Letter to a Home Town - What do I tell Her?

On the May 23^rd Elliot Roger went on a killing spree in a California college town. On May 26^th, my Daughter the Elder turned 13. These two events should have nothing to do with each other, but they do. Elliot Roger’s motive was clearly documented. Among other things his misogynistic rants and writings detailed how he wanted to enact retribution on women for rejecting his advances. By all estimations my daughter is becoming a woman. 

The extreme actions of Elliot Roger, while obviously those of a mentally disturbed individual, did not happen in a vacuum. There is an undeniably misogynistic layer of our culture that deeply impacts the way that women live their everyday lives. Not all men participate in the degradation of women, but enough do that all women are taught to prepare themselves physically and mentally for the seemingly inevitable.

As she becomes a woman, what do I tell my daughter about the way she dresses? Do I praise her modesty when she chooses to wear shorts that come below the knee? I know it is because she is not yet comfortable in her changing body. Puberty is awkward for everybody. I want her to be comfortable in her skin but at the same time I feel a sense of relief at her choice to dress in a way that does not convey overt sexuality. It is safer because, welcome or not, that new body will draw attention.

As she becomes a woman, what do I tell my daughter about keeping her body safe? Do I remind her that her years of martial arts training can help to protect her in case of an assault?  I know that she would not hesitate to defend herself from a stranger, but if it were someone she knows… She doesn’t like to cause a scene. I want her to feel secure in her ability to defend herself even if that person is someone she or we thought was trustworthy. How do I do that without implying that no one is trustworthy?

As she becomes a woman, what do I tell my daughter about saying what she means? Do I keep encouraging her to speak up, assuring her that her voice will be heard? How can I not feel a tinge of hypocrisy when she tells me she has been coached to yell “fire” before “help” because it is a more effective way to get people to respond? All I can truly assure her is that I will listen…

There is little solace to be found in tragedies like this: the death of six people and injury of 13 others at the hands of a deranged man with a vendetta against women… Except maybe it will help to uncover the depth of damage being done to men and women by the misogynistic layer of our culture. And maybe if it can be seen it can be changed for all of our daughters - and sons.

I hope that this letter has found you and yours in good spirits and good health. Until I write again…

Letter To A Home Town - The Science of Thanksgiving

Twisted Paper Bag Thank You Tree

 

 

The Science of Thanksgiving

 

Ahhh Thanksgiving: that glorious celebration of hedonism in honor of our foremothers and forefathers. What a wonderful way to pay homage! 

That could be sarcasm, but for once it is not. (Though it is easy to poke fun at a holiday marked by excessive consumption followed by napping.) The way I see it the hedonic quality of the day has the potential to be a positive thing. I know it doesn’t sound that way, but hear me out. There is some science to what I am saying.

Hedonism is, by definition, the belief that pleasure and happiness are the most important goals in life. This doesn’t sound so bad by itself, but hedonism is often associated with self-centered excessive behaviors in the quest for happiness. That is the downfall part. Happiness is a matter of perspective and some people are bound to overdo it.

In psychology there is a theory related to this called hedonic adaptation. In laymen’s terms it goes something like this. Everyone has a baseline of happiness. We hit that baseline by doing what we always do. If we experience significant positive or negative things it will impact our level of happiness, but only so long as those things do not become the norm. If they do become the norm (doing what we always do), we acclimate and that new normal becomes what is needed to achieve base happiness. It is a bit like jumping into a pool. Even if it seemed cold at first, you get used to the water.

This of course begs the question, if we always return to a stasis then how do we achieve greater happiness? One sure way is to actively plan out positive experiences that break normal patterns. This is where Thanksgiving fits in.

Not only is Thanksgiving an invitation to break from our normal routine, there is an increasing body of research pointing to gratitude as a vehicle for happiness. It is being found that people who consistently practice gratitude have lower blood pressure, higher immune systems, feel less isolated and experience more optimism, joy and happiness. That’s right – when on a hedonistic quest for pleasure and happiness it will serve your purpose to show appreciation for what you have and those who helped you out along the way!

I encourage everyone, when you get together with family and friends this week (and in your everyday), raise the bar. Make sure the people in your life that matter hear that from you. Tell a story of how someone right there at the table made a positive influence on you. Make a poster of things you are thankful for and invite everyone to add to it. Let grace last the whole meal instead of hold up dinner. Most of all, let your quest for happiness be laced with gratitude.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

               I hope that this letter has found you and yours in good spirits and good health. Until I write again…

Letters to a Home Town - My Tweenager

My Tweenager on a Family Outing

 

My Daughter the Elder just had a birthday. She turned twelve. It was a pretty standard birthday, but to hear her tell it, it was a life changing event. On that day she was thrust, (or maybe she leapt) over the threshold of childhood. Now she is an almost-but-not-quite-may-as-well-be-close-enough-can’t-you-just-say-I-am-a teen. Apparently being called a tween when you are twelve just isn’t cool.

Not much that I do is cool these days. She lives in perpetual fear that I am going to embarrass her. When she invites friends over she makes me swear that I’ll behave. When the doorbell rings she gives me that look before she answers. She takes phone calls into another room just in case I decide to play the peanut gallery and make comments on the side. I am a high risk of anti-cool.

Now that she is twelve she is making it abundantly clear that if I ever want the chance to hang out with my big girl again, I had better shape up. Peer pressure is not limited to her fellow classmates; she is muscling me. No more fart jokes. Adults aren’t supposed to think those are funny. The wardrobe; it needs some serious adjustments. And just because you know what the Harlem Shake is DOES NOT mean you can demonstrate in public!

There are of course exceptions. It is permissible to hang out at home - when no one else is around, and she isn’t on the phone, or the computer, or tablet. We can go to the store together - as long as I am buying the items of her choosing. And we can do ‘other stuff’ as long as it is far, far, far, far from home so that the chance of bumping into any of her classmates is absolutely nil.

She is, of course, making her own way into awesomeness. At twelve, it is all about the look. She has dipped into the wardrobe that her big brother left behind; freaking the tomboy style. Her short tousled hair now has a red flare thanks to some temporary dye (next week it may be purple or green). Most importantly she now has the ultimate teen accessory; for her birthday she got a phone. (This gift would have elevated me into the ranks of coolness – If I have made it – but I didn’t. The phone came from her dad thus buying him forgiveness for being seen together in public any time soon).

To spite all of the fresh effort being dedicated to cultivating cool, that day when she turned twelve wasn’t the start of it. My Daughter the Elder has been that way for a while now. She likes sushi. She is a purple belt in mixed martial arts. She gives great hugs. And she has a wonderful sense of humor. (Don’t tell anyone but sometimes she even laughs at my fart jokes.)

I hope that this letter has found you and yours in good spirits and good health. Until I write again…

How to Make a Secret Message Card

 
 I was going to make these with the school age kids I work with today, but a snow storm got in the way. I was really excited that they were going to be able to use this process for Valentines cards. Unfortunately the next time we meet will be after the holiday. Sigh...
 

 
The idea is to use Alphabet Noodles  to create cards that contain secret messages that can be revealed by rubbing over the area with a crayon. The card itself is like any basic hand made card, but the message is spelled out in pasta then hidden under an extra layer of paper. The lighter weight the 'cover' paper the more clearly the message shows when you create the rubbing, so be sure to use 20# (copy paper weight) or lighter.
 

A test rubbing made with heavier paper

 
 
 
 
 

Thank You Streamers - Kid Craft

Thank You Streamers

A fun mail-able alternative to traditional thank you cards

Age: 18 Months and up (younger ones need more supervision)

Time: 10 - 20 min (+ Prep)

Theme: Saying Thank You, Sending Mail

Materials:

Copy Paper
Crepe Paper Streamers
Glue Stick(s)
String
Crayons or Markers
Reinforcement Labels (little donut shaped stickers used to reinforce pages in ring binders)
Adults and big kids get to use Scissors and a Hole Punch

Prep: For children who are not yet handy with scissors, precut 5 – 10 shapes (hearts, word bubbles, diamonds, whatever you like) out of copy paper. I found roughly 2” to be a good size. Cut a 24” strip of streamer.

Activity: Each child gets pre-cut shapes, or paper to make their own and markers or crayons to decorate them. Encourage them to write things that they are thankful for, such as a gift they received or an activity they did with the person they are making it for. Put away the Crayons and marker and get out the glue stick. Glue the shapes down the length of the streamer. Place a reinforcement label at the top then punch the hole through it. Add a string for hanging.

Notes/Tips: If you don’t have the labels (or even if you do), you can fold and glue the top of the streamer into a double layer to strengthen it.

Have fun embellishing! I have done this with two different age groups since the winter holiday break. The little ones added stickers and the older ones added snowflakes.

Banners fold flattest (best for mailing) back and forth accordion style

If doing this project with toddlers or pre-school kids I suggest reading Thank You Bear by Greg Foley too!
 

Why....

I don’t want to talk about it. Can’t I just write about Christmas? Or the end of the world? I had some really witty lines about being out of time and the holiday to-do lists that the zombies would find. I don’t want to talk about it, but I know that I have to… This week writing about anything other than the Sandy Hook Massacre would be disrespectful.

Right now everyone knows. On Friday December 14th, 2012 Adam Lanza shot and killed his mother then drove to an elementary school and took 26 more lives, most of them less than 8 years old. What everyone doesn’t know is why. The last life he took was his own. We can’t even ask him.

It is instinct in times like this to hold our children more tightly and remind them that they are loved. We stop, listen and interact with them on a level a bit deeper than we did the day before. We soften the message with hugs and kisses, but what we are telling them is that if they were gone tomorrow, the hole left behind would be unimaginable.

My children include a two year old deep in the stage of “Why?” She asks the question incessantly. “Why?” is daddy going to work. “Why?” can’t she have another cookie. “Why?” does she have to let the kitten go when she is holding her upside down by paw and tail. Each explanation is met with a follow up question; another round of “why?”

This week I have realized how much she reflects us in the face of tragedy.  “Why did he do it?” “Why didn’t someone see the signs?” “Why did he have access to so much weaponry?” “Why hasn’t he/we/them/us/they/you/she/me done something to prevent things like this?” Each attempt at an answer brings forward another round of “why?”

We try our best to answer the questions. “Why?” is so simple yet to answer it honestly the explanation must be complex; sometimes so complex we cannot fully comprehend. We grab for any explanation that makes sense. How do you comprehend the incomprehensible?

My daughter’s incessant questioning only ceases when she reaches an answer that suits her. Here too she a reflection of us. We settle on explanations that fit our world view: gun control, mental health care, school security, parenting, religion, video games, the list goes on. No matter how woefully incomplete our personal explanations may be, we hold tight to them. Action can only happen when we have an explanation and we need to take action now.

I hope that we can and will take meaningful action to prevent anything like this happening again, but in order to do so we must come to some agreement on the causes. I don’t know the answer, but I do know that if we stop the conversation with an authoritarian “Because” we will never get there. We must stop, listen and interact with each other on a level a bit deeper than we did the day before this tragedy. To do anything other would be disrespectful.

I hope that this letter has found you and yours in good spirits and good health. Until I write again…

December Tis the Season to Send, Send, Send!

This year I've had a personal goal of sending out at least two pieces of snail mail a week. Letter writing is a art that is rapidly falling to the wayside and this is my own humble effort to keep the tradition alive. Most of what I send hasn't been letters at all. I've sent mostly cards and art made by the kids or myself. Still I have fallen behind on my goal. Thankfully the holiday offer fabulous momentum to send, send, send!
 

Here is a sneak peak at what will be going out in December:
 

Stationery card

View the entire collection of cards.

What Sandy Left Behind

After the Hurricane

 

Surreal. I am not sure if there is a better word to describe it.

A week ago we were preparing for a hurricane. It was a halfhearted effort as we danced back and forth across the line between preparedness and hype. For as long as I have lived here severe weather events could be described by words like: inconvenient, uncomfortable, or an adventure (like sleeping in the back yard as a kid was an adventure). The danger aspect of storms was isolated and short lived (unless someone acted stupid – and there are always a few who do). It wasn’t that New Yorkers didn’t think it could happen here, as my Companion pointed out; it is just that it never had…

Then, under the light of the full moon, in came Sandy with the tide…

Even after the worst storms things are back to a relative normal here in a few days… Call it denial, willful ignorance, arrogance: call it whatever you want but most people here really expected Sandy to be the same - Even after it hit… Even after the lights went out… Even when they woke the next day and looked around… Even after they saw the pictures on TV…  But here it is almost a week later and things aren’t back to normal… Normal will sooner be redefined…

We – my family and I - are blessed to be in a place that has been relatively unaffected. It has been inconvenient, uncomfortable, a bit of an adventure but nothing perilous. But the other three sides of our block and a lot of other patches in our neighborhood are still without power. A mile south of us, flooded basements are being gutted in hopes of minimizing mold and contamination. Beyond that is the Queens war zone sans enemy; Broad Channel, Rockaway, Far Rockaway, Breezy Point… Top it off those areas can only be reached, coming or going, by car. Even if you have one, and less here do than don’t, gas is getting harder to come by… 

New Yorkers do not take kindly to being called victims. Let me let you in on a secret – no-one does! The title of “Victim” implies powerless, helpless, weak. Even when voiced by the best intentioned, it creates a sense of ‘us’ and ‘them’. “Victim” is an impediment. It gives the power to the helper. In the face of a task so daunting, we need to feel empowered. Call your neighbors neighbors. Call your friends friends. Heck – you can call a stranger a stranger who you can see needs a hand. Help is easier to give than to ask for. The word “Victim” can make it harder…

Right now, as I write this, there are a lot of people who need a hand. Many have never had to ask for help beyond their immediate family before. Few have ever faced a situation like they are facing now. Some are behaving poorly in the face of adversity. Most are behaving honorably. Even those like my family, who were effected minimally by the storm itself, are facing residual and unexpected challenges. We are all moving forward towards the new normal.

No one is quite sure what it is going to feel like - but we are sure that life hasn’t gotten back to it yet. Normal doesn’t feel so surreal.

 

Six Ways to Respond
 

Send a care package or an envelope with $20 in it to a random address at the edge of an impacted zone. Ask the addressee to use or deliver to a family in need. Trust that stranger to do what is right.

Support a small business or Etsy vendor in an effected area by ordering holiday gifts from them.

Foster a pet for a displaced family.

When people are tired, upset, lost, angry, cold, confused, etc, acknowledge that no-one is at their best when they feel that way and don’t take it personally.

When you are tired, upset, lost, angry, cold, confused, etc try not to take it out on others.

Send thank-you letters to first responders.

 

The Baby & The Booby - In Honor of National Breastfeeding Month

The Figlet has given up Boo-baah, but in honor of National Breastfeeding Month, here is a song we wrote back when she was latching strong.

The Baby & The Booby (Are The Best of Friends)

Zucchini Peach Bread

Not too sweet and not to heavy, this bread is a great grab on the run breakfast

or afternoon snack - perfect for those up and coming school days!

 

Zucchini Peach Bread

¾ C Whole Wheat Flour
¾ C All Purpose Flour
½ C Quick Cook Oats (Uncooked)
1 t Baking Soda
½ t Baking Powder
4 T Butter
4 T Vegetable Oil
1/3 C White Sugar
1/3 C Brown Sugar
2 Eggs
2 T Milk
1 t Almond Extract
½ t Lemon Zest (or 1 T lemon Juice)
1 C Shredded Zucchini
2 Peaches Shredded or Mashed (Yes, this means peach mush!)
½ C Pecans (Optional)

Preheat oven to 350

Cream together butter, oil and sugars. Add eggs, milk, almond extract, and lemon zest and mix thoroughly. Mix in the zucchini and peaches, followed by the baking soda, powder, oats and flour. Fold in nuts last. Grease and spread batter into 2 small loaf pans 8” or 9” square baking pan. Bake for apx. 40 minutes.

Note: This bread will slice ‘cleaner’ after sitting overnight.

(Originally based on Garden Fresh Bread from Cooks.com)

Cousins Week - Letter to a Home Town

Cousin Art Time

I don’t want to! I am digging in my heels! I am balling my fists! I am sticking out my bottom lip! I don’t want to get out of the lake and dry off! I don’t want to go and write my column! I want to keep playing! This is my cousin time! Sigh. Okay. I’ll get to it. But first watch me jump off the dock just one more time.

I was the only grandchild for 8 years. That is a long time. When others told the tales of summer get-aways and gatherings with all the cousins their own age, I always felt a little left out. It wasn’t that I didn’t get to go places and do things. I just didn’t have any cousins my age.

There were advantages to being a singleton. I got to go all kinds of places with a lot of different family members. Just one kid, especially one who is adept at self entertainment, is pretty easy to take along. I got to go to Canada and to Michigan. I got spoiled in all the households we visited where their own children had grown.

When I was 8 my first cousin came along. It was pretty cool for the first year or two. She was cute and didn’t do much. I got attention for giving her attention. The thing is she got older and some claimed even cuter. As far as I was concerned she was quickly becoming decidedly less fun and more bother. A 3 year old tag-along was not my 11 year old idea of an ideal playmate.

8 years is a lifetime when you are 8. When I was 16 I was I twice her age (and I knew everything). When I had my first kid, 8 years behind she was still a kid. When she had her first kid, I was a seasoned mommy with two.  A funny thing was happening though: with each year, 8 years became less and less of a gap. These days 8 years may as well be 8 months. She even has more kids than me!

Hosted by our uncles (YAY!), this week we are at Trout Lake. Five adults, three teens, two tweens and four under four; the house is filled to the rafters with cousins. Breakfast goes on for a couple of hours as the seemingly endless stream of bodies awake. Like ants to a melon rind we trail to the lake to swim and play all morning. The melting pot of ages and stages means enough eyes, hands and laps that everyone gets some free time and me time. I have even gotten to write this column virtually undisturbed.

You’ll pardon me now. I must sign off. I want to go check on my daughter the elder. Her 3 year old cousin has been trailing her all day and a 3 year old tag along when you are 11… I have a hunch she’d appreciate a break.  

I hope that this letter has found you and yours in good spirits and good health. Until I write again…

Cousin Play Time

Life as A Venn Diagram - Letter to a Home Town

Margret "Peggy" Walsh

I envision our lives as a Venn diagram; a dome like bubble over each of us, with a fat flower petal where we overlap. In my mind’s eye they are filled with colored light. My companion and I are yellow and blue. The petal that we share shines with the green of spring time. That is where we are now, in that place where our lives intersect. This is the way it might always be, but in this moment I am distinctly aware.

This past week his life has been dominated by his mothers rapidly failing health. She reached that point when loved ones were called to gather. All seven of her children came to spend time. No one needed to be reminded that each day might be her last.

In the windows of time he pushed open he visited her in the hospital. He missed work, dinners and family outings. He arrived home tired or wired or sometimes both. I ask him how it was. “Quiet” he’d tell me. Inside the dome of her last days words were oft spoken in hushed tone.

I am in the supporting role. I take up as much of the slack as I can; making sure meals are available to accommodate random schedules, the right clothes are clean, that the tasks of daily life are taken care of. Even time with the Figlet, at least the hours based on the hours I work, becomes optional. He rearranges priorities as needed. I get flustered when there are things I cannot remove from his path. It highlights the strength of our partnership; still I am relieved that this is a temporary situation. 

In our Venn diagram, the place where we overlap keeps growing. This year we have added supporting each other in time of death. In my grandfathers final days when the family took turns sitting bedside he was there for me. He kept little ones occupied, dried dishes, held me tight. He helped to assure that the tasks of daily life were taken care of so that I could rearrange priorities as needed.

On the day that they thought his mother was out of the woods, she’d only just come to the meadows edge for a last clear glimpse of the sun. Both she and my Grandfather died in a way that most of us hope that we would: without prolonged suffering, with family nearby, and with dignity. They left this world buoyed by the love of their children and grandchildren – the same love that kept them anchored in life.

What if all of our lives are a great Venn diagram, overlapping here, there everywhere? What if all of the colors that surround us in this world are the petals of light where we all overlap? What if a soul could overflow with color fed by the ways they touched others? What if a rainbow is one of those souls ascending, leaving streaks of light color across the sky?

Margret Walsh, mother of my companion, left a rainbow.

I hope that this letter has found you and yours in good spirits and good health. Until I write again…

Hurrah for Mom! - Toddler Art Project

Hurrah For Mom!

Banner & Flags

Age: 18 Months - 5 Years or older (younger ones need more supervision)

Time: 15 min (+ Prep)

Theme: Mothers Day (Or any celebration)

Books: Are You My Mother by PD Eastman, Llama Llama Red Pajama by Anna Dewdney, I Love You Stinky Face by Lisa McCourt

Materials:
Copy Paper
Straws
Crayons
String/Ribbon/Yarn
Glue Sticks
Adults get to use Scissors and a Ruler

Prep: Mark and cut out the banner pieces. On one 11” side of the paper measure 5-1/2” and on the other measure 2-1/4” in from each edge. Make a line from corner to 2-1/4” mark, then back up to the 5-1/2” mark, down to the other 2-1/4” then back to the top corner. This will give you 3 banners or flags (and 2 smaller triangle scraps). Measure and cut however many you want for your banner (3 for ‘Mom’ – 5 for ‘Mommy’ etc). Make at least one additional to use as a flag. After they are cut, fold the wide edges down about ¾” and trim the corners flush with the banner edge.

Activity: The banner: Each child gets banner pieces and crayons. Decorate, draw, scribble, make it colorful! An adult can help with letters too. When done, have an adult cut a length of ribbon/yarn/string then help attach them by folding the already trimmed wide end over the string and gluing the fold closed. Be sure to leave enough ribbon at the ends to make loops for hanging.
The flags: Each child gets a banner piece and crayons. Again decorate, draw, scribble – but remember that this time the design will be horizontal instead of vertical. Using the same technique as with the banners, glue the flags around straws to hold as you wave them.

Notes/Tips: Remember to double check the order you are putting them on the string before you glue. This is easily made into a multi-age multi-kid project because each child can decorate a banner piece to contribute to the whole – and you can make it as long or as short as you want!

Phone Booth Art

I believe in making random public art that makes people smile, or at least take a closer look. Smiles make the world a better place. Taking a closer look usually helps too.

 

 

Don't Forget to Call Your Mother Absecon, NJ 2/24/12