“Write one word in the chat that articulates your intention for this workshop”.  I didn’t even think.  The word that came to mind was LEARN.  Learn.  While all of the others were typing these wonderfully creative, thoughtful, insightful words, all I could come up with was learn.  Not that learning wasn’t my intention, it’s just that I immediately began comparing my word with others.  Surely there was a more “high falooten” word I could have used besides learn.  Now it was in the chat for all eternity and as the facilitator of the workshop read down the list, she very kindly (as she always is), said something nice about my plain, unassuming word.  

LEARN.  Yes, that was my intention, to take this workshop, to absorb everything I could and learn how to get my creative sparks flying.  You see, I’m actually pretty good at coming up with big plans and ideas, but the follow through isn’t necessarily there.  And lately, due to Covid, my work changed, and life became one big long to-do list, most “to-doing” for others.  This workshop, this spur of the moment, never spent this kind of money before, what am I getting myself into workshop was for ME to learn for ME.  Not for others, not for another organizations, but something completely selfish for me. 

Back in the spring, I had the opportunity to work with another coach, this time working to understand my strengths.  My top 5 strengths are Deliberative, LEARNER, Ideation, Individualization and Input.  I have a need to learn, a need to carve out time to think, a need to create.  For the longest time, I have been teaching others, working for others, finding solutions for others without the needed time to THINK before I do these things.  Like a thirsty person needs water, people like me need time to just engage in thinking.  This lack of engagement in thinking completely emptied my bucket. You become a machine after that, marking items off of that to-do list, fixing problems, staring at a screen.  The blogs stopped because I had nothing to write about, my conversations lacked substance because I had nothing to talk about.  The most I could do when someone asked how I was or what I was doing was to go over the to-do list, in the hopes that they might be impressed with my productivity.  I’ve never been more frustrated.

Then this workshop came up in my email.  The Spark File Creativity Workshop.  It was such a wild hair thing to do.  A way to begin my year, literally on the 1^st-3^rd of January. Something just for me.  Why not?  I had met one of the coaches several years ago at the Met Conference and she suggested a book.  A book that changed the way I looked at my leadership skills and being an introvert.  She understood from a personal perspective.  I knew I could attend this workshop and be “safe” to learn.

So, at 11:00 a.m. yesterday morning, I, along with 37 others from around the country and the world began a journey as a group and as individuals.  Thirty seven others with unique ideas, dreams and aspirations, people with credentials that far surpass mine, people looking for affirmation, guidance and strategies so that they can continue to pursue those creative endeavors.   At our first break, I walked out into the living room with a big grin on my face.  This was AWESOME.  So much learning.  So much time to just THINK.  So much time to concentrate on my creative ideas and endeavors.  So much time to consider what it is that I want to do with the rest of my life.  We’re asked to write for 10 minutes and seconds later we’re told the 10 minutes are up.  I have no time for multi-tasking, everything is so focused, and we get so much accomplished.  In just two days, I’ve learned more than I ever thought I would.

Tomorrow we complete this particular journey and we’re left to take the new tools we’ve been given to see how far we can go.  Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I’ve learned I’ve had the ability to do what I’ve wanted all the time.  I just have to believe in myself like others have believed in me all along.  And get specific as to what I want to do.  And find accountability partners.  And set deadlines.  I’ve learned a lot.  But most of all, I’ve learned that I need to learn.  Maybe it’s not such a simple word after all.

Today is the beginning of my 61^st New Year, and presumably, based on all the good wishes from others, a HAPPY New Year.  A wish for 365 days of happy.  Or perhaps a wish for more happy than not.

Let’s face it, we remember the high and low points.  We remember the highlights of human existence, the births, the deaths, the graduations, birthday celebrations, weddings, divorces and everything in between.  The list of items that psychologists use to decide how stressful our year has been, both the good and the not so good.  Because it’s not really about whether the events have been good or bad, it’s how big a change those events make in your life.  Like having a child – or your third child when you slowly realize that now you and your spouse are outnumbered by children.  What were we thinking?  Obviously, we weren’t.

If we’re speaking of human existence as a whole, 2020 was a horrible year.  But there were pockets of wonderful this year as well.  A friend of mine adopted a beautiful child.  A couple of acquaintances married their soul mates.  Students graduated from institutions despite the hardships. People moved into their dream jobs.  As a family, looking at this from the most simplistic point of view, aside from having to wear masks, working from home for a while and cooking from home instead of going out, we did just fine and we’re grateful.  Were there bad events during the year?  Yes, there was a major life event and we missed the opportunity to be with our extended family during the holidays, but in the larger scheme of things, during a time when so many others suffered so much, we really have nothing to complain about.

We’ve learned in this past year that being in control is an illusion.  No matter how big a control freak you are (like me) or how hard you have your thumb pressed, or your nose to the grindstone, all it takes is a pandemic to turn our whole world upside down.  Like I tell teachers, we talk about classroom management all the time, but who is really in control?  The kids of course.  We can manage, coerce, motivate, and encourage, but when push comes to shove, we’re not in control.  This past year was a lot like walking into a room as a substitute teacher where the kids are in control and there is no lesson plan.  Nothing we have in our bag of tricks works.  So what do we learn from this for the future?  Besides being in awe of teachers who deal with this reality day in and day out, it’s that no matter how many careful plans we make, no matter how big a control freak we are, we’ve learned that it only takes one major event in our lives to turn it all upside down and send things down a cliff.  If you’re like me, it will make you crazy, sometimes with days full of sadness and anger, but it will also remind you of who is really in control and to trust in Him instead.  There is hope in that knowledge.

This is not to say that we can’t plan.  There’s nothing that says you can or should sit on your butt and wait for the good to come your way.  Putting feet to your hopes, dreams and aspirations makes those dreams more of a reality.  If nothing else, I’m personally looking at 2021 as an opportunity take the necessary steps to follow my dreams, maybe even more motivated to follow through the necessary steps than ever before.  

You know, there’s no guarantee that 2021 will be any better or worse than 2020.  There’s the HOPE that things will be better, but while it may be better for others, it may not be for you.  We have no idea what the future holds, so in the meantime, perhaps we need to focus on the day to day and to be mindful of the large and small events that make life wonderful.  And as long as we’re still alive and kicking, there is always hope.  Wishing you all a more Happy New Year than not.

I remember the conversation vividly.  We had just met the child on a trip to the children’s zoo, and when he was told he could choose something from the gift shop, he excitedly, but carefully walked the entire place.  Would it be a toy, a stuffed animal, a mask?  No, he decided – it would be – wait for it.  A recorder.  Or at least something that resembled a recorder.  He decided he wanted to ride back to the house in my car (the convertible) and play his recorder from the back seat with the top down, entertaining everyone around us.  “Listen to the song I made up!” and the improvisation began.  The fingers were in the wrong places, the air was all wrong, but the enthusiasm was there.  “Do you know what?  I’m going to be in band when I get to 5^thgrade”.  Well, that’s wonderful!  What do you want to play?  “Saxophone!”.  Oh. 

For the next year and a half or so, he continually spoke of playing the saxophone.  Oh, his future grandfather, the trumpet player, tried to talk him into playing a brass instrument.  “The trumpet is God’s instrument” he would say, but the boy insisted on saxophone.  When he was able to get a huge sound out of the didgeridoo, grandpa and I thought low brass, but he insisted on saxophone. Until the end of 4^th grade, where his future band director said, “you know, you should play the trombone!”  Well, so much for the sax, the boy was now a trombonist.

By this time, the boy was now our grandson and grandpa was SO excited to help him out.  A trombone – here, you hold it like this.  You need a new mouthpiece – I’ll get one for you.  Oh, and you need a gig bag (in 5^thgrade).  Nothing was too good for his new trombone playing grandson.  

The first sounds were honestly – well – painful, as all beginning sounds are.  Periodically he would FaceTime with grandpa and show him what he was practicing.  You could usually tell what tune he was trying to play, between the “oh, that’s wrong”, and “sorry that’s the wrong note”, despite the fact that there seemed to be nothing but quarter notes in whatever piece he was playing.  After all, he was just learning.  The hope is that he’ll stick with it long enough to get to where he is more comfortable and wants to play.  The holiday concert was fun, with all of 3 months of playing under his belt and he was so proud of himself.  I’m sure we annoyed everyone attending as we saved an entire row for his new family, and everyone showed up.

Then in the spring, school stopped.  He practiced a little bit, but it’s so hard when you’re a beginner and your teacher can’t be there in person to help you be accountable.  I just hoped that when he was able to back to school with all of the other kids, that he would want to continue playing.  He might be the greatest player, but band is just so good for kids, regardless of whether you’re the next Bill Waltrous or not.  Of course, school did begin in the fall, but with so many rules and protocols and kids were dropping out of band as well as orchestra and choir.  Would he even want to stay involved?  

There’s more to being involved in music then just learning to play your instrument by yourself and then within an ensemble.  It’s learning how to work together as a family of musicians, and you learn that the family is larger than you might imagine.  You see, grandpa is friends with the teachers of our budding trombonist.  The first time we saw him after school began, he was so excited because “Grandpa!  My band directors know you!  You must be famous!”.  Well, of course he is – he’s “The Pride of all Nebraska” as one of my students once labeled him.  But what it really is, is that this is a family of musicians.  Grandpa works side by side with the husband of one of our grandson’s directors and he and I are friends/colleagues with the others as well.  We know we can trust our grandson with these people as great educators who will not only teach him and keep him accountable, but who will CARE for him as well. 

As with other school districts, there was no live holiday concert this month for the kids but we were surprised last night when we walked in and saw he had his trombone out with music on his stand and after dinner, we were treated to a private solo performance of holiday music.  Now, I don’t know if you understand trombone at all, but it’s not like the saxophone, where if you push down the correct key, the correct note comes out.  I know this to be true, because I played sax for a little while. With trombone however, there are positions and the player has to know just where to move the slide to the correct spot while using the correct embouchure to get the correct note to sound.  Anyway, with very few mistakes, we were able to identify every song he played for us.  He did have to ask grandpa about one note (which I’m sure grandpa was excited to help with) but then he nailed it and proceeded to entertain us.

After first marveling at how much he had improved, despite the school year being totally wonky and with shortened rehearsals and such, the second thing that hit was how grateful I am for his teachers.  I know exactly what they’re having to deal with in the classroom, and yet they are willing to do whatever it takes to give the same quality instruction to all of their students as they’ve always done.  I was almost as proud of them as I was my grandson!

But of all the instruments, it had to be the trombone…  

“Oh, you teach music?  That must be fun!”  Well yes, teaching music can be a LOT of fun, one of the reasons I did it for nearly 30 years.  But there is a drawback to doing music all day every day, and for me choir was just one of the things that did me in.  Oh, I LOVE kids singing holiday music, and I feel personally fortunate to have taught in Catholic schools and that my public school communities have been a bit more traditional.  From August to December, nothing but holiday music.  Did I really need that much time?  You bethcha.  One 45 minute rehearsal a week only comes to about 14 rehearsals for a December concert so there’s no room for anything else. I was always saying that if I heard another Christmas song, I was going to throw up.  

In my classroom, it was holiday songs from November through December, Thanksgiving, Hannukah, Christmas, Kwanza.  I love them all.  But all day, every day takes its toll.  By the time Christmas arrived, I not only didn’t want to hear Christmas music, I didn’t want to hear any music.  I ate lunch in silence in my room.  I kept the room silent during teacher work days.  The thing I loved was the thing I most needed to get away from.  I stopped listening to and singing with music in my car, I didn’t buy my traditional music CD for Christmas.  I felt sad and strangely guilty, but it was just too much.

How do you explain this to other music colleagues?  Those colleagues who can’t seem to get enough of all things music?  They not only teach all day but then participate in other ensembles themselves, go caroling with friends, participate in church music. Everything they wear and how they decorate their classroom is so creative and so…musical. I had done all of that and just couldn’t do it anymore.  I didn’t have the time to do it, I had no desire to do it and I was exhausted.  How in the world could I begin to confide in a colleague who would never understand?  Good grief, I serve on a national board for music education. Then the pandemic came.  And my job changed.  And for the first time in nearly 30 years, I didn’t have a little choir to teach and no holiday music to sing.  The pressure of preparing kids, trying to not make mistakes in front of audiences and making the best music possible was gone.  

Don’t get me wrong, I really miss the kids singing, but I don’t miss the repetition and the constant sound.  My last choir, the one I was working with before Covid was going to kick butt – in a musical sense.  They were off the hook fantastic and I couldn’t wait to show them off to everyone.  Music is and has been my life.  I can’t remember doing anything else since I was four or five years old.  I have sung and played instruments my entire life, spent more time with other people’s children than my own, unless I dragged them to rehearsals at school.  I wasn’t sure how I was going to deal with the change, not making music with kids every day.

I have colleagues who have retired and can’t wait to get back in the classroom to sub. They get involved in ensembles, singing and playing.  They attend concerts they never had time to attend while they were teaching, they support musical efforts with their time, talents and money.  By the end of last year, I was jealous of all of the enthusiasm demonstrated by the great teachers in my district when all I wanted was to stop and walk, no RUN away.  

I think I have friends and colleagues who saw this.  My passion for music education and what it does for kids has never waned, but talking about it often brought me to tears.  Music changed my life, as it does for so many kids, but I had lost that first love and I didn’t know how to bring it back.  I wasn’t sure I wanted it back. I wasn’t sure how I would feel about this year, watching others do what I had done for so long and knowing I wouldn’t be doing it with them this year.  

It may be cliché to say that distance makes the heart grow fonder but I think it’s working here.  When Christmas music started in November, I found myself humming and singing along.  Then the movies with holiday music, singing in the car, finding something new I had heard on Spotify.  I started finding music videos and have been obnoxiously sharing them with Doug.  By obnoxious, I mean, I don’t ask if he wants to hear them, I just say “here – listen to this.  Isn’t it great?”.    I’ve actually watched Christmas movies this last week and find myself tapping my toes, bobbing my head and SINGING.  I can’t tell you the last time I sang just for me, for my enjoyment, to feed me.  But it’s happening, the joy is beginning to come back, and the thrill of that perfect note or harmony in my ear does my heart good.

I was afraid of all the change, afraid that I would get away from my first love entirely if I wasn’t in the classroom but instead we’re getting reacquainted, slowly redeveloping that relationship that I’ve always wanted my students to experience.  Observing those great enthusiastic teachers in my district making music with their kids makes me smile again. Maybe my first love is beginning to return.    

The need to write has been crushing me today, but like all writers, at one time or another, there comes the classic writer’s block.  Part of my problem, I’m sure, is that I don’t go anywhere.  I go to work and I come home to work.  I want to write, but I feel guilty that I’m writing for fun and not working.  Hence, writer’s block.  The mantra however is just to write – write whatever comes to mind.  So hang on – my mind is a scary place so this could go anywhere.

Hallmark movies.  I’ve never been a fan.  Too formulaic, especially this time of year.  Ever title is “Christmas in (name the locale)”.  Boy gets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl.  It’s a musical without the music.  The dialog is predictable and stilted, the storyline is predictable, the ending is – well – predictable.  All the cliché romantic things you ever want to see in a movie are here.  I used to think that people watched these for the romantic, happily ever after stories.  But I’m starting to wonder if, in this very unpredictable world, if people aren’t grabbing predictable wherever they can.  There’s never a “what if” to deal with.  Maybe what we need to prescribe to everyone is to watch a Hallmark movie every day to relieve the stress.  

Dolly Parton.  Everywhere I looked today on TV, there was Dolly Parton.  Dolly Parton movies, Dolly Parton concerts, Dolly Parton biographies.  She’s fascinating, I get it.  The ultimate dumb blonde joke, where the woman isn’t dumb or blonde but a woman ahead of her time, brought up in a part of the country behind the times.  I of course know she’s a songwriter, but not sure I knew just how prolific a songwriter.  A songwriter who writes songs that touches people.  It wasn’t the music that got me, it was the reaction of someone in an audience listening to her music that got me.  That moment when the music touched a chord in a woman and I saw the tears well up in her eyes.  Because I deal with music every day, sometimes I forget how powerful it can be. 

Speaking of music, I found myself stopping to listen to and enjoy music this week.  Not always intentionally, but as I was channel surfing I came across Josh Grobin on a PBS special.  Now, I love Josh, but my husband says he can’t deal with the vibrato.  I probably shouldn’t admit that on occasion, it’s a tiny bit much for me as well, but his sense of pitch and his musicality are spectacular.    I stopped to listen, the song building to the climatic moment, and instead of some loud, power ballad ending, he stops and from this man comes the most stunning sound.  So in tune, so in control, so dynamically nuanced that I couldn’t breathe and the tears welled.  One note. 

TV fireplaces.  I told you my mind was a scary place.  A couple of nights this week, I’ve put on Netflix and located the fireplace video.  Is it weird that it feels warmer in the room when it’s on?  I actually fell asleep one night, the light of the “fire” flickering as I drifted off.  What is about a crackling fire that makes a place feel more homey?  I’m thinking the Danish have the right idea with the Hygge thing.  I have to admit that piling on the soft pillows, warm throws, Christmas lights and yes, even the TV fireplace have made the last few days cozier.  Especially as I sat here and watched the snow fall last night.  I’m figuring out that I’m going to have to create the atmosphere I need this winter and not wait for some warm and fuzzy feeling to just show up.  

Last but not at all least, teachers.  I have lived in the world of teaching for so long.  In my 30 years in this profession, I can honestly say that I have met very few who most definitely chose the wrong profession or should have retired earlier than they did. The first group usually figures it out early, the second one, not always.  The point being the majority of people in this profession are the cream of the crop, the kind of people who will give and give, take a breath and then give some more.  Can I be honest?  If I hear another teacher say “this just isn’t my best teaching this year”, I may scream.  This may not be their most comfortable year teaching, it may be awkward, and in the case of music teachers, they may feel hindered by all the rules and safety regs but their teaching is extraordinary.  Their work to reach students, not only in person but remotely, and build relationships is second to none.  I’ve been observing teachers this past semester, and every one of them, despite the challenges and changes to routine, show up every day with a smile on their faces for the kids, practice their art form within the parameters they’ve been given and give 110% or more.  They’re giving up more personal time to learn, plan, adapt and clean, taking time away from their own families.  If this isn’t your best teaching, I don’t know what you expect of yourselves but it’s unreasonable.  You are amazing and when you get through the next seven days in my district, I hope you take a real break and refresh.  You’ve more than earned it.

So, how to end this thing.  What is it that occupies your mind and what kinds of questions does it make you ask?  How do you share what it is you’ve been contemplating?  What is it in your life that makes you wonder? How in the world do you stop a stream of consciousness?!?

I emptied the dishwasher this afternoon and as I placed the last glass on the shelf, I realized I actually had all of the dishes put away at the same time.  Now, maybe this isn’t a big deal for you, but at my house, there are ALWAYS dirty dishes.  Sure, the boys have grown up and two are gone, but somebody is always eating or drinking here.  Having all of the dishes clean and put away at once NEVER happens.  Unless I’m home alone.

My entire life I’ve always lived with somebody, straight from my parents to my husband.  Not a bad thing, but not ever having lived alone, never having to answer to anyone but myself is something I have missed in my life.  I love my husband, love my family, but boy, once in a while, I need to be alone.  I do find myself in unfamiliar territory, however when I don’t have to consider or make decisions for anyone but me.  After many decades of having to consider everyone in terms of what I’m eating for dinner or watching on TV or when I have to be home for children after school or checking my husband’s schedule before I make plans, something as simple as where I want to pick up lunch for myself without asking anyone is a remarkably big deal.

That’s part of being married isn’t it?  The two shall become one?  Well, that’s fine and all, but what if you like beets and your spouse hates them.  What if you spouse loves fried okra but you hate it?  You end up eating green beans for every meal, that’s what happens.  You compromise and find something you both like. Unless you’re by yourself.  

A consequence of this for me, however, is binging.  Binging on the foods only I like to eat because I can.  Binging on the TV shows and movies I like to watch because I can.  You have no idea how nice it is to sit all the way through a chick flick without some male saying “you’re watching that again?”.  No mention of them watching basketball games from 10 years ago or reruns of Seinfeld.  But Pretty Woman or Steel Magnolias? Please.   

The result of living with someone for 40 years is that you depend on them for things.  Big things and little things. They check the mail or cook the meals or pay the bills or take out the garbage.  Sometimes it’s nice to remind yourself that you can still do these things, that you can be self sufficient.  That if you HAD to take care of yourself, you could.  Still not sure who would kill all of the attack spiders that occasionally make themselves at home here, but I have learned that a good dose of hairspray will kill just about anything.  So yes, I CAN take care of myself, but there would be stiff dead spiders all over the place. 

It’s not the occasional trips that Doug takes to go home or band trips that did this for me.  I always hated those, hated being by myself and always had trouble sleeping.  Well, I still have trouble sleeping by myself.  It’s actually the opportunities I have had the last 10 years or so, having to travel on my own, driving distances and staying in hotels by myself, that did this for me.  I didn’t have to share the bathroom, I could sleep on whatever side of the bed I wanted – well, not that I did, but I could!  Again, it was a chance for self sufficiency that I never had before.  Oh I tried to move out of my parent’s house while I was in college but they wouldn’t let me.  Nice girls didn’t live on their own before they got married.  (Have I mentioned I’m old – or maybe it was my parents who were old-fashioned?).  What I would tell every young woman today would be to spend some time living on their own, figuring out how to do things, learning who they are as an individual.  Don’t wait until you’re a senior citizen like me before you have the opportunities to start figuring out who you are.  It’s hard trying to do that while you’re figuring out who you are as a couple.  Not impossible, but hard.

Well, it’s after midnight on my third night alone and yes, I’m avoiding going to bed because, I admit it, I have a hard time sleeping without him.  The guy who has to sleep on the left side of the bed, who hates beets and watches endless games of basketball.  I’m so grateful to have him, but once in a while, I love being home alone. 

I admit to sleeping in the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.  I mean REALLY sleeping in.  I did the unthinkable and actually took the day off so that I would have the entire week off after a long stressful year up to that point.  My phone alerted me to a text message – who could it be?  If was one of my lovely former student teachers, letting me know she was thinking about something we had done while she was with me and how she felt she had made a breakthrough in her teaching.  She said she was thankful for me.

Now, I realize it was a couple of days before Thanksgiving and that there are people who are very purposeful in remembering others during the holidays.  I’m afraid I have never been very good at this, but I am truly grateful for those who are.  Regardless, it was such a pleasant surprise, something completely unexpected.

Thanksgiving morning, the phone again alerted me to a message, this time from a great friend and colleague in my division who expressed her thankfulness for our friendship.  Another unexpected sentiment, something so meaningful because I admire this person a great deal.  Such a great leader, role model and good friend who has taught me much.  I’m not sure I’ve told her that before, but again, I’m not very good at that kind of thing.  The feelings are there, but the words aren’t always.

The other day, I did a crazy thing out of my comfort zone.  I was thinking of a childhood friend, someone I remember being with all the time, doing all kinds of creative things.  Funny thing is, the face to face friendship probably lasted only a couple of years, but when we moved I was devastated.  We remained penpals for a while, but when you’re a pre-teen, these kinds of things only last so long and our friendship became a great memory, but nothing else.  But a couple of days ago, I had this urge to look her up on Facebook.  What were the chances, right?  She was probably listed under a married name, but I took a chance and typed in her maiden name.  Four people showed up.  So now I had to see if any of them were about my age.  I found one.  She just happened to live in the same city we lived in as kids.  What were the chances.  I sent a message, almost apologetically, concerned this person would think I was some strange stalker or something.  Anyway, the message went out late, so I went to bed and didn’t give it another thought.  Until the next morning when I had an OMG message from my grade school friend who said the timing was uncanny.  She had driven in our old neighborhood the day before and thought of me as she looked at my old house across from where her mom still lives.  Several messages back and forth and we’ve decided to call each other next week.  Fifty + years later and we’re going to talk again.  Unexpected.

There have been scores of amazing people in my life, at every stage of my life, amazing for their kindness, for their intelligence, for allowing me experiences I never would have dreamed of and seeing things in me that I never would have seen in myself.  People who came into my life just when I needed them.  People with connections to other amazing people.  People whose relationships were and are so meaningful to me, but I don’t know if I’ve ever told them that.  Having grown up being told I was “too sensitive”, I don’t allow my deepest feelings to show, but sometimes I just want to let others know what they mean to me and how they’ve changed my life.  I want to let them know that I’ve watched them over the years and am so proud of who they are and what they have become.  I watch former students become parents and old friends become proud grandparents.  I watch former students become self-assured educators, doing so many innovative things, all while building relationships with their students.  I watch family members grow and overcome obstacles, achieve great things and show unconditional love.  I don’t share these sentiments face to face because of the fear of being seen as sappy or strange or of being rejected.  For it is unthinkable to me that others may feel the same way about me as I do about them.  So, when I receive unsolicited little notes or texts or compliments, it reminds me that maybe I haven’t done so badly in this life.  Still unexpected.

So, dear friends, family and colleagues, you know who you are.  I hold you in highest esteem, you have all made my life better and this unexpected life wouldn’t have been the same without you.  

When it comes to first jobs, I’m in pretty good company, as I’m sure some of you are too.  Jeff Bezos, James Franco, Keenen Ivory Wayans, Pink, and Lin-Manuel Miranda all began their careers at McDonalds.  It was the first of many jobs I held over the years as I was trying to figure out what I really wanted to do.  They were great about working around my school and band schedules, the only drawback being that I smelled like the French fries I loved to eat.  There’s something about a polyester uniform that sucks up that aroma and never lets go.  It never bothered me much, except for that one time a friend of mine picked me up and took me home on his motorcycle and said, “you smell like French fries”.  So much for that crush.

I babysat and taught clarinet lessons to beginners. I lucked my way into office jobs, one as administrative assistant to a couple of accountants, one at a bank, at a church and in the nursing department at the university where I ultimately finished my degree.  I not only sold burgers, but I made and sold donuts (pretty sure I ate more than I made), cut out designs for screen printing t-shirts, did mass mailings and attempted to sell insurance – I failed miserably.  Earning extra money was always a thing – delivering newspapers and dealing in Amway, as much as I’m embarrassed to admit it, were other things I did.  But one time, at a very young age, I thought I would just jump in with both feel and start a business.  I mean, how hard could it be?

At the ripe old age of 24, I decided that I was going to start my own temp agency in the little town we had moved to.  After all, we didn’t have one and I had worked in an office so again, how hard could it be?  I put ads in the paper letting people know about my little business and began contacting local companies in the hopes of putting people together.  These were people who really needed a job and I would interview them in our little apartment and do what I thought a temp agency owner should do.  I spoke with an accountant, thought I had my taxes figured out, began donating some proceeds to a charity.  I was on a roll.  Problem was, I wasn’t finding anyone a job.  I was interviewed by a local radio station about this fledging business and couldn’t answer all the questions but thought I “faked” my way through it pretty well.  SO naïve.  Then, the big break – a company called wanting to talk to me about hiring my temps.  Looking back on it now, they obviously thought I was a headhunter, but again, I was clueless.  Armed with the belief that I could sell myself and my business, I walked into that meeting room with some execs and proceeded to innocently tell them my plans. 

They did hire one of my people.  I was thrilled, but when they asked me what my fee was, I had no idea.  I think I remember asking for a couple of hundred dollars, thinking I had finally made it.  I’m sure they had what I hope was a kind chuckle when I left.  Needless to say, the business didn’t last very long, I took care of the taxes which took care of any profit I might have made, and I found more work.  

Time has a funny way of changing things and hopefully wisdom has taken hold of what used to be brazen naivete.  Experience, no matter how varied, builds all kinds of skills and perspective and today, as I watched a young person give a presentation, I was reminded of that wide-eyed, everything is possible, naïve young woman who wanted to make some money and change people’s lives for the better.   A young woman who initially felt like a failure, but as I look at her though more experienced eyes, a young woman willing to take a chance with a dream despite lacking some very basic business knowledge. Sometimes I wonder if knowing too much keeps us from taking those steps to achieve our seemingly crazy dreams?  What would people say?  What if I’m too old?  What if they figure out I really don’t know what I’m doing but I’m trying?  There’s this expectation that as we grow older, we become more sure of ourselves, but I wonder if it’s because we settle for what we know and do well.  Sometimes I wish that young woman was still here so I could tell her to go for it.  Failure is merely a learning experience and sometimes you just don’t know what you don’t know.

So, where am I going with this?  I’m not sure.  I think I just wanted to tell a story, but at the same time, as always, to encourage people to keep going for their dreams.  It may not be the straight line you hope it to be, but more of a jagged journey like mine, every experience shaping the person you’re meant to be.  And to think, it all began at McDonalds.

Nearly nine months ago, I wrote about my first impressions concerning Covid with many questions:  

“It became a little more real today as my supervisor called me this morning to talk about how we could continue to teach our kids remotely if school were called off.  This is new for everyone and everyone is scrambling.  How will this affect the travel industry, the service industry, education, the health industry?  There’s an assumption, that everyone has access to the internet and devices.  This is not true.  Some school students at every level will be left out if we only focus on technology as the answer or means to continue education.  Are we going to work together or against each other as we figure out how to deal with this new normal for an undetermined amount of time? Maybe this is happening because we need something to bring us all together again.  Why is it that it takes a tragic event or crisis to figure out what’s really important in life and bring us all together?  Is this one of those times?  Do we have any real leadership that will help us get through this, not only logistically but inspirationally?  Will they be empathetic or distant?  Can we all finally let go of partisan thinking and begin thinking of us as the UNITED States and take time to care about everyone, not just a person who agrees with us?”

Well, a lot can happen in nine months. The “what if” school going remote became reality and things got even weirder this year.  Remote learning meant I never had the opportunity to return to the classroom to give my kids a proper goodbye. My friends in the travel, service and health industries are struggling beyond anything they could imagine, with some innovating in order to survive. So many people have died from this crazy virus.  We have a new president-elect who promises us he will make things better.  My father-in-law passed away and we all had to wear masks to attend the visitation and funeral.  The leadership I hoped for never materialized at the national level, but boy have I seen amazing things among my friends and colleagues. 

The holiday season brings many thoughts and feelings.  As a family, we have been so fortunate.  Everyone in my little family has been healthy, although there have been a couple of scares.  I’m still dealing with the effects of the Bell’s Palsy which decided to visit in September, but most days are good. While our jobs have changed in terms of descriptions, we’re both still working and are able to take care of any needs we have.  With all of us being so close in proximity and everyone being so careful, we were able to gather for Thanksgiving.  We were sad to not be in Kentucky this year, but we have so many friends and family who are either alone or unable to be with extended family that again, we are grateful. It’s all about perspective, isn’t it?

One of my questions in March was whether this would cause families to get closer or to further isolate.  I’m beginning to think that this pandemic just magnifies how your family was to begin with.  If they were close, they’re even closer and vice versa.  It has nothing to do with the pandemic, it’s all about whatever family dynamics were already in play.  I can’t even imagine not being married to someone who is not your best friend right now. I have been shown so much grace by that man. As I sat and watched my little family last night, I was struck by how well everyone got along, little side conversations, games of chess, sharing food, taking pictures and lots of laughter. I sometimes get concerned needlessly when a couple of them begin debating about politics, especially during holidays.  I think I remember just how uncomfortable things used to get at my house when I was a kid, so I try to avoid conflict.  Later, one son apologized to me for bringing stuff up but shared, “I just don’t get the opportunity to debate very often and I like that”.  These two brothers hugged as they were leaving with a “love you”.  “I don’t agree with him but he’s my brother and I love him”.  There are not a lot of things I feel I did right by my boys, but if they love each other unconditionally, then I guess everything will work itself out. 

It’s things like this that I need to hang on to as the daylight becomes less and less, the temperatures drop and the numbers of Covid cases increase.  I’m surrounded by creature comforts, plenty of what I need and yet, like a lot of others I know,  feel the weight of what is happening around me, hating that I have nowhere to go, nothing to do and everything I do is through a computer screen.  I miss traveling, hugging friends, experiencing new things.  Myopic and totally real.  Please don’t judge.

This morning I zoomed with some great friends, one in Pennsylvania, one in Ohio, and another here in Nebraska.  Zooming has become a daily part of life.  Sometimes it’s with a co-worker, sometimes it’s with groups of people from across the country.  I’ve met with some of them so often that I feel like I “know” them, but truth is, I’ve never met them in person.  Is that necessary?  After all, I know people who met their future spouses on-line, so why can’t I get to know someone as a friend through zoom?  Zooming has served us well during this time, especially in terms of work, but it’s not the way I want to cultivate friendships.  Again, grateful, but I can’t wait to not have to use it.  

So, nine months later the “weird” I felt has just become a part of life.  We’ve learned, we’ve zoomed, we’ve gained weight.  Masks began as clean socks with holes cut in them and now we have designer masks to match our outfits. Nine months from now I hope to look back on this time as a nightmare in the past, no longer needing to wear those masks, designer or otherwise,  refrain from hugging or hoarding toilet paper.  

First of all, you should know that I have done no research on what I’m about to say and I’m exercising my right to free speech.  Please be kind. You should also know that I may use the word karma here, which once angered my pastor because as a Christian I guess I’m not supposed to invoke the word.  However, it’s always just the tiniest bit satisfying when a little bit of karma plays into a scenario, good or bad. For instance…

I’m driving the speed limit, in the right lane, when an obnoxious, very large (obviously making up for something) pick-up truck, runs right up behind me thinking they’re going to make me move faster.  Right. When they can’t take it any longer, they zip around to my left and speed off, only to be caught at the light.  In the longer line in the left lane with all the other speeders, while I slowly come to a stop several cars ahead of them.  Karma.  Happens all the time.

Human beings are funny, so many of us trying to beat the system, trying to make things faster and easier, in our myopic way, making everything better for “me” and my way of thinking life should be.  Never mind that the sign says limit for the betterment of the whole, if I can get away with it and go 10-15 miles an hour faster and be at work a whole 3 minutes earlier, well that’s my right.  Never mind that I’m going 40 in a school zone or dashing through a yellow/red light.  It’s all about me getting where I want to go when I want to get there because I’m right.

I believe that karma struck again this week, and it was all about the election.  Both sides screaming GET OUT AND VOTE!!  MAKE A PLAN!!  VOTE EARLY!!  Both sides believing the result would be their team who would get the most votes if people would just get out and vote. People who should have been exercising their right to vote all along, but now somehow, if the RIGHT group of people vote, everything will turn out the way we want.  And then karma rears it’s ugly head.  

Election day was Tuesday and the voter turnout was amazing.  It’s Thursday and we still aren’t sure who our next president will be.  The Xanax and beer are flowing freely, depending on who you talk to.  The election just verified what we’ve known for quite some time.  We are a nation divided.  And just as we were all encouraged, dare I say, challenged, to vote in any way, shape and form, now it looks like some are regretting this.  It didn’t turn out the way we thought.  It wasn’t the landslide in whatever direction we thought it would go.  Karma can be very humbling.

The election also showed us something else – that we are a diverse country with diverse people with diverse ways of thinking.  That’s what we want, right?  We want to embrace diversity, right?

“Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

It just screams diversity.  We welcome those who are looking for freedoms, freedoms to think and speak, live, worship and VOTE the way they want.  We pride ourselves as being a nation of immigrants, a melting pot. But this is where karma raises its head, as embracing diversity means having to embrace all kinds of diversity, including our religious beliefs, our personal philosophies, our cultural bias.  It shows itself in how we vote, which is just fine, as long as it agrees with what I believe and think and if it doesn’t, then you’re a fool, an idiot, uneducated, uninformed, a racist, a snowflake a whiner.  There are so many insults to hurl. You’re diverse, you’ve exercised your right to vote, but you didn’t vote like me, so now I’m angry and I hate you.  How does this help anything?

Here’s the problem as I see it – remember, there is no research involved here.  Every four years, we make a big deal about a couple of human beings, each representing the culmination of all our hopes and dreams for this country.  Then most of us do our civic duty for one day and expect the winner to make things wonderful for us.  For ALL of us.  For this diverse country.  And when it doesn’t happen, we blame that ONE person.  Where do the rest of us fall in this equation?  We’re quick to blame and call names, but are we doing anything to make things better besides standing in a booth and filling in circles once in a while so we can complain afterwards?  Just asking.

Why not look at all of this as the opportunity it is.  We GET to vote for the candidates of our choice.  We get to watch the process and welcome someone who is WILLING to serve our country in this ridiculous way.  We get to continue our involvement by keeping track of legislation and letting our representatives know what we think.  We can actually make appointments and meet with them. We’re allowed to peacefully protest when we disagree with something. This doesn’t happen everywhere. 

We can use civility to speak to those who disagree with us and hope our enthusiasm for our point of view is catching instead of calling them names and alienating them.  And we’re allowed to agree to disagree.  I don’t have to agree with you to still care about or love you.  It’s just the right thing to do.  And because that karma thing, whether you believe in it or not, will come back to bite you otherwise.