Tied to the Whipping Post

I been run down, I been lied to,
I dont know why I let that mean woman make me a fool.
She took all my money, wrecked my new car.
Now shes with one of my goodtime buddies,
Theyre drinkin in some crosstown bar.

Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Like I been tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, I feel like Im dyin.

This is what being a manager feels like these days. I still wonder why I ever said I would be a manager even if it's only an acting position. There is no thanks, only heartache and heart break. How could someone who has made an effort out of being late, playing games on the computer at work, gone around stabbing people in the back think that they should get a good review. Why is it that nowdays people don't think they have to work for good reviews, just show up-sit in their chair, and expect the world to be served up on a silver platter. I've had it, and I'm tired of it, and I'm not going to take it anymore.

What does that mean exactly, I don't know.

So, if someone knows how to break the chains and be set free, let me know.

Until then,

Me in Hellanta.

"I'm a Survivor"-Tribute to the Community of Angoon

I was born a believer, biggest dreamer this world has ever seen
Ready to face most anything but learn that I was naive
Ran into things in life that I never planned
But that's made me who I am
I've had highs and lows and seen my share of ups and downs
There's been nights it seemed there wasn't a friend to be found
I've had to save myself from drowning in a sea of tears.
But I'm still here

('Cause) I, I'm a survivor
I won't let it get the best of me, I'll try my very best to be that strong
Oh, oh, oh, I, I'm a survivor
And I'll never give up, never let out, never give in
I'll just keep moving on

Oh
I was taught that honesty was simply the only way
I've spoken honestly and had it blow up in my face
Sometimes I look around and I don't know what I see
But I gotta believe in God above and what he's made me

No
I've witnessed pride and ego destroy the kindest of hearts
Seen how greed can take the best of friends and tear them apart
Every corner, every turn, every lesson I have learned
Has helped me find my way

I, I'm a survivor
I won't let it get the best of me, I'll try my very best to be that strong
Oh, oh, oh, I, I'm a survivor
And I'll never give up, never let out, never give in
I'll never give up, never let out, never give in
Oh no I'll, I'll never give up, never let out, never give in
I'll just keep moving on
I'm a survivor
Oh yes I am

In the previous post, I talked about my floatplane trip to Angoon-a small community of Alaska Natives in Southeast Alaska--reachable only by boat, float plane, or the barge that visits with supplies. We ate lunch at the Senior Center, where we talked to several community members. One of the women talked about her life, including her experience with a brain aneurysm (sp)which the doctors had told her family would leave her unable to walk, talk, --just put her in a nursing home the doctors told her family. Well, thankfully her family didn't listen to the docs, and took her home to Anchorage to help her recuperate. Other than a limp, and a tendency to repeat herself, you would never know she had gone through such a devastating experience. She talked about the fact that for a long time she had no memory, and she would ask her family--how long was she in the hospital, how long was the surgery, etc. And now, she is back in her home, with her family--several of her brothers, sisters, and in-laws were at the Senior Center with her--a tribute to the determination of a family to take care of one of their own.

We visited the Superintendent's office, where he talked about he was having to really fight with the State Board of Education to get all of the needs met of this very rural school system. He was determined enough to file all of the paperwork to get permission for the school to use subsistence foods to supplement the food the school can afford to buy to feed the kids. This way people can donate fish and game to help supplement the school menu. One person donated 50 pounds of moose meat, but because there are no moose in this part of Alaska, the meat was unfamiliar to many of the students. He was trying to make it possible to feed the kids three meals a day, because in some households there is not enough food to go around.

We talked with the Behavioral Health Counsellor who takes kids of flashlight hikes in the winter because he doesn't have to worry about being chased by the grizzlies.

We talked with the Senior Center Director who was able to get a grant to provide material for projects for the Seniors and other to sew--She had beaded the most beautiful raven for a vest--she was able to capture the vibrancy and iridescence of the raven's feathers. It became such a popular program that she was having to open the center 7 days a week in the evening. When she almost went blind due to an allergy to eye drops, she had to slow down.

How many of us could survive in this world? Would choose to go and help--like the teachers and clinic staff (one teacher had been there 12 years). So to all of the folks that have given of themselves to be there for others, giving up a lot of the modern comforts, I salute you. You are the "ultimate survivors".

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

Well, after my two week vacation in Alaska where it rained all but 2 days, I was hoping my work trip to Alaska would be different--and, I did see the sun, something that hasn't happened much in Sitka this summer. They call it the summer that wasn't. Even the greenhouses have been having problems--not enough sun to warm up the greenhouses, things have been rotting on the vine.

I can say that other than the travel to get there--basically took 13 hours, especially with a delay out of Atlanta-the co-pilot's seat broke, and a delay in Ketchikan--a bird flew into the engine on landing, and the mechanic had to come from town--unfortunately, the airport is located on an island, and the only way to get to the airport is by a ferry that only runs so often that I had a great time. (Is this a run or sentence or what?)

I was picked up at the airport that evening by my program person and her daughter, invited to dinner to meet the rest of her family which included her husband, older daughter and their rescued dog--amazing how many folks I know these days have dogs from rescue outfits--including my own Border Collie (that's another story too).

Had a great time, then was dropped off at the bed and breakfast where I stayed for the rest of the week. Absolutely beautiful place-and the owner had everything imaginable ready there, down to the magnifying mirror in the bathroom so that I could see to put my makeup on in the mornings. It was one of the nicest places I have ever stayed, and the breakfasts were amazing. Even though I was the only guest, she would get up every morning and make baked eggs, or french toast, or other creative offerings--always accompanied by fruit, yoguart, coffee, juice, and one morning, reindeer sausage. She had a library of books on Alaska that was amazing, a DVD/Video collection to check out, including Alaskan videos, and a CD collection that was out of this world. In each room there was a BOSE stereo system, with mood music and relaxation music ready to help lull you to sleep with the sound of fountains and a pond with a waterful outside your window. Other than dealing with the time change, I had no problem getting to sleep.

The second day I had the great opportunity of taking a float plane ride to the small tribal community of Angoon. WHAT an adventure. The ride over was great--we passed by mountains, glaciers, and just amazing scenery. When I get back home I will try to upload some of my pictures. We walked all over the small town from the highschool with 59 students in 7-12, to the small clinic, senior center, and general store. Of course it wasn't until after we had walked through the woods on several trails that they told me that the island we were on, Admiralty Island has more Grizzly Bears than almost anywhere in the world. Thanks a lot guys. They wanted to walk out to the dump to see if we saw any, saying that with three of us along we shouldn't be bothered--that's okay, if I was in a vehicle maybe, but not on foot.

We were told that there was a storm coming in, so we wouldn't be able to spend the night and would need to get back to Sitka that evening. Well, by the time the pilot came back for us, it was 5:30 and things were starting to go downhill fast. He tried to make it over the mountains, but the winds were gusting and the little plane wasn't making much progress, so he turned around and took the long way back--more along the waterways. It was still bumpy and pretty nervewracking for me with limited experience in small planes--I can say I was white knuckled on the back of the front seat, often with my eyes closed. But what great views (when I did have them openned) and what a great experience.

The next couple of days were spent in business meetings, but Thursday I was able to go out to the raptor center and see the birds that they fix up and then release, and the birds that are now permanent fixtures at the center because of their injuries.

well this enough for now>

Shot Through the Heart-and You're to Blame

Friends--I guess I haven't had a lot of them in my lifetime, and on several occasions, I have been stabbed in the back. Makes me want to join a convent, take a vow of silence and never talk to anybody again (other than my husband, so I guess I can't do the convent thing). What is it about people that when they are mad, upset, or angry, that they often take their emotions out on the very people that have been there, trying to help them. Of course, in this situation, I made the mistake of having a co-worker as a friend, and then when I got moved into a management position, I tried to still be a friend--hell, I had been a friend for 2 years before they decided to make me a manager. So, the minute you are a manager, I guess, all bets are off, and friendship flies out the window, especially if you have to "counsel" someone. I keep talking about the fact that I am "what you see is what you get". I am not anything other than myself. I care about the people I work with, (when you spend 8 hours a day with folks, you should hopefully care about them to some degree). So, I trust people, think that they are like me, and aren't out get you. Well, guess what--don't believe it.

So, it's a good thing I will be gone for two weeks, because if I had to go to work and see this person, I would probably say something I shouldn't say. I've learned my lesson--don't be friends with the people you work with, (other than the ones that are far away and you don't supervise).

Tribal Envy

Seems like I do a bunch of my thinking while I am driving in to work every morning--in between the good songs on the XM radio (they should pay me for the plugs). Well, I have often thought about the fact that in my 30 year career, I have worked with tribal programs over 25 of those years. I lived on the Hopi Reservation, worked with tribes in Maine, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Florida, North Carolina, Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, and Nevada. I have gotten to go to pow wows, bean dances, katsina dances, feast days, isolated clinics on the Yomba Reservation, casinos in places you could never imagine there would be a casino, and I can tell you, it wasn't easy, but I loved it all.

I started thinking about what the draw was for me, and I think that one of the draws to my time spent especially in the Southwest is the intact culture. I grew up as a Southern girl(born in Georgia), whose Dad was in the military and moved around, so I never got to stay too long in any one place, and my English, Irish, French and German ancestery (although I claim the Irish more than any other) didn't translate to many traditions other than Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving.

When I was on the Hopi Reservation, I got a chance to really see an intact culture (at the time, hopefully it still is) in all its splendor. There were ceremonies throughout the year. There were ceremonies that happened ever several years like Shalako . There were many things that I only saw from the periphery, but it all came down to "if you were a Hopi woman", there were many things that you were expected to take part in, provide for, dance for, care about. And, as an outsider, I fell in love with the tradition, the colors and smells, and sounds, the food and the anticipation of it all. Like, being in the Kiva on a cold winter night and you can hear the sounds of the Katsinas as they approach the kiva, stomp on the roof, and decend the ladder into the cozy warmth of 30-40 women and children waiting with expectation.

So, as I thought about one of my many books that one day I fantasize that I will write (see older posts). I thought about my "autobiography" and it's title. I decided that it should be called, "Tribal Envy". I know it sounds crazy, but for a mainstreamer like me, sounds like home. Until I get to that point that I can write it, don't be stealing my title.

What your Music Collection Says About You

http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2003/07/10/1057783259813.html
I was thinking today (you can see I have a musical theme going and can't seem to get off it today) about what your music collection says about you. I was driving to work, listening to Russel Watson (opera and stuff), very loud, and wishing I knew what the words meant when all of these thoughts hit me. My daughter had voiced it earlier this year: The songs that sort of described your life is one way of looking at it, or just what does your CD collection look like and what that means. So, for now, I will wait to talk about the songs that describe my life, and think about my music collection.

My music collection back in the day when it was all vinyl was all about folk music and the Beatles for the most part, James Taylor, Livingston Taylor, Melanie, I can't even remember--and whenever we moved, my albums were always sold to make money, and my ex-husband's albums were always sacred-(another reason he is an ex) His collection back then was lots of jazz albums (which I have and are probably worth some money, so maybe that's a good thing). He had improvisational, Archie Shepp, Yusef Latif, all of these albums. Then, one summer, he was off in school in Flagstaff, and recorded a Chieftains album for me off the radio. I felt like I had found my home. It spoke to me in a way modern music never had. (being that I'm part Irish, but that's another story) I quickly amassed as many of the Chieftains albums as I could get from the used record store (these I do still have). That started me on the road to collecting world music--still stuck in that one I'm afraid. Then, when we lived on the Reservation, he found a source for American Indian artists, so both of us amassed a small collection of pow wow, Plains, Yaqui, Navajo, and other albums.(still have those too). Then, for a long time, I gave up on collecting because I got tired of them disappearing.

Of course during that time I was also collecting tapes--(which are in a box somewhere). It wasn't until I remarried that I even had a CD-player. For our wedding present, we bought each other a Stereo system for the house, with a CD-player, but of course, we had no CD's. Thanks to BMG and other such overpriced systems for acquiring new music, we soon had the shelves full. So, what's on the shelves--
Well, 2 shelves are world music, including Andrea Boccelli, Sarah Brightman, Russell Watson,Utapi, Chieftains, Clannad, Enya, Bossa Brazil, and a multitude of others.
Two shelves are the old classics--Eric Clapton, Michael McDonald, James Taylor, Dr. John, Queen, Pink Floyd, Jefferson Starship, etc etc etc
Two shelves are women artists such as Bonnie Raitt, Emy Lou Harris, Tracy Chapman, Heart, Cowboy Junkies, etc.
A Reggae shelf--Bob and Ziggy, Rusted Root, etc.
A bluegrass shelf,
And a mishmash shelf of things like Bill and Bonnie Hearne, O Brother Where Art Thou, Zydego music, and a general compilation of everything except for country--never really got into country.

What does it mean to me? To me it says, I never know what mood will strike me and where I want to take myself--away, through the music, to some other world. Guess I'm just a music traveler--instead of globe trecker, I'm music trecker.

So hopefully, for now I've gotten a little more of this out of my system.

2 in 1 day--

Nancy

Make Your Own Kind of Music

I remember when Mama Cass and the Mama's and the Papa's were big--yes, I'm old, and I'm okay with it. One of my favorite songs was "Make Your Own Kind of Music". It goes back quite a long way. I used to play guitar when I was in college. My husband bought me a Yamaha folk guitar way back in the early 70's. I never took lessons, but I got the books, learned some chords, and had a great time singing to myself. I had songbooks by the Beatles, and Jackson Brown, and Linda Rondstat, and some even more oldie goldies--it was great. I only played when I was by myself, and sang along. I figured I had missed my calling as a folk singer and could just imagine myself as so many of us do long ago, of sitting outside, playing and singing and getting discovered. Well, that never happened, and it is probably a good thing. Where would I be now if I had been "discovered". Certainly not where I am, with who I am. So, I'm not complaining.

When my kids came along, I was able to endulge myself by playing and singing to them--a captive audience, and when they are young, they don't care what you sing--they love music too. I think all kids are born loving music--it's what happens to them over time that changes that. So, I used to play my guitar while the youngest two were in the bathtub--always liked the bathrooms for the acoustics. I played my guitar sometimes to get them to sleep.

And then, somewhere along the road, they grew up--figured out I wasn't that good, and all was lost----I was devastated. They no longer wanted me to sing and play my guitar. Now, if I wanted to sing--I would have to go somewhere by myself (well with 4 kids, that never happens). And so, over time, I stopped playing. The guitar got put in a closet, lost with all the memories of those wonderful times of baring my soul in the song. It makes you wonder, why we let people do these things to us--give up something we really loved because we lacked their approval. It shouldn't be that way. I can tell you, my present husband loves it when I sing, and when we travel, we sing to the radio, and he never makes a face, or gives me that look. (That's what love is really all about!).

So, I continue to make my own kind of music--in different ways now (one of my sons ran off with my guitar--it was vintage--now it's worth something). I fill my life with music whenever I can. I have XM in my car--I listen to streaming music in my office--(the real PC stuff), I sing to the radio when I'm by myself or with my husband, and when the kids are gone, I put the CD's on and dance around just like I was 12 (well, in my head I still am). I might be crazy, but it is critical to my sanity. Our lives are filled with music, and when they are not, we are missing something big time. We need to surround ourselves with the beauty and creativity that is everywhere. It makes us feel better, helps us make it through the day.

So to all of you out there--don't be afraid--make your own music, sing your own song, and enjoy every minute of it. It's all we get.

From the beginnings of fall in Atlanta

Nancy

I Am the Warrior

Shootin' at the walls of heartache
Bang, bang, I am the warrior
Yes I am the warrior
And heart to heart you win
If you survive the warrior, the warrior

... don't wanna tame your animal style
You won't be caged
From the call of the wild...

My tribute to Steve Irwin--the true warrior--fighting for a cause so many of us overlook, our environment, the animals that share this planet with us. So often, they are forgotten for the mighty buck, for the sake of "progress", for greed, for the sake of getting ahead. Have we forgotten the statement, "There by the grace of God go I". I know this usually applies to people, but if we look at evolutionary history, it applies.

Steve Irwin--an amazing man, a real environmentalist, a real showman, a real honest to goodness warrior, caring, human being. My husband and I watched the tribute last night on "The Animal Planet". What a moving expression of love for this man, who we have watched on tv for several years. It was the first animal show that my kids ever could get into.

I love some of the clips they showed, some of his lines: People protect things they care about--which is why he brought all of the animals into our homes every week-so we could learn to care, stop putting them out of sight.

He was a man of emotions, and he was not afraid to show it. He taught us things we never learned in science class, or any other class for that matter--that we are all interconnected-that when we don't take care of our environment, we aren't taking care of ourselves or each other.

When we heard about his death, my husband and I both commented on how many people around the world would be affected by this--even more than the loss of a President. Steve was a true international person. He went everywhere, and never had to put on fancy airs, or clothes, or even expected to be treated like the celebrity he had become. So, Steve, from me, my husband, and our animals, we salute you. We will miss you and thank the Lord for someone like you, may he give us more. To your family, we offer our sympathies and hope and know that they will continue where you left off.

Thank you,

From Atlanta

A Little Respect

When things slow down at work, I often search on topics of interest--one of them being leadership. As I have mentioned previously, I am always trying to determine how people become leaders within organizations. Is it because of their skills in this area, or more often, the who they know leadership track. I came across and interesting book called "The DNA of Leadership". I found an interview that the author did with Shrinkwrap radio that was very interesting.

The most interesting point for me was the fact that according to the book, only 50% of our genes are fixed, and 50% are encoded to be influenced by the environment. So, the environment we are in can influence how we act, behave and grow. It also stated that we remember how people make us feel much more than what they say.

The author came up with the acronym CHANGES
C--Community
H--Humanity
A--Aspiration
N--Navigating
G--Generativity (sp)
E--Expression
S--Spirit

Leaders need to realize that inclusion is a human need, and that when people are excluded, it can result in territoriality (my, I've got a bunch of big words in this thing). Another comment I found interesting was that gossip is something people do to help support each other and help them understand what is going on inside the company when they are being excluded.

So much of this made sense to me and hit home for stuff happening in my work environment. I've taken enough of the mandatory management classes--I know what my motivator is--I like to be in the know. I need the big picture view to help me understand the steps I need to take to get to that big picture. I often tell my bosses, so that they don't have to read my mind to figure it out.

I know I've said this a hundred times, but all I want is "a little respect", a dab of inclusion, some opportunities for growth, a chance to share my views and ideas, and a team that can come together, talk about the hard stuff, not get caught up in the petty stuff, not see everything as an attack on them personally.

Aren't we all in this together?

Humanity for all
Spirit be with you.

Nancy

9/11 Remembering

Ast he anniversary of 9/11/01 comes around, it amazes me that five years have passed. I remember so clearly that morning. I had been in a meeting and came back to my office to see everyone in turmoil. There was a small TV in one of the offices, used for media stuff, and they were all gathered around trying to get an idea of what was happening. We watched as our world as we knew it, safe, isolated from the rest of the world, end that day. We watched as word of the Pentegon came over the wires. We heard rumors of other buildings that had been bombed--and here we were sitting in a federal facility-next door to another large federal facility--not too comforting. There was no more working that day--we were all glued to the tube, or to our radios in our offices, or to CNN online. Soon after they sent all federal employees home--the traffic was a nightmare-but all I could think of was that I wanted to be at my home--as if somehow that made me more safe.

For days, I was sucked in to watching it all on TV. And, then I started internalizing it and kept waiting for the "other shoe to drop". Everytime I heard unusual jet noises, I wondered what now. I think remembering this is a good thing. Five years later, we are already angry with increased restrictions at the airports, etc. We need to remember--we need to stay vigelant--we are no longer safe.

Ease My Worried Mind

I know many people will have seen this--I've gotten it a couple of times myself, but I think it gives rise to some thoughts about where we are in the world and whether we should worry. Let me know what you think?

I think the world has changed (not all for the better). Some of these worries I think are real, but some are probably born of the media sensationalism that we are now all exposed to on a daily basis. We wonder why there is an obesity epidemic among our children--well, they can't go out and play unless you are the security guard these days. Because of the media--we worry that every apple at Halloween will be filled with razor blades. Because of the media, we worry that if they do eat dirt, they will get horrible bugs in their intestines. As a grandmother, I have moved the kind of worries mentioned below to my grandkids. My adult children should now be able to take care of themselves--however, I still worry.

TO ALL THE KIDS WHO WERE BORN IN THE
1930's 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's !!


First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us.
They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.
Then after that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paints.
We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, not to mention, the risks we took hitchhiking.
As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags.
Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was always a special treat.
We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.
We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this.
We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but we weren't overweight because......

WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms..........WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no
lawsuits from these accidents.
We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.

We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays,

made up games with sticks and tennis balls and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes.
We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just yelled for them!

Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

This generation has produced some of the best risk!-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever!


The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned


HOW TO

DEAL WITH IT ALL!


You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated our lives for our own good.

Laboring on Labor Day

I never got the idea of Labor Day--a day of rest for all the workers of the world, but what do people do--they go to the stores, which means that somebody has to labor, some folks don't get the day off. I guess that's why I always wanted to work for the Federal Government. We get tons of days -all those federal holidays when the rest of the world still has to work. Columbus Day,Labor Day, Memorial Day, Martin Luther King Day, President's Day,....which the retail industry turns into a reason to have a sale--another concept that doesn't make sense to me.

Somewhere on the news, or on some show today they talked about the fact that 1/5 of the people in the United States makes up for like 85% of the income--I think I'm off, but the concept was that the rich are getting richer, and the poor are getting poorer. It's a sad state of affairs when Americans are less healthy than the poor of England. I still haven't understood how folks that have been barely breaking even can deal with gas at $3.00/gallon or higher. Of course, this was the first holiday weekend that the gas stations/companies didn't raise the prices.

With the increase in gas prices, the grocery prices have gone up as well. It amazes me that I live in Georgia, but peaches never went below about 80 cents a pound--and they were hard as rocks, and when they ripened, they dried up and were yucky. The only foods that haven't gone up as much are the snack foods that aren't good for you anyway. Do the companies out there care about the obesity rates in the US, or are all these conglomerates owned by foreign nationals who would love to bring the US down--while they take our money, killing us softly--

And, to top it all of, Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter died.

A strange Monday--lots to think about

Nancy

Where You Lead, I Will Follow

Well, I'm back in the office-although hardly anyone is here, so I had time to think about leadership again, especially given some of the things going on in the world. I have been watching a course from Harvard called "The Psychology of Leadership"--see previous posts, and today the lesson was about leadership--and how do we train leaders. In looking around on the web, I found these interesting statements:
To Change the World, Change Yourself First
Inscribed on the tomb of an Anglican Bishop at Westminster Abbey
When I was young and free and my imagination had no limits,
I dreamed of changing the world.
As I grew older and wiser I discovered the world would not change
So I shortened my sights somewhat and decided to change my country
But it too seemed unmoveable.
As I grew into my twilight years, in one last desperate attempt,
I settled for changing only my family, those closest to me.
But alas they would have none of it!
And now I realize, as I lie on my deathbed, that is I had only changed myself first,
Then by example I might have changed my family.
From then, by example, I might have changed my friends.
From their aspirations and encouragement I would have been able t better my country
And who know. . . I might have even changed the world.

This was very apropos after a conversation I had with my daughter about men. Some women attach themselves to men that they think they can change--make better (it's for their own good, isn't it), and for the most part they find that it doesn't happen. I should know, I had one like that--that I was going to save, and fix all of the problems he had. Twenty-three years later I finally got it. It wasn't going to happen.

I also found this very interesting commentary that seems to fit in with the conversation:

Rules for being human
You will receive a body. You may like it or not but it will be yours the whole time.
You will learn lessons. You are enrolled in a full time informal school called Life. Each day in this school you will have the opportunity to learn. You may like the lessons or you may hate the lessons but you will have little choice anyway.

There are no mistakes, only lessons. Growth is a process of trial and error, experimentation. The 'failed' experiment is as much a part of the process as the experiment that ultimately works.

A lesson is repeated until learned. A lesson will be presented to you in various forms until you have learned it. When you have learned it, then you can go to the next lesson.

Learning lessons does not end. There is no part of life that does not contain its lessons. If you are alive, there are lessons to be learned.

There is no better there than here. When your there becomes here you will simply obtain another there that will again look better than here.

Others are merely mirrors of you. You cannot love or hate something about another person unless it reflects to you something you love or hate in yourself.

What you make of your life is up to you. You have the tools and resources that you need. What you do with them is up to you. The choice is yours.

Your answers lie inside of you. The answers to life's questions lie inside of you. All you need to do is look, listen and trust.
Y
ou will forget all this

The statement that caught my eye was the one marked above--which kind of follows the post on reflections.(see previous post).

So, what makes a leader--according to Harvard, two necessary things are competence and character. So, can we train people to have character? Is it a skill or an innate part of the person. And, if it is innate--how did it get there--through parental/teacher models?

I know this is blasphemous, (I don't think any of my bosses read this), but where I work, leaders are determined by who you know, what ladders you climbed to get ahead--not competence and character. Sometimes it seems like if you mess up bad enough (and you are in the network--you get bumped up the ladder higher). Certainly the people who end up in leadership positions for the most part never received training for it--so I guess my work thinks that leadership is innate (at least that's my logic). I'm not jealous or anything because I have been put in leadership roles several times--not because I wanted to climb the ladder, but I was willing to do the work. I figure if I lead, I don't have to follow.

So, I would like to put this out to my loyal (reader(s))--is leadership a skill or innate?

Still hot and humid in Atlanta

Nancy

Reflections

 
 
 

I saw a great reflection photo on another blog and decided I would share a couple of mine from Alaska. Reflections are very interesting--the fact that they are backwards of what really is. Have you ever done that experiment where you take a picture of the left and right half of your face and then put the two left sides or two right sides of the picture together--it's like we have a good twin and an evil twin.

My husband is a Gemini and he really is sometimes like two people--the great guy, very kind and generous and then the other one that seems to only pop out when he is tired. The one that seems to be like Dr. Jeckyl. Me, I'm sure that some people see me completely differently than my family sees me. I remember long ago when a family counselor just couldn't believe that I ever got angry. Yep, our reflections--the one out front, the one behind the mirror that we try to keep out of sight from the rest of the world, or not. My son believes totally in the premise,that what you see is what you get, and if you don't like it, f..k it. He is totally himself (unless he is trying to get something from me), all the time, no airs, no games--of course who he is drives some people batty (sometimes me), but I do admire him for having the guts, (not necessarily the best judgement) to be totally who he is. My two other sons have learned how to play the game pretty well--the "how to win friends and influence people". My daughter, is a little more like my other son--just more reserved and more introspective and quiet. (Of course, I am now hearing stories from her younger days that would make me think differently). I think sometimes bad stuff happens to good people and it has a dramatic effect on them.

So, what do people see when they look at me? I know that I have my own internal view of myself, and that's probably why there aren't a lot of pictures of me hanging around. In my head, I'm a kid, uncoordinated, havent' really gotten comfortable with my body, but still wanting to play and have fun, be silly, dance, laugh, and not have to be an adult. What I have had to be in real life is the "adult", reserved, I won't say quiet, but certainly not raucous, except at home dancing with my 19 month old grandchildren. I have had to be the responsible one, the caregiver (not so good at that part), the provider, and now, since my Dad died, sort of the head of the family. It isn't necessarily who I want to be, but so it goes. 

North to Alaska

I can't help it, as soon as I got home I was working on putting my pictures together into a program on my computer called Click to DVD--it allows you to put your pictures in a slide show, but you can also add music. Now finding the right music for the pictures took me more time than putting the pictures in. As you can tell from previous posts, I have started tying everything to a song title. (I was hoping it would get more folks to my blog, but that didn't work either). Well, anyway, I divided the slides into Homer, Denali, Seward, and Anchorage--since those were the places we visited. I started looking for free mp3 songs on the internet, and found some very cool sites with Alaska stuff--unfortunately, some of the mp3's turned out to be mpu's (don't even know what that is, but my program won't convert them to mp3's). So, I found the first song (if I knew how to add audio files I would-but haven't figured that part out either). It was called "Where we live", and talked about a place with blue skies, big oak trees, lots of love, yada..... So that one had to go with Homer--see previous posts. Then for Denali--I had found this great music, but it was mpu, so I ended up using a John Tesh song--and it really worked. Then, for Seward, I used a Queen song--"This could be heaven"--and Anchorage --I found that I had "Find Your Way Back", right on my Jefferson Starship cd sitting downstairs. So, got it all put together, and must have watched it 4 times yesterday--once with each kid, and once on the tv in the living room--bigger picture, better sound. Made copies for the inlaws, etc.

Pretty crazy what can give you satisfaction.

Alaska the Flower Garden

These are some pictures around the cabin we used in Seward, Alaska. Don't know what the tall yellow things are, but they are very cool.

Homer Alaska

Kachemak Bay-Alaska




 

Denali or "Bust"--ed

Our second stop on the crazy whirlwind that we shall call our "vacation" was Denali National Park. Somehow or somewhere I got this crazy notion that National Parks were for the "people" of this country. The reality is that some of these parks are for the "rich", and the rest of us can hope that one day we too can save up enough money to get to see it. It wasn't the Park system that was the problem--I applaud our Park System for making something pretty reasonable. It was 20 for a family to have access to the park for 7 days--that's not bad at all. And, it wasn't too bad to take the bus trip for 8 hours into the park, 23.00/person. It was all of the stuff around the park that sucks. Hotel rooms close to the park, 200/night. Gas outside the park, 3.53/gallon, a bag of chips at the concession right outside the park, 9.00 dollars. Give me a break, why are companies allowed to rip people off because they are a captive audience? I think the Park should take a more active role in determining who can work with them, or around them, so that it can be something that "all the people" can appreciate.

So, to save money--we stayed at some cabins 13 miles south of the park. McKinley Creekside Cabins--well with all the rain, they were almost creek surrounded cabins. $130.00 for a little cabin with two double beds, a bathroom, and a little table. There was no TV, no phone, no radio, and for the most part, might as well have been no heat. I don't think it ever got above 60 degrees in the cabin, and that's with the thermostat set on 90. I would have complained more, but I didn't want to move all of our stuff. We were trying to save costs by bringing stuff for breakfast and lunch, and only having to eat dinner out. So, if you plan to go to Denali--I wouldn't recommend the cabins.

The ride into the park was long, and we didn't see any animals until the last 10-15 miles (out of 63 one way). The road is basically one lane, dirt, and only buses for the most part are on it. However, when you are 2-3000 feet above the valley floor, on a one lane ledge--it isn't much fun meeting another bus. I must give cudos to our bus driver--he was really great, and tried hard not to scare us to death.

We did see grizzlies, a mom and her cubs and a lone bear, caribou--a small herd, dall sheep, and a wolf. Of course, when you see them, they are barely more than specks, and even with zoom on cameras, they are still barely more than specks.

The park is very picturesque, but due to the clouds and rain, we never even got a glimpse of McKinley (Denali). I wish they would make up their minds on the name. By the way, McKinley never even made it to Alaska.

The bad part was that while we were on the bus tour, we found out that due to all of the rain, the road to Anchorage had been washed out, along with 100 feet of the railroad. Now, you would think that there would be at least 2 ways to get to Denali from Anchorage--unfortunately, there are really only 2--the Park Highway (which got washed out) or a drive to Fairbanks to take the Richardson and Glenn Allen Roads. So, given that we had to get to Seward on Monday, we toughed it, drove to Fairbanks (it was then, only then as we drove away from the park that we saw Denali in the rearview mirros), then to Richardson Highway, through the North Pole (town, not place), to Glenn Allen, which was the best part of the trip--the backside of the Chugash mountains--full of snow, some glaciers, and spectacular scenery.

More later

Nancy

Find Your Way Back

Two years ago, my husband and I made our first excursion to Alaska. He had heard Clark Howard talk about cheap tickets to Anchorage as he was driving back from one of his weeks out in Southern Georgia. If I hadn't mentioned it before, he is an archeologist and spends at least 40 of the 52 weeks out in the field. He called me on his cell phone, I got on line, and the next thing I knew, we had tickets to Anchorage. This was in February, and the tickets were for August.

Two years later, we decided to do a similar trip, this time taking my Mom (If you have been a loyal reader, you know my Dad died in November, 05) and we thought she would enjoy the trip. In March, this time, I got a little voice in my head that said go check travelocity for tickets--and amazingly enough, they were on sale. Tickets from Atlanta to Anchorage, for just over 300/person.

I spent several weeks trying to figure out a schedule that would get the most in with the availability of places in Homer, Seward, Denali, and Anchorage. Things get booked up early in the year, so there was no time to waste. Schedules made, it was just a mater of waiting and waiting and waiting until August.

I should have been forewarned when my friend in Sitka had complained of how cold and wet summer had been. So we made it to Anchorage with no problems other than leaving my cell phone in the terminal in Chicago. We found a hotel while on the plane waiting to take off to Anchorage, and the next day picked up our rental car and drove to Homer. It was the first of many rainy days.

We stopped in Soldatna for fishing licenses and food, and arrived in Homer just in time to check into our digs for the next four days. We lucked into finding a two bedroom cabin with a full kitchen so we had all the comforts of home, including a dog who seemed to magically appear every time we cooked.

So, here were my impressions of Homer after two years.

There is now only one gas station--used to be three.
Groceries that used to be 20% higher than Atlanta were now 50% higher.
The oil craziness has had a major role in decimating Homer. Yet, somehow, Homer continues to be the salvation for those that need it the most.

In the major drug store, I asked the clerk how she ended up in Homer.(One of those questions I always like to ask). She told me that it was a long story, but God brought her to Homer, and it had been a miracle. This was a common story I had heard two years prior.

What is it about a place like Homer--way the "hell" out of anywhere that draws people in and helps them that have lost their way find it again? Sometimes I feel jealous that they have found their "home", when I still seem to be searching for mine.

This trip, I did feel a little more like a "local". I found the other couple of grocery stores other than Safeway, and went to both of them. The U-Store It was amazing, from garam masala to french butter, from dried cherries to fishing gear. You could be English, Irish, French, German, as well as Russian, Asian, and Mexican) Everyone was represented in that store. (I applaud you)

The bottom line was things have changed. I don't see the same spirit of oneness that I saw two years ago, and may be it was the weather, but maybe it is a statement of how our government can change things, not always for the better---but for the rich, the fancy--those that can afford it, leaving the rest of us behind to wishful think and hope.

Leaving On a Jet Plane

So, I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again. Except, I had better be back by August 25th. It has finally come, my vacation. I only started planning it in February, because the flights are cheap. When you are going "North to Alaska", it is a different kind of travel experience. You have to buy your tickets months in advance, find places to stay--pay usually 50% of the cost in advance to hold the cabin or reservation, because everyone and their brother all want to go to Alaska in the summer. Of course, it makes sense--you don't want to go there in the winter unless you love cold weather and snow. My husband does, but I definitely am a warmer weather kind of woman. So, the day has finally come, and what happens--some crazies in England or somewhere decide they want to start creating chaos in a world already full of chaos. Give me a break. Can you pick some other time to do this stuff? Do you have to pull this stuff right before I plan to take a vacation. Really---what's your problem? Are you bored? Don't you have anything better to do than plan your own death? I believe there is life after death, but only for those that deserve it--and killing innocent people doesn't make you worthy, it makes you stupid--especially if you are listening to some radical crazy person that doesn't seem to be blowing himself up--just asking the young, the bored, the restless to do it in the name of something.

A long time ago, when I was in graduate school we talked about revolution as a necessary part of system change--I believed it then, but it wasn't revolution of killing people, it was revolution of ideas, and working within people's frame of reference.

I want my vacation, and I want it without the chaos of people trying to hurt others. I want to go softly into the vacation without having to deal with stress and strife. So, do you guys think you can lay off for a couple of weeks? I would greatly appreciate it.

So, for the next couple of weeks, unless I find an internet cafe that I can get to, or want to get to, I will be incognito-lost in the world of mountains, glaciers, fish, (and for my husband's sake--more fish), and I will see you back in the real world in late August.

Until then, peace, and may the world come to its senses and realize if we aren't all in this together, we are all doomed.

Not so hot in Atlanta,

Nancy

So You've Got to Have Friends

I couldn't remember the name of the song, but it goes something like, "And You've got to have friends...." I can hear the tune in my head, but I can't seem to remember the words enough to find it online. Previously, I have talked about "Beautiful Enemies", those friends who aren't just there to pat us on the back, but to pick us up off our butts when we get slapped down and to remind us to pay attention to what's going on around us. Those friends who don't always agree with us, and help us see the other side. Well, I talked about my husband being my "beautiful enemy", but I missed saying something about someone who has been my friend for a long time, in a very different way, my daughter. I was really young when she was born, never had been around babies before, but I was certainly awe struck with her, and very possessive. As she grew up, we didn't always have the best of relationships--I guess I thought she was a Daddy's girl, and figured that since I had three boys after her, I could let her go bond with him. It wasn't until she was an adult, with kids of her own, and she moved to Hotlanta too, that I really had the opportunity to get to know her as a friend. Now, it isn't always smooth sailing between us, because we are very different in some ways, but I can say that she has been that female friend that I never really had a chance to have. With 4 kids and a very demanding job, I was lucky to have time for my family. But, my daughter has been there for me, when I'm down, or lonely, or mad. She has taken a load of burden off me with my sons when they get rowdy and crazy. She listens to then for me and counsels them, when she knows I will just be mad about the chaos they have created. (I must say my oldest son no longer falls in this category. He has been a champ and I count him as another friend). But, back to my daughter. We've had some wild experiences together. One time, when I was stationed out on Saipan, she went with me to Tinian and we sang karaoke until the wee hours at a little bar on the island. I have gotten to be with her in the delivery room for the birth of her oldest son and the twins. We cook dinner together quite often (she cooks , I clean). We argue about why Zyira on Rock Star Supernova should be gone.(She likes her, I like Delana) We watch America's Next Top Model, but she refuses to watch Survivor--the folks are too dirty.
As a friend and not the parent, I've had to learn how to hold my tongue sometimes and so has she. I know I can never make up for not being the kind of mother she needed when she was young, but I hope that I'm getting better at being the kind of friend she would like me to be.

So, since this seems to be my day of tributes--here is to my daughter!!!.

And, thanks to one of my other friends, I have the words to the song!
Bette Midler - Friends -Alternate Lyrics:
the feeling''s oh so strong.
You got to have friendsto make that day last long.
Had some friends, but they''re gone,somethin'' came and took them away
,and from the dusk ''til the dawnhere''s where I will stay
.Standing at the end of the road, boys,waitin''
for my new friends to come.
I don''t care if I''m hungry or cold, freezing.I got to get me some.''
Cause you got to have friends.
Ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba.Friends.
"Oh, that''s the favorite part of my voice, you know.I really like to get up.
Hm."Oh, friends."Thank you."Oh, friends, friends, friends, friends.I had some friends, oh, but they’re all gone, gone.Somethin'' took ''em away,and from the dusk ''til the dawnhere is where I''m gonna stay, you know, oh.Standing at the end of a real long road, Jack,and I''m waitin'' for my new friends to come,and I don''t care if I''m hungry or freezing, freezing cold.You gotta, you gotta get me some.''Cause you gotta have,"you gotta have friends. I''m telling you. I am speaking ''cause I know. It’s going too fast. We’re all going too fast! I''m trying to tell you to slow down! They’re hard to come by! Those friends are hard to come by! I didn’t have many friends, you know. But, things are getting better now. And I think it’s gonna be okay, ''cause I have a couple now."Friends,you gotta, you gotta, you gotta have friends, friends.You gotta, you gotta, you gotta have friends, friends.

It's a Beautiful Day

I was thinking this morning as I was driving to work. I really do have a great job. Not because I make a bunch of money(cause I don't), not because I get fame and recognition(definitely don't), not because I'm the "boss"(I'm just a worker bee), but because of the great people I get to work with all across the country. This is a tribute to them.

The people I work with out there in the "real world" are amazing. They are there for the right reasons. They care about the people in their communities and want them to have the opportunity to lead healthy, happy lives. This isn't just something they say, this is something they honestly believe and work for every day. My job is to try to help them in any way I can to get there. These folks are creative, collaborative, dedicated, and honestly some of the nicest people I have ever had the pleasure to meet. They were there for me when my Dad died, and even though I am a consultant, they were more like my extended family, grieving with me. When I get the priviledge of going out to meet with them, they have always been more than gracious, taking time away from their incredibly busy schedules to take me to see the great programs they have been able to implement in their communities, the hard work in making policy changes, the incredible tedious work of compiling data to report to me so that I can advocate for them. They make my job so rewarding. Through them, I feel that I too can be a part of the difference that they are making. I am so proud and honored to call them my friends. One of my partners said yesterday that I was her mentor. Well I can tell you, I have learned more from all of them than I could ever give back.

An incredibly big "Thank-You" to all my buds out there. (You know who you are). You guys are the center of my Universe.




Nancy

What's Love Got to Do With It?

I have been amazed at the rate of divorce in this country. I wonder if this happens in other countries at such a rate. Guess I will need to research it, but I was thinking about Love and marriage, partners, children and how different it often is. We are supposed to have unconditional love for our children. I was raised that your parents loved you, they might not always like you or your behavior, but they always loved you. I kind of thought that marriage was supposed to be that way. That you unconditionally loved your spouse, but there were times when you didn't necessarily like them. Well, I learned the hard way that unconditional love doesn't necessarily come with marriage. Guess that's why I have an ex. I have recently been taking an online class on the psychology of leadership. It talks about unconditional acceptance and the permission to be human. Our friends should be our "beautiful enemies", not just agreeing with everything we say, but they should give us permission to be human. I know that is one thing I can say about my present husband. He has given me unconditional acceptance since the day I met him, and 12 years later, that definitely hasn't changed. I have tried hard to follow his example, and for the most part, other than him leaving his dirty socks on the floor, it is pretty easy to do. I can burp, or fart around him(when it gets away from you) and know that he won't tease me, or berate me for doing it. I can get angry, or cry at a movie, or yell at the crazy drivers on the road, and he understands and allows me to be me--the good, the bad, and the ugly.

I have learned so much from him over the years--stuff I thought I knew, but obviously didn't practice. I have learned how to be a better leader by watching him. I have learned to be more giving, more understanding, and less judgmental. So, I think Love and being loving gives us the safety to be who we are, and I'm thankful every day.

Monday Morning Humor

Thanks to Tomas for this joke:
An old country preacher had a teenage son, and it was getting time the boy should give some thought to choosing a profession. Like many young men, the boy didn't really know what he wanted to do, and he didn't seem too concerned about it.

One day, while the boy was away at school, his father decided to try an experiment. He went into the boy's room and placed on his study table three objects:

* a Bible,
* a silver dollar, and
* a bottle of whiskey.

"I'll just hide behind the door," the old preacher said to himself, "and when he comes home from school this afternoon, I'll see which object he picks up. If it's the Bible, he's going to be a preacher like me, and what a blessing that would be! If he picks up the dollar, he's going to be a businessman, and that would be okay, too . But if he picks up the bottle, he's going to be a no-good drunkard, and, Lord, what a shame that would be."

The old man waited anxiously, and soon heard his son's footsteps as he entered the house whistling and headed for his ro om. He tossed his books on the bed, and as he turned to leave the room he spotted the objects on the table. With curiosity in his eye, he walked over to inspect them.

Finally, he picked up the Bible and placed it under his arm. He picked up the silver dollar and dropped it into his pocket. He uncorked the bottle and took a big drink.

"Lord have mercy," the old man whispered, "he's gonna be a Congressman!"

and one from my Mom

MY PHILOSOPHY OF HOUSECLEANING!

I don't do windows because ...
I love birds
and don't want one to run into a clean window
and get hurt.

I don't wax floors because ...
I am terrified a guest will slip and get hurt
then I'll feel terrible( plus they may sue me.)

I don't mind the dust bunnies because ...
They are very good company, I have named most of them,
and they agree with everything I say.

I don't disturb cobwebs because .
I want every creature to have a home of their own.

I don't Spring Clean because .
I love all the seasons and don't want the others
to get jealous

I don't pull weeds
in the garden because ..
I don't want to get in God's way,
HE is an excellent designer!

I don't put things away because ...
My husband will never be able to find them again.

I don't do gourmet meals
when I entertain because I don't want my guests
to stress out over what to make when they invite me
over for dinner.

I don't iron because ...
I choose to believe them
when they say "Permanent Press".

I don't stress much on anything because .
"A Type" personalities die young
and I want to stick around
and become a wrinkled up crusty ol' woman!!!!

Also from Tomas: Why Dogs Bite People:

I Can't Get No.... Satisfaction

It is so hard to buy anything these days. You can go online and research the product, but everywhere you go, there are reviews, most of which are terrible. Is it that all products produced these days are defective or are only the folks that are disgruntled are writing reviews. I had been looking for a new refrigerator for the house. My daughter lives with me with her four kids, so we have a world of juice boxes, applesauces, yoguarts, etc--and no place to put the pop, water, or even to fit all of the veggies--plus my frig had not crispers--it was one of my first purchases with my new husband 12 years ago.

So, we had been looking, thinking about a bottom-freezer type in stainless (for our redone kitchen that we have been planning for the last 7 years--and still planning). It was hard to find one that was going to be big enough, or didn't cost over 2000 dollars. So, after looking at several places, we went to Home Depot and got sucked in on the 10% off if you signed up for a credit card, and no tax--(tax free holiday in Georgia for appliances if they were energy star compliant). So, we found one, and it will be delivered on Friday. I had heard that LG was pretty good but, then I read the reviews, they were bad--I guess I can hope for the best, prepare for the worst. But, what is it these days, is construction so bad--does no one care about the job they do? Are things made in "America" worse than things made overseas with "slave labor" or "foreign labor"?

What ever happened to pride in one's work? Is the almighty dollar the only incentive, and even if you make it, it doesn't mean you have to care? It amazes me to live in Atlanta, and see all of these people living in very expensive houses, driving very expensive cars, eating out all the time and wonder--what are they doing differently to be able to afford all of this stuff? How could this many people be making so much more money than me? What kind of jobs do they have? How could employers afford to pay so many people so much money?

Well, for those of us who have to work for a living, and don't make gobs of money, we should at least be able to buy something and have it work the first time, not after three replacements. We should be able to buy stuff that will last 10 years without feeling we need to buy an extended warranty, because you never know what you are going to get, you should be confident that what you spend your hard earned money on will be worth the price you pay.

We will see on this new refrigerator. If it doesn't work out, believe me, I am the first to write, complain, pitch a fit, you name it. But I hate having to do that, and we shouldn't have to. For anyone who reads this (no one does other than some family and a couple of folks at work that I've sent the link too)---let's all put our pride, our skills, and our word into the jobs we do. At least if a few of us make the commitment, we can be an example for the rest.

Another hot humid Sunday in Atlanta

Nancy

Riding the Roller Coaster

I am constantly amazed at how much life is like a roller coaster. You have the highs, the lows, the parts that scare you to death, the parts where you scream at the top of your lungs, and the part where you finally get to get off the ride and find a more level path to follow. I still don't seem to have found that more level path, or should I say the people I associate with, my family, my co-workers, my friends keep throwing me back on that ride--I think they think I enjoy it. Honestly, folks, I hate roller coasters-I love the level path, and one day, dang you guys, I'm gonna get there, if I have to take all of you with me kicking and screaming. I would like to think that I can have more than 2 days in a row of relative peace, quiet, and everybody on an even keel.

So the latest person to throw me back on the ride has been my second son. He has been living in Albuquerque, and for the most part doing a damn good job of being independent. He moved back to New Mexico about 16 months ago. I had given him my old Suzuki Sidekick (the cheapest 4WD you can get) when he moved. He sold the car , and flew home for a visit and hoping to find a used car in Atlanta to drive back with. Well, let's just say, people have some pretty crappy junk cars that they think are worth their weight in gold. It was pretty depressing, and since I had offered him my car, my cute little Suzuki wagon,(see picture in previous post), I felt compelled to go ahead and give it to him. Well, we had a little different on the agreed upon price, but we had come to an understanding(I understood that if we wanted the rest of his vacation to be peaceful, I needed to give a little, and so did he). So, we had come to a middle ground, and he was spending the day trying to get a stereo system installed in the car for the ride home. Well, in the midst of that, he got his debit card and cash that he had brought from New Mexico stolen. By the time we got the bank to cancel the card, they had run off with over 600 dollars in cash and 700 dollars in the account. I'm sorry, but I absolutely hate the fact that we can't trust anyone anymore. I hate the fact that people prey on others and take advantage of them. Fuck them all.(excuse my language) It is one of those times that if I could find the crooks, I honestly think that I could inflict bodily harm on them. How dare they hurt my son. He is one of those kids that have had enough tough knocks to take out an elephant. Why him? Why now when we were just getting to place of mutual understanding. I know life isn't fair, but it does seem that some folks get more than their share, and I'm tired of it. So, I can tell you, if you fit the description, you better keep your distance, a mother mad is a force to reckon with.

And, to top it off, my poor husband, having to work outside during this heat spell, with a heat index of 110, fell down a hill, hurt his back, ripped his pants, and will have to go back out there again tomorrow.

I sure hope tomorrow is a better day. I don't want to ride tomorrow.

And you wonder why this blog is called "Stranded in Atlanta"

Nancy

The Center of the Universe

When I lived on Hopi, I was told that the Hopi Reservation was the Center of the Universe. The story was that the Four Corners Area of the Southwest and the Himalayan Mountains have more land based lightening that anywhere else in the world, therefore setting up the flow of negative ions. The whole negative ion thing is pretty interesting. You find negative ions at the beach, the mountains, around waterfalls, and when lightening strikes. So, all those places that often makes me feel good are full of negative ions.(except you don't want to be too close to the lightning--I do love to watch it though)

I'm not sure I always felt good on Hopi--it is a challenging environment to move into, being a "bahana" on the Res. It was my first long term experience in living in a culture for which English is not the primary language, and I'm sure I was the brunt of many jokes that I never knew about while I was there.

It was also my first experience of not having all the things we take for granted. During our stay, I had to haul water for drinking and bathing(and flushing the toilet), haul coal for heating, and plan grocery shopping carefully since Winslow was the closest nontrading post grocery store.

But, we also got to do things I never thought I would get to do, like barter for a mustang foal(horse not car) and raise him, attend night dances in a kiva, be the brunt of the Hopi clowns at a bean dance, and get to experience a very traditional intact culture. I learned to shoot a rifle at beer cans on the side of the mesa, ride horses out on the range, through the arroyos, explore ancient ruins and petroglyphs, and step outside of my comfort zone.

So, in some ways, I definitely understand for four years, I was at the center of the universe.

Our Guardian Angels

My Dad died unexpectedly last November. He was 88, had successfully gone through colon cancer surgery and had bright prospects for a full recovery, when the physicians in this small North Carolina hospital, didn't keep on top of his situation and he developed blood clots in both sides of his lungs. They transported him to Asheville, but it was too late. He died on November 5, 2005. It was a devastating blow for all of us. He and my Mom had been married for 60 years. They had celebrated their anniversary in July, his birthday in August, and no one had any thoughts other than he would recover with no problems. He still went to the gym 5 days a week, walked on the treadmill and lifted weights. He could have probably still out arm wrestled us all.

Needless to say our family was thrown into turmoil. Then, several things happened to make us realize that he was still with us, as our guardian angel. The first strange occurrence was when I was putting together a slide show for the funeral. The picture of him at his 88th birthday party at the gym was now my desktop wallpaper. My husband and I looked at each other--"Did you do that?" Not me, my husband said--I don't even know how to do that. So, every day when we get on the computer, there is my Dad.

Then, at Spring break, my daughter was driving back from Orlando when she took the kids to Disney World. She watched as this Lexus sedan with two young women went tearing around her, and then around a school bus. As the car cut back into it's lane, it lost control and when flipping across the median and on top of another car. My daughter-said it was like someone put their hands over her ears. She saw the wreck as if in slow motion, but she didn't hear one sound, not the crushing of metal, or collision. Not one piece of flying metal (and given that the car was going around 80 mph) flew towards her car. She pulled to the side of the road and called 911 to report the wreck. She called me a few minutes later, still shaking to tell me what had happened.

Then, a month or so later, my Mom was driving my uncle's car while her car was being repaired. She got T-boned by a car that came out of no where going about 60 mph. She was taken by ambulance to the Hospital, but other than soreness, she was unhurt.

I think God realized how much this family needed a guardian angel and took my Dad so he could help look after us. Not a day goes by that I don't think about him and miss him, but I know he is looking out for us.

Thanks Dad,

Nancy

Clinton Soup

From a show on Canadian TV. there was a black comedian who said he misses
Bill Clinton.
"Yep, that's right - I miss Bill Clinton! He was the closest thing we ever
got to having a black man as President.
Number 1 - He played the sax.
Number 2 - He smoked weed.
Number 3 - He had his way with ugly white women.
Even now? Look at him... his wife works, and he don't!
And, he gets a check from the government every month.

Manufacturers announced today that they will be stocking America's shelves
this week with "Clinton Soup," in honor of one of the nations' most
distinguished men. It consists primarily of a weenie in hot water.

Chrysler Corporation is adding a new car to its line to honor Bill
Clinton The Dodge Drafter will be built in Canada.

When asked what he thought about foreign affairs, Clinton replied, " I
don't know, I never had one."

The Clinton revised judicial oath: "I solemnly swear to tell the truth as I
know it, the whole truth as I believe it to be, and nothing but what I
think you need to know."

Clinton will be recorded in history as the only President to do Hanky Panky
between Bushes."

The Bigger Picture

I got another hint today on how to get people to read your blog--keep it short--people don't want to invest more than 10-15 seconds reading anything on someone else's blog. Bottom line--I've decided to stop caring about whether or not anyone reads what I have to write. I've gone on other blogs and read their stories, often longer than mine and left comments, but no, I guess we can't expect much from people outside of our own sphere to care about anything other than the "sex, lies and sales" from a previous post. I can leave it for what it is, and move on. This blog is for me, a place to record my thoughts, stories, etc. I honestly no longer care whether anyone reads it, because it is a place for me to tell my tale.

So, here is another part to the Hopi story.

So, we move into this "rock house" on the Hopi Reservation (this is back in the late 70's, early 80's. I work at the Hopi Tribe Health Department, and my ex--goes to back to school so he can start working with the education department. My daughter goes to Second Mesa Day School--one of the only bahana's (non-Indian) at the school, and my son goes to the Headstart. We get involves with cultural activities and try to be as culturally sensitive as possible.

Amazing things happen, and as I mentioned earlier, I wouldn't trade that time for anything, although my daughter would beg to differ with me. Many things that happened to her I never found out until she was much older.


We had one of the only phones on the mesa, so we were often the stopping off place for people who needed to get in touch with somebody. One time, the family came to use the phone because their family member had gotten drunk in Winslow, fallen asleep on the train track, and had their legs cut off by a train. One time, one of the fathers of a traditional family stopped by, talked for about 10 minutes before he told me that our horse had gotten out of the corral and was running down the highway.

There were times when the dancers came to the sacred spring and we had to stay inside and not bother them. There were times when we attended the dances and were expected to visit the homes of our co-workers and "eat". Over all, I felt I had found something that touched a place deep inside of me. I never had a culture that I really felt a part of. I grew up as a military brat, moving around from town to town. Then, married another military brat who felt that if you weren't happy one place-move until you found a place you were happy. (Don't think he ever found it--but he's the ex-so it doesn't matter.) Living on a Reservation with a very culturally intact tribe makes you realize how much that can mean, and also make you realize how hard it is for those who leave that culture behind to become part of the mainstream.

I read a blog that talked about the danger of nostalgia--I'm not nostalgic, just wish that there were more places in the world to feel connected to something larger than oneself--to belong and feel a part of the bigger picture.

Summer Time Blues

It's almost the end of July, and I still have three weeks before I get to take some vacation time. I guess it is the price you pay for trying to be organized, frugal, and deal with multiple scheduling issues. And, no matter how you try to schedule, someone is always throwing a wrench into the works. I started planning my vacation in February, because that is when the tickets to Alaska go on sale--(can't imagine why no one would want to go to Alaska in February). For some reason you can get a great deal on a flight to Anchorage in February, and then you wait-and wait-and wait until that day finally comes. Plus, in Alaska, things book up quickly, so you also have to reserve your rental car, your motel/hotel/cabins early in the year because otherwise you will be up the creek with no room at the inn. And, many of the places require a 50% deposit, so you also obligate your funds long before the vacation ever comes. So, we have our flights, our reservations in Homer, Seward, and Denali, and the B&B in Anchorage for our last night, we have our car, my husband has his halibut trip all reserved. But here is the hitch. We get into Anchorage late in the evening, and have a 40 minute connect time in Chicago. We are also traveling with my Mom (my Dad died last November) who gets around really well for 78, but can't run to the next terminal. So, I called Travelocity to see if there was an earlier flight out of Hotlanta that we could take--I would rather have plenty of time to make a connecting flight, but no, as long as the connection time was more than 30 minutes--no deal---yes, they say they will make your flight "right"--I'm not so sure. If we miss our connecting flight to Anchorage, the next flight would take us to LA with an overnight, and get us into Anchorage the next afternoon.--give me a break, I don't get enough vacation time as it is--I don't want to miss a minute of it on stupid connecting flights because Travelocity can't see that there could be a problem. Also, it means I can't reserve a hotel for the first night because of the cancellation policies--if we don't make it, I still get charged. Well, I'm cheap enough that I don't like paying for something I don't use. So, I have to hope for the best--prepare for the worst, and try to convince Travelocity that making it right means giving us more than 40 minutes, given that Atlanta is notorius for backups.

My frustration for the day

Still Hot in Hotlanta

What the Hell in "Hell's Kitchen"

"Hell's Kitchen" has certainly been fiery this year. Seems like there is a fire on every episode these days. I can't believe I watch the show, but I guess I am just amazed at what the people say about each other, and how much Heineken they can drink (skunky beer if you ask me-don't they have any other choices?) And, how much abuse are people willing to take knowing that only one of them will get to be a chef at the new restaurant--can you imagine going through weeks of being called a "f... b...." and then not win? That is the part that always amazes me. Most of these folks know that they don't have a chance in hell of winning, but they put up with the crap for weeks, like on Survivor or Big Brother. We pretty much knew that the prison cook wasn't going to win. We pretty much knew that the guy who kept sweating into the food wasn't going to win. I am not sure who is going to make it to the end, but if the big guy with the pants that won't stay up makes it, I sure wouldn't want to eat there--can they not get him a belt? And "Sara"--give me a break, somebody needs to give her a clue-she hasn't cooked meat in years and then suggest lamb chops? How ridiculous is she? And Heather--can you get some original lines--the claw stuff, has gotten really tiring. Please anyone who reads this (of course no one does), but please if you go on a reality tv show, show some originality, show some pride--if you are a chef--what the hell are you doing smoking? I certainly wouldn't want a chef preparing my food that had just been out smoking. And, even if they are your competitors, treat people with some courtesy. You can be a leader and still be a human. You can compete without trying to sabotage others. If you are talented enough to be a chef with a large restaurant, you don't do it by sabotage, you do it by talent.

Yes, I know that doesn't make for interesting TV, or does it? Could people like Dilana on Rock Star SuperNova show a new way of getting ahead--being honest, helpful, and human? Are we so screwed up in our TV world that all we find entertaining is people trashing each other? I think the networks would be surprised if they tried something different. I personally am tired of the sitcoms where the teens are supposedly so "smart", and the adults are so "stupid". Give me a break, I've raised four teens--they are not as smart as they think they are. Maybe that's why I have resorted to watching reality tv. At least sometimes the young folks get taught a lesson or too.

So, tonight is Rockstar--we'll see if Dilana continues to be my new role model.
/

The Eye of the Beholder

Getting Movie recommendations from others is aways slightly risky at best. Unless the person watches movies the way you do, or experiences life the way you do, you are never sure what you are going to get, like Forrest Gump's "box of chocolates". I have realized that I watch movies very differently than many of my family members. When I read a book, watch a movie, or even a show, I become part of the story, I'm there with the family through the trials and tribulations. My ex-husband(see previous posts) watched movies very differently than I do. He was a spectator, watching for the sheer voyarism of watching someone else do something. I will never forget when my youngest son was coming down with chickenpox (from his kindergarten teacher). He was running a high fever, and my ex and I were watching "Dances with Wolves". It was too emotional, and I totally identified with the female main character. That, on top of a sick child, I just couldn't watch the show. He was mad because I wasn't paying attention to the movie. I couldn't, it hurt too much.

My present husband is much better at understanding my plight (and why I always ask for a comedy if anyone is picking up a movie at the video store). He has even been known to get a little teary at times, and has been a great sport about watching the "chick flicks" and not making me watch too many historic battle-field movies. As I always tell him, all of the soldiers are someone's son--the mother in me gets too empathetic.

So, it was interesting to see what my daughter would pick out for me yesterday when she went to the video store. She got "The Family Stone". (If you haven't seen it yet, stop reading here, because I will talk about the ending).

She thought it was funny and entertaining. And it was, until it comes out that the Mom is dying of breast cancer. She has all of her children and their accompanying players at her home for Christmas. Her children are about as diverse and full of angst as mine, and I identified with her and her wish that her children find happiness. So, when the next Christmas comes, and they all come back together, many of their foes vanquished, she is not there to be with them. I couldn't help but cry to the point of red eyes and a stuffy nose.

I told my daughter the next morning how sad I thought the movie was. She didn't see it that way. She saw that the family came together, resolved their differences, and were happy--therefore a happy ending. I was still hung up on "The Mom Died!"-what more could I see.

So, hence the title. We are all on very different wavelenghts, different places in our lives, trying to keep it all sane. I have figured out for me, in general, I like keeping it simple, happy, and funny even in my movie watching--it can have a little moment, where maybe a single tear gets swept away surriptitiously, but no cloudburst movies for me. Guess I need to pick out my own movies next time.

Still Hot in Atlanta

Nancy

And Now for the Rest of the Story

First you have to read the Celestine Prophesy Post before reading this one--I don't know how to move things around on my blog.

Well, we moved into this great sandstone house with wood floors, beam ceilings. It was two bedrooms, one bath, but beggers can't be choosy, and rent was only $50.00 a month. (long time ago). Well, it turned out the house was a duplex, and the other side of the house was the alcohol halfway house for the Res. The guys were all very nice, we were just warned not to give them cough medicine, alcohol wipes, or mouthwash if they asked, but other than that, they were cool.

The house we had been moved into had been the residence of the half-way house manager. He and a couple of his staff had gone to a conference in San Diego and "got lost", so while he was AWOL, they moved his furniture out of the house and moved us in. About two months later, he shows up at the door. I told him that all his stuff had been taken to his mom's house, and he left without a comment. Never saw him again.

Lots more stories about this house, but I will save them for another post.

My Version of the Celestine Prophesy
I don't know how many of you guys have ever read any of the Celestine Prophesy Books, but I wanted to share one of those moments that afterward makes you think "hmm".

My first major job in Public Health was working for the San Bernardino County Health Department in California. I didn't stay long (culture shock of moving from a small southern town got to me quickly). However, while we were there, we kept visiting Arizona. We made a trip to the Grand Canyon and travelled through the Hopi Reservation. Now my experience with American Indians prior to that was a couple of trips to Cherokee, North Carolina. My exhusband (see previous post) and I were somehow drawn to the desolation and drama of the area. After growing up on the East Coast, Arizona is like an alien planet.

Well, when we had decided that we didn't belong in that West Coast Rat Race, I started scanning the LA Sunday times for jobs, when what should catch my eye? There was a job listing for a Health Educator for the Hopi Tribe, in Kyokotsmovi, Arizona. I sent my application in, not expecting to hear back. Yet, a couple of weeks later, I got a call asking if I could come out for an interview. So, we packed up the kids (just 2 at that time), jumped in our old VW Bug and drove to the "Res". The interview went well, and the health educator from Keams Canyon took us on a tour of the reservation.

Well, there aren't many trees out there, so as we were driving down Second Mesa, there were a few Cottonwoods by this old warehouse building, with a sandstone building across the street. We were informed that there was also a sacred spring, and right up the road were the "Corn Rocks".

I told my ex at the time--if I got the job and we moved to Hopi, I wanted to live in the stone building-with the trees.

Well, at the end of the interview they asked if I could bring a mobile home out with me if I got the job, because housing was very scarce. Me, just out of grad school, up to my neck in student loans--nah, if you don't have housing, I couldn't take the job.

So, we returned to California and figured that was that--

Well, two weeks later, I got a phone call--We have a house, will you take the job? My only question was "Indoor plumbing?", Yes it was, and I was moving to Arizona.

Well, they told me that they would have someone meet me at the Second Mesa Trading Post to take us to our new house. It was July--crossing the desert in a U-Haul pulling a volkswagon with two kids was loads of fun. As we pulled into Flagstaff, a thunderstorm came up and the temperature probably dropped 20 degrees.

We make it on over to the trading post and waited. Up on the top of the mesa, you could hear the Home Dance with the tortoise shell rattles echoing down to the folks pumping gas and buying grocieries. It was an amazing introduction to our new home.

A pick up truck pulls up and the couple inside motion for us to follow them. We started up the mesa, right up the same road that went by the trees, the sacred spring and the sandstone house. They pull into the driveway and indicate that this would be our home. The house I had seen during the interview, the one place with a few tall trees, and a sacred spring, just down from the Corn Rocks.

We lived there for 4 1/2 years. I have never been more aware of my ties with Mother Earth than my time on Hopi. It wasn't always easy, but some of my best memories still take me back in my mind's eye to that day and that house in the trees.

Wishful Thinking
One of my wishful thoughts has been to get into the publishing world. I have what I think would be great ideas for books, and sometimes when I'm traveling, I make a mental note of the scenery and how I would make that part of my book.

I have had this one idea for the last ten years or so. It came from some of the scenes out west, when you are driving through New Mexico and Arizona. My plan was to drive to some of the old pueblo buildings that were still standing in different states of disrepair and take pictures of them. The Title of the book would be "Return to the Mother", but in Spanish (obviously I don't speak Spanish, or I would have translated it already). The story would be the development and use of adobe around the world, so of course I would have to travel to other countries that used adobe and take pictures there as well. I saw it as a coffee table book, big, glossy and heavy. But, somehow getting bills paid has to come first.

My other book idea would develop into a series. It would be a travelogue, again with lots of pictures. It would basically be the travels along the coastline of the United States, taking pictures of the little fishing towns, beaches and characters that reside there. I would start in Maine at Eastport, and travel down, around, and across to the West Coast, and then up to Washington. Once this one made it big, I would take the coast of South America, etc, etc.

I figure it would be the best of both worlds, I love to travel, I love the ocean, and I love "money". So, I guess one day, I will just have to find someone to pay me to travel, take pictures, and publish my books. Any takers?

Far From the City of Brotherly Love


I got to make a quick trip to Philadelphia this week, the "City of Brotherly Love". I had been once before in the fall, and being in Philadelphia during a heat wave is an interesting proposition. Luckily, if you are downtown, you can walk through buildings sometimes to get to the next street, so I spent very little time outdoors. It was the news that was so disconcerting in Philadelphia. There have been 10 murders in the last 3-4 days, one being a taxi driver with four children. My taxi driver told of another story where the driver was held at gun point, but luckily wasn't shot.

There was an elderly woman who died in her house because she didn't want to turn on the fans or air conditioners because she was afraid she couldn't pay the electric bill. There were loads of people trying to sit outside because their row homes acted like convection ovens. Everyone seemed to be blaming everyone else. The mayor wanted to bring in more police and state troopers, the police chief wanted the city to raise the pay for the police so they could keep the policemen they have and possibly get more. All in all, a desperate situation, luckily with a short term end in site--a thunderstorm coming down from the north.

Not so for Atlanta, I got back to hear it had been 100 degrees today. I guess in the South we suppose that poor folks, and elderly folks have air conditioners and fans (as we sit in our air conditioned houses).

It's a sad world, not so full of "brotherly love". And then, I got an email from a friend of mine, who is in Sri Lanka working at an elephant orphanage. I want to include her story here because I think it says something that sometimes we forget. We are all in this together. Easy to say, hard to act on. Here is one example of selfless devotion to this thought.

Hope for rain and cooler temperatures.

I have now switched orphanages and I am now at an elephant orphanage for a week. What do I exactly do? The first thing in the morning I clean up, no lie, after 67 elephants who just ate---so yes, I scoop their poop for two hours! Thank God they are vegetarians; their dung is not so bad. Then I feed the baby elephants their bottle with human powder milk and later in the day give them their bath in the river. It is a sight to see 67 elephants stroll down through the bookshops and gift stores as they journey through town to get to the river.


Out of the 67 elephants, 3 of them are disabled. Raja the blind elephant, shot by poachers who also tore his eyes out and he still survived; Punjab with one ear that a hunter tore off; and Sama who accidentally stepped on a land mine and lost a whole foot. So when Sama journeys down the town threw the bookstores, you see her limp and hop to catch up with the rest. I washed Raja several times and he already knows me by my elephant dung smell and because I accidentally scrubbed his eyes (it's hard to tell where they are!). I have a special place in my heart for Sama; even though she is disabled, she feeds the baby elephants with her trunk. I have no problem cleaning her dung.


So yes, my main job description: elephant dung cleaner!