On Beignets, Braces and Broken Noses

Enough is enough, right? How much can we take? Is it a challenge the Universe tosses out to find the answer to that question? Is asking for Patience the best way to find things thrown in our path that demand us to find it within ourselves? Well, that's the last time I ask for that!

There are times when Enough is actually too much. When you've had as much as you can stand. When the night is too dark. And the mood is too black. When anxiety rushes in.

Ever happen to you?

I'm pretty sure most of us have had our own versions of "the darkest night." And, I'm probably correct when I say you might even have experienced a week or a month or perhaps a year of "the darkest night."

What do you do to get through it? What are your crutches or methods to rise above ... to claw to the surface?

In Finding Nemo, the good-hearted and optimistic regal blue tang Dory reminds the pessimistic and worry-wort Marlin to "Just Keep Swimming." No matter what happens -- be it sharks or jellyfish stings or getting swallowed by a whale, Dory's sweet message comes through ... Just keep swimming.

But come on ... she had short-term memory loss. She forgot if something bad happened anyway. Of course she can stay positive.

In the Christmas classic Santa Claus is Coming to Town, the penguin Topper struggles with finding his footing and is reminded to "Put One Foot in Front of the Other." The penguin is obviously troubled ... it belongs at the South Pole and is lost up at the North Pole. All alone. No family and completely lost. He's got his own issues. But somehow, Topper rises to the challenge and comes to terms with it by surrounding himself with a new family.

Heck, even filmmaker George Lucas concurs with Santa, saying: "You simply have to put one foot in front of the other and keep going. Put blinders on and plow right ahead."

Guess he must have had some bad nights before Star Wars skyrocketed his career.

There are many Biblical quotes to help you through Dark Nights. Prayers and Faith are a huge source of comfort for many. Falling to our knees can be the best way to find comfort and strength. I have Bible verses book-marked and sticky-noted on my computer screen to remind me that I'm not alone -- no matter how alone I might feel at any given time.

I have my good days. My good months. My bad days. My bad months. I'm probably just like you. It's the human condition to climb mountains and stumble into valleys. And, as Miley Cyrus' Hannah Montana sang once a long time ago:

There's always gonna be another mountain ...

I'm always gonna wanna make it move.

Always gonna be an uphill battle. 

Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose.

Ain't about how fast I get there.

Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side.

It's the Climb.

Yes, I really like that song. It is about Faith after all.

None of these things make the minutes of The Climb or the Darkest Nights go faster. But embedded in them is Hope. Hope that things will get better. Hope that IF you can shake off the fear and anxiety and stress -- which in the grand scheme of the Universe are short term dramas -- you will find yourself on the other side of the little black (or big black) raincloud. 

The other night, my son had an unfortunate meeting with a concrete sidewalk while in line for Beignets at a local Food Truck Rally. He passed out and face-planted. It was a terrifying moment ... and one where the calm of a mother truly set in. I was focused amidst the blood, friendly with Ryan the Fire & Rescue Medic and precise and appreciative with every doctor, intern, resident and Emergency Room employee. 

At 4:30am though, the Darkest Night stirred me and awoke me with a start. Heart racing and anxious. 

Watching him undergo a cardiac work-up yesterday, I was calm. All was well. Clean bill of health. Hours later though the implications bubbled through my mind ... why do they do that? I mean all was well. But anxiety rose to the surface. 

Yeah, I know he'll be fine. A little surgery next week. Just a little anesthesia. A butter knife procedure to push his nose back into place. But still ...

Then, there's the braces. As simple the process and as gregarious and knowledgeable as the doctor, watching my baby girl take this next medical step in stride was wonderful ... but it hit me later as well.

Oh my dramas are what they are. They are relatively small -- in the grand scheme of things. There are so many challenges faced by the people surrounding us. But they are all significant to each of us ... no matter how "small" they might be. And they invariably prompt "stuff," be it sadness, confusion, anxiety, stress, worry, emotion and result in personal struggles. 

My daughter watches a friend move away to California. People face health issues or lay-offs or struggle with building business and paying bills. Still others around us struggle with illnesses, face Cancer with grace and strength or deal with the death of a loved one. There is a lot of Stuff we have to deal with ... every single day. And some days are just harder or darker than others.

But, like George Lucas, I will keep putting one foot in front of the other. Like Dory, I will keep swimming. Sometimes though, I will shake. Sometimes I will cry. 

When that happens ... when the Darkest Night kicks in ... I pray. But I genuinely find my greatest strength comes from people. In reaching out to those with whom I'm deeply connected, I find what I need to press forward. My calm comes from time and conversations with my dearest friends and my family. A hug ... a word ... a text ... an email ... a Facebook message or post ... a smile. Better still ... being held by someone who cares for me. Physical connection. A walk holding hands. Touch. My cat snuggling on my lap. My daughter reading beside me and reaching out one moment with gentle fingers to stroke my face and remind me that everything will be okay. 

It's not food or alcohol ... It's people who see me through The Darkest Night.

Guess that's good, cause Jarod and I never did get one of those damn Beignets ...
                                                                                                          -- Jenni

Elemental

When I was a kid, my friends and I played lots of games. Red Light/Green Light, Red Rover, Four Square, Statues and Make Believe.

But there were times when we sat around and talked, amidst bonfires at the Indiana Dunes or late night evenings eating chocolate and drinking Mountain Dew, and our games became more thought-provoking. And in these moments, the games delved into character questions with answers giving insight into our personalities and dreams.

If you were an animal, what would you be?

If you could live anywhere, where would you live?

If you were a color, what color would you be?

If you were a character in a book, who would you be?

I remember the responses provoked laughter and demanded explanation at some point. It was childish fun. But it opened up doors to more conversation and made us think about who were were and who we hoped to become -- and why. Amazingly, I still play this game on occasion. Playing it shines a light on the truths and natures of the people close to me. It gives me a peak inside their souls. And, if I answer a question, I allow them a peak into mine.

So here's the latest question. It you were an Element, what would you be? A friend presented this question the other night and it made me think.

My first response was to describe a characteristic ... a driving force of my nature. Ah ... but that wasn't the real question. And no, I'm not talking about the Periodic Table either, so don't go digging that out. This question is more basic than that and considering my response truly made me dive deeper into my psyche and the driving force of my fundamental self.

I made a discovery ... something I should have seen a long time ago.

Funny how simple questions between friends do that.

So, back to this question. Play along with me, okay. Elements are defined (for my purposes today) as Earth, Wind, Fire and Water.

Now, from a Zodiac perspective as a Moon Child or Cancer the Crab, my element is Water. In this context, water relates to emotions and feelings ... And, yes, I am receptive and keenly perceptive ... fluid and able to seep into typically inaccessible places, altering form as necessary (sometimes as vaporous as steam or as cold as ice) and responding to the needs of others and changing demands of life's events. The Water aspect of my nature makes me a Healer. I long to wash over hurt and pain. To ease people's hearts, bodies and souls. 

However, as I considered the question more thoroughly, I have to admit that Water isn't my the fundamental Element of my deeper nature.

Water calms me. Water brings my blood pressure down. Storms excite me. Rainy days curled up with a book or some knitting are personal favorites. Walking in the rain ... kissing in the rain ... that makes me blissful. I have very fond memories of puddle stomping and spinning in crystalline raindrops. No umbrella necessary. I love the feel of rain on my skin.

Water soothes my soul. I adore the Ocean -- it's smell and the feel of it on my skin. Sitting on the deck in Key West surveying all that water eased my soul. I treasure many happy memories walking on sand, feeling the surf caress my feet. While traveling in Punta Cana, I found great joy floating on and diving into the warmth of salty aqua waves. I used to summer on a lake and one of my dearest memories of that place was laying on the pier and listening to the gentle rhythm of soft waves pulsing against the wood and poles beneath me. I felt it in the depths of my spirit.

But I am not Water. And that explains a lot. Water is my ease. It keeps me in check and in balance. It is necessary to me ... But water ebbs and flows. I don't. The tide comes in and out. I don't. I stand. I stay. I fight. When I feel, I feel deeply. And I don't back away. 

I am Fire. I am Passion and Curiosity. I am Intense and rarely Calm. In fact, trying to be Calm is something I strive for but when I arrive at that even state, I'm restless and seeking.

I don't mean to -- believe me when I say it is unintentional, but sometimes my Fire blazes through people. I'm not easy going. I'm not great at going along with something I don't agree with. I challenge. I seek to grow and become stronger. I question. I explore.  I'm bright and sometimes I even feel the warmth emanating from my fingertips when I sit meditating before a yoga class. And I light up places where my flames travel. I shine the light on dark corners without fear. I burn.

Oh, sometimes my Fire comes back to bite me. I speak too quickly and offend. It's not intentional. I'm not the easiest person to get along with at times. I'm far too outspoken and passionate about my feelings, dreams, desires, thoughts and beliefs. I honor yours and your differences. I even seek to understand them. My words come from the heart. And my feelings are passionate. 

I burn bright and I reach for the sky. In the immortal words of Alicia Keyes ... This Girl Is on Fire. 

Wow. One simple question and I discovered all that. Thanks for asking ... 

So ... what Element are you? And why? 

Just curious ....
                                                                                                                          -- Jenni

Look Homeward, Angel

Thomas Wolfe stated ... "You can never go home again ..."

But this past weekend, I tried to do just that. I went home. In other words, I traveled to my hometown of Valparaiso, Indiana. I'd moved away almost 25 years ago now. Strange to think that I've spent less time in the place where I was born and raised -- the place that I still refer to as Home -- then the place where I settled.

Why then do I still find myself calling it "Home?" 

My parents moved away from Valpo (its nickname) many years ago so I had no reason to go back. My last time there was my 20th High School Class Reunion. I spent the weekend with my best friend Tiffany but didn't explore old hangouts or places. We slumber partied at her parents' house -- just like we used to do -- and her dad cooked us breakfast -- just like he used to do. But this past weekend, I traveled to Valpo to attend a Memorial Service for a long-time family friend. And in doing so, found myself in a town that I didn't know anymore.

Driving down I-94 was fun. Returning to my roots was exciting. But Valpo has changed. It's grown. There are new suburbs, new buildings, new businesses, new homes. In some cases, businesses are bigger or have new names.  And people and places which I knew are scattered and missing. It's not bad ... just ... different.

There's a bypass into the town now so I missed seeing some of the familiar sites --  like Lakewood Park where I learned to ice skate, Mink Lake where I golfed and the 49er Drive In. The town has a roundabout at Vale Park instead of a 5-way stoplight. The County Seat Mall where I shopped and hung out at Dairy Queen and Shakey's Pizza with my friends is pretty much abandoned. The Downtown area looks similar ... I like that. But Lowensteins and the Court restaurant are long gone. 

Over time Valpo and the things and people in it have changed. Of course, I've changed too. And when my brother and I pulled into a Starbucks on a street that was once a field, I acknowledged the truth of Wolfe's statement. I mean, there were NO Starbucks when I was growing up anyway. And to find one in a part of town that wasn't even a part of town when I was a kid provided a poignant reminder that life has momentum -- that you can't return to the confines of your previous way of life. It's a flashing sign saying that reliving youthful memories is alright for a time but it can never sustain you. You must keep moving forward and avoid dwelling too much on the past.

Wolfe wrote a book entitled You Can't Go Home Again after a conversation with writer Ella Winter, who had said to him: "Don't you know you can't go home again." He asked permission to use her phrase as the title of his book, a title that reinforced the conclusion of the novel when the main character realizes: 

 "You can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time -- back home to the escapes of Time and Memory."

Not everything in Valpo has changed. And I confess that I'm glad that the town is thriving. I enjoyed a glimpse of the new blended in with the old. One of my favorite childhood haunts -- Brown's Ice Cream -- still stands next to Von Tobels Hardware Store. It's been altered over time and when I walked in it didn't look as I expected. But once I found my way beyond the surprise, I settled in and celebrated the moment. Sitting there in that ice cream parlor was a homecoming for me. A celebration of the joys of my childhood that have led me to where I am now. And I was just glad a piece of that puzzle was still there and available to both me and other families and kids.

Oh I am sentimental. I get nostalgic for the Premiere Theatre and Perkins Restaurant. I was happy though to see Binder's Jewelers and the courthouse on the downtown square. And I smiled when I caught a glimpse of Thomas Jefferson Junior High School (sure it's a middle school now but I ignored that!), Valparaiso University and Tony's Pizzeria. 

My purpose of visiting led me to my family's church. It wasn't really My Church. See, my church was condemned and torn down in the late 80s. But, it bears the same name and holds many faces I remember from my growing up years. It was neat to talk to people I still refer to as Mr and Mrs. Plus, as a bonus, I even had a few moments to talk and catch up to an old friend ... Tammy.  And, it was neat to sit around a breakfast table with my parents and brother ... catching up like we used to at the kitchen table at 304 PowderHorn Drive. 

Despite all that is different, there are joys to be found in the change and wonderful memories to be honored.

Valpo was my first home. It's my childhood home. And the people and places there retain a special, glowing image in my mind and heart. 

Perhaps Dorothy in the musical The Wiz expresses my feelings best ... the reason Valpo will always hold a special place in my heart ... in the song Home: "When I think of home, I think of a place where there's love overflowing." And there was. Oh sure, there were growing-up challenges, but that was just part of Valpo's charm as it shaped me into the person I grew up to be ... and then sent me on my way.
                                                                                             -- Jenni

On Having or Having Not with an Old Man and the Sea

Dear Ron ... I read Hemingway. 

I'm not sure why that gives me such a sense of accomplishment. I've read quite a lot of classics in my life. I'm not stuck on pop fiction or romance novels.

Somehow, though, this one really made me feel like I've earned a new star on  my reading log.

As I've written, I'm part of a Classics Challenge and this month's assignment was to read a Pulitzer Prize winning novel. Originally it was a Nobel Prize winner hence the reason I read TWO books. But I won't dwell on that .... just please make a decision about your reading assignments BEFORE I start next time Ron! :)

Hemingway is like no author I've ever read before. He's gritty. He's direct in his descriptions and observations. He wastes no words. He's blue collar authentic. He's not grand or elegant or affected in his language. He's just real. And, his life and writing have always intrigued me. Not sure why it took me so long to actually read something he wrote.

When it came time to select my book, I'd originally selected To Have or Have Not. I liked the title. I liked that it was a story about a man from Key West, which I'd recently visited. And it was written by a Nobel Prize winning author. When the assignment changed, I just returned to the library to pick up another Hemingway, since he won both. He won the Pulitzer Prize for Old Man And The Sea. (I actually picked up Farewell to Arms as well, but only finished these two at this point.)

Overall, my key discovery about Hemingway is that his books seem to start in the middle. I started all three and felt like I'd missed two or three chapters. I actually flipped back to see if pages had been removed or I'd not noticed a forward. Perhaps Hemingway didn't feel a need for lengthy exposition. His writing simply went straight to the heart of the matter. This is a fascinating writing style but a little abrupt for me personally. 

In To Have or Have Not, I met Harry Morgan and various other let's just say shady characters. Harry starts out as a law-abiding deep sea fisherman captain who is taken advantage of by a client. This becomes the influencing factor leading him to a life of "crime." Well, it's more smuggling and murder and sundry disreputable stuff but it leads ultimately to his death. (spoiler alert, sorry)

The book is written using various narrators, which was a bit confusing for me. I was fascinated though by Harry's fall from grace and his passion for his wife. And as he reached his final moments , he was floating near a cruise ship of "haves" who didn't seem to be any happier for all their wealth or "good lives." Made me think and examine who actually was the Have in this story ...

Harry's key observation -- perhaps a commentary on grand social issues of his time -- "No matter how a man alone ain't got no blood fucking chance." That's how it was written. I didn't leave out words in my typing. Hemingway goes on to add: It had taken him a long time to get it out and it had taken all his life to learn it. Overall, not a nice endorsement of the human condition or the life and times in which we live.

Onto Old Man And The Sea.  This was a quick read but one with lots of great stuff. If you are a guy who likes fishing, perhaps you'd enjoy it more. But, I appreciated it ... especially the fact that Hemingway has a very natural flow to his dialogue. Straight to the point. Simple. But a dialogue that gives a visual imagery and captures the characters quickly and fully.

This story is not a Melville Ahab issue. It's about a fisherman who has lost his luck. But he's determined to keep on doing what he loves to do, despite all that. So he goes out and makes the big catch ... only to lose it and his life in the end (another spoiler alert, sorry!) 

The story is told beautifully fundamentally through the old man's conversations with himself and the descriptions while he is out on the sea. From the beginning, Santiago (the old man) was struggling against defeat. I was cheering him on ... this old man refuses to be defeated. He is determined to make that one great catch ... find that one great fish. And he lands "the" marlin. Well done!!! 

Sadly for those who love happy endings, it doesn't conclude with him carrying home that marlin and getting his photo in the local paper. 

Several arguments suggest this book is about man's struggle with nature. But I choose to see it as the story of man's place within nature. Both Santiago and the marlin display qualities of pride, honor and bravery. And, perhaps Hemingway was trying to say that though death is inevitable, man -- and animals -- can refuse to give in to its power and instead fight 'til the very end. Squeeze the most out of every moment. And in this struggle, man and animal show their worthiness. 

On Hemingway ... he starts in the middle. He doesn't waste words. In Farewell to Arms, it took me to the third chapter to clarify the fact that Henry (the narrator) was actually an ambulance driver in the Italian army during World War I. I KNEW that, but Hemingway didn't waste words giving me that information directly. His exposition is subtle and made me feel like I was part of the story and not just reading it. That was an interesting discovery. And I'm sure his choices weren't accidental.


I kinda think Hemingway writes more for men and his style probably appeals more to men. I plan to finish Farewell to Arms at some point. But for now, I'm happy to have finally read two of Hemingway's great works. 

I've visited his house. Seems only right to read something he wrote there ...
                                                                                                                       -- Jenni

On Authors, Ivanhoe & Sir Walter Scott

Back to the 2015 Classics Challenge. Here's a funny thing ... the reason I signed up for this comes down to a Card Game.

For years, my family has played a card game called Authors. (Kinda similar to Go Fish but with famous authors of classic novels.) And every time we play, I hope to collect the works of Sir Walter Scott.

Something about his cards has always intrigued me. Perhaps it's the blue gaze in his eyes or his dashing cravat. Perhaps it's the titles, which include Lady of the Lake and Ivanhoe, tales by their very name that inspire the romantic in me with thoughts of chivalry, knights in armor and damsels in distress.

I signed on for the 2015 Classics Challenge so I could finally have no further excuse to delay the reading of a book authored by Sir Walter Scott. And when the gauntlet for this category was thrown -- a book with only a character's name as its title, I selected Ivanhoe. And I was not disappointed.

Let's begin with the plot, which is well crafted and rolls out artfully. See, Scott was originally a poet. He didn't start writing novels until his middle years -- guess that gives hope to any aspiring author of my age out there!  His first love and early success was as a poet. Bet you didn't know that Sir Walter Scott was the best known, widest read and most popular poet of the Romantic Period. He was highly influenced by his friend Lord Byron. So, the words selected and descriptions used in this tale evoke intense visual images -- a movie in the mind if you will.

The novel (set in the 12th Century) follows the tale of Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe. Disinherited by his Saxon father as a result of his love of his father's ward Rowena and his refusal to deny that love amidst his father's own "career" goals for the girl, Ivanhoe returns from the Crusade to find the land a mess due to the machinations of the Norman Overlords, the crafty Templars and the wicked Prince John.

Of course, it begins with a tournament in which the disguised Ivanhoe triumphs (with the help of a mysterious Black Knight) then collapses. During that tournament we meet long-bowman Locksley (aka Robin Hood) and a bit later run into his friends Allan-a-Dale and Friar Tuck. The tale also follows the travels of this mysterious Black Night aka Sir Sluggish who we always kinda suspect and eventually know for a fact is Richard the Lion-heart, who has a passion and preference for acts of valor and is in disguise (of course). Underlying the plot rests the hatred and conflict of Norman vs Saxon. But perhaps more significantly to me is the blatant social commentary on religious intolerance, specifically addressing the animosity between Christian (referred to as Nazarene) and Jew.

On the surface, the book reads as an entertaining, escapist romance with swordplay, kidnappings, beautiful women locked in towers, and a Champion who rescues the damsel before she is burnt at the stake. There's Locksley, who wins the Archery Tournament with his bow, splitting an arrow in half.  Sir Walter Scott, poet that he was, created with this writing the genre that became known as Historical Fiction. For that I will ever be grateful.

But Ivanhoe is more than chivalry and knights in armor, though if you are looking just for that, it is a well-written example that I highly endorse.  

What truly struck me in reading this novel was the remarkable ways Scott portrayed the oppression of the Jewish people and the words he chose/characters he created to get his point across that "people are people no matter their religious preference." Pretty forward-thinking for the time. Made me like Scott even more than I did before!

Such intolerance is beyond my understanding and I reject it fully. Different isn't bad. But when it came to religion in the 12th Century world, guess it was. Reading about such cruelty simply because of faith choices -- or because one was a Norman and the other a Saxon -- set my teeth on edge. I mean, Christianity is founded on the principle of selfless love ... intolerance and unkindness is NOT what was written or condoned on the pages of any Bible I've ever owned. Why it has ever been so is beyond my understanding. But clearly, Scott didn't like it. So he portrayed his Jewish characters as more heroes than villains and called to question the behavior of the Christians.

The Jews of the time were wealthy money-lenders -- the Normans depended on their loans to enjoy the life they wanted to live. But, they mistreated and victimized the very people who helped them. The Christians were completely intolerant of the Jewish people. Yet while Scott portrayed the moneylender Isaac the Jew as a victim whose very treatment affected is behavior and psychology, Isaac's daughter Rebecca rose above that ... choosing instead to be gracious, forgiving and selfless to the end. That's all part of the story Scott crafted so beautifully.

I can see why many critics consider Rebecca -- who doesn't end up with the guy but I suspect (and my romantic heart likes to believe) ends up with a portion of his heart anyway -- as the book's true heroine. Scott even states in his final paragraph that recollection of Rebecca's beauty and magnanimity recurred to Ivanhoe's mind more than once in a while. And, Scott's positive portrayal of the Jewish people amidst the strife they suffered reflects a call for humanity and a concern for religious tolerance to the world of his own time. Gotta say, I didn't expect to find that in this tale. 

And while the unkindness bothered me, I enjoyed the read immensely. I was happy to see that the most worthy characters DID rise above the muck they faced. I was also pleased that the women of the book weren't weak. And in no place were the characters two-dimensional. They were all complex with their own merits and foibles.   

I started playing Authors over 40 years ago and finally made the time to pick up Ivanhoe. Why did I put it off? I don't know. Why do we put off things we truly want to do and wait for the right time? We only get so much time after all ...

Thanks Ron, for helping me find the right time. I highly recommend this book to someone seeking 1) a book with a character name as the title, 2) classic historical fiction with romance and chivalry and 3) a darn good read with poetic and evocative word choices by an author considered upon his death in 1832 as the most famous novelist the world had ever known.

Thanks Sir Walter Scott for the great adventure up close and personal with my favorite medieval heroes. Thanks for strong female characters who didn't fall down when they ran, stood up for their beliefs and kept their faith and strength to the very end. Ivanhoe now holds a place in my heart. 

Sharing him with Rebecca and Rowena is okay ... I'm in good company.
                                                                                        -- Jenni

I Don't Wanna ...

Children are so honest. 

When they are happy, they smile and laugh. Their eyes are bright and their affection quickly bestowed. They reach out and touch you -- cling to you. There's an easiness about them.

When they are sad, they cry. They don't hold back. They wail and tears flow freely down their soft cheeks. They curl up and pull away.

And when they don't want to do something, they express that disdain very clearly. They scream. They howl. They run from you or push away. And the words they use are genuine and spoken from their very core: "I don't wanna ..."

Perhaps it's I don't wanna eat that or do that or go there or play with them or wear those clothes or clean my room or do my homework  ... The specific is irrelevant. They just tell it like it is and their emotions play on their faces like a movie. They are Real. They are Honest.

As they grow up, though, they learn to don the facade. To behave as expected. To curb those emotions and spin the truth of their feelings. They learn to lie. They hide their genuine feelings or desires or preferences deep inside. We "grown-ups" teach them that ... we teach them to disguise their own truths and twist words. 

Oh, we do that kindly ... Don't want to offend or hurt someone's feelings. Don't want to rock the boat. You want to play nice and go with the flow. You want people to like you. You want to get along. 

I'm not talking being considerate or showing courtesy. And I'm not suggesting we give into complete self-indulgence. (At least not ALL the time.) No, I'm just wondering when we learned to water down our impulses and hide our genuine feelings and dreams. When did we accept that it's better to say what someone out there defined as "the right thing," following some pre-written script because that's what others said we should do? When did we set aside the honest child-like essence of who we truly are for the person others expect and want us to be? And when did we teach our children to model that behavior until they too begin to follow the flow chart?

What would happen, do you think, if for a day we recalled the honesty of childhood? What if for a moment we removed the facade we've learned to wear and allowed our true self to shine? What would the result be, if the truth would out? Would people not like us if they truly knew us? 

And if that is the case ... Do you want that person to like you because you are someone else? Do you really want them if they don't love you for who you truly are and how you truly feel?

Maybe it's the three years of yoga in me, but on my mat I've learned how important it is to honor who I truly am -- shiny pretty aspects and darker corners that I tend to hide away. I've learned to find strength through the rough moments and push through when I can ... or go to child's pose when it's just too much. I've cried on my mat and I've smiled too. I've learned to offer my best and let go of the rest. I've become more at ease with myself. And every day I try to share those discoveries with my kids so they honor who they really are ...

But most of us don't. We present the facade. We say what we know people want to hear. We wear a mask.

You know something, I don't wanna do a lot of things that I end up doing. I have responsibilities. Certain behaviors and choices and actions are expected of me. And I don't want to let people down. I don't want to disappoint. I don't want to upset the status quo. 

If I removed the facade and was truly honest ... if like that child crying at the store because they don't wanna be there ... what would happen? Would I offend? Or would I just be more real. More myself. 

Oh, I'm not talking being unkind. Children aren't unkind. They aren't truly selfish because they don't understand that yet. They are just who they are before we tell them to become something different.

I don't wanna clean the house today. I don't wanna make dinner. I don't wanna plan meals this week or go to the grocery store. I don't wanna stay quiet when someone has upset me. I don't wanna walk away from the things I really wanna do and the people I wanna do them with. I don't wanna lose people and things that I care for ... that I want. I don't wanna ... 

But I'm not a child anymore. So I put away those childish ways. And I stick to the status quo and tow the line. I smile and nod when inside I might want to scream. I wander the grocery store aisle list in hand when I'd rather get that manicure and pedicure ... when I'd rather spend my money on that dress or the Pandora bead I saw in the window. 

The Rolling Stones sang "You Can't Always Get What You Want." As young children, you don't know that yet. So you scream when you are unhappy. You laugh when you feel joy. You reach out with sticky fingers and cling to that person you love with wild, unbridled abandoned. And you tell anyone who will listen what you don't want to do.

When did we decide the facade is the better way to go? 

I don't wanna .... And when I end up doing that thing I don't wanna do anyway, a part of me ... that little girl inside of me ... screams and throws a tantrum.

You just don't see that.
                                                                                                           -- Jenni

What Do You Save?

What do you save? What notes or cards or little keepsakes do you keep hidden away? Where do you keep them? And why?

I'm a sentimental person. What about you? Not all of us are. Anyway, I keep objects that have touched me in some manner. But I also despise clutter. The other day I was cleaning out closets and drawers, general spring straightening I guess, and I came across a cedar box given to me upon high school graduation. It was locked but I knew where to find the key. And I looked inside.

There in this box were my early school day treasures. I found my KAO pledge ribbons and a puzzle piece given to me by my director from the 1982 production of Godspell, when I played the Day by Day girl. There's a polaroid photo taken at my best friend Tiffany's graduation party and a notecard from my friend who now lives in LA but once directed me in a play he wrote. There are medals from music and piano contests. I found letters from my cousin Mike, Aunt PJ and grandparents. I perused poems and stories I wrote and a star chart drafted at Post Prom. And I found a valentine. I think it will always be one of my dearest, fondest keepsakes. It's a ballerina and it was given to me by Danny Williams in 2nd Grade.

I have other boxes like that ... tucked away places. I don't open them a lot. But I save items in them. They are full of items that bring a smile to my face. These can be notes from cast members, envelopes with a character name that was especially dear to me, and little mementos from people important and special at a particular time. Even ribbons from gift boxes find their way into these Rainy Day boxes. I have pressed flowers, dried roses, scraps of paper with little messages and photos hidden away. I even have a couple of ketchup packets, a little joke between a friend and me.

There's a place that holds drawings made by my kids. I have My son's hand-print copied on a xerox and the sheet of paper that my daughter first wrote her name. There are also some photos of special moments, including my curl bouncing Music Man Gracie Shinn. I have cards from my husband as well as messages from my parents and brother and sister. 

I scrapbook so many memorable items are preserved in one of the 70 albums I've created. But there are some kept safe in special boxes. Hidden. For my eyes only.

Oh, I also have a few items on display in my closet ... flowers dried and preserved, including a dainty rose from a tea rose plant I once had, a rose my son gave me when he came to the hospital to meet his sister for the first time and a carnation he gave me at this year's Swim Parent Night. There's a white rose from a theatre banquet and a red rose my husband gave me when I did Rabbit Hole. They are in a vase given to me by my Marta/Brigitta in Sound of Music ... and sit next to a photo of my "Annie" when she played Marian in Music Man.

There's a note from my mom ... and one from my dad -- pinned to the wall. As well as buttons my friend made for some of my plays. There's a cheery note from my friend In Chicago and a crown presented to me on my last birthday. There are other special things on that shelf too ...

I take these things out occasionally. Guess that's why I save them ... these tokens of kindnesses or friendship. They are reminders of special moments and times. And though I may not recall what I ate for breakfast, I receive a sensory image ... a movie in my mind ... when I peruse or glance through these boxes. Rainy day boxes I call them. A ticket thru time.

I dislike clutter. So I'm selective in what I save. Perhaps there isn't a rhyme or reason that I've chosen what I have. But these items remind me of words spoken, days past and people who've been important and special to me -- whether I still see them or distance or time or life separated us. I like to recall ... to remember. They still seem close that way, I suppose. Like shadows that caress my mind.

What about you? What do you save? Do you have special things hidden away? Do you pull out a card from a friend on a rainy day and smile? Do you grin as you reflect on the boy of four that drew you a picture book called The Adventures of Jack The Caveman as you gaze upon the nearly 16 year old young man sitting beside you? 

What do you save? I hope you have at least one Memory Box. When you peruse these boxes, alone one quiet night, what do you remember? I'm sentimental, I guess. And as I sort through these hidden treasures, I recall fondly the special moments and people in my life so far. And I'm grateful for they way they continue to touch my life ... from a distance, from the sidelines, from a memory or from the other room.

Even if their touch comes to me only through a dried flower, a note or a ballerina valentine ...
                                                                                          -- Jenni