Community is About Participation

Scene from Hoosiers

Most of us are part of various communities, whether we want to be or not, based on our affiliations, associations, and sometimes just the physical location where we live.  Some of us simply exist in the communities, many participate, and still others take leadership roles within the groups.  We all usually reap the same benefits and suffer the same hardships bestowed on the group at large.  It’s an honor system of sorts, you do right by your clan and they do right by you.  Yet some are weary of taking lest they have to give.  But community is not about tit for tat, as in a monetary system.  Community is about taking ownership of the success of the whole group, which includes helping those individuals in need within the social unit, and accepting a leg up yourself when you’re not able to go another mile on your own.  Sometimes you give, sometimes you take, sometimes you go stretches without doing either one, but you do it all without ever expecting a payout or an IOU hanging over your head.  

Being part of a community has always been important to me as an individual.  From a young age, I actively gravitated toward specific groups that shared similar interests, likes student athletes, performers, and practical jokers.  I didn’t want a label, I just enjoyed talking and sharing stories and ideas with other like-minded individuals.  I felt part of something larger than myself, and while I felt no obligation to contribute to the individual communities, I WANTED to, so I did.  In turn I just naturally experienced lots of good will from the groups and their members.  

As I got older, the investment in the communities I submerged myself in became greater, yet the yield was more than I could even measure.  The time, energy, and loyalty I gave to the radio broadcast community, the gay community, and later my work community in real estate was substantial, yet I attribute almost every win during those time periods to a collaboration between me and my clan.  Without the support and camaraderie of my tribes, my success is uncertain, as I am only one man, with limitations and faults.  Yet as a participant in a group, even a small one at that, my accomplishments echo for days and my failures are absorbed and put into perspective without complaint.   

While I never thought much about my natural attraction to communities, now as a parent, even a two-parent, above-average wage-earning household in an affluent neighborhood filled with what can only be described as “white people problems," I thank my lucky stars every day for the various communities that support, nurture, and provide direct friendship and care to me and my family.  While I am completely capable of surviving on my own, I would never want to because my life would be sub-par.  Who would pick up my kids when I’m running late, drop me at the train station on the way our of town, or leave chicken soup at my door when I was sick?  Who would shovel my walkway in an unexpected snowstorm or pay the babysitter when I’m out of cash or let the roofer in when I’m at work?  Who would invite me over when I need a break from my spouse or family or keep my kids overnight when I have to attend to an emergency?

I simply don’t think I’d be able to do it on my own, at least without questioning if there is a God or a point to this life.  

I know it takes courage to give of yourself, lest your trust be shattered.  It also takes faith to take of what is given to you, as it’s really not about your worry over a tally sheet, but acknowledgement that you are not perfect, are not able to be in 3 places at one time, and are not SuperMan/Woman, because that shit ain’t real.  It’s about surrendering to the idea that we are not in complete control of our lives and that we all need to “get by with a little help from our friends.” 

Take a leap of faith today.  Ask someone for a hand.  Offer a kind word or assistance to someone “just because.”  Build a bridge of trust.  Your community is what you make of it. Think you don’t have a natural community?  I bet you do.  What about your fellow pre-/grade-/middle-/high school parents,  your daily carpool counterparts, and the neighbors that live around you, they are all examples of community by association.  Co-workers in your department, people you wave to on your morning walk or Starbucks run, or the members of your support group.  We all have a basic connection with our unique groups and people in them based on repeated exposure, whether it be through work or kids or shared interest.  We have a choice, though, whether we will participate in that community around us.  

Maybe you don’t crave social outlets or collaboration or belonging…you like to be on your own and do your own thing.  Okay, that’s cool.  Then seek out other people like yourself that pride themselves on being in control, even though we all know you’re not, and join forces with them.  The specific group you surround yourself is not nearly as important as the act of participating within a group at all, even if just by association.  Fake it to make it if you have to.  The odds of you accidentally giving of yourself to your posse or accepting aid by default that you incidentally need will increase exponentially just by bridging the gap with people and accepting the tie that binds you.

What do you have to lose?  Maybe a little time or energy.  What do you have to gain?  A potential lifeline that keeps you afloat.  It’s worth the tradeoff in my book.

Part of the Solution

If you’re not part of the solution, then you’re part of the problem. I wholeheartedly agree with and live by this statement.  It’s truly not enough to just have opinions on the way things should be.  It’s necessary to actually live your life under the umbrella of what you believe in.  

Once enough people do this….making daily decisions regarding behavior, practice, and lifestyle based on the values they hold, other people start to notice and think, 'Hey, maybe I should think about X and incorporate it into my world.’  It spreads.  It becomes commonplace to act or think X, and next thing you know it is an issue, a real hot button topic and the masses at large are weighing in on it and sometimes putting it to law or banning 'it.'  It’s amazing how it happens, really.

There will always be opponents to whatever you believe or hold dear, and I’m not necessarily talking about politics or religion, two of my least favorite topics, but just simple viewpoints or beliefs.  That’s okay, heck that’s even great, as it’s the various takes on the “hows” of the world that make us think and consider the opinions we’ve actually honed, or in some cases, should develop.  Discord keeps us on our toes and in some cases, forces us to take action on our beliefs.

Complacency, on the other hand, does nothing to help a cause.  Never considering your own opinion on a topic, thereby choosing not to weigh in at all, or even worse, doing nothing when you know the right course of action, based on your own opinions and value system, can actually inflate a subject.  Just as taking a stand or an action is contagious, doing zero, or doing nada except complaining is also infectious, causing those around you to do as you do.  Desensitized to the issue, it actually becomes worse, as it appears as if there is no case at all, since there is no attention being pointed its way.

Let’s apply a super general example to prove my point:  Using common manners when interacting with others.

It’s super important to many that manners be used, as they are a symbol of respect when communicating with other people.  If you share that principle, most likely you utilize manners yourself when you interact with the population at large.  You teach those niceties to your children, and they in turn, model your behavior and that which is expected of them, in their own.  Hopefully, if one of you occasionally ‘falls off the wagon’ and forgets or consciously chooses not to be respectful by, the family, subscribing to the same belief system, will keep the individuals in check.  

But other people other people enter the picture. 

“I want a snack now” a 6-year-old whines while at the house visiting.  “What do you have?”

What do you do now?  It’s someone else’s kid….in your house.  To me it’s the same as those mystery books I read as a kid where you could choose the outcome of the story yourself, based on the choices you made during the book….If A, then turn to page 114, if B, then turn to page 64…..the ending was different every time.  You can correct the child and suggest he use “please” or give him the opportunity to rephrase his statement as a polite request.  Or you can take a mental note of his lack of manners, but ignore it and give him his snack options and deliver the goods.  Or maybe you’re already so desensitized to so many kids not using manners that you don’t even notice the infraction or recognize the teaching moment.

Your action, or lack thereof, has impact.  If you create a learning experience and give the child an option to use good manners, not only does it have affect on him, it also is recognized by your own children and teaches them how to use and ask for respect in their own lives.  Maybe the child will say please or thank you next time he asks for something from another child or teacher or parent.  Maybe he won’t.  But he’ll know that the expectation is out there, even if just at your house. Choose another path, and do nothing, and the child learns that there is no expectation whatsoever.  Your child learns that she has to use good manners but her friends don’t, and maybe your child even deducts from the situation that she doesn’t need to use manners at another friend’s home.  

Now multiply this exact scenario.  If every parent acted on the principle of good manners with every child, not to mention adult, that crossed his path, imagine the effect!  Every child would know, in no uncertain terms, that manners were not only expected, but required.  Manners would, by necessity, be incorporated into acceptable behavior.  Conversely, if every parent opted out of mentoring manners in those crucial teaching moments with their own or other people’s kids, children walk away feeling not an ounce of obligation toward respect, but also with a cemented behavior pattern.  After repeated exposure to enough passive parents, lack of manners in communication simply becomes a way of life for kids.

Now take this elementary example and apply it to every other creed you follow.  Your politics, your religion, you human rights stance....are you talking the talk and walking the walk with each view, or are you on cruise control and only setting the behavior portion to action when its convenient or non-confrontational?  I feel like it’s a constant struggle to put myself out there and consistently live the life my personal philosophy dictates.  But then I remind myself that it’s not just about me.  It’s about what my kids and their friends and my associates and friends and the community at large sees me practice.  If I don’t break down my own ideals into actions that are clear, my complacency makes just as loud of a statement….that my beliefs aren’t really that important.  

Look at your own actions in relation to your beliefs.  Are you part of the solution or part of the problem?

Take a Closer Look

I could hear the crying from the girls’ bedroom the second I climbed up the basement stairs. 

What this time? I thought to myself, exasperated.  My 5-year-old is having a hard time these days with her emotions.  Tears seem to be a daily occurrence and the source usually has something to do with her older sister.  They share a room, and while they get along famously and still play together on most days, they also get on each others’ nerves greatly; they both like to be in control.

I climbed the ladder to my daughter’s bunk and found her crumpled in the corner, wailing in misery as big crocodile tears ran down her face. 

“What’s wrong, Sweet Girl?” I inquired at eye level.

Through heaving sobs, she managed to convey to me that her older sister had moved her babies’ crib out of the room and she wanted them to stay because she likes her babies to sleep in her room with her. 

Assessing the situation before I uttered a word, I saw her twin doll babies lying at the foot of her bed, instead of situated in the monstrous double-decker crib, that as of a few moments ago, sat at the entrance of their bedroom, but now was nowhere to be found.  The side-by-side double stroller that she’d been pushing throughout the house for the past few days was nowhere to be seen either.  I questioned my older daughter with my eyes without uttering a word.

“There’s just not room in this small bedroom for all of your baby stuff and for both of us.   I have to move the stroller from in front of my closet just so I can get dressed every day.  And the crib is blocking the door from closing at night.  They just have to go downstairs with the rest of our toys,” her big sister explained too her patiently.

Made sense to me.  I didn’t need to intervene here, I told myself. 

“It’s okay, babe.  There’s no need to be upset.  It’s not a big deal; we just need to move the baby stuff downstairs.”

As new tears rolled down her face,  my baby girl whimpered, “But it’s a big deal to me!”

Stopped in my tracks.  She was right.  It was a big deal to her.  It was my kindergartener’s entire world.  Babies.

Although she has numerous dollies and strollers and play pack n plays and carriers, she’d demonstrated patience and restraint for the past year, saving her weekly family economy money from performing chores and meeting responsibilities, in order to buy twin bitty babies and a twin stroller.  She’s talked about it every single day for the last year:  what she’ll do with them, what she’ll name them, where she’ll take them, and how it will feel to have twins. 

Over the weekend, she was overjoyed to open an early birthday gift of the coveted babies and stroller.  She took no mind of the fact that one of the dolls, baby Elizabeth, was her own 10-year-old hand-me-down from her sister, of whom she’s been playing with for the past few years.  She didn’t mind that the 2nd “twin” was simply bought used to match.  She didn’t notice the wear and tear on the pre-owned stroller t either.  All she cared about was those sweet little baby sisters that needed a Mommy to love them.  She quickly chose the name Eliza for the 2nd doll, and has spent the past 4 days adoringly caring for those dolls.  She’d roped her older sister into the excitement as well.  My 11-year-old has played with my little one and the babies nonstop without complaint, and had even carved out a space for the baby paraphernalia in their tiny shared bedroom.  She even offered to care for the twins while home sick from school earlier in the week, as the twins' mom would have to leave them to attend kindergarten.

As all good things usually come to an end, my pre-teen daughter had finally grown tired of the doting and was ready to move on.  My younger daughter, however, was still madly in love with the idea of caring for those babies.

We eventually came to a solution that worked for both girls, moving the stroller to the basement, and rearranging some furniture to accommodate the crib so Elizabeth and Eliza can sleep in the same room with their mommy. 

But that one sentence keeps ringing through my ears.  It’s a big deal to me.   The idea that something so nominal to one person, could so greatly affect another, is something to pay attention to.  It seems that if we could figure out what matters and what doesn’t to an individual, a group of people, or an entire region, we could solve so many problems before they even arise.  It explains so much about our society:  who we surround ourselves with, what motivates us, when we take action and when we don’t, where we draw a line in the sand, why we make the decisions we do, and how we react to certain situations….all based on what we hold near and dear. 

As a parent, we oftentimes become so accustomed to putting out fires we’ve seen flame before and barking out instructions to solve familiar problems that we forget the most important step in the equation:  assessing the situation.  Sometimes it’s an open and closed case and what you see is what you get, i.e stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.  But the majority of situations require gathering information we cannot see, which often requires listening.  Seems easy enough, but with our buy-in to this fast paced society that surrounds us, we often bypass this step in the name of efficiency or share it with other tasks, thereby diluting its effectiveness. 

There’s not a one amongst us who doesn’t want to really know their child, or their spouse or loved one, for that matter:  who they are and what makes them tick.  We sometimes think, though, that we already know the scoop based on what we see or what we’ve experienced in the past.  Most people change or alter their focal points, though, over time, and in the case of children, it can happen in the blink of an eye.  What was crucial last week can be replaced with a more vital stance by week’s end.  I find that every time I think I know anything, I am quickly reminded that I don’t know squat.  So today I’m pledging to listen, not just hear, but really process, what the people around me say, instead of assuming the situation, tone, or sentiment.  I’m going to view each interaction as an opening into the inner workings of the person, which only enhances my ability to better communicate and care for each.  Want to take a closer look with me?

Let it Go

Too much work, too many tasks, too many things to keep in check.  Obligations, deadlines, stressors, and drama, albeit some imagined and others real.  Sound familiar? 

“Let it go, let it go
Can't hold back anymore
Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door”

Yep, a day at the beach is a good way to let it all go.  I feel better already.

Now the reality of getting out the freakin’ door, much less slamming it, is upon me.  Medication or Bandaids to cover the angry, raw exzema outbreak on my daughter leg before it hits the bacteria-laden waters of Lake Michigan?  Will the peanut butter sandwiches get smashed in the flimsy lunch bag once it gets jammed into the wire bike basket for the couple-mile bike ride to the beach in the heat?  And of course, the age-old good cop/bad mom debate of whether I can justify REALLY letting it go and finding room for the sole cider beer that’s been chillin’ in the fridge for the past few days as a companion for the PB&J and butterscotch cookies.  Realizing I’m just making things harder than they need to be by even giving the Woodchuck tagalong a second thought in regards to propriety,  my 5-year-old and I hit it into the sunshine. 

The fact that an hour and a half has escaped between idea conception and clicking on the bike helmets is neither here nor there.  But when the toe jam from the flip flop I’m wearing separates from the shoe’s base, causing me to lose my balance when I hopped down from my bike at a Lake Shore Drive Intersection, and roll my bike, as well as the attached ½ bike where my daughter was perched, proud as a peacock, was another story.

“The wind is howling
Like this swirling storm inside
Couldn't keep it in
Heaven knows I've tried.”

Dammit!  Is my daughter OK?  Check.  Did we fall into the street?  Nope.  The bike’s still in tact, but the day school field-trippers on the lakefront sure got their laugh for the day.

Back on the bike, pedaling the last few blocks to the sandy getaway, my almost-kindergartener tells me she was embarrassed when we fell. 

“Let it go,” I tell her.  “Do you even know what that word means?”

Finally, we see the beckoning baby blue sky meeting the deep azul of the very active lakefront,  and troubles are forgotten.  Get.  There.  Now.

Happy as a clam, plopped in the middle of a striped beach towel, shielding the sandwiches in our hands from the grit of the sand being blown by the wind, I’m confronted with the obvious.

“Mom, will you swim with me?”

I hadn’t thought of that today, on the first beach trip of the season, with the thermometer barely hitting 80 degrees and the extreme warnings from friends (and meteorologists) ringing in my ears about the cold water temps this year due to the extreme winter be just crawled out of, and how we won’t be able to enjoy the summer.  I looked at the goose bumps on my arms and then back at my daughter’s beaming face.

“Mom, please, it will be so fun…I can’t wait!”  

Begrudgingly, I walk to the edge of shore and dip one toe into the surf.  Death-defyingly frigid.  Then my child ran at full force into the lake, jumping over every wave and splashing me high and low along the way.  Oh for the love of Pete.

“And here I stand
And here I'll stay
Let it go, let it go
The cold never bothered me anyway”

After an hour in the sun and surf, the water actually felt warm.  We played, we paddle-balled, we wave-jumped, and we swam with full-body submersion for almost 2 hours.  It was by far, the best day ever.

“It's funny how some distance makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me can't get to me at all.”


---Lyric quotes from “Let It Go” from Disney’s Frozen

Enough is Enough

“Twenty-twenty-twenty-four hours to go, I want to be sedated,” sang Jordan Catalano with his band Frozen Embryos, covering the Ramone’s classic.

It’s all that keeps looping through my brain.  I don’t want to do anymore.  I don’t want to process anymore.  I don’t want to take in any more information.  I just want to numb out.

I’m filled to the brim with tasks and deadlines and activities.  I want to empty the bucket and start afresh, as I know there’s no way humanly possible to finish all the things I have on my self-created plate. 

Finish unpacking, repair the damage the movers made to the building, congratulate the neighbor on her new baby, take out the window AC for the season, trim the hedges, coordinate new day for piano lessons, shred the outdated documents, unload the dishwasher, pay the bills, coordinate the repairs to the upstairs apartment, finish cleaning the basement, paint the dining room, write, find the holiday decorations, do bookwork, catch up on my class assignments, find a new stereo that still plays CD’s, fix the old stereo that plays LP’s, prepare for dinner with friends tomorrow, try on the new clothes I had my partner buy for me because I didn’t have time to look on my own, send out birthday cards, workout, finish my craft project, work a few hours for my actual job, and extend my support to an acquaintance recently diagnosed with cancer.

I have a habit of continually listing off all of the tasks I need to complete in my head, and sometimes aloud, every day, all day, and sometimes before I go to bed.  Inevitably the tasks work their way into my dreams as well.  I am in a constant state of agitation.  I can’t ever seem to just be in the moment these days.  I’m always leaning toward that next thing that needs to be done.  It’s a constant state of motion that keeps me from fully experiencing the information that I meet on a daily basis.  My daughter told me 2 days ago that she got a poem she was really proud of published on the school website.  I just remembered this moment that I never looked at it.  That same velocity pushes me towards making mistakes because I’m going too fast and physically failing and falling because I’m not even focusing on where I’m going.  I just know I have to get there.  The scrapes and bruises on my knees and shins never heal, as I keep re-injuring myself every few days when I trip or fall. 

“Hurry, hurry, hurry before I go insane.  I can’t control my fingers and I can’t control my brain.”

Why can’t I make it stop?  Why can’t I just sit and read the newspaper and drink a cup of coffee without thinking that if I get a subscription to the Trib, which I so enjoy reading, it will turn into an obligation to read it every day?  Why do I look at my steaming cup and think that I need to add coffee to my grocery list?  I don’t know if it’s sedation that I really want, or just for the spinning to stop.  I just want to slow the hell down. 

So why not?  Why can’t I slow down?  Who says I have to do all this and work so hard and efficiently to successfully function?  Is it my family?  My partner?  My boss?  My friends?

No one or thing puts any more pressure on me than I do.  I’ve been a list-maker since I was a kid, but the pressure I put on myself to actually cross of those tasks ebbs and flows not only with the seasons, but also with the situations I’m currently experiencing.  Every now and then, I can take a whole day and just do whatever comes my way.  Other days, when I’m behind the 8-ball, the pressure I put upon myself spills over to added pressure of my kids to do their “tasks.”  The crazy part is, everything that really needs done, always gets completed, whether by me or someone else.  The world doesn’t come to an end when some timeline is blown.

The birthday card didn’t get mailed and a month passes.  It’s too late to send a belated card, so I pick up the phone to call.  I haven’t physically spoken to my aunt in years, and we have a lovely 20-minute conversation that never would have been happened had I sent the card.

The packed boxes accumulate dust and when I return home on day from errands, they’ve miraculously been unpacked and cleared by my partner and the kids, who all feel great not only for being able to choose where stuff goes, but also for being able to help me.

The reading doesn’t get done before class, but the class covers the material so well, that when I do get around to reading the words on the page, they have a deeper meaning.

Enough is enough.  I don’t need sedation.  I just need to be Brian Krackow and just look in from the outside every now and then.  Maybe I should just sit down and watch a whole season of My So Called Life.  Maybe I’ll pencil that in for a week from Tuesday.

Giving Thanks

“Dear God.  Thank you for the Sullivans, Harry and Rosie.  Thank you for the teachers.  Please help us not to fight.  Oh ya, and thank you for teaching us to be polite.  Amen.”

Spoken like a true three-year-old, whose head is filled with the recent good time spent at the home of good friends, days spent picketing with the teachers during the strike, and a new babysitter who stresses no fighting on the playground and compliments my daughter on her manners.

If only our parental days could be wrapped up so conveniently in an evening prayer of thanks and call for help.  But can’t it?  Of course it can.  We sometimes get so caught up in the daily grind that we forget to just take a minute to breathe, appreciate life and the little things that make it worthwhile.  We seldom acknowledge that we can use some guidance every now and then because we don’t have all the answers.

I sometimes laugh at myself for thinking I have such a stressful life and playing into the drama of it all.  I tend to get going so fast in my daily quest to complete as many tasks as possible, that I sometimes physically hurt myself!  I literally run around the house or the neighborhood or the school or the office at warp speed.  I’ve been known to trip, fall, and crash into people and things.  

It’s usually after one of those events that one of my kids says, “Mom, just slow down.  It’s not the end of the world.  Just relax!”

Again, my children teach me instead of the other way around.  It’s truly humbling to listen to the sincerity in their voices and the wisdom of their words.  Each evening after I’ve been told to slow down by one of my kids, it never fails that they include me in their prayers, either at the dinner table or before bed.

“Thank you for Little Mama, and please help her slow down and not run into things.”

I’ve found that when I do take the time to slow down, whether it is for a moment of prayer or appreciation, a few minutes of meditation, or sometimes just a short period of rest or doing absolutely nothing, it sets the tone for calmness.  I feel renewed, restored, and ready to face most anything that comes my way.  Conversely, when I keep stubbornly butting my head up against a wall, refusing to take a few minutes to give thanks for the things that ARE going right, or the people that are part of my world, the day usually goes from bad to worse.

A priest told me recently that going to church and worshipping communally is not always going to be fun or interesting or awe-inspiring.   He said sometimes it takes work, or at least cognizance, to find the peace.  He suggested noting one thing, anything, each week at church, and to appreciate it.  It could be the way a certain hymn sounds when sung or the pat on the shoulder from a fellow parishioner, or the cry of a baby a few pews behind you.  The point is to notice it and be thankful of its presence.

Translate this concept into our day-to-day lives, and we’ve got a prescription for healthy living, where we consciously at first, then naturally as it becomes more familiar, take a minute to notice those people, things, and events around us and appreciate them.  Giving thanks for the unfamiliar lends easily to being grateful for what exists in our personal lives.

Noticing the way the man on the train quietly chuckles as he reads a passage in a book may help you remember to take a minute to yourself on your commute without the work emails, weekly scheduling, and phone calls to just BE.  Recognizing the trap of chairs and bars that the elderly woman down the block sets on her front porch every evening to ward off intruders before retiring may allow you to be thankful for your house full of people and pets that helps you feel secure every minute of every day.  Watching your child struggle with learning multiplication tables may allow you to not only value the fact that your own school days are over, but also to appreciate the extra time that you have the ability to spend with your child on homework, as the other stuff can wait.

I challenge you to make a simple pledge of noticing what’s around you today and taking an active moment to appreciate just one thing you encounter today.  Let it be the way the clouds billow or the dog barks or the amazing ability that guy ahead of you has of weaving in and out of traffic without causing an accident.  Notice one thing and be thankful for it.  Keep doing it daily, and the rest will happen naturally. You won’t be able to help but giving gratitude for things in your own life.