational system. At the end of the day, we don't want scores, we want educated citizens, right? We want explorers, entrepreneurs, scientists, mathemeticians, dancers, drivers, and things we haven't thought of yet! We want folks who will walk those roads not taken, to see where they'll take us all. Are the 90 minutes going to get us there? I don't think so.

Frankly, I believe the powers that be at CPS need to brush up on their poetry. I'd have them start with Frost.

Planning Your Own Surprise Party

The results of our efforts are upon us, and somehow, we're managing to be shocked. This makes us about as clever as folks who plan and execute their own surprise parties.

I should probably clarify that in some circles, we're not even shocked. We're accepting of our absurdity as if we're all guests at the Mad Hatter's Tea Party (I love the parity between this and the political movement) and it's all just fine. But it isn't fine and some of us need to keep a handle on that before the whole thing falls into the sea.

Here's what brings me to the precipice:

I was flipping through channels last night and fleetingly landed on NBC. Jay Leno should not have a show. Folks should not be going on his show. Advertisers should not be advertising on his show. Jay Leno, whatever his talents, screwed Conan O'Brien out of his lifelong dream. He did so publicly, with little regard for the consequences. It wasn't the first time. He did it to Dave Letterman a few years back. The network aided and abetted this screwing of Mr. O'Brien, just as they did with Dave. Jay is a hypocrite and an ass and a backstabber. He doesn't deserve our attention, our money, our loyalty. He made his bed and then he decided he'd go lie in someone else's, leaving behind a mess of crumpled sheets and worn bedding. But there he goes glibly onward, making millions, smearing our faces in our own disregard for decency. Makes me sick.

As does Newt Gingrich's campaign, and the more than a quarter of a million Americans who have given him their precious votes. Are you kidding me? Newt Gingrich gets to claim redemption because he went to God for forgiveness and now he gets a completely clean political slate? Uh, no. God forgives and relieves you for your true repentence, loves you unconditionally, but that doesn't mean you don't pay for your sins here on earth. It doesn't mean that the hypocrisy of being a multi-million dollar consultant for paid lobbyists is forgiven because you aren't technically a lobbyist yourself. It doesn't mean that the outright disgusting-ness (is that a word?) of persecuting a public figure for their private trysts is forgiven because you finally landed on wife number three and were too old to muster up a bail to number four. Or is it just that she hasn't developed a debilitating disease yet?

When you crippled the government during your tenure as House Speaker you were not doing it for the good of the people. You were screwing the opposing party leader in the White House. Your strategy failed, and that means you exercised poor judgement. Often. Now you want to take credit for the things that did work? It doesn't go like that, friend. Or it shouldn't. You think it's petty to open up a debate with questions about your ex-wife's take on your swinging lifestyle? It is. It's petty and base and disgusting. So get off stage and stop making a spectacle of yourself and your tawdry personal life. If you wish to serve the public you may do so under quieter lights and with less media attention. I have a further unkind observation to add here about selling yourself to an audience, but I'll show restraint. You should try it some time.

As for 'values voters'? If I hear one more of you say "We all have our baggage," I'm going to mail you my barf. Are you kidding me? We all have our baggage? We all abandoned our cancer-stricken wife to marry our mistress, until our mistress contracted MS and then we abandoned her to carry on with our new mistress - not before suggesting we all just do the 'sharing is caring' version of marriage? Actually, we don't all carry those bags. But a single man cannot devote himself to a single man through marriage and raise a family together, on account of that defiles traditional marriage. Right? Fly a kite.

Seated next to Newt at the table are the legions of moronic sportswriters and fans who continue to glorify and/or demonize Joe Paterno. Joe Paterno shall be judged by He who judges. The rest of us can only make observations. Here's what I observe: the day a guy's record winning games as a coach matters more to some folks than an innocent child is the day those same folks come face to face with their own immorality. Paterno allowed a man to get away with raping a child. If you or I saw someone raping a child, or heard from a co-worker that they'd seen it, would we report it to the manager in our office and then go back to our desks? Of course not. That's insane! Would we continue to hang out with the alleged rapist and never ask him a question? Or shun him? Never ask the manager what happened? It wasn't just one little mistake. It was a lot of mistakes over a long period of time and winning football games does not relieve him of those failures.

So are they serving cake at this thing? Not likely. We're hurtling at greater and greater speeds toward an end that can't be much good and we're mangling so many of the messages it's hard to keep track of the truth. If you can, every once in a while, center yourself and get hold of it. These folks, Jay, Newt and Joe - they're all human - all worthy of forgiveness. I dig that. But let's not act like everything they did either didn't happen or didn't matter - that's just wacky.

Our futures are in the hands of those who come behind us. Our examples teach in more powerful voice than our words. So exactly what are we saying? I don't know about you, but I won't be surprised if it all comes back to bite us. We planned this party.

Bittersweet

My best friend's mom has passed away. I'm usually pretty good with words, but sometimes the clouds in a stormy moment get in my way. This is just such a time. I'm grateful to have been loved. I'm glad to have loved. I'm sorry to have lost but relieved to have had so precious a time. I am renewed in faith and rejoice in its comfort. I am strong because I am needed and I am brought to peace by those who seek to bring me there. I don't want to be alone, nor do I want to leave others alone, and so I link my arms generously with those who open their arms to me - - something I learned most pointedly from this gracious and loving woman. I learn and move in her example and so I don't say good-bye. She glides away into another place just outside my reach, so that when I arrive there is a smile to greet me and a warm embrace to bring me in. She rejoins those who have gone before her and now in that moment they are, indeed, joyful.

With all that, it's not easy not to feel like there ought to be a pause in the day that recognizes the sadness at having lost this magnificent person. Why are the buses still running? Why is everyone just going about their business? Why is it snowing instead of still? I don't have the words to express this any better than W.H. Auden did... look up the Funeral Blues if you get a sec. All I can say is that as the natural progression moves me forward in waves away from my childish self to a time when I am the mature adult in the room (yes, it's happening) I can't help but wish I could cling again to the legs of my best friend's mom and beg her for a few more minutes of play before she goes. Now, instead, it is her grandchild, who clings to me with his melting eyes and asks to stay just a few moments longer so he can play with my own children. I acquiesce, as she always did, and smile. It is indeed, so bittersweet.

I Have A Shadow

There's been a shadow passing over me as I've prepared for these holidays and I've wondered what it could be.

My best friend's mom has been ill; she's nearing the end of her days. I thought that might be it, but really, I've been so grateful for the extra time I've had to share some smiles with her, hold her hand, be together. So that's not it.

I thought it might be that this'll be my last Christmas with Lucy as an elementary school student. (Yes, I'm that neurotic.) But I feel lucky to have had all these Christmases with her. Any more are just icing. With sprinkles. Dipped in sugar. And bacon. (Everything is better with bacon.) So that can't be it.

It could be that, like Lucy, the twins are getting older and more mature. The other day Sam handed me a baggie with his tooth in it and said, "Tell the Tooth Fairy I could grab the dollar out of his wallet instead of making him go all the way upstairs, if he'd like." (Of course, you don't get paid if you don't believe, so the Tooth Fairy told him to forget it.) But these guys are getting to be more fun every day. That's definitely not it.

We're dealing with the usual array of maladies and melodramas, but what's new about that?

We have the added sadness this year that we're saying goodbye to some close friends who are leaving the state just as the holidays approach. I won't say that hasn't bothered me, but I feel I'm doing a spectacular job of suppressing it! And in any case, we've had some great laughs together in the last few weeks, and some good wine, and a few tears, and it's all just made me feel more and more sure that we'll be friends for a long time to come, no matter the distance.

As I've looked back on it, this year has been a most full and wonderful year with new experiences, adventures, a few scares - just to keep it exciting - and nothing but love and more love with family and friends.

So I realize, of course, there is a shadow passing over me. A kind, generous, loving, and benevolent shadow, watching over me, caring for me, attending to all my needs, especially when I'm at my most desperate and most low. I am weak and my shadow provides shelter so I may rest and regain strength. I am at fault and my shadow allows me space to grow into my better self. I am faithful and my shadow rewards me with all that I need and more than I could hope for. Indeed, there is a shadow passing over me. And I thank Him.

Growing Up A Mutt

This is me and my cousin Damon. He's Italian. (Isn't he gorgeous?) I'm Italian, too. So when I'm with my Italian family, I'm loud and demonstrative and I focus a lot on food. I also argue a lot, laugh a lot and talk a lot, mostly about folks' medical conditions. It all goes swimmingly until I blurt out some phrase in Spanish. And then my Italian family and I are reminded that I'm notall Italian. I think for them it's mostly a curiosity - like an extra toe or a streak of red hair.

But to me, it is so much more.

Because for the last few weeks I've been spending an awful lot of time with my childhood best friend, Michelle. She's going to be furious that this is the best pic I could find, but Lord help me to understand this forsaken Mac computer - I can't find a darn thing!

In this photo Michelle's neurotically placing candles on her son's immaculately decorated cake, ensuring equal spacing between each candle. That's because she's Cuban and Cubans are nuts. I am also Cuban and Michelle is part of that piece of my life. T

ogether we rant about politics, fuss over every smudge on our children's faces, reassure one another that the world is a most dangerous place and the babies should never be out of our sight, and sniff arrogantly about the style failings of everyone we know. And lots of folks we don't know. Also we eat, but the food is way different.

The thing I struggle with is that because I'm not all one thing or the other, there are so many gaps in my cultural experience. There are things about me that belong to the Italian me, some are Cuban and still others are pure Chicago. But a few weeks ago a friend asked me if what a term in Spanish meant. I had no idea and he scoffed at me that it was a very common Cuban saying. And so I was completely de-Cubanized. I was at a funeral service yesterday and a common Italian saying was mentioned, to which everyone responded by nodding, repeating the saying in a murmur. I'd never heard it, and I was instantly de-Italianized. And I'm ashamed to say it, but I put ketchup on my hot dog. I love ketchup.

There are great advantages to being a multicultural person. I'm adaptable to any environment, I can talk to anyone, I make a mean plate of food - and by that I mean to tell you that I can cook anything as long as I have garlic - and I'm a really good, nurturing (some would say suffocating, but they're mean), loving mom. If there are some disadvantages - not being all a part of something, like a cousin by marriage, feeling a little lame when the hundred percenters bump elbows and smile knowingly - they are most

often far outweighed by the benefits.

I hope the kids feel the same. They're Cuban, which is awesome, they are Italian - so cool - and they are English, French, Spanish and Mexican Indian. I can't wait until they're all cooking!

I'm About To Get Controversial

I'm cringing just thinking about how some may react to this, but far be it from me to walk away from a good cringe.

I don’t subscribe to a particular church, by choice. I am strong in my faith, knowledgeable in my faith, and true to my faith. I am so – usually – quietly, privately. I appreciate that some may rejoice in the community of faith that comes from church. I have no problem with that; it’s just not for me. I’m hoping the good Lord forgives as wantonly as I may need Him to, especially considering that period in the 80s when I may have tripped over some of the rules a little more frequently than others.

That said, I have a problem with how the concepts of faith, morality and church get mangled in our (global) society.

This is a link circulating right now on Facebook about a ‘church’ in Kentucky that has banned interracial marriage.
http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fnews.yahoo.com%2Fblogs%2Fsideshow%2Fkentucky-church-bans-interracial-marriage-150009470.html&h=XAQHCnCv_

This is a link to an article about how one legislative body is wrangling with the issue of religious ceremonies for same-sex marriages.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/nov/24/lords-debate-gay-weddings

And here’s a (disgusting) post from someone on a church forum trying to parse numbers in order to minimize the depravity of the Catholic church’s handling of abuse cases.
http://forums.catholic.com/showthread.php?t=441415

And then there’s the Bible. Here's Luke 20:45-47…
20:45 As all the people were listening, Jesus said to his disciples, 20:46 “Beware of the experts in the law. They like walking around in long robes, and they love elaborate greetings in the marketplaces and the best seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at banquets. 20:47 They devour widows’ property, and as a show make long prayers. They will receive a more severe punishment."

And 1 Corinthians:12-14…
12 For just as the body is one and yet has many members, and all the members of the body – though many – are one body, so too is Christ. 13 For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body. Whether Jews or Greeks or slaves or free, we were all made to drink of the one Spirit. 14 For in fact the body is not a single member, but many.

I’m afraid the folks who’re using the Lord’s name to foster fear, discriminate and injure – and do so with brag and bravado about their own holiness - really don’t get it. We best all hope for His great mercy.