HAPPY NEW YEAR -- Again

It's 7 p.m. on December 31st.
The weatherman's warning that things will get worse.
I'm in for the night; not up for going out.
I've never quite learned what the fuss is about.

2009 sucked, we all can agree.
It sucked all the energy right out of me!
I'll be glad when it's gone; good riddance I say,
"So Long!" to this three hundred sixty fifth day!

But what will we all get from two thousand ten?
Do we really think starting all over again
Will make things all better, will move us ahead?
Make us wake up and just jump out of bed?

Well, we'd better start thinking with hope in our hearts,
Because pouting and brooding while playing our parts,
Will only bring more strife, more sorrow, more doubt.
And cause us to miss things that could bail us out.

So here's to the New Year and to a new start.
Here's to the prayers that we say in our hearts
That this time next year, when another year ends
We each will still have every one of our friends.

Do the American Media Talk Too Much?

My friend Cecelia is from Nigeria. She came by today and we talked at length about the shame she is feeling because of the young Nigerian man who attempted to blow up that Delta Airlines flight from Amsterdam to Detroit on Christmas Day. We also had a fascinating discussion about her community's grave concern for the safety and well-being of the would-be bomber's family.

Some white Americans seem to have difficulty understanding the concept of collective shame -- the kind I feel, for example, when an African American commits some horrible crime; the kind felt by some Italian Americans when a mobster of Sicilian descent orders a hit that becomes front-page news. Cecelia told me today that ALL Nigerians, both in the United States and in Nigeria, are mortified by the involvement of Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab in a plot allegedly sponsored by Yemen-based Al Qaeda functionaries. She even confessed that she had recently decided to say she is from Ghana or from "the Islands," rather than let on that she is Nigerian.

As I listened, I understood. This was something I could wrap my brain around because I had experienced it -- often.

Cecelia's fear for the safety of the Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab's family was another matter. Naively, I asked "Why? Who would do harm to his family?"

There has never been a moment of greater clarity for me about the cultural differences between an American of African descent and a native African. Generally, when an American double crosses an adversary or commits some transgression against another person, the retaliation is visited upon the person who did it. In Nigeria, I'm told, because Mr. Abdulmutallab's father went to the U. S. authorities in Nigeria and warned that his son was up to no good, not only Abdulmutallab Sr., but also every member of his extended family -- sons, daughters, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews --will be targeted for death. Cecelia said there is no way to hide in Nigeria. No matter how rich and prominent this family apparently is, they will be hunted down and slaughtered by Islamic jihadists.

The American press, with its never-ending need to be first with a story, the more sensational the better, might well have sentenced to death a host of innocent people who are guilty of nothing more than being related to a father who desperately tried to prevent another unthinkable assault on the American people. We are notorious for being oblivious to and ignorant of the cultures of the world. We tell it like it is. Let it all hang out, in front of God and everybody. Let us pray that Cecelia is wrong, that she is simply overwrought and embarrassed by this mad man's actions. But what if she isn't wrong? I believe journalists have a responsibility to learn enough about the cultures of the world to know when their zeal for the scoop could result in catastrophic events far away from their keyboards and microphones.

It's a Small, Small, World Indeed

In my previous post, I talked about having hosted my high-school sweetheart and his wife for a brief visit. On the second day of their visit my guests took a short day trip to the town in Georgia where the husband's father had been raised, just to see what it was like and to do a record search for relatives. About 15 to 20 minutes before their return, the doorbell rang. I looked out the glass door, spotted my son's best friend standing there, and smiled broadly. He is like another son to me and I was delighted that he had dropped by during the holidays. As I opened the door, I saw another figure hiding in the corner of the porch. My son had done it again! He loves to tell me he can't make it home for the holidays or Mother's Day and then just show up at the front door. I was thrilled!

Soon my house guests drove into the driveway and were soon meeting my son for the first time.

My high school boyfriend has a son who was born exactly two months before mine, and we had just discovered, while sharing family photos, that these two young men looked enough alike to be be brothers! We laughed at the irony of that and continued to chat. At one point, someone mentioned that the couple's son works as a sports agent in northern California. My son said, "Really? I think my half-sister works at that agency as a sports agent. What's your son's name?" My son then texted his sister and, sure enough, these two young people were colleagues. What are the odds of this Six-Degrees-of -Separation type coincidence occurring?

The two boys will be playing golf together soon at the golf course in the town where my son was raised -- about 2 miles from where my high school boyfriend's son now lives with his young family. Go figure.

Trips Down Memory Lane

I have just waved goodbye to my house guests of two nights. If you are wondering why that would merit a blog entry, here it is. The guests were my high school sweetheart and his wife! They had just flown into Atlanta at the end of a 12-day Caribbean cruise and were visiting their way back to Westchester, IL by automobile.

Obviously, a lot of history has passed since my old boyfriend and I were an item, but there was still the potential for some tension between the Mrs. and me, especially in light of something I have been noticing in recent years. As a lot of the men I know age, they tend to become significantly more sentimental and they like to reminisce about "back in the day," recalling specific dates and incidents that included the two of us. Many women might find these trips down memory lane distressing, especially if they are feeling a little insecure about themselves.

But I needn't have worried, because this man's wife is the coolest, most secure and warm-hearted woman I have ever met.

We had met several times before, but only briefly and under circumstances like funerals, which don't lend themselves to getting to know one another. Over the years we developed the kind of friendship that can exist between two women who have once loved the same man -- phone chats comparing notes sometimes, sharing secrets that only we might have in common, that sort of thing. She is a talker, so I usually spend most of the conversation listening. But this time was different. This time, the Mrs. sat back and watched the dynamic between two people who knew each other at a much different time in their lives, who were clearly no longer interested in each other on a romantic level, but who immediately slipped into their familiar, bantering style of communicating.

At the end of the two-day stay, the Mrs. said that she had learned new things about her husband by watching him interact with me. She said she understands clearly why we would have been a couple while growing up because we had so much in common and were alike in so many ways. She hugged me hard as they prepared to leave and told me she loved me. And as she shut her car door, I overheard her say to him "She's my girlfriend now!" What a great woman.

Random Thoughts on 2009

Time Magazine named Ben Bernecke Man of the Year yesterday, and Barbara Walters has crowned the year's 10 most fascinating people. These are the events that usually herald the end of another 365-day stretch of human history, the time when we pause to look backward and relive our trials and triumphs.

Here is my take on 2009:

• It has been a rough year for almost everybody, yet most of us will make it through. I have learned that the things we dread most are usually not as bad as we feared, especially if we face them head-on and refuse to allow them to overtake us.
• The weather has been anything but normal -- not even close. Georgia went from drought to floods with barely a time for transition. But our water bills have risen steadily. And the debate over global warming drones on.
• It is one thing for a political leader to pass a bill, state a policy or institute a new program. It is quite another thing to get the money out to the people, the jobs created, the banks to make or modify loans.
• The 2-party system of government doesn't work for anyone except those who choose to play in the governmental sandbox. The rest of us are incidental beneficiaries or victims, depending on our luck.
• The Swine Flu pandemic has been bungled badly by the CDC and we saw it coming. Heaven forbid we should face biological warfare!
• The death of Michael Jackson and the fall of Tiger Woods have punctuated my belief that Fame and Fortune are more of a curse than a blessing. Michael died lonely and isolated. Tiger is alive, lonely and isolated. Their money hasn't helped.
• Being a superior athlete (Governor, Senator, rock star, actor, whatever) does not translate into being a model husband (wife, father, mother, citizen, leader, etc.)
• "Sully" the pilot came the closest of anyone to being a bona fide hero when he landed that aircraft on the Hudson River.
• Sarah Palin, train-wreck that she might be, appeals to an awful lot of Americans on a level that is just plain frightening.
• Guantanamo Bay put a blazing spotlight on the conflict between the American philosophy of warfare and the philosophies of our enemies.
• Justice Sotomayor prevailed and added another level of diversity to the U.S. Supreme Court. Slowly, but surely, America is moving toward the realization of its original promise.
• Flawed as we are, Americans are lucky to live in a country that is based on the freedom to protest when we disagree with the direction the country is taking. Watching Iran handle its citizens' protest of the rigged presidential election reminded us of how lucky we are.

What Has Become of Self-Respect?

The unfolding tragedy of the Adventures of Tiger Woods has been a fascinating study of modern American morality. It is a tragedy on so many levels.

First, of course, are the feelings of Elin Woods, who has suffered the ultimate disrespect from a spouse, not once, not twice, but almost a dozen times that we've heard about so far. She had seemed willing to stay in the shadow of her larger-than-life young husband, caring little about the limelight. Words become ineffective when attempting to describe the exquisite pain caused by such betrayal. She will be very lucky if she hasn't been exposed to a lifetime of illness thanks to her husband's infantile failure to protect her health, much less her heart.

The Woods children, too young now to understand, will certainly be humiliated as they grow older and learn of their father's wild display of --what? Narcissism? Sex addiction? Arrested development? How will Tiger explain it all to a son who will look to him for guidance to become a man, and a daughter who must find a way to trust men to live up to their commitments to her?

Equally tragic, however, have been the so-called "bimbo eruptions," the outing, whether voluntary or involuntary, of the women who have romped with Tiger Woods during his 5-year marriage. The two who have actually appeared on national TV to give "their sides of the story" are particularly interesting. It is tempting to judge them for being so gullible as to believe that they each were Tiger's only extra-marital love interests, or to allow themselves to help a married man cheat on his wife, but I am way more disturbed by their decisions to speak publicly and to say what they said!

To discuss any man's sexual prowess and his private physical attributes with anyone, other than him, is about as cheap and tawdry as one can get without participating in porn for the camera. To openly admit that, no, they hadn't really given the man's wife and kids much thought during the months and years that they met him in hotel rooms throughout the world, even allowing themselves to be flown to the Woods residence for sleepovers, is so sleazy it's laughable. Both profess to being heartbroken themselves because of the existence of so many other mistresses in Tiger's lair. Is Elin Woods' heart so irrelevant that they would exchange it for a few minutes of notoriety on television?

The word class is frequently used to describe an individual's possession of elegance, grace and dignity. It is generally regarded as quite desirable, at least among those who also have it. I thought Tiger had that kind of class, but as it turns out, he doesn't. He needs to find some, if he is going to be the kind of father to his children that his father was to him. I can only imagine what his mother is feeling today about her son and his behavior.

When I was young I used to roll my eyes when adults would sigh heavily and ask "what is this world coming to?" or say "these kids today." So, if you are a young person, ready your eyeballs, because I have to ask "why aren't parents teaching their daughters to have some respect for themselves and others these days?" I suspect that the search for fame and validation, by any means necessary, is the unfortunate by-product of reality TV, and shows like American Idol, America's Next Top Model and Real Housewives of (pick the city). Whatever the reason for all these vapid young women, running around half-naked. wearing somebody else's hair and manufactured mammaries; who are willing to bed down with any high-roller who "sends for them to join them at their tables," it is really, really sad.

A Friend in Need

A message hit my email inbox early this morning that took my breath away. It was from one of the many high school friends I have recently rediscovered. He was one of my first romantic interests, very briefly, until we both moved on to the next one. He wrote to say that his 48-year-old first-born son has passed away after a two-year illness.

Who among us who are parents have not thought with dread about the prospect of losing one of our children? Nature does not intend for that to happen. It's just wrong.

This poor man--I'll call him Jack -- has suffered through so many heartbreaks in his life. He didn't even know he had this son until a few years ago. He and his girlfriend had been teenagers when she became pregnant, and they did what couples "in trouble" did in those days -- got married. Predictably, that didn't work out so well. When they fought for the last time, she cruelly told him that the son that was born to them was not, in fact, his. That was enough for him; he left and never looked back. Several years ago, this son's children enlisted the help of another old friend to help track down the grandfather they never knew. Jack was, in fact, their dad Brian's father.

In the interim years, Jack struggled to find his way. He remarried and had four other children, all wonderful, ambitious and successful. On one day, on this exact date ten years ago, Jack watched as his 34-year-old son, Michael, was crushed to death between a truck and a loading dock. The trauma of this tragedy destroyed his marriage and left his ex-wife emotionally impaired to this day.

Jack kept his children on track and threw himself into his work, amassing a fortune. He finally met his soul mate and is now happily married. When Jack was located by his grandchildren and learned of Brian's true paternity, he also learned that Brian was in prison. Jack beat himself up relentlessly, believing that had he not left him Brian might have turned out better. Ever since, Jack has been trying to make up for it. When Brian was released from prison he was already ill, and Jack did everything he could to support him. Now, he's gone.

Jack is a wonderful man who loves his family so much that he will soon travel to the Philippines to walk his niece down the aisle at her wedding. His brother cannot find it in his heart to accept the Filipino man his daughter has chosen, so Uncle Jack stepped up. He cried as he told me this when I called him this morning. Through his own pain, he found the strength to cry for the pain of someone else he loves.

Be strong again, Jack. Your remaining children will get you through this and you will smile again soon.

The Truth DOES Set You Free

Over the years of my adult life I have come to dread the November/December holidays. It is such a stark contrast to the delicious anticipation I experienced as a child and young adult, I almost feel guilty about it. But the truth is that the pressure to have a feast on the table twice in about a month's time; to get the house decorated to feel festive and special; to choose just the right gift for everybody in your life; to write and mail impressive and personalized holiday cards before it's too late; to bake the special cookies and treats; to look like a million bucks on Thanksgiving and Christmas Day, and to pay for it all, is exhausting.

This year, however, has been an extremely pleasant surprise. My regular readers know that I have had some major life-changing events in 2009, most of which have changed drastically my financial status. And because I have chosen to be totally candid about it all, this has been the most carefree holiday season of my adult life! Now I understand the real meaning behind that old "every cloud has a silver lining" adage. Because everybody I know has been made aware of my unemployment, my loss of equity and investments, and the fact that I am old now, with little hope of generating the kind of income I once had, no one is expecting much of anything from me this year. It's liberating!

Whatever I do this year will be straight from my heart. Small gifts have been chosen with great care, so that their relevance to the recipient will be absolutely and instantly obvious. If I choose to skip the obscenely expensive tradition of mailing fancy cards to people I don't even talk to or think about throughout the year, I will do so without the usual concern about what those people might think. (As if they stand by their card collection and discuss the cards they haven't received!) Since it is my turn to host my small family for Christmas dinner, not one of those special people will care if I serve sandwiches or standing rib roast, because they already know I will do what I can.

Several people have remarked about how brave I have been to be so open about my setbacks. At first, I thought I was being brave because I was basically admitting some level of failure, a behavior that I haven't often displayed. But it turns out that by laying it all out there, I gave myself a huge (and free) gift: the time and inclination to think about what is really important about the season. I highly recommend it.

A Day of Complete Gloom

It is raining and has been for nearly 24 hours. It is the kind of rain that just keeps coming down. No wind, no thunder, no lightening; just rain.

The gloom around me mirrors my state of mind. It would be better, today, if I weren't such a news junkie, because then I wouldn't have listened to the President's speech and the subsequent commentary last night, nor would I have watched the morning news. But listen and watch I did.

The President is in such a terrible predicament. He is damned if he does and damned if he doesn't. In order to lay out his Afghanistan initiative, he had to remind us that the people who flew into our buildings and killed 3,000 people had been dispatched from that far away country.
That reminder had the desired effect on me as I sat and tried to actually visualize how many people that really is. It made me angry all over again. We have to do whatever is necessary to prevent such a thing from happening again. We must.

But we have been trying to do that for 8 years straight! We have taken some wrong turns, made some questionable detours into Iraq and under-sourced the Afghanistan forces. The Taliban is stronger than ever and the perpetrators of 9/11 are probably not even in that country anymore. And now we have to deal with Pakistan and the terrorist-haven it has become. So now we have to send reinforcements in to finally get the job done. We must.

But wait a minute. At $1M per troop per year, those 30,000 additional soldiers are not going to pay their own way. How do we pay for this surge? We need money that we don't have to pay for healthcare reform and unemployment benefits and stimulus programs. Where are we going to get MORE money that we don't have? And even if we do what we have been doing to solve all our other enormous problems -- charge it -- who's to say that any of it will actually work? Many have tried and many have failed.

So I woke up this morning feeling the proverbial weight of the world on my aging shoulders and turned on the news. OMG! Now the last hero of our modern world, the icon of golf, the epitome of professionalism and wholesome family values, the pride of Asians and African Americans and all minorities, has fallen on his ass. Another woman -- one with about as much class as the spikes on his work shoes -- has taken him down. What is wrong with these men!? The history of the world is littered with powerful and important men being toppled by their own testosterone. Is it really that overwhelming, that irresistible?

The final light went out of my day when I read my own son's Facebook update and he took a shot at the woman for keeping all those text messages and voicemails in order to set up "another icon." He was probably thinking of Mike Tyson or Kobe Bryant or...
No mention of being disappointed in Tiger's lack of marital integrity or even in his obvious poor choice in paramours. Nope. Once again, blame the harlot, blame the media, blame El Nino, blame anybody or anything but Tiger.

I think I'll go to bed.