(For those of you not familiar - Millie is an elderly neighbor I had for many years that is quite a handful, but during our friendship she has provided me with bare bones wisdom and a lot of laughs as well. I have a Millie blog about once a month .)
November - 1990
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Millie suggested we go Christmas shopping together, so I drove over to pick her up. There she was in the driveway waiting for me, wearing her best black "Sunday" coat with a huge Christmas corsage pinned on it, and a cute white fluffy hat that made her head look like a snowball.
"Nice hat, Millie!" I said.
"Oh thanks but I HAD to wear one! Last week that kid at Walmart's beauty shop butchered what little hair is left on my head! Can't do a damn thing with it!" she scoffed.
I thought we were going to drive to the mall forty-five minutes away to what I called "civilization" but Millie said, "Let's go to the new Super Walmart on the highway. That way I can get pick up some milk too."
Ok. I would have to forget going to the specialty stores at the mall and get whatever I could at Wallyworld.
"You're beating all the crazy crowds by shopping early!" she chimed! "I spent the day at ToysRUs last week so the grandkids are done already too!"
A day. In a toy store. I was glad to have missed that shopping thrill.
"Yep! I'm almost done with my list already. Just a few more items and I start wrapping. Do you have a lot to shop for today, Millie?"
"No, not really. There is a wonderful coffeemaker on sale - today only - so I'm getting that." she replied.
"Really? Today only? That's great. Who are you buying it for?"
"Everyone" she said nodding her head in approval of her answer.
"Everyone? You're buying everyone a coffee maker?" I asked, rather stunned.
"You betcha! It's a great coffeemaker and it's 60% off today only. That's a sure sign to me, you know. I looked thru newspaper ads before you picked me up. So I know what I'm getting everyone. How easy is this?" she said with a twinkle in her eyes.
"What if they don't need a coffeemaker?"
" Well, they can just take it back and get what they want. You know they do that anyway. I used to spend so much time and effort getting everyone some special. It was only special to me evidently. Whatever I bought for whoever, they always asked for the gift receipt "just in case" so I'm saving myself the time and effort. Last year, I bought everyone crock pots. Boy what a close out sale THAT was!" she said grinning with satisfaction.
"Well then, you shouldn't be too long getting just one item. There might still be time today to drive in to the mall!" I said with hope.
I dropped her off in front of the main entrance of the store and drove around looking for a parking space. The store is out in boo-foo, in the middle of corn fields, not in a populated area. But by golly, the parking lot was ALWAYS full. I wondered where all these people came from?
By the time I got into the store, Millie was nowhere to be found. I headed for the small appliances with a big shopping cart, thinking she was getting the coffeemaker(s). Nope, not there.
The trouble with these super sized stores? They are super sized! A complete grocery store coupled with a complete huge discount department store and you are talking a lot of walking!
Millie walks slowly. I figured I'd find her quickly. I did two complete passes from one end of the store to the other, looking down every aisle. No Millie. I tried it again from the middle aisle of the store. I slowed down. I peered slowly up and down, up and down. Millie is short, that doesn't help, but I was looking for that snowball hat she had on as my beacon. I remembered the Christmas corsage on her coat had tiny bells on it. What I wished she had on was a cow bell!
By the time I did a few more laps around the store I realized I was working up a sweat! I also realized I was beginning to have the same panic I had years ago when one of my kids strayed too far in a store. I didn't know if I'd yell at her or hug her when I found her! I wondered about going to customer service and having her paged. I knew she would be pissed. I was about not to care at this point. So I did it. They paged her to come to customer service. I thought about Millie's hearing. It's pretty bad. Especially if she is busy talking to someone when they page her. She talks to everyone! It makes shopping with her take forever! It isn't just store employees she will engage with, oh no, but she will comment to people on what is in their cart, sometimes saying "Oh you'll love this!" but more often than not it is "You are paying double for that - try THIS brand!" She is the Ambassador of something - I haven't figured out of what exactly.
I waited five minutes. They paged again. Nothing. Thoughts of all day in a toy store raced thru my mind. She does that - takes one whole day in a store. I also thought of pictures of missing kids on milk cartons - and now Millie's picture in her hat joining them.
I just sat on the bench by customer service, exhausted. It was forty-five minutes ago when I dropped her off at the front door. The nice man at the service counter asked me if I wanted him to page her again. I said no, don't bother, she isn't listening.
I should know better than to let her off a leash in Walmart. This happened before when we just ran in for a "quick minute" for garden gloves. That trip was four hours! I found her getting her hair done in the attached beauty shop - some impromptu flash of inspiration she had!
So as I laughed to myself, remembering that day, I decided to go check out the beauty shop. She hadn't mentioned getting her hair done and she was wearing a hat today, but ah-ha, here.... she..... comes, sans hat, out of the beauty shop with a big grin on her face as she sees me.
"Just look at these curls!" she beamed. Was the butcher story forgotten?
"Millie, I've been looking all over for you. I had you paged! You never said you were getting your hair done today!" I said like a disapproving parent.
"Oh I didn't PLAN to! You know Lyndee, that sweet girl in there? Well she's pregnant and she won't be back after she has the baby. I went in to say goodbye to her and she looked so sad today. She and her husband are strapped for cash. I thought she needed a tip today so I told her I wanted to have some curls." Millie explained. "She said I just made her day!" she beamed proudly.
"Great Millie. I'm so glad!" Millie is generous and kind. I was wishing she'd just given the girl the money and skipped getting curled up for an hour!
"What's wrong? You look tired! Is this your EMPTY shopping cart? How come it's empty? What have you been doing all this while?" she hammered out.
"Looking for YOU! Now that I found you, let's go get the coffeemaker's." I had decided this was not a good shopping day for me. We went to small appliances and found the sale gem she wanted. 'How many coffeemakers do you want?" I queried as I looked at their inventory.
"Let's get 14! That way if I have a few extra, I can give them to people I hadn't planned on buying something for - you know how that is!"
The store had 9 and we crammed the boxes into the cart, using upper and lower stowage. "Well I need 5 more presents of something or other. Oh look, these mops are on sale today too!"
"Millie, don't cross that line. You are NOT buying mops for gifts!" I teased.
She settled for red candles in a holiday glass, thank heavens. It took another three hours to get her out of the store. We had to look at everything in that store, including the automotive section for no reason except unearthing some unbeatable sale. Into our 2nd cart went several "price plunge" items I'm sure she would never use. I did try to talk her out of the headlight bulbs for her car. She never drives at night to begin with! I thought a previous record for time spent in Walmart was six and a half hours. This day, by comparison, might be a "quickie" of five!
"Christmas is just not what it used to be!" she pouted, on the way home. "I remember waiting excitedly every day for my Christmas catalog from Sears - the Wish Book we called it. The kids were allowed to circle what they wanted, put their initials by the circle and that was that. I always found some little things to wrap up, but that was our Christmas. Now I look around at all these frantic people, rushing, shoving, all stressed out.
Tell me. Do you think they ENJOY themselves? I don't. I think back to having one or two presents a piece at Christmas. Now parents want a whole room full of presents each year for their kids. WAY too much stuff. And we wonder how the world has become so hooked on consumerism, on have accumulations of stuff! We breed it right into our kids. They aren't "satisfied" with one or two really nice gifts. They whine and say "Is this ALL? If my kids had said that, I'd have bopped them!"
She went on and on as we drove home. I had to admit Christmas HAD changed from the ones I remember as a child. Is there any going back? Back to when it wasn't so commercialized? Probably not. And thinking about Millie's stream-lined approach with all the coffeemakers was rather amusing.
"Don't expect a Christmas card from me." she said randomly. "I only send cards to people I don't see, like my friend in Florida. I remember years ago people displayed all the cards they received like it was a popularity contest. They'd frame doorways with them, decorate half the house. I happen to know my sister saved the cards she got every year so she could cover the entire dining room wall. She didn't have THAT many friends! You could find (if you peeked inside the cards) the last 10 years worth of cards I'd sent her! Phony balony!"
"Oh no, you're kidding!"
"No I'm not kidding. Somebody must have told her whoever dies with the most old Christmas cards, wins. That's when I stopped sending cards - about 1968. And now? With the postage? Well it's just ridiculous. I save sending cards for when people are ill. That's when they need the cards. If ya ask me, I'd eliminate the whole card thing. It just makes Mr. Hallmark rich. Did you miss a birthday card from me?"
"No, actually. You took me to lunch and gave me flowers from your yard. It was nice." I said.
"See there. You didn't miss a card!"
"Millie it sounds like you have a simplified Holiday. How about the tree? Are you putting one up this year?"
"Of course! I wheel it out every year, take off the protective sheet, and voila, instant tree." she said proudly.
"Wheel it out???" I asked laughing. Only Millie......
"I had John put casters on the tree stand. Brilliant idea if I do say so myself. I keep the tree in spare bedroom closet, all decorated, and wheel it out for Christmas, then wheel it right back! No fuss, no muss - just done!"
Just as I'm digesting this, and wondering if I had a hiding place for a tree on wheels in MY house, I drove into her driveway. "Uh oh. We forgot the milk - and we left my hat in the beauty shop! We need to go back." she said.
So "we" pulled back out of the driveway and headed back to the store. I knew I would not let her out of the car this time. I had no cow bell.
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Monday, November 30, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Getting a Man's Help!
I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving! This cute story/video is another of Mark Grugor's man vs. woman tales - I thought since so many of us have a long weekend with spouses, this may be a good time for this!
Monday, November 23, 2009
Monkey Goes Bananas on Banana Schpeels
Ok, it's loose and it's everywhere. Nothing serious here but a LOT of wonderment. I call things wonderment when I cannot find an answer to what Monkey is asking - and it's always something! Some things make no sense to me and of course Monkey loves that! Here are just a few pieces of wonderment from this week:
Monkey goes bonkers over commercials on tv, but the one(s) that create a screeching lunatic, are the drug ones. "Tell your doctor you may need_____"
Tell my DOCtor??
Shouldn't he KNOW this stuff?
Why are you, the drug company, telling ME about this? I don't want to hear the list of side effects! They all sound much worse than the stupid condition you are trying to convince me I now have. When did drug companies start this nonsense of trying to sell the public on drugs we can only get thru our doctors anyway? Who let them? Oh yeah, money lets them. Big money, lots of money. How much money do they spend on this tv advertising? How about if they save their money and reduce the cost of the drugs that they are pimping to the world. Then if my DOCTOR decides I really need this drug, I might actually be able to afford it!
Then, another wonderment. WHY do they charge more for products that don't contain salt? Shouldn't it be cheaper with one less ingredient?
WHY, if sugar is so bad for us, do they keep inventing artificial sugar that is nothing but chemicals which are worse for us than the sugar?
I picked up the big Sunday newspaper from the driveway. It was wrapped up in a very colorful bag - unusual, I thought. What's this picture on the bag? It's a picture of kids eating breakfast cereals and a HUGE title above this nice picture "Family Life is BETTER when your kids are HEALTHY!" I can't disagree with that concept - but what is this lump in the plastic bag? Oh my, it's two small trial size free cereals. Hmmm, look at the boxes - they contain what??? Fiber? These are junk cereals. I wouldn't give them to my dog, let alone kids, but these companies are certainly trying to appeal to the parents-without-brains club with this advertising. The cereals are loaded with sugar and filler and nothing nutritious but they have added fiber? This is their new ad campaign? Fiber is the new buzz word? The only fiber is in the cardboard box the cereal comes in! Give me a break!
Monkey is pretty hopped up over the swine flu. Monkey likes pigs? No, it's the controversy. There is a controversy about the swine flu - and the vaccine, do you know about this? There are always two sides to everything we are being told. And I'm sorry, but when the government AND the drug companies team up and DEMAND I get all scared about something, it is time for me and Monkey to investigate. Tune in to the interviews and articles on Mercola.com if you want to hear the "other" side of the story. It is quite compelling. Some astounding statistics about autism - it WAS l in 10,000 kids had it, but now, since we are vaccinating like crazy, it is 1 in 50 kids. Seems like some research and investigating needs to be done here. There is banana schpeel here - something is whacked! Dr. Oz goes on tv and has his shot but doesn't have his wife and kids get one? Really? And the government is threatening to close down Dr. Andrew Weil for saying there are natural alternatives? Maybe the drug companies should bail out the government as long as it is possible they are already sleeping together?
Moving on (before government censure closes up my blog) Monkey is flippin out. Now "she" wrote a book (really?) and it's number one on Amazon - shudders! Does this say that a pretty face, charming personality and folksy expressions trumps intelligence? Monkey contemplates immigration to some banana-land rather than going bananas over the politics that could be here come 2012. Maybe St. Lucia (great bananas there) or Mexico, Panama --- or moving in with Wilma!
Well, now you see why I don't let Monkey out into the blogosphere very often. Monkey tends to question, which is a good thing in a way, but then jumps up and down sort of ranting and screaming a lot of why's. Busy little thing, swinging on branches from tree to tree without a care. Used to drive me NUTS, but I'm settling down to just accepting the entertainment factor these days. The mind cannot be dull with a screamin' monkey!
Deep inside, I know the Universe is operating as it should be. Nothing I say is any more than my (monkey's) opinion anyway. Again, it's all just part of the wonderment.
What is your wonderment about? I'm just wondering......................
Have a divine Thanksgiving!
Monkey goes bonkers over commercials on tv, but the one(s) that create a screeching lunatic, are the drug ones. "Tell your doctor you may need_____"
Tell my DOCtor??
Shouldn't he KNOW this stuff?
Why are you, the drug company, telling ME about this? I don't want to hear the list of side effects! They all sound much worse than the stupid condition you are trying to convince me I now have. When did drug companies start this nonsense of trying to sell the public on drugs we can only get thru our doctors anyway? Who let them? Oh yeah, money lets them. Big money, lots of money. How much money do they spend on this tv advertising? How about if they save their money and reduce the cost of the drugs that they are pimping to the world. Then if my DOCTOR decides I really need this drug, I might actually be able to afford it!
Then, another wonderment. WHY do they charge more for products that don't contain salt? Shouldn't it be cheaper with one less ingredient?
WHY, if sugar is so bad for us, do they keep inventing artificial sugar that is nothing but chemicals which are worse for us than the sugar?
I picked up the big Sunday newspaper from the driveway. It was wrapped up in a very colorful bag - unusual, I thought. What's this picture on the bag? It's a picture of kids eating breakfast cereals and a HUGE title above this nice picture "Family Life is BETTER when your kids are HEALTHY!" I can't disagree with that concept - but what is this lump in the plastic bag? Oh my, it's two small trial size free cereals. Hmmm, look at the boxes - they contain what??? Fiber? These are junk cereals. I wouldn't give them to my dog, let alone kids, but these companies are certainly trying to appeal to the parents-without-brains club with this advertising. The cereals are loaded with sugar and filler and nothing nutritious but they have added fiber? This is their new ad campaign? Fiber is the new buzz word? The only fiber is in the cardboard box the cereal comes in! Give me a break!
Monkey is pretty hopped up over the swine flu. Monkey likes pigs? No, it's the controversy. There is a controversy about the swine flu - and the vaccine, do you know about this? There are always two sides to everything we are being told. And I'm sorry, but when the government AND the drug companies team up and DEMAND I get all scared about something, it is time for me and Monkey to investigate. Tune in to the interviews and articles on Mercola.com if you want to hear the "other" side of the story. It is quite compelling. Some astounding statistics about autism - it WAS l in 10,000 kids had it, but now, since we are vaccinating like crazy, it is 1 in 50 kids. Seems like some research and investigating needs to be done here. There is banana schpeel here - something is whacked! Dr. Oz goes on tv and has his shot but doesn't have his wife and kids get one? Really? And the government is threatening to close down Dr. Andrew Weil for saying there are natural alternatives? Maybe the drug companies should bail out the government as long as it is possible they are already sleeping together?
Moving on (before government censure closes up my blog) Monkey is flippin out. Now "she" wrote a book (really?) and it's number one on Amazon - shudders! Does this say that a pretty face, charming personality and folksy expressions trumps intelligence? Monkey contemplates immigration to some banana-land rather than going bananas over the politics that could be here come 2012. Maybe St. Lucia (great bananas there) or Mexico, Panama --- or moving in with Wilma!
Well, now you see why I don't let Monkey out into the blogosphere very often. Monkey tends to question, which is a good thing in a way, but then jumps up and down sort of ranting and screaming a lot of why's. Busy little thing, swinging on branches from tree to tree without a care. Used to drive me NUTS, but I'm settling down to just accepting the entertainment factor these days. The mind cannot be dull with a screamin' monkey!
Deep inside, I know the Universe is operating as it should be. Nothing I say is any more than my (monkey's) opinion anyway. Again, it's all just part of the wonderment.
What is your wonderment about? I'm just wondering......................
Have a divine Thanksgiving!
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Imagination Breaks A Sweat
.
You can just as easily imagine your success as you can failure.
What?
You can just as easily imagine your success as you can failure.
Seriously?
Yes.
How does that work?
How do you want it to work?
What?
Well do you want to imagine success?
Hell, yes! Who doesn't?
Lots of people SAY they want success but they don't IMAGINE it.
I read that first line somewhere - sorry I don't remember where or when, some stuff just sticks - and I thought oh how true this is! So what may get in the way of imagining success? Could it be the "f" words? (shhhh, fear and failure?) We all have a lot to say about it, don't we?
Well what if we go forward and say it doesn't exist? What if we realize that it's all made garbage and we are going to make the choice of disposing of it like we do our garbage?
Then we are stuck with success. Uh oh. And just what is that thing called success anyway? And how do you measure that? Is it a good feeling inside or a lot of money in the bank or your face on the cover of People magazine? If we can't define it, how do we aim for it, plan for it, dream of it?
I shared in my two part "Tears of Fears" blog posts how passion and the absolute belief in what you are saying/doing leads to success. I could not have planned or imagined anything that happened to me. All I had was fierce determination to stay positive, unwavering faith in the human spirit, and a desire to help others. Honestly, I knew what I wanted - not for my entire life, but just at that moment in time. I knew what I wanted and I was clear about it and went with the flow never questioning the outcome.
Here is a video - please stay to listen to it! Listening to the Abraham tapes over the years preceding my "Tears of Fears" was a foundation that sustained me then, and now. This is a segment that was done for "The Secret" but not included in it. Let these words in, and feel the hug I am giving to each one of you! And my deepest thanks to all the commentors over the last two blogs - your warm support is a monumental blessing to me! Thank you!!!
You can just as easily imagine your success as you can failure.
What?
You can just as easily imagine your success as you can failure.
Seriously?
Yes.
How does that work?
How do you want it to work?
What?
Well do you want to imagine success?
Hell, yes! Who doesn't?
Lots of people SAY they want success but they don't IMAGINE it.
I read that first line somewhere - sorry I don't remember where or when, some stuff just sticks - and I thought oh how true this is! So what may get in the way of imagining success? Could it be the "f" words? (shhhh, fear and failure?) We all have a lot to say about it, don't we?
Well what if we go forward and say it doesn't exist? What if we realize that it's all made garbage and we are going to make the choice of disposing of it like we do our garbage?
Then we are stuck with success. Uh oh. And just what is that thing called success anyway? And how do you measure that? Is it a good feeling inside or a lot of money in the bank or your face on the cover of People magazine? If we can't define it, how do we aim for it, plan for it, dream of it?
I shared in my two part "Tears of Fears" blog posts how passion and the absolute belief in what you are saying/doing leads to success. I could not have planned or imagined anything that happened to me. All I had was fierce determination to stay positive, unwavering faith in the human spirit, and a desire to help others. Honestly, I knew what I wanted - not for my entire life, but just at that moment in time. I knew what I wanted and I was clear about it and went with the flow never questioning the outcome.
Here is a video - please stay to listen to it! Listening to the Abraham tapes over the years preceding my "Tears of Fears" was a foundation that sustained me then, and now. This is a segment that was done for "The Secret" but not included in it. Let these words in, and feel the hug I am giving to each one of you! And my deepest thanks to all the commentors over the last two blogs - your warm support is a monumental blessing to me! Thank you!!!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Tears of Fears - Part 2 - The Candle in the Window
It's hard to describe a year in one post - especially a drama filled one. This is but a small sampling and yet it proves that one is never really alone, unless it's your choice of course.
After spending the first few days after Garrett's deployment in a sea of wails alone, I honestly knew I needed something, someone to share this worry with, and I thought of all the other moms/wives at Ft. Campbell. They were, no doubt, in equally devastated shape. For one day we were family as we wordlessly hugged, offering kleenex, pats on shoulders and that deep look of understanding. THAT'S what I needed. That sense of community, of family, of knowing my anguish and sleepless nights were understood.
I called a writer at the local paper I used to write for and told her I needed to start a support group for military families. I refused to believe I was the only one in a town of 150,000 that had somebody in the military. I was also insistent on creating a yellow ribbon campaign, not just in our town, but everywhere. And since I think in threes (don't ask, I just do) the third thing was to organize a Support Our Troops rally. My email address and home phone number were printed up in a wonderful article within days! If you build it, they will come, I heard. Light the candle in the window and let i's light shine, let its glow bring him home.
The first day it was in the local paper I received six calls - all moms in the same boat I was in.
I hastily set up a a meeting at my house. It felt wonderful to be connected, if only by our worrying/grief. To know you are not all alone, well, it's priceless.
The day after the story ran, I went on the computer to see over 300 emails! Holy crap, they were from everywhere, like the whole country! What I didn't realize, at that moment, was the article in the local paper was picked up by Associated Press! It went National! (Be careful what you wish for pops in my head when I think back to this!)
At this time (March 2003) there were some pretty nasty anti-war protests going on and they were garnering a lot of press. A lot of people questioning this invasion of Iraq and screaming pretty loudly. And I had nodded a promise to my son, not to do this, not to protest and by golly, it was tempting, but I held fast to the promise. It was the least I could do for him! And the media, being the media, loves contrast, loves bleeding heart stories and dramas, loves to USE people. I'm not naive, I know this and I thought I'd turn it around and I would use THEM to get out the message: Support the Troops! Cover the earth with yellow ribbons and rally for them.
There was a media stream in my house like you wouldn't believe - cameras outside of our home (the front yard decorated with flags and yellow ribbons, candle in the window that burned for a year) and I was on CBS, NBC, ABC, FOX, CNN for months. They were coming in with camera equipment, interviewing me, my family, others from the newly formed support group IF I could get them to come over - it was insane. I became the positive message in contrast to the protesters. They seemed fascinated by the fact I would NOT disclose my political views (I even stopped an interview with Peter Jennings on remote camera because he was insisting I commit one way or the other) but I held steadfast to my one and only theme, my nodded promise: Support Our Troops.
Whenever anything happened, they called me for a reaction. When someone in Illinois was killed, they called me. Did I know them? Were they in "my" support group? They gave me their cell numbers, home numbers, email addresses! You cannot believe how well connected to media I became. ( During the year I did use those numbers, when I wanted something covered, the best, of course, was the filming of my son coming HOME!)
All of this was going on as the support group we called "Family Vigil" grew to 80 families from around the Chicago area. Weekly meetings were moved to a church because we'd long outgrown my house. We went round table, everyone having a turn to update the group on whatever communication they'd had, or not, what questions they had (usually "Have you gotten a letter YET?"). You see, for months we had (and I mean the entire group) very little communication with the soldiers. We kept attendance with a log-in book. We were all quite fragile and if somebody missed a meeting, they got a phone from me to see how they were. It was a time of caring, nurturing, loving. I held monthly pot-luck dinners at my house and we had outings throughout the year to just get out and have fun - golf outings, girls antique shopping, even a girls weekend at our lake house over the summer to get away. And still the candle burned in the window.
We were all one. A family. We all agreed it was fantastic to be together - people at work, neighbors, relatives, etc. really didn't know what to say to us after awhile, and sometimes avoided us, lest we cry, God forbid, at the grocery store. Our group made big plastic buttons with pictures of our military person in them and wore them everywhere! We made little yellow ribbon pins, wore flag pins too - we looked like Boy Scouts with their badges. It was our way of saying : "I'm proud!!! But I'm Scared!"
It was a year of no sleep. I had a love/hate relationship with the news on tv - I was addicted partly because I was desperately trying to figure out where my son was! I found two embedded reporters to follow on line and altho they were close to my sons company, they weren't in it. One tried to find him for me, but Garrett's company kept moving. I have to tell you, the "foreign" media was accurate and honest - much more than ours as time went on and the embedded's left.
The 300 emails a day I got at the beginning slowly went down to a dribble of only 50 - 100 a day. I answered every one of them. Most were cheering me on - doing yellow ribbons in their towns or holding Support Our Troops rallies and writing to tell me about them. I printed out hundreds of them and sent them in my first box of goodies when I got an address for Garrett. He told me they meant so much - as did the pictures of town, and the park near our house with all yellow ribbons in his honor. Neighbors decorated the entire park, I don't know who, but I cried every time I drove by! Friends of Garrett's did all the trees on our block. For a time there was not a store for 50 miles of here that had any yellow ribbon left! I smiled at that - success!!! Undaunted, we cut up yellow plastic tablecloths and distributed "ribbons" everywhere we went. You can stop a lot of things, but don't mess with military moms on a mission! The VFW had a huge rally, exactly one month after I put that "out there" in the original newspaper article!
The other emails I received were military families like ours looking to bond or start support groups and wanted to know HOW to. I helped and encouraged all that I could. I didn't have any experience with this. Each meeting I was flying by the seat of my pants, merely facilitating, not leading. I just knew how to hug! I tried hard to get others to participate in some of the TV interviews but they shied away and said I was the spokesperson. It plum wore me out! I was on TV with no sleep, most of the time no make-up. (I cringe now!) I never turned them down though. I wanted the positive message out there and I figured as long as I still had a voice left in me, they would hear it! It was mutual "use".
I had no idea how my simple idea(s) would mushroom - who knew A/P would pick this up? In April I got a call from the producers at Oprah. I told them I wouldn't go on the show unless I could bring the entire support group. This isn't about ME. I am only one of THEM. They said no. I said goodbye. Sorry. I just didn't care. Even though I was using the media to promote Support the Troops, there were moments of sheer weariness. I had 6 a.m. radio interviews, never a week without cameras in my face, reporters from the papers at the front door, and I was up all night hunting news, answering emails. I let it go. Then, of course, the next day they call back and say OK, they will send limo's to my house for it, but they wanted to come film. I figured the gals in the group would get a charge out of going to an Oprah show. A little diversion, eh? So I said alright, let's do this too.
The film crew came at 8 am. - they left a 6 pm! So much for spontaneity and being REAL - everything is staged, rehearsed, rehashed and if a car drove by, the sound man said do it over! All this for a minute, twenty seconds on the screen. Ugh, pure Hollywood. This wasn't at all real like the other interviews I did. At the show (April 15, 2003) I was taken to the green room for make-up. Then a little assistant came in to coach me. I'm not to talk to Oprah unless she asks me a question, I'm only to answer exactly and yadayada. I just looked at her. She was serious. I don't think she knows me, I thought. I am not the least bit a pee-in-the-pants star struck person. I've met celebrities. They are people. Rich and famous, but people, not gods. I told the assistant I would respect Ms. O and I expected the same. She left looking nervous. I greeted O with "Hi, nice to meet you! Oooo, great shoes!" I think it was at that moment the little assistant was the one peeing in her pants!
The show was all Hollywood and staged. It was different, and interesting. Nothing felt genuine. What I came away with was "Gee, I'm taller than Oprah", and a limo ride and lunch out with the wives and other moms I came to cherish as family. Oh, and a souvenir coffee mug that says "Oprah". I thought that was it.
Not so much. There is a whole side story to the visit. "My" segment on the show was very brief and squeezed in at the end. Long story short, the power of O found Garrett in Iraq, in the middle of a war zone, got him a phone, but the call never went thru! They could have told me. They could have held me over in the green room after the show to put the call thru - IF it wasn't all about "the show", IF they really cared about what the hell they were doing. I got an email (the first!) from Garrett later that day saying he was in a tent with a phone (which was a RARITY during the invasion) and all his buddies and they were waiting for "your new BFF Oprah" to call and connect us.
He was crushed beyond belief - a tease - an embarrassment to him to singled out and all this hoopla for absolutely nothing! I was livid! Don't mess with my kid in a war zone! Mess with ME - not HIM. I did what any other furious mother would do - I sent an email to every army base FRG group and every person in my address book and told them what happened. I had never asked for anything, never expected a call, nothing. But they messed around with my son, teasing him with a call in the middle of a war - a call THEY thought would evidently be cool for the show. When there wasn't time for it to be ON the show, well, oh well. Too bad. It was the principal of the thing I was so mad about. That they messed with him emotionally at that place and time was intolerable!
There was quite a response. The O producers were busy doing damage control! I was getting emails from all over the country that the O producers were calling people to apologize for the "misunderstanding". It took them exactly one month - they put together a call for me and Garrett - May 15th - first time I heard his voice since saying goodbye in February. I don't know if it ever made it up to Garrett. No one but ME apologized to him for that. He'd spent the night in the tent with the phone, waiting. But at least it finally produced a call and for that I am grateful. Looking back, I sure could have skipped the O experience, especially knowing what it did to him! Had I known, I would have never agreed to any of it. In the end, only the call mattered to me. And I seriously doubt if O knew any of this was going on - at least I would like to think she didn't!
There were many people who saw the yellow ribbons as support for the WAR, not the troops. They could not distinguish the difference. One such woman created a controvery over this by taking down all the yellow ribbons in our downtown area. She was arrested. We had secured permission from the Mayor and the City Council at the beginning. It was one of the more aggravating things our group went through and one of the reasons I continued using the media as they used me - keeping politics out of it and supporting "our" sons.
One night, at 3 am. I heard the doorbell ring and knocking on the door. Oh God NO! I dashed out of bed, ran down the stairs in a stupor so fast I nearly fell, quickly unlocked the door ---- and opened it to see nothing but the empty night! No car. No uniformed "messengers". I collapsed in a heap on the floor crying. I'd had the nightmare ---- again.
Again, I was not alone. We all lived like that. Nightmares and fears that were hard to admit - except to each other. We aren't meant to go thru times like this alone, I really believe that. The group nurtured itself and in many ways, made deployments a bit easier to take. The group I created is actually still going to this day. After two years, I turned over the reigns. I'd become ill, was going to have surgery, and needed to de-stress fast! The support group serves a purpose since there are always new members, wives or moms, facing a long deployment. People helping people. It's a beautiful thing.
Garrett was due home from Iraq in October. He gave his spot up for a guy who's wife was having a baby. Then he was due in November. He gave up spot again for some guy who had a very sick parent. He made it home 5 days before Christmas! I counted his fingers and toes - it was all of him - thin, cracked skin, tan, covered in desert dust. He never looked so good me!
And finally,
the tears were happy ones! The candle in the window did it's job!
After spending the first few days after Garrett's deployment in a sea of wails alone, I honestly knew I needed something, someone to share this worry with, and I thought of all the other moms/wives at Ft. Campbell. They were, no doubt, in equally devastated shape. For one day we were family as we wordlessly hugged, offering kleenex, pats on shoulders and that deep look of understanding. THAT'S what I needed. That sense of community, of family, of knowing my anguish and sleepless nights were understood.
I called a writer at the local paper I used to write for and told her I needed to start a support group for military families. I refused to believe I was the only one in a town of 150,000 that had somebody in the military. I was also insistent on creating a yellow ribbon campaign, not just in our town, but everywhere. And since I think in threes (don't ask, I just do) the third thing was to organize a Support Our Troops rally. My email address and home phone number were printed up in a wonderful article within days! If you build it, they will come, I heard. Light the candle in the window and let i's light shine, let its glow bring him home.
The first day it was in the local paper I received six calls - all moms in the same boat I was in.
I hastily set up a a meeting at my house. It felt wonderful to be connected, if only by our worrying/grief. To know you are not all alone, well, it's priceless.
The day after the story ran, I went on the computer to see over 300 emails! Holy crap, they were from everywhere, like the whole country! What I didn't realize, at that moment, was the article in the local paper was picked up by Associated Press! It went National! (Be careful what you wish for pops in my head when I think back to this!)
At this time (March 2003) there were some pretty nasty anti-war protests going on and they were garnering a lot of press. A lot of people questioning this invasion of Iraq and screaming pretty loudly. And I had nodded a promise to my son, not to do this, not to protest and by golly, it was tempting, but I held fast to the promise. It was the least I could do for him! And the media, being the media, loves contrast, loves bleeding heart stories and dramas, loves to USE people. I'm not naive, I know this and I thought I'd turn it around and I would use THEM to get out the message: Support the Troops! Cover the earth with yellow ribbons and rally for them.
There was a media stream in my house like you wouldn't believe - cameras outside of our home (the front yard decorated with flags and yellow ribbons, candle in the window that burned for a year) and I was on CBS, NBC, ABC, FOX, CNN for months. They were coming in with camera equipment, interviewing me, my family, others from the newly formed support group IF I could get them to come over - it was insane. I became the positive message in contrast to the protesters. They seemed fascinated by the fact I would NOT disclose my political views (I even stopped an interview with Peter Jennings on remote camera because he was insisting I commit one way or the other) but I held steadfast to my one and only theme, my nodded promise: Support Our Troops.
Whenever anything happened, they called me for a reaction. When someone in Illinois was killed, they called me. Did I know them? Were they in "my" support group? They gave me their cell numbers, home numbers, email addresses! You cannot believe how well connected to media I became. ( During the year I did use those numbers, when I wanted something covered, the best, of course, was the filming of my son coming HOME!)
All of this was going on as the support group we called "Family Vigil" grew to 80 families from around the Chicago area. Weekly meetings were moved to a church because we'd long outgrown my house. We went round table, everyone having a turn to update the group on whatever communication they'd had, or not, what questions they had (usually "Have you gotten a letter YET?"). You see, for months we had (and I mean the entire group) very little communication with the soldiers. We kept attendance with a log-in book. We were all quite fragile and if somebody missed a meeting, they got a phone from me to see how they were. It was a time of caring, nurturing, loving. I held monthly pot-luck dinners at my house and we had outings throughout the year to just get out and have fun - golf outings, girls antique shopping, even a girls weekend at our lake house over the summer to get away. And still the candle burned in the window.
We were all one. A family. We all agreed it was fantastic to be together - people at work, neighbors, relatives, etc. really didn't know what to say to us after awhile, and sometimes avoided us, lest we cry, God forbid, at the grocery store. Our group made big plastic buttons with pictures of our military person in them and wore them everywhere! We made little yellow ribbon pins, wore flag pins too - we looked like Boy Scouts with their badges. It was our way of saying : "I'm proud!!! But I'm Scared!"
It was a year of no sleep. I had a love/hate relationship with the news on tv - I was addicted partly because I was desperately trying to figure out where my son was! I found two embedded reporters to follow on line and altho they were close to my sons company, they weren't in it. One tried to find him for me, but Garrett's company kept moving. I have to tell you, the "foreign" media was accurate and honest - much more than ours as time went on and the embedded's left.
The 300 emails a day I got at the beginning slowly went down to a dribble of only 50 - 100 a day. I answered every one of them. Most were cheering me on - doing yellow ribbons in their towns or holding Support Our Troops rallies and writing to tell me about them. I printed out hundreds of them and sent them in my first box of goodies when I got an address for Garrett. He told me they meant so much - as did the pictures of town, and the park near our house with all yellow ribbons in his honor. Neighbors decorated the entire park, I don't know who, but I cried every time I drove by! Friends of Garrett's did all the trees on our block. For a time there was not a store for 50 miles of here that had any yellow ribbon left! I smiled at that - success!!! Undaunted, we cut up yellow plastic tablecloths and distributed "ribbons" everywhere we went. You can stop a lot of things, but don't mess with military moms on a mission! The VFW had a huge rally, exactly one month after I put that "out there" in the original newspaper article!
The other emails I received were military families like ours looking to bond or start support groups and wanted to know HOW to. I helped and encouraged all that I could. I didn't have any experience with this. Each meeting I was flying by the seat of my pants, merely facilitating, not leading. I just knew how to hug! I tried hard to get others to participate in some of the TV interviews but they shied away and said I was the spokesperson. It plum wore me out! I was on TV with no sleep, most of the time no make-up. (I cringe now!) I never turned them down though. I wanted the positive message out there and I figured as long as I still had a voice left in me, they would hear it! It was mutual "use".
I had no idea how my simple idea(s) would mushroom - who knew A/P would pick this up? In April I got a call from the producers at Oprah. I told them I wouldn't go on the show unless I could bring the entire support group. This isn't about ME. I am only one of THEM. They said no. I said goodbye. Sorry. I just didn't care. Even though I was using the media to promote Support the Troops, there were moments of sheer weariness. I had 6 a.m. radio interviews, never a week without cameras in my face, reporters from the papers at the front door, and I was up all night hunting news, answering emails. I let it go. Then, of course, the next day they call back and say OK, they will send limo's to my house for it, but they wanted to come film. I figured the gals in the group would get a charge out of going to an Oprah show. A little diversion, eh? So I said alright, let's do this too.
The film crew came at 8 am. - they left a 6 pm! So much for spontaneity and being REAL - everything is staged, rehearsed, rehashed and if a car drove by, the sound man said do it over! All this for a minute, twenty seconds on the screen. Ugh, pure Hollywood. This wasn't at all real like the other interviews I did. At the show (April 15, 2003) I was taken to the green room for make-up. Then a little assistant came in to coach me. I'm not to talk to Oprah unless she asks me a question, I'm only to answer exactly and yadayada. I just looked at her. She was serious. I don't think she knows me, I thought. I am not the least bit a pee-in-the-pants star struck person. I've met celebrities. They are people. Rich and famous, but people, not gods. I told the assistant I would respect Ms. O and I expected the same. She left looking nervous. I greeted O with "Hi, nice to meet you! Oooo, great shoes!" I think it was at that moment the little assistant was the one peeing in her pants!
The show was all Hollywood and staged. It was different, and interesting. Nothing felt genuine. What I came away with was "Gee, I'm taller than Oprah", and a limo ride and lunch out with the wives and other moms I came to cherish as family. Oh, and a souvenir coffee mug that says "Oprah". I thought that was it.
Not so much. There is a whole side story to the visit. "My" segment on the show was very brief and squeezed in at the end. Long story short, the power of O found Garrett in Iraq, in the middle of a war zone, got him a phone, but the call never went thru! They could have told me. They could have held me over in the green room after the show to put the call thru - IF it wasn't all about "the show", IF they really cared about what the hell they were doing. I got an email (the first!) from Garrett later that day saying he was in a tent with a phone (which was a RARITY during the invasion) and all his buddies and they were waiting for "your new BFF Oprah" to call and connect us.
He was crushed beyond belief - a tease - an embarrassment to him to singled out and all this hoopla for absolutely nothing! I was livid! Don't mess with my kid in a war zone! Mess with ME - not HIM. I did what any other furious mother would do - I sent an email to every army base FRG group and every person in my address book and told them what happened. I had never asked for anything, never expected a call, nothing. But they messed around with my son, teasing him with a call in the middle of a war - a call THEY thought would evidently be cool for the show. When there wasn't time for it to be ON the show, well, oh well. Too bad. It was the principal of the thing I was so mad about. That they messed with him emotionally at that place and time was intolerable!
There was quite a response. The O producers were busy doing damage control! I was getting emails from all over the country that the O producers were calling people to apologize for the "misunderstanding". It took them exactly one month - they put together a call for me and Garrett - May 15th - first time I heard his voice since saying goodbye in February. I don't know if it ever made it up to Garrett. No one but ME apologized to him for that. He'd spent the night in the tent with the phone, waiting. But at least it finally produced a call and for that I am grateful. Looking back, I sure could have skipped the O experience, especially knowing what it did to him! Had I known, I would have never agreed to any of it. In the end, only the call mattered to me. And I seriously doubt if O knew any of this was going on - at least I would like to think she didn't!
There were many people who saw the yellow ribbons as support for the WAR, not the troops. They could not distinguish the difference. One such woman created a controvery over this by taking down all the yellow ribbons in our downtown area. She was arrested. We had secured permission from the Mayor and the City Council at the beginning. It was one of the more aggravating things our group went through and one of the reasons I continued using the media as they used me - keeping politics out of it and supporting "our" sons.
One night, at 3 am. I heard the doorbell ring and knocking on the door. Oh God NO! I dashed out of bed, ran down the stairs in a stupor so fast I nearly fell, quickly unlocked the door ---- and opened it to see nothing but the empty night! No car. No uniformed "messengers". I collapsed in a heap on the floor crying. I'd had the nightmare ---- again.
Again, I was not alone. We all lived like that. Nightmares and fears that were hard to admit - except to each other. We aren't meant to go thru times like this alone, I really believe that. The group nurtured itself and in many ways, made deployments a bit easier to take. The group I created is actually still going to this day. After two years, I turned over the reigns. I'd become ill, was going to have surgery, and needed to de-stress fast! The support group serves a purpose since there are always new members, wives or moms, facing a long deployment. People helping people. It's a beautiful thing.
Garrett was due home from Iraq in October. He gave his spot up for a guy who's wife was having a baby. Then he was due in November. He gave up spot again for some guy who had a very sick parent. He made it home 5 days before Christmas! I counted his fingers and toes - it was all of him - thin, cracked skin, tan, covered in desert dust. He never looked so good me!
And finally,
the tears were happy ones! The candle in the window did it's job!
Saturday, November 14, 2009
One - A Hopi Prayer and Bono - Awesome Combo!
.
This video is slightly longer than the ususal - a whole five minutes here - but worth it! A beautiful Hopi prayer is the beginning and the ending is U2 - The combination of these took me by surprise but it is delightful!
Oneness - a theme that is is repeatedly written about in many blogs.
Oneness - a "concept" we are challenged to GET.
Oneness - a goal.
Have yourselves a delightful weekend!
This video is slightly longer than the ususal - a whole five minutes here - but worth it! A beautiful Hopi prayer is the beginning and the ending is U2 - The combination of these took me by surprise but it is delightful!
Oneness - a theme that is is repeatedly written about in many blogs.
Oneness - a "concept" we are challenged to GET.
Oneness - a goal.
Have yourselves a delightful weekend!
Monday, November 9, 2009
Tears of Fears - Veterans Day & Personal Story
This week's post is in honor of Veterans Day - and a special salute to the Veteran in our family, our son ,Garrett , who served for six years in the U.S. Army - first with the 101 Airborne unit in Iraq, and later with the 10th Mountain unit in Afghanistan, as a crew chief on Chinook helicopters.
To ALL Veterans - and their families - THANK YOU! Your sacrifices in your service to this country are SO appreciated. I humbly honor all those who serve, and all the families as well! The recent event at Ft. Hood is devasting and my heart and prayers go out to all those touched by this senseless horror.
Being a military family for six years was not easy. I decided to write a post about it. Then I wondered why? Was it cathartic, healing? I've never blogged about it.. Does it serve a purpose? I debated hitting publish. It is intensely personal and not my "normal" kind of blog post. And yet, something tells me to let this rip. Maybe there is something you need to know - I don't really know.
Perhaps you have not been involved with the military and the emotional cost of the war on a personal level. Perhaps you only see news bites of the departures and arrivals of soldiers. Perhaps this WILL serve a purpose - maybe you may reach out and hug that neighbor who's son is deployed. Maybe you will offer child care, or cut grass/shovel snow for the gal down the street raising her kids alone for a year while her husband is gone.
It is not for me to be attached to the outcome. It is pouring out of me at this time for some reason I do not need to know. This is the story of one day. There are thousands of stories out there. And many tears.
I will never forget February 26,2003. Or the following good-bye day.
My son, Garrett, called at 7:30 a.m. from Ft. Campbell, Kentucky to say he was leaving for Iraq the next day so we had less than 24 hours to go say goodbye to him. We knew this was coming. He told us to be on alert for his call since early January. It is a 7 hour drive to Ft. Campbell from our house. I sent a text to my daughter at school, called my husband at work, arranged for pet care, and the three of us deployed out of here, hastily packed for a quick overnight trip, by 10:00 am.
The drive down was a blur of thoughts and knitting needles furiously creating an afghan to keep my hands busy, and to keep me from jumping out of the car, truth be told.
Garrett enlisted right after 9-11, at age 19 after one year of college at an aviation school. I begged him not to go. I knew there was going to be a war. I tried to tell him at least to go into the Air Force (aviation!), not the Army, four years, not SIX. I lost that battle too. He signed up for six years with the Army. The die had been cast. War was coming, I knew it, and he would be going. I planned a good-bye party for him before he left for basic training. I was planning this as I attended the memorial for my best friend's daughter. She was in the Pentagon plane! The grief was so compounded. I tried my best to be supportive for my son's decision tho my heart was breaking for my friend, and selfishly for me at having to give up my one and only son to godonlyknew WHAT. It would be war. I couldn't help feeling the memorial I was attending as a friend grieved the loss of her eldest child was practice for me.
The conversation in the car driving down there for the three of us was interrupted with one or the other of us crying and wondering how in the hell we can do this. How do you say goodbye? This isn't a son leaving for college. This is a son leaving for a war! Where do you find the courage for war?
Especially this war. Iraq? Aren't we looking for Bin Laden in Afghanistan? Isn't that where the "bad guys" are that pulled off the 9-11 disaster? Iraq? Invading that country for what??? To find weapons of mass destruction we were being told.
My mind flipped back to Viet Nam. The war for........what the hell was that about? Keeping South Viet Nam from the Communists we were told. I spent 3 years at Fort Rucker, Alabama with my first husband. We saw friends leave and never come back. We saw some come back without wholeness. We saw some come back mental messes. Yes. We saw. We saw families fall apart with grief and despair. We were treated like villians, spat on and viciously verbally abused when we went anywhere off-post. If anyone in town saw me driving our car with an Army sticker from Ft. Rucker on it, I was considered one of "them", the bad guys. If my then-husband was with me, it was worse!
And now I'm going to go say goodbye to my son. My son. My only son. His entire childhood flashed through my mind, every detail of it, every laugh, every adventure, every tear. He's going off to some country that has weapons of mass destruction, godonlyknows what else, and I have to say goodbye. I didn't know HOW. HOW does a mother who has protected her child for his entire life let him go to war?
Our arrival at Ft. Campbell, the home of the 101st Airborne, was in time for dinner. We joked. We took pictures. We filled him with a great steak dinner. Mom's do that. They feed their young for voyages, adventures, long trips. I was feeding him for war. It felt awful. I couldn't eat. I was too busy choking on tears that I couldn't show. Not now. Not at dinner. We stayed together until nearly 11pm. and arranged to meet at 3 am. for "deployment". The army sets crazy times for things. Crazy times, crazy lines. Hurry up and wait is the theme.
Our hotel was on the opposite side of town. We were lucky to have a room at all. Ft. Campbell was sending over 20,000 troops out. There were other families in town to say goodbye too. I stayed in my clothes. It was only three hours and I really did not sleep. No, I was busy. I was telling myself how brave we had to be at 3 am. We shouldn't have bothered with a room at a hotel at all. We three laid on the beds in our clothes. We didn't speak. But we didn't sleep.
At 3 am. we picked him up at his barracks, loaded a ton of gear into our car and drove to the airfield. There were huge containers for the gear - all with numbers on them. Garrett found the one he was assigned to and put most of his bags into it. Then we went into a building and waited in a long line. It gave him the opportunity to introduce us to a lot of his friends. We were all faking socialability - nervous laughter and a tight grasp on the inner emotional turmoil, lest it spill out.
"What's this line for?" I asked.
"Paperwork." he said. It was then that he told us about the preceding days. He made out a will. He took out more life insurance. He left it all to us. WHAT???? I have no idea how I kept from fainting.
After nearly an hour, we left to go to another building. Another long line.
"What's this line for?" I asked.
"Meds." he said.
They distributed ziplock bags full of medications that were to be the LIFE-saving antibodies against the various chemical attacks they may encounter - small injection meds, all color-coded. He and a few friends were looking at them.
"Is the purple one the one for anthrax?" one asked.
"No. That's the orange one." said another.
"No. The orange one is for..........."
"Good God," I said "Don't you guys KNOW???"
They all laughed. Nervous laughter.
"Don't worry, Mrs. B, we'll get a refresher course on this stuff on the plane" I was told.
Well that sure made me feel better now, didn't it? We left that building for another one, another line. I noticed walking over to the third building that the sun was up now. Hours were passing by, tick-tock, tick-tock. Was I really awake or is this a nightmare?
"What's this line for?" I asked.
"Rifles." he said.
I gulped, swallowed hard, told myself to breathe.
Rifles. Nothing like seeing your son in combat camo being issued a rifle. My heart stopped. I had a policy when I raised this child. No guns. He never had one til he turned 16 and bought a beebee gun in Wisconsin to do target practice on the old shed at the lake house. I remember teasing him and calling him our G.I.Joe back then. He was a sharp shooter. Who knew? It didn't surprise me to learn he'd become a certified sharp shooter in the Army.
As we left that building and headed toward the airport hangar with his friends I over-heard them grousing about the rifles, how they were in bad condition, probably they would work or no, you don't think this is jammed?! I didn't need to hear that. My tears were in my throat! My husband and daughter holding my hands as we walked, all of us squeezing our fingers trying to find an ounce of strength to give one another. It wasn't there. We were collectively crumbling.
We walked into a huge hangar with hundreds and hundreds of people, some in groups with families, others just groups of friends. It was eerily quiet for that many people. Very hushed. I looked around at the faces. I sensed something palpable in the air. And then it hit me. It was the unmistakable smell of fear. I saw it on the faces, though the soldiers were all trying to be brave. I saw it in their eyes. They are leaving for an invasion of a country with potential deadly stuff in the air, for which, of course, they are "prepared" with their color-coded crap nobody knows for sure what is what! Stay calm.
There was an announcement we had 10 minutes until the soldiers were to be in formation and all civilians had to leave. I was numb. I couldn't see well at this point thru the tears that had welled up in my eyes. Inside I was SCREAMING - this is insane! These soldiers are being sent to a potential desert slaughter with chemical warfare! What is the war about? Why are we doing this? They are going to the wrong place!!! They are CREATING a war - what????
I was snapped out of it. My son came up to me and gave me the hug of his life. I blubbered. I hugged him back with all my might. "You be safe now," I choked out between the tears. "Please come back to me!" I whispered in his ear. It was out before I could bite my tongue. He backed away from the embrace so he could get something out of his pocket. His cell phone. He gave it to me. "I had it turned off at 6 am. this morning. It's on suspension. Pay the bill when it comes, ok? Oh and here..." he reached in his other pocket. "You take real good care of my baby. I know you can handle driving it home , just watch yourself, mom, the engine is NOT your mini-van. I trust you." he tried to smile but his chin was quivering.
This was huge. The two things this kid of mine never shared. His phone and his car. Nobody drove his car - ever. He stripped himself of himself in so many ways - and became what? A soldier? I knew in my heart I was losing a huge part of my son that day. He would not come back. This was the official ending of his childhood. I could no longer protect him. He would have experiences there that would change him forever.
"Mom, promise me you won't protest this war! I know you and I know you don't think this invasion is the right thing to do. But it is! I hafta go protect you and everybody."
I could only nod my promise. I could not speak. I wasn't sure at that moment if I was even breathing! He was spouting the party line because he HAD to. He had to believe he was being ordered to do the right thing. I know if he didn't believe that he would not have gone at all. None of them would have. It was all over the faces, the fears, the doubts, the resigned cooperation in their tones.
I heard other soldiers whispering amongst themselves -
"Wow, this is it, isn't it?"
"Well, are you ready?"
"Do you think you could actually kill somebody?"
"Let's get this overwith!"
"I wish to hell my family was here!"
"I'm telling myself this is just another drill........"
"Do you think we'll win?"
"I think we are going to the wrong country."
"Are you sure we'll be ok?"
On the way out of that hangar, my daughter, husband and I gave hugs to as many soldiers as we could. I had several hug the breath out of me, crying on my shoulder and murmuring "Thank you!" "Thank you for coming." "Thank you for the hug, I needed this!" They looked so young! It ripped my heart into pieces. Several guys asked me to pray for them.. One guy gave me a letter to mail to his parents, the envelope tear-stained. I went to the ladies room quickly. In there I was hugging too. Young girls (wives?) crying, shaking, other moms who, like me, fell apart. We hugged. We were all family that day. We understood each other without speaking one word. It was a hug of acknowledgment on the deepest level I've ever known.
If I am shattering your illusions of our soldiers being infused with whoop-ass for this invasion, too bad! There may have been a few - but I sure didn't see any happy, let's-go-get-em faces that day. Anything BUT! You may see news clips on tv of departing units but unless you are there, and saying goodbye, you have NO idea of the collective emotional toll filling the atmosphere.
I clutched the car keys Garrett gave me and began the numb, yet hysterical, search in the parking lot to find his car. My daughter and I were to drive it all the way home, following my husband. I saw the "remnants" of his last few days in the car. It smelled like him. I sat in the driver's seat for what seemed to be hours, crying, wondering what on earth would become of him. I knew I was not alone. Other families were there, just as hysterical as I was. Kids saying goodbye to their daddies, young women pregnant and terrified, wives, husbands, all sharing in this moment of fear and tears. It was the single most heart wrenching experience of my life.
I will write "the rest of the story" - the turn-around, and what the nod of promise created and how I ended up meeting Oprah. It's all good, not to worry. My story is nothing compared to others! This story is not about just me - I wrote it for all the moms who have lived through this day but cannot write about it.
HUG a Veteran today!!!!! It's not about politics - it's about human beings!
A special hug and shout out to Garrett!
(Yeah, your mom is a mush! Get over it!)
To ALL Veterans - and their families - THANK YOU! Your sacrifices in your service to this country are SO appreciated. I humbly honor all those who serve, and all the families as well! The recent event at Ft. Hood is devasting and my heart and prayers go out to all those touched by this senseless horror.
Being a military family for six years was not easy. I decided to write a post about it. Then I wondered why? Was it cathartic, healing? I've never blogged about it.. Does it serve a purpose? I debated hitting publish. It is intensely personal and not my "normal" kind of blog post. And yet, something tells me to let this rip. Maybe there is something you need to know - I don't really know.
Perhaps you have not been involved with the military and the emotional cost of the war on a personal level. Perhaps you only see news bites of the departures and arrivals of soldiers. Perhaps this WILL serve a purpose - maybe you may reach out and hug that neighbor who's son is deployed. Maybe you will offer child care, or cut grass/shovel snow for the gal down the street raising her kids alone for a year while her husband is gone.
It is not for me to be attached to the outcome. It is pouring out of me at this time for some reason I do not need to know. This is the story of one day. There are thousands of stories out there. And many tears.
I will never forget February 26,2003. Or the following good-bye day.
My son, Garrett, called at 7:30 a.m. from Ft. Campbell, Kentucky to say he was leaving for Iraq the next day so we had less than 24 hours to go say goodbye to him. We knew this was coming. He told us to be on alert for his call since early January. It is a 7 hour drive to Ft. Campbell from our house. I sent a text to my daughter at school, called my husband at work, arranged for pet care, and the three of us deployed out of here, hastily packed for a quick overnight trip, by 10:00 am.
The drive down was a blur of thoughts and knitting needles furiously creating an afghan to keep my hands busy, and to keep me from jumping out of the car, truth be told.
Garrett enlisted right after 9-11, at age 19 after one year of college at an aviation school. I begged him not to go. I knew there was going to be a war. I tried to tell him at least to go into the Air Force (aviation!), not the Army, four years, not SIX. I lost that battle too. He signed up for six years with the Army. The die had been cast. War was coming, I knew it, and he would be going. I planned a good-bye party for him before he left for basic training. I was planning this as I attended the memorial for my best friend's daughter. She was in the Pentagon plane! The grief was so compounded. I tried my best to be supportive for my son's decision tho my heart was breaking for my friend, and selfishly for me at having to give up my one and only son to godonlyknew WHAT. It would be war. I couldn't help feeling the memorial I was attending as a friend grieved the loss of her eldest child was practice for me.
The conversation in the car driving down there for the three of us was interrupted with one or the other of us crying and wondering how in the hell we can do this. How do you say goodbye? This isn't a son leaving for college. This is a son leaving for a war! Where do you find the courage for war?
Especially this war. Iraq? Aren't we looking for Bin Laden in Afghanistan? Isn't that where the "bad guys" are that pulled off the 9-11 disaster? Iraq? Invading that country for what??? To find weapons of mass destruction we were being told.
My mind flipped back to Viet Nam. The war for........what the hell was that about? Keeping South Viet Nam from the Communists we were told. I spent 3 years at Fort Rucker, Alabama with my first husband. We saw friends leave and never come back. We saw some come back without wholeness. We saw some come back mental messes. Yes. We saw. We saw families fall apart with grief and despair. We were treated like villians, spat on and viciously verbally abused when we went anywhere off-post. If anyone in town saw me driving our car with an Army sticker from Ft. Rucker on it, I was considered one of "them", the bad guys. If my then-husband was with me, it was worse!
And now I'm going to go say goodbye to my son. My son. My only son. His entire childhood flashed through my mind, every detail of it, every laugh, every adventure, every tear. He's going off to some country that has weapons of mass destruction, godonlyknows what else, and I have to say goodbye. I didn't know HOW. HOW does a mother who has protected her child for his entire life let him go to war?
Our arrival at Ft. Campbell, the home of the 101st Airborne, was in time for dinner. We joked. We took pictures. We filled him with a great steak dinner. Mom's do that. They feed their young for voyages, adventures, long trips. I was feeding him for war. It felt awful. I couldn't eat. I was too busy choking on tears that I couldn't show. Not now. Not at dinner. We stayed together until nearly 11pm. and arranged to meet at 3 am. for "deployment". The army sets crazy times for things. Crazy times, crazy lines. Hurry up and wait is the theme.
Our hotel was on the opposite side of town. We were lucky to have a room at all. Ft. Campbell was sending over 20,000 troops out. There were other families in town to say goodbye too. I stayed in my clothes. It was only three hours and I really did not sleep. No, I was busy. I was telling myself how brave we had to be at 3 am. We shouldn't have bothered with a room at a hotel at all. We three laid on the beds in our clothes. We didn't speak. But we didn't sleep.
At 3 am. we picked him up at his barracks, loaded a ton of gear into our car and drove to the airfield. There were huge containers for the gear - all with numbers on them. Garrett found the one he was assigned to and put most of his bags into it. Then we went into a building and waited in a long line. It gave him the opportunity to introduce us to a lot of his friends. We were all faking socialability - nervous laughter and a tight grasp on the inner emotional turmoil, lest it spill out.
"What's this line for?" I asked.
"Paperwork." he said. It was then that he told us about the preceding days. He made out a will. He took out more life insurance. He left it all to us. WHAT???? I have no idea how I kept from fainting.
After nearly an hour, we left to go to another building. Another long line.
"What's this line for?" I asked.
"Meds." he said.
They distributed ziplock bags full of medications that were to be the LIFE-saving antibodies against the various chemical attacks they may encounter - small injection meds, all color-coded. He and a few friends were looking at them.
"Is the purple one the one for anthrax?" one asked.
"No. That's the orange one." said another.
"No. The orange one is for..........."
"Good God," I said "Don't you guys KNOW???"
They all laughed. Nervous laughter.
"Don't worry, Mrs. B, we'll get a refresher course on this stuff on the plane" I was told.
Well that sure made me feel better now, didn't it? We left that building for another one, another line. I noticed walking over to the third building that the sun was up now. Hours were passing by, tick-tock, tick-tock. Was I really awake or is this a nightmare?
"What's this line for?" I asked.
"Rifles." he said.
I gulped, swallowed hard, told myself to breathe.
Rifles. Nothing like seeing your son in combat camo being issued a rifle. My heart stopped. I had a policy when I raised this child. No guns. He never had one til he turned 16 and bought a beebee gun in Wisconsin to do target practice on the old shed at the lake house. I remember teasing him and calling him our G.I.Joe back then. He was a sharp shooter. Who knew? It didn't surprise me to learn he'd become a certified sharp shooter in the Army.
As we left that building and headed toward the airport hangar with his friends I over-heard them grousing about the rifles, how they were in bad condition, probably they would work or no, you don't think this is jammed?! I didn't need to hear that. My tears were in my throat! My husband and daughter holding my hands as we walked, all of us squeezing our fingers trying to find an ounce of strength to give one another. It wasn't there. We were collectively crumbling.
We walked into a huge hangar with hundreds and hundreds of people, some in groups with families, others just groups of friends. It was eerily quiet for that many people. Very hushed. I looked around at the faces. I sensed something palpable in the air. And then it hit me. It was the unmistakable smell of fear. I saw it on the faces, though the soldiers were all trying to be brave. I saw it in their eyes. They are leaving for an invasion of a country with potential deadly stuff in the air, for which, of course, they are "prepared" with their color-coded crap nobody knows for sure what is what! Stay calm.
There was an announcement we had 10 minutes until the soldiers were to be in formation and all civilians had to leave. I was numb. I couldn't see well at this point thru the tears that had welled up in my eyes. Inside I was SCREAMING - this is insane! These soldiers are being sent to a potential desert slaughter with chemical warfare! What is the war about? Why are we doing this? They are going to the wrong place!!! They are CREATING a war - what????
I was snapped out of it. My son came up to me and gave me the hug of his life. I blubbered. I hugged him back with all my might. "You be safe now," I choked out between the tears. "Please come back to me!" I whispered in his ear. It was out before I could bite my tongue. He backed away from the embrace so he could get something out of his pocket. His cell phone. He gave it to me. "I had it turned off at 6 am. this morning. It's on suspension. Pay the bill when it comes, ok? Oh and here..." he reached in his other pocket. "You take real good care of my baby. I know you can handle driving it home , just watch yourself, mom, the engine is NOT your mini-van. I trust you." he tried to smile but his chin was quivering.
This was huge. The two things this kid of mine never shared. His phone and his car. Nobody drove his car - ever. He stripped himself of himself in so many ways - and became what? A soldier? I knew in my heart I was losing a huge part of my son that day. He would not come back. This was the official ending of his childhood. I could no longer protect him. He would have experiences there that would change him forever.
"Mom, promise me you won't protest this war! I know you and I know you don't think this invasion is the right thing to do. But it is! I hafta go protect you and everybody."
I could only nod my promise. I could not speak. I wasn't sure at that moment if I was even breathing! He was spouting the party line because he HAD to. He had to believe he was being ordered to do the right thing. I know if he didn't believe that he would not have gone at all. None of them would have. It was all over the faces, the fears, the doubts, the resigned cooperation in their tones.
I heard other soldiers whispering amongst themselves -
"Wow, this is it, isn't it?"
"Well, are you ready?"
"Do you think you could actually kill somebody?"
"Let's get this overwith!"
"I wish to hell my family was here!"
"I'm telling myself this is just another drill........"
"Do you think we'll win?"
"I think we are going to the wrong country."
"Are you sure we'll be ok?"
On the way out of that hangar, my daughter, husband and I gave hugs to as many soldiers as we could. I had several hug the breath out of me, crying on my shoulder and murmuring "Thank you!" "Thank you for coming." "Thank you for the hug, I needed this!" They looked so young! It ripped my heart into pieces. Several guys asked me to pray for them.. One guy gave me a letter to mail to his parents, the envelope tear-stained. I went to the ladies room quickly. In there I was hugging too. Young girls (wives?) crying, shaking, other moms who, like me, fell apart. We hugged. We were all family that day. We understood each other without speaking one word. It was a hug of acknowledgment on the deepest level I've ever known.
If I am shattering your illusions of our soldiers being infused with whoop-ass for this invasion, too bad! There may have been a few - but I sure didn't see any happy, let's-go-get-em faces that day. Anything BUT! You may see news clips on tv of departing units but unless you are there, and saying goodbye, you have NO idea of the collective emotional toll filling the atmosphere.
I clutched the car keys Garrett gave me and began the numb, yet hysterical, search in the parking lot to find his car. My daughter and I were to drive it all the way home, following my husband. I saw the "remnants" of his last few days in the car. It smelled like him. I sat in the driver's seat for what seemed to be hours, crying, wondering what on earth would become of him. I knew I was not alone. Other families were there, just as hysterical as I was. Kids saying goodbye to their daddies, young women pregnant and terrified, wives, husbands, all sharing in this moment of fear and tears. It was the single most heart wrenching experience of my life.
I will write "the rest of the story" - the turn-around, and what the nod of promise created and how I ended up meeting Oprah. It's all good, not to worry. My story is nothing compared to others! This story is not about just me - I wrote it for all the moms who have lived through this day but cannot write about it.
HUG a Veteran today!!!!! It's not about politics - it's about human beings!
A special hug and shout out to Garrett!
(Yeah, your mom is a mush! Get over it!)
29 comments:
Labels:
army,
deployment,
fears,
goodbye,
Iraq,
military families,
sacrifice,
strength,
tears,
veterans
Labels:
army,
deployment,
fears,
goodbye,
Iraq,
military families,
sacrifice,
strength,
tears,
veterans
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Live This Very Moment and Dream On
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I cannot think of a more appropriate weekend musical response to so many of the blogs I've read this week. It's a song by Aerosmith - the lyrics will be on the video as you listen.
I know I've told many of you in comments that I wake up every morning grateful - grateful for WHAT? Grateful just for waking up! It is a great start! The past is GONE - start fresh and dream on! This oldie but goodie song is one of my favorite "theme" songs!
Have a great weekend!
I cannot think of a more appropriate weekend musical response to so many of the blogs I've read this week. It's a song by Aerosmith - the lyrics will be on the video as you listen.
I know I've told many of you in comments that I wake up every morning grateful - grateful for WHAT? Grateful just for waking up! It is a great start! The past is GONE - start fresh and dream on! This oldie but goodie song is one of my favorite "theme" songs!
Have a great weekend!
Monday, November 2, 2009
DO BE a DO BE
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.
I remember way back in early childhood, some teacher introduced the Do Be's and the Don't Be's. It has so much to do with how we talk - to others as well as to ourselves - and how we behave. No matter what age! It might be elementary but it's worth a mention.
We do have a running dialogue in our heads whether we like it or not. According to the people in the know that study this, most of our thoughts are negative. It can be a struggle to know this intellectually but not have the tools or wisdom to turn this around. It's amazing - the power of a little word like "don't". How often is it part of the daily thought pattern?
This concept of Do Be a Do Be is a positive one. Here is a simple example of how to change a Don't Be (negative) into a positive Do Be:
I don't want to be late.
Changed to : I wish to be on time.
Take a moment to consider the negative impact . The "I don't want" brings a crabby, judgmental tone to the statement. Chances are that we chastise ourselves for the last time we were late for something, thinking backwards into the past. Thinking back to all the times we screwed up isn't exactly setting the tone positively for change. It's all too easy to get carried away in our thoughts of prior screw ups and, if unchecked, we can create a fear of being late. (yellow flag warning - we are creating a fear here!)
Or, we may jump forward with the fear of disappointing people or making them angry at us for our tardiness, creating this whole scene in our head before we even leave the house. I confess I've done this. I've created scenes so absurd in my head as I was DRIVING, instead of enjoying the drive, I should use those scenes in a work of fiction some day since they are all fiction!
I remember this Do Be thing as a very small voice in my early education. It was probably blasted out by all the don't language used to raise me. Now I know, blaming parents isn't the intention here , yet the don't messages become ingrained and it might help to know where they came from because we obviously carry on the don't tradition in our heads. I remember many
Don't be so loud
Don't get dirty
Don't forget to....(do homework, brush teeth, bring an umbrella, feed the chickens on and on!)
Don't be selfish
Don't run
Don't cry
Don't be talking with your mouth open
Don't leave your coat there
Don't be late
Don't let the dog out
Don't touch that
Don't write on the wall
Don't color outside the lines
.......and every teens favorite, Don't wear THAT!
When my kids were little I tried so hard not to use don't and to never allow them to say can't. I'm sure I blew it - the don'ts had to fly out, but I tried to teach them things with positive language. Once we become aware of the impact of certain ingrained language, however seemingly innocent, we open a door. We are such creative masters in our thinking. Once we understand that a lot of this dialoging in our heads isn't creating what we need, we can begin to change it.
Changing I don't want to be late into I wish to be on time is a very clear statement of what you really want. Any time the word "don't" is used, it is not sending a clear message of what IS really wanted. Thoughts are powerful and so is language. If there is a way to shift thought energy from negative to positive by editing a simple word, let's play with this.
I don't want to loose my job - turn it around - I want to keep my job.
I don't want to have another lousy weekend - turn it around - I want this weekend to be enjoyable.
We may not always get or experience exactly what we want but we have paved the way with positive energy. This is a small but effective way to stay in a positive zone with our thoughts and isn't that really what we are all trying to do anyway?
Wayne Dyer, Deepak Chopra and many others, teach that we can call to ourselves things we DON'T want by thinking about them all the time. What you think about expands for you. If all you see is lack, that is all you will have. My poor mother-in-law said for years she didn't want to loose her mind. She said it so many times and with so much emotion that she got what she didn't want. She lost her mind. The Universe doesn't "get" the don't part for some reason. Yikes! This will make a Do Be out of me, I'll tell you! If I really don't want what I really don't want, I need to change a few words. Do you?
In the journaling class I teach, we have an exercise to get rid of this negative list of don'ts. First we write a whole page or two of all the things we can think of that start with "I don't want". If you think you can't fill a page, try it. Go ahead. List all the things you really don't want - including, if you must, I don't want to write this list! :) It is so important to get it all out, don't hold back. It has been interesting to observe that the class has no trouble writing "I don't want" lists - they sure do know what they don't want!
(I used to do a journaling exercise with class on writing out a list of what they DO want. It was a much shorter list, they struggled with this, some would even freeze, pen in hand, and not be able to write anything, they weren't sure what they wanted. So, as an experiment, I turned it into writing a list of don't wants and their pens were afire!)
Once the list of don't wants is done, re-write the negatives, like the above sample statements. Turn it around, make it a positive I want. It amazes some people how they can change their thinking around. Oddly enough, if you are perplexed about what you want, writing what you don't want may actually help! What you do want may be on the other side of what you don't want.
Back in school we actually had a list of DO BE's and DON'T BE's posted on the wall. If focus is on DO BE's it makes the energy positive. No need to even think about the DON'T BE's. I remember every kid in class wanted to be known as a Do Be person and not a Don't Be. When I think of this now, it seems like the most inspiring way to teach any age person to be positive in thought and action. On the wall in the classroom I remember a few - today I could write 100 more for myself!
DO BE Kind
DO BE A Good Listener
DO BE Mannerly
DO BE Helpful
DO BE Respectful
Focusing on the DO BE's you are not concerned about the negative counterparts, right?
See what happens when the DO BE's come forward and those negative don't be's are left alone. The word "don't" may be a not-too-distant cousin of the word can't. Neither serve well in the goal to think/act positively. Could it all be this simple, this elementary? Try it out and let me know.
Give yourself a hug and go forward in this day with kinder thoughts in your head. DO BE's Rock!
Do Be a Do BE
Don't Be a Don't Be
.
.
I remember way back in early childhood, some teacher introduced the Do Be's and the Don't Be's. It has so much to do with how we talk - to others as well as to ourselves - and how we behave. No matter what age! It might be elementary but it's worth a mention.
We do have a running dialogue in our heads whether we like it or not. According to the people in the know that study this, most of our thoughts are negative. It can be a struggle to know this intellectually but not have the tools or wisdom to turn this around. It's amazing - the power of a little word like "don't". How often is it part of the daily thought pattern?
This concept of Do Be a Do Be is a positive one. Here is a simple example of how to change a Don't Be (negative) into a positive Do Be:
I don't want to be late.
Changed to : I wish to be on time.
Take a moment to consider the negative impact . The "I don't want" brings a crabby, judgmental tone to the statement. Chances are that we chastise ourselves for the last time we were late for something, thinking backwards into the past. Thinking back to all the times we screwed up isn't exactly setting the tone positively for change. It's all too easy to get carried away in our thoughts of prior screw ups and, if unchecked, we can create a fear of being late. (yellow flag warning - we are creating a fear here!)
Or, we may jump forward with the fear of disappointing people or making them angry at us for our tardiness, creating this whole scene in our head before we even leave the house. I confess I've done this. I've created scenes so absurd in my head as I was DRIVING, instead of enjoying the drive, I should use those scenes in a work of fiction some day since they are all fiction!
I remember this Do Be thing as a very small voice in my early education. It was probably blasted out by all the don't language used to raise me. Now I know, blaming parents isn't the intention here , yet the don't messages become ingrained and it might help to know where they came from because we obviously carry on the don't tradition in our heads. I remember many
Don't be so loud
Don't get dirty
Don't forget to....(do homework, brush teeth, bring an umbrella, feed the chickens on and on!)
Don't be selfish
Don't run
Don't cry
Don't be talking with your mouth open
Don't leave your coat there
Don't be late
Don't let the dog out
Don't touch that
Don't write on the wall
Don't color outside the lines
.......and every teens favorite, Don't wear THAT!
When my kids were little I tried so hard not to use don't and to never allow them to say can't. I'm sure I blew it - the don'ts had to fly out, but I tried to teach them things with positive language. Once we become aware of the impact of certain ingrained language, however seemingly innocent, we open a door. We are such creative masters in our thinking. Once we understand that a lot of this dialoging in our heads isn't creating what we need, we can begin to change it.
Changing I don't want to be late into I wish to be on time is a very clear statement of what you really want. Any time the word "don't" is used, it is not sending a clear message of what IS really wanted. Thoughts are powerful and so is language. If there is a way to shift thought energy from negative to positive by editing a simple word, let's play with this.
I don't want to loose my job - turn it around - I want to keep my job.
I don't want to have another lousy weekend - turn it around - I want this weekend to be enjoyable.
We may not always get or experience exactly what we want but we have paved the way with positive energy. This is a small but effective way to stay in a positive zone with our thoughts and isn't that really what we are all trying to do anyway?
Wayne Dyer, Deepak Chopra and many others, teach that we can call to ourselves things we DON'T want by thinking about them all the time. What you think about expands for you. If all you see is lack, that is all you will have. My poor mother-in-law said for years she didn't want to loose her mind. She said it so many times and with so much emotion that she got what she didn't want. She lost her mind. The Universe doesn't "get" the don't part for some reason. Yikes! This will make a Do Be out of me, I'll tell you! If I really don't want what I really don't want, I need to change a few words. Do you?
In the journaling class I teach, we have an exercise to get rid of this negative list of don'ts. First we write a whole page or two of all the things we can think of that start with "I don't want". If you think you can't fill a page, try it. Go ahead. List all the things you really don't want - including, if you must, I don't want to write this list! :) It is so important to get it all out, don't hold back. It has been interesting to observe that the class has no trouble writing "I don't want" lists - they sure do know what they don't want!
(I used to do a journaling exercise with class on writing out a list of what they DO want. It was a much shorter list, they struggled with this, some would even freeze, pen in hand, and not be able to write anything, they weren't sure what they wanted. So, as an experiment, I turned it into writing a list of don't wants and their pens were afire!)
Once the list of don't wants is done, re-write the negatives, like the above sample statements. Turn it around, make it a positive I want. It amazes some people how they can change their thinking around. Oddly enough, if you are perplexed about what you want, writing what you don't want may actually help! What you do want may be on the other side of what you don't want.
Back in school we actually had a list of DO BE's and DON'T BE's posted on the wall. If focus is on DO BE's it makes the energy positive. No need to even think about the DON'T BE's. I remember every kid in class wanted to be known as a Do Be person and not a Don't Be. When I think of this now, it seems like the most inspiring way to teach any age person to be positive in thought and action. On the wall in the classroom I remember a few - today I could write 100 more for myself!
DO BE Kind
DO BE A Good Listener
DO BE Mannerly
DO BE Helpful
DO BE Respectful
Focusing on the DO BE's you are not concerned about the negative counterparts, right?
See what happens when the DO BE's come forward and those negative don't be's are left alone. The word "don't" may be a not-too-distant cousin of the word can't. Neither serve well in the goal to think/act positively. Could it all be this simple, this elementary? Try it out and let me know.
Give yourself a hug and go forward in this day with kinder thoughts in your head. DO BE's Rock!
Do Be a Do BE
Don't Be a Don't Be
.
30 comments:
Labels:
change,
focus,
journaling,
kindness,
negatives,
positive,
positive energy,
thoughts
Labels:
change,
focus,
journaling,
kindness,
negatives,
positive,
positive energy,
thoughts
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