Just Two

In the spirits of birth and renewal that mark this season I'd like to offer my suggestions for resolutions in similar sets of twins. Just two little things at a time that I'm going to aim to achieve....

Talk less and listen more. I certainly have heard enough of my own voice and I'll bet those around me feel the same way. I'm going to pursue curiosity about others' points of view with greater vigor.

(Now if I could just limit who I have to limit who I listen to. Could everyone please check in with me on what your opinions should be this year?)

Fix what you can and let be what you cannot. It's a tough one, but a recent quote by Helen Keller about how not only heroes move us forward with giant shoves but honest workers also move us with their collective tiny pushes made me think about trying to shove less and push more. I'm sure I've just confused you, but it totally makes sense to me.

(My husband to disregard this statement. The light in the closet ring bells? Well it shouldn't. It should light a bulb.)

Remember and forget. I'm going to take a suggestion about collecting my 'good days' in a jar ~ leaving a note in it when I've had a success or a pleasure ~ so I can remember them.  But I'm not going to do that with my grievances and worries.

(Those I'm going to harp on endlessly until someone comes and carries them off. Anyone? Buehler?)

Be kind and don't always tell the truth. Others in the world may be cold. I can be the constant heat of compassion and understanding I should be when my loved ones come in from a wretched day. If I am another chill, where is relief?

(This does not apply to room cleaning standards or grammar correction, kids. Nice try.)

Be important and don't give yourself such great importance.  We're living in an age, and I work in a field, where self-aggrandizement is encouraged and modeled with some regularity. It doesn't suit me and though I've tried it on for size I prefer an outfit with less glitz.

(Although I don't mind a good sequin. Anyone want to make me a special vest that says "I'm Important" with some sequins on it?)

Love yourself and don't be embarrassed to let that show.  I want to demonstrate to my children that care of oneself is a high priority and must not be driven by an external force. I don't want to think others will think less of me if the new pair of shoes is mine instead of my child's; I sure don't when I see a mom with a new pair of shoes.

(Yes, shoes. I actually do need shoes. The beige ones are crinkling. The red ones, the heel is damaged. The black ones don't have the thingy inside. The chocolate ones are pinchy. The black boots don't keep my feet warm. The other black ones are just - eewwww. Those dark red ones are too slippery. Am I making the case here, or what??)

Lose what you can and keep what you must. This applies to everything - belongings, weight, vices. What I don't need I should stop housing and caring for. What I cannot get rid of, either because it has a use now or a meaning beyond this moment, I must find a way to accommodate.

(Starting with my thighs? No. Starting with that storage room in the basement. ~my thighs breathing a sigh of relief as they have been on this list for a good 30+ years; it's got to be exhausting~ Now if I could just fit myself in the storage room. DAMN. Sorry, thighs.)

And now that I've revealed my full-on schizophrenia - a final word. Really, I'm going to aim to do just two things -

Be better and be grateful. Just those two, at the top of the priority list. Striving is what makes the dull day have meaning and gratitude is what reminds that the dull day is a miracle all by itself. Being better moves everything forward and gratitude makes everything stand still so you can rest and be ready to move again. I am blessed to be as good as I am and I know that because I'm grateful, deeply and really, for all the goodness in my life. So onward, forward, ahead.

I hope the New Year brings you at least two moments of peace and happiness, at least two blessings for which you can rejoice every day and at least two new ideas that offer you hope.

(And two times the resolve I'll need to accomplish even one of the things on that absurd list of impossible goals.)

Happy New Year!

The Second and The First

We're talking about the 2nd amendment now. Again.

And it makes me think about my first conversation on the issue. It was in a fifth grade social studies class at St. Ita's Elementary School. I remember challenging my teacher (surprise!) on why it made sense for a daddy to have a gun in his house to fight a soldier. I told her wars happen on battlefields, not in someone's house, right? I remember this vividly because I didn't have a dad at home most days so I was desperate to get clarification on this point - could a soldier come into my home where it was only me and my mom? Could we get taken to jail by some unknown heathen trying to reshape our government through the capture and torture of my family? Keep in mind that, as a Cuban, the experience of having an armed militia fighting the established government was viewed quite differently in our living room than it was in U.S. history books.

It was all a jumble in my head until ,my teacher said, essentially, this: 'The United States wouldn't exist without regular people having guns.'

Our country was formed through armed conflict. Fighting that did not occur between a formal army and a trained military opposition. Farmers, cobblers, tailors - regular men - pulled themselves together, armed themselves, and created a legitimate (and ultimately prevailing) counter to the trained armies of the British empire. That's some pretty amazing stuff, isn't it? I can't imagine my husband, the realtor, and the neighbor across the street who owns a dollar store, and the guy behind me who's an artist, pulling guns out of closets and fighting the British army today. Can you? And yet our forefathers did that, just as the Cubans did. Whether you like the outcome of one or the other there are some parallels.

And so having discussed this with my teacher, and later with my mom, I walked away simply agreeing to disagree with myself. Part of me felt it was absolutely appropriate for a person to be able to defend themselves against unreasonable invasion by any force - whether criminal or not. The other part of me felt  there was real and mighty danger in allowing anyone to exercise that power because in one case (let's argue the Americans) the result might be o.k. but in another (let's, for the moment, say the Cubans) the situation that survives might be awful. I left it at that for years and years and years - I just didn't think about it.

Then, maybe ten years or so ago, I read an article in the Tribune about a mom who's daughter had been killed at a Kentucky Fried Chicken. The mom had been raising her family in a poor neighborhood when, some short time prior, her son had been gunned down in an act of random gang violence. She took the extraordinary measure of moving her whole family elsewhere, to a place she expected would be safer. Not many have the wherewithal or the initiative to do this but she was determined to assure her girls that they were protected, that she was protecting them. When her daughter was shot and killed at her part time job in this better neighborhood, the thing that struck me - and has stayed with me all these years - is what she said to the reporter - 'I have one baby left. How am I going to convince her that she is safe? That I can keep her safe? I can't.'

That mom's simple but complete pain was indellibly impressed upon me. Nothing is more important than keeping your baby safe. Freedom to own a gun doesn't matter when your baby is dead. Only the freedom to keep her safe matters.

We talk a lot about freedoms in this country. We're free to do this that and the other and we're very insistant about that. What many fail to remember when they're railing about their freedoms is what they trade for the freedom.

You want to be free to walk in and out of buildings without search? OK. Then someone may walk in with a bomb strapped to his chest. We'll take that bet, in most cases. You want to drive around without the police asking you for identification? Yes. Then sometimes, foreign nationals without legal authority to be here will drive down that same street. For the most part, we'll suck that up too. You want a free press? Absolutely. Good. Then you may hear more about Kim Khardashian than a body should ever know. I think she'd agree with that one.

You want everyone to have the right to own a gun - any kind of gun? Fine. Then every so often someone will randomly enter an elementary school and kill babies. OK?

The question this country has to ask itself - and we are, and continue to be - the great self-correctors in governance - is 'Are we willing to trade our babies for the freedom to own any kind of gun?' I can't imagine anyone saying 'yes' to that question, but somehow, some find the way to do so by invoking the 2nd Amendment.

The 2nd Amendment has a good and reasonable purpose - to offer protection to regular people against an unreasonable, armed, threat. In what may be its most profound case of irony to date, it appears this amendment has become the unreasonable threat it seeks to obliterate.

There Are No Words

There are no words to describe this kind of grief. It seems futile to try. So instead of words, I'll offer an experience. Tonight I had the great privilege to enjoy another spectacular concert at my children's elementary school. Boys and girls of the same age as those who perished and suffered under the strain of someone else's pain began the night with a moment of silence, honor and prayer. And then they sang. They strummed, they clapped, they trumpeted and drummed. Into a dark room a virtuous and pure music like only children can offer played for parents and loved ones who surely held their own and all the fallen in their hearts tonight. And among the last notes, a song that sums it up for me. The song was sung by my children and their classmates, babies. Like those who died tonight, tonight and always, they are all mine and they are all ours.

"I did my best, it wasn't much, I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch. I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you. And even though it all went wrong, I'll stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah."

Things That Annoy - Random Edition

I hate when the top of the dishwasher is packed front to back, side to side and then there's, like, one pot lid in the bottom rack. So do you run the cycle? Or wait for more dishes and then end up with a sinkful of little stuff that won't fit in the top? No matter what you do you end up either killing an innocent baby whale somewhere or suffering a sinkful of dirty dishes that no one will do until they can load them into the dishwasher.  Not cool.

Teachers, I adore you, you know that. But for heaven's sake, a little warning? If you're going to send my kid home with a project board that's twice her height and four times her width, give me a little notice so I don't have to drive from 7200N to 5200N back to 7200N at $4 a gallon only to show up late for every single thing I'm doing afterwards as a consequence. I hate being late and that dumb board has been in your building since September. I'm pretty sure it coulda waited a day.

Hey, sales guy at the electronics store! When I ask you if your rewards card system is going to send my husband an email about his rewards before I give him his SURPRISE gift, know what the heck you're talking about, ok? I've been saving for months and moving all kinds of pieces on an intricate chessboard to SURPRISE him and you've kind of ruined it in a big way. I'm a little peeved at you, friend and this may mean I won't be back to get that million dollar warranty you did seem to know so well.

Construction traffic? I can't think of a darn good thing to say about you so in keeping with my mother's advice I'm going to remain silent. But I hope you can hear every single one of my thoughts as I sit in parking lot after parking lot doubling for a main thoroughfare in this city during the freaking holiday season. (A little shrill with your rant, ma'am? Yes, thank you.)

About the Lord trying to teach me patience ~ frankly, I know. He's all about the eternal gig and I'm into it, really, but I think we should just call this one a wash. I feel the FF button on the DVR was His gift to me, and me not throttling all the incompetent people I come across in retail is my gift in return. After that I feel like we should just shake hands and walk away on this one. I suppose it's what makes Him different that he keeps trying, but the tests are wearing on my... well... patience.

The Mac vs PC argument in my household has reached epic proportions. The kids actually move away from us when we start. My husband insists that it all boils down to 'user error' when I encounter challenge after challenge with his Mac, but when he fusses over a problem with my PC the trouble is clearly technology/design related. I'm thinking of throwing apples at him when he starts this conversation so that I can show support for his Mac addiction while still protesting in favor of my PC.

I'd list more items here because, well, I have them. Unfortunately I have to go wash dishes by hand so I can empty my sink so my child can use the kitchen to complete yet another project board before we take my husband out to dinner where he will not be surprised by the damn gadget I got him. We'll have to start out an hour early because of all the damn construction traffic that is currently strangling every major street surrounding our home so I'm running out of time. Let's hope this thing posts. I'm using the Mac and if there's one more glitch during this experience I may just fling the damn thing out the window. Lord knows, I'm capable of it because, really, I have no patience.

A Letter To My Children

On  Thanksgiving Eve, some reminders and remainders for you, my babies, on giving thanks.

Don't give thanks because you have to. Do it because you mean it. Take time to appreciate the incidental person. She may be tired or worried and your real thanks may change her day. Seek out the quiet worker. He may be feeling low, unwanted and your genuine thanks may lift him up. Say thanks and mean it. Not everyone can do it, but you can.


Don't be stingy with your thanks. Thanks, like love, can be spent wantonly, garishly, every day and you'll always have enough left over the next day to spend again. Remember that every action that is taken in the world matters to you - to all of us - as we are all interconnected, and, in our system of beliefs, born of the same Father. You may quarrel with your siblings, but in the end only love remains. Remember that and don't let the politics of the day distract you from that truth.

Don't be afraid to let another think he is right and you are wrong. Thank him for his passion and interest in whatever the topic and go home at peace with yourself. You may learn something from him and his approach to the problem. Even if you do not - no matter how right you may be - he, too, feels right and wants to feel smart and appreciated for his opinion. There is time enough on another day for you to be the champion. It is your sincere gratitude for your companion's place in your life that offers you the chance to engage him again and again - in agreement, in compromise and in opposition. It is when you cease to value him that you are, indeed, the loser.

Don't forget what you are thankful for, especially in your weaker moments. Think of all the people who have come together, and the grace that has been visited upon all of us, so that you could be here to feel anything at all, much less frustrated or weary. Imagine the light in your heart at the thought of holding your great, great grandson who may bear your name. Would you ever want him to feel anything but exhilaration? You are a joy in breath and motion and we, and all who came before us, rejoice in your life. So, too, should you, and be grateful for it every day.

Be gracious in accepting thanks and don't pass up opportunities to serve for another's good, even if all you may receive is gratitude. In the end, there is no dollar, no gadget or item of apparel that will ever compete with the sincere thanks of someone who has appreciated you and your effort. Trust me. In this I am quite experienced and I can assure you that giving to another, no matter how humble the gift, has been the greatest of my riches.

Last, my beautiful babies, remember to thank God first. Nothing comes before Him. Nothing is possible without Him. And He fills you with every blessing you will ever need, and more. Do it quietly, privately or in communion with others, whatever brings comfort and connection to your spirit. In this, be most faithful, and you will always have reason to give thanks.

My love to you on Thanksgiving ~ and in every moment of every day, always and all ways ~ Mami

Vote For A Republican.. and other things worth repeating

My grandfather voted only one time during his adult life in the city, and that was to vote against Harold Washington for mayor. My grandfather, God rest his soul, was a good man, a hard-working man, a God-fearing man. And he was a racist. I was a young girl during the run-up to that election, an historic one in Chicago, and I knew why he was voting the way he was, I just couldn't understand it. I talked to my grandmother, a genius woman, even given her flaws. She said this to me, some of the best political advice I've ever gotten, and worth repeating: "Honey, it's not good to vote against something. Don't vote against someone. Vote for someone. Vote for  a Republican if you have to [she was a die-hard Democrat], if that's what's in your heart." She's right. And I have. And you should too.

Someone on FB was complaining - not strenuously - but just expressing mild annoyance at some trouble she's having with her cell phone inside her building. It reminded me that when I was young, if we were having trouble with our phone my mom would call Illinois Bell (yes, I'm that old) and a technician would come to our house and he would go to the one hallway where we had a connection on the wall and he'd pull the phone from the receiver - you'd hear the long uuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggg of the dial tone - and he'd unscrew the bottom thingy from the part where you talked and he'd blow into the phone. And sometimes, that's all it took. Coupled with this absolutely brilliant rant from Louis CK, I try to remember the simplicity of my early life when I'm fussing about the reception on my mini-spaceship of a phone: http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x8m5d0_everything-is-amazing-and-nobody-i_fun. It's a clip worth repeating over and over and over again.

The other day I asked friends whether they thought men should be the heads of their households - at least in terms of having ultimate financial responsibility for their families. I asked this question because I'd heard two conversations, some eight years apart, that made me wonder.

When my little guys were still small enough to be home, I heard them playing 'restaurant'. My daughter, the oldest, was assigning jobs. Sara was cashier, Lucy was waitress and Sam had to be the manager. But Sam didn't want to be the manager. He wanted to be a cook. He complained ardently until finally I heard her say something to the effect of, "Sam, you're the boy.You HAVE to be the manager because the dad is in charge and he needs the job!" Holy cow I about lost my teeth I was so rattled. I immediately went in there and gave them all an advanced lesson on equality and choices upon which they all nodded solemnly. And then Sam proceeded to play manager. This, because Lucy is really the boss and told him to, so I was satisfied.

A couple of days ago I was standing outside my front door and I heard a little snippet of a conversation between a little boy and a little girl on the way to school. "You have to work hard because you need money." "Why? Why do I need money?" "Because you're going to have children and be a Dad and you need money for that." The conversation never touched on a mom's or a woman's responsibility -- at least not during their walk across my front lawn.

So worth repeating is this: 'No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.' A fine woman by the name of Eleanor Roosevelt said that. She was a First Lady and a great one, and would have made an excellent president, I think. I hope girls - and boys - in this country are growing up to know that they can be anything they dream themselves to be, and I hope all of us are supporting that idea in our beliefs and in our actions.

And last, worth repeating is this. NJ Governor Chris Christie was asked by a newscaster whether he was aware of one of the presidential candidate's plans to tour the devastation of Hurricane Sandy with him. Unapologetically, Christie told the newsman something along the lines of, "If you think I care about Presidential Politics right now, you don't know me." I admire someone in public life who still has his head clear about what it's all about. Being clear on what it's all about is worth repeating, to yourself and to others all the time.

You Are My Baby, Lauren

And Here's Why~


You're so cooperative when I want to take your picture.

You always have been.

 It's nice to see you're not outgrowing some of your better qualities.

You're all heart.

And no matter how you try to hide it, it shows.

You can be a little scary. I admire that in a person.

You can be a little bossy and controlling. I dig that, too.










You are an optimist! That'll serve you well in life, I promise.

You are a hugger!

 Mostly other people.

But I like it, nonetheless.

You are a good and kind daughter.

Don't ever underestimate what a great quality that is in a person. It matters immensely.

You are a nurturing person. That, too, will serve you well in life, so long as you remember to take as good care of yourself as you do others.

You are a thinker.

AND a doer.

Even helping to do what others need done.

I'm so grateful to have you in my life, not just because I love who you are, but I love the example you provide my (other) babies.

You're a bit of a goofball.

I am too.

And a sunshine girl.

(This is no reason to move to California. Ever.)

 You are a true and loyal friend.

And not just when it's easy.

And not just to some, but to all.

You wear a bang well.













Always have.









Not everyone can, so that's on the list.

Same goes for big sunglasses.  It's not always a good look, but you pull it off swimmingly. (Get it? Swimmingly? The picture is... Never mind.)

You puzzle. Standing up. Because you can't walk by without looking.



I do that too, and none of my (other) children do, so I'm so glad to have at least one child with this mania.

You've got talent and you're not afraid to put it on display. That puts you light years ahead of most people I know, adult or otherwise.

It makes me so proud!

You didn't become my baby overnight, of course.
 (Yes you did, because you were so stinkin' cute from the get-go.)



I have watched you grow up.

And I've been inspired by your strength.

And overjoyed at the (pretty in pink) person you have always been.

And thrilled at the whimsy that accompanies your gravitas. (Yes. I went there.)

And after all these years I am soul-satisfied to know that my voice of reason and good conscience will always, always be in your head.

I'm sure you're excited about that last part, too.

And if you aren't now, you will be some day, promise.









As you know, in our culture - a culture we've shared with you all these years - your fifteenth birthday marks your passage from a time of childhood into young adulthood. It's an old tradition and way back in the day would have meant you'd be good to go on marriage and children.  I'm NOT by any means suggesting we stick with the entire tradition. (In fact, it would be great with me if you would usher in an era of 'new cool' by not dating at all until college. Or after college. Whatever. I'm just saying.)

But, in keeping with the basic custom, I do wish you every blessing on your birthday, your 'quince'. The next years will bring greater adventures and challenges in life. Some won't be easy, and they won't be the ones you're expecting. That's o.k. You've got everything it takes to overcome any obstacle. And just know that if ever you are in doubt, or need an extra push -- or a HUG, even -- to get you through, you can count on me. I will always be there.

Because, lovely Lauren, you are my baby.

Happy Birthday.

C.