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Why Write?

Random thoughts, Writing July 15, 2014 Comments: 2

I was raised to think, not just do. This thing happened to me, mom. Why do you think it happened like that? What can you do about it? The balance is to think and then do, or you get analysis paralysis.

This is at least the third version of a piece that I revisit periodically ever since I stumbled upon this exercise. The first version was read by me and the person at Poets and Writers magazine who rejected the submission. The second was posted on my original blog as Why I Write. It seems like every other person is a frustrated writer these days. Some people are attracted by the potential for fast money, so it behooves those of us who persist at the craft to think about why we do what we do. And since we are writers, thinking usually means writing.

Writing is permanence in a disposable world. Committing words to paper – electronic or actual – requires a bit of thought beyond letting them spill from your mouth and moving on. Which doesn’t mean that a writer can’t do the written version of misspeaking, mind you. That’s why we need editors.

For every attempted act of communication there is equal opportunity for misunderstanding and discord as there is for understanding and agreement. Written communication allows the opportunity for more deliberate consideration of intent and word choice to appeal to the ideal audience.

We learn very early, probably as our first conscious thought, that we have to figure out how to communicate. Our needs are simple but urgent – food, sleep, a fresh diaper. But babies have little means to get their point across and then they start to decode the sounds that they hear as words with attached generally accepted meanings. Ah, communication begins.

We spend the rest of our lives communicating, whether we actively think about it or not. Most often through oral communication, but we have to learn that pesky written part too. (It is fascinating that for as many people who claim interest in writing, a large number of people groan at the idea of using writing as a means to communicate in business.)

Spoken words can fade in the memory, or morph into something entirely else than originally intended but written down they can become information that can be referenced again and again. Imagine being given multi-step instructions verbally and then having to recall step 6 or so, some time later. If you have this ability, I applaud you. I can create a mental list of 4-5 things that I need at the store, recite it all the way and only manage to remember that there were supposed to be 4-5 things in my basket when I actually get to the store.

The act of writing, itself, helps the brain to remember the point more clearly. This is why we are taught to take notes in school. Typing the thing has some power, but not nearly the power as picking up a pencil or pen and putting it to paper.

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Written communication reaches more people with exactly the same message than through word of mouth. (Remember the game of telephone?) This doesn’t mean that the message will be interpreted the same by all recipients, but at least it was the same message at the beginning.

I wasn’t sure what would come out when I decided to revisit this topic today, it appears to be more general and less personal than the other efforts. Who knows how it will turn out next time.

Unintentional Teamwork

Random thoughts July 11, 2014 Leave a comment

Not only is it still allergy season for me, I am getting over a summer cold therefore I had facial tissues on my store list. The smaller cube shaped boxes fit well in my bathroom and I was down to my last box.

There I stood facing the industrial shelving that holds the paper goods, staring at the several feet of empty space between me and the store brand facial tissue cubes arrayed at the very back. How helpful. I looked over at the name brand cubes to my left – of course quite handy. I looked at the full sized boxes to my right and was quite pleased to see that there was a full selection of the 3 ply version for my main bathroom. I grabbed a few. And went back to staring at my intended cubes about five feet from my nose.

A woman about my own age came up behind me. “Did you need some of those?” She pointed at those cubes. “Yes, I am considering my options.”

I had considered scaling the rack and also going in search of a long stick – say a broom a couple of aisles over. She clearly had the same thought, disappeared for a moment and came back with a fly swatter. Smart woman, she leaned in on the shelf below and started to tease the cubes forward. I looked at her arm-span and offered to help since mine is greater. The two of us worked in tandem and managed to pull 6-8 cubes forward.

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Only to find that they were the kind with lotion. Drat. Ingenuity thwarted by the store’s buyer who clearly overbought this kind instead of the plain old ones that we were both after. We walked our separate ways empty handed.

I don’t know if she meant to work together or just get me out of her way so she could achieve her own goal. I walked away thinking that while ultimately disappointed in my main goal, it had been energizing to work together with this stranger to overcome that obstacle.

Facial tissue cubes are still on my store list for this week. I wonder what will happen?

A Subjective, Conditional Experience

Random thoughts July 8, 2014 Leave a comment

Surveys in women’s magazines have such strong allure because they can tell us, once we calculate the results, where we fall on the unique but still comfortably in good company range. Of course we want to be seen as a valuable and distinct individual, while not in any way too out-of-the-ordinary. We need concrete, objective definitions for the boundaries then.

But life doesn’t work that way. Plenty of us will do the normal things as we progress through adulthood – find a steady job, pair up and create our own family, settle down with a house and within a community. But the details will vary wildly and so those concrete definitions of the boundaries get complicated.

We don’t want to be ‘wrong’ – not make the wrong decision, or somehow not right and therefore not fit in. Except that survey is just based on someone else’s opinion of what is right, on conjecture. Or on an agglomeration of averages – a high percentage of people picked this school or that profession which must make them more right. But right for whom?

My mom came across Margaret Mead as she experienced college in her 30s and 40s – when I was in grade school and high school. She became enamored of Mead’s assertion that one should have a different spouse for the different stages of adulthood (Margaret’s way of proving her own path as the right one, perhaps?) all the while being proud of keeping her own long term marriage intact as she set about increasing her intellectual range.

Mom admired a lot about the unconventional choices of others, but she stuck to the conventional ones. Dad was conventional through and through. And they raised us to think for ourselves, with a high awareness of rules, mores and convention.

These ideas are much bigger than a single blog post, and this post has wandered in a direction that I didn’t originally intend. I keep coming back to these themes – value, self-definition, individuality – because they are rich and varied. I am fascinated by the conflict inherit between the draw of conventionality (and acceptance) and the determination of each person to be unique.

Happy 4th of July!

Random thoughts July 4, 2014 Leave a comment

Happy 4th to my readers. I hope that you have some sort of independence that you can celebrate. May your celebration be all that you want it to be, safely.

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“Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.”

~Theodore Roosevelt

photo credit: Wikipedia

“Change does not roll in on wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle. And so we must straighten our backs and work for our freedom. A man can’t ride you unless your back is bent.”

~Martin Luther King, Jr

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“For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”

~Nelson Mandela

Possessing Something New

Random thoughts July 1, 2014 Leave a comment

There is a certain pleasure in having something new, or new to you. There are those who have no interest in new acquisitions and on the other end of the spectrum there are those who go into debt to feed this pleasure regularly and wind up with too much useless stuff. But for the majority of us, it is nice to have that occasional thrill of a new possession.

I’ve gotten to the stage in life when I consider each purchase; whether it will be useful, where I will put it, do I already have something similar, will it replace something else. I can easily walk away from something that is mass produced when it comes to decorative items, but artist-made is another thing entirely. Particularly wood.

Depending on the item, I might need a period of introduction. Adjustment in thought. Perhaps I took those words mothers and grandmothers say too much to heart – be careful, don’t ruin your new (insert name of new item here), you just got that. I did, after all, manage to ruin a few of those newly acquired things in my growing years.

I need a new 4 quart sauce pan. But so many these new ones have glass lids – yikes. I’ll keep looking. (Come to think of it, we had several nice pots that didn’t have lids when I was a kid. They’d been wedding gifts to mom and dad that came with glass lids… Maybe it’s hereditary?)

I can tell a story about almost everything that I have in my house. Many of the things were my parents’ or my grandparents’ things. Other things have come from trips – you can barely see the front of my fridge thanks to all the magnets. The story and the thing are intertwined. Perhaps it is the story that captures me most. But I can’t touch the story like I can run my hand along the secretary that was my grandmother’s.

I didn’t buy anything new recently to prompt the thought for this post. I went to a fine art and craft show with a couple of friends. We checked out all of the things that people had made. I was especially drawn to a burled wood bowl that felt like satin. I had gone hoping to find a gift or two, particularly something for one of the friends because it was her birthday.

I’m kind of sorry that I didn’t get myself that bowl.

Maturity Doesn’t Preclude Enthusiasm

Random thoughts June 27, 2014 Comments: 2

My son’s dog likes to remind me that there is always a place for enthusiasm. We think of her as a puppy, but we recently noticed the gray coming in on her chin which is supposed to be a sign of maturity. When she likes something or someone, she really likes them and everyone knows it. And she likes a lot of things.

I enjoy a walk around the neighborhood to get fresh air, exercise and ideas from other people’s gardens. (And it is a good time to think.) I let her come with me. (I do not take her for walks, let me be clear. Because she is not my dog.) She knows she is only allowed to go if she behaves herself. She must start by waiting calmly while I put on my shoes. Far enough away that I can get my shoes on without conking her in the head with my foot when I raise and lower it. Or trying to give me kisses when I bend down to get my shoe. Then she is supposed to calmly let me put on her harness without licking me. Then she is supposed to go calmly to the door and wait to the side while I go out first. Lastly she is supposed to wait calmly while I shut the door.

But she just really likes to go for walks and she wants to make certain that I know how happy it makes her that I am preparing for a walk. Even if this delays the start of the walk while she gets hold of herself.

It is good to have a constant reminder that life is better when you have things that make you feel all wiggly. There is plenty on the mature side of life that draws the enthusiasm right out of a person. It should just help us to enjoy things more, but for too many people these things seems to mean the preclusion of enthusiasm entirely. I think maybe I should send them on a walk with my son’s dog. She’d love to go.

Staying Calm

Random thoughts, Work Life June 24, 2014 Leave a comment

Someone went in the basement of a government office in England a couple of years ago and found themselves a gold mine by unearthing a WWII slogan, “Keep Calm and Carry On”. With my tagline on my old blog being Reasonable Expectations, which is along the same vein, you probably believe that I find the phrase has plenty of merit. And I do believe in the sentiment. (I almost bought a plaque myself when I first saw one in a catalog because it is a pithy and practical mantra.)

Google search of keep calm and…

But ever since I was told the first time as a child in a tizzy about some long forgotten irritation to ‘calm down’ I have thought that is the most useless phrase in the English language. In the history of the world the number of people who have actually calmed down just based on being told to do so might be legitimately calculated at one. In my experience, both personal and observed, it is more likely to be equated to waving a red flag in front of a bull.

But, since chronologically we are all adults, we do need to temper our tempers. We are civilized after all, aren’t we? Therefore we must find a means within ourselves to defuse any mounting irritation, frustration, anger, or rage before it gets the better of us. Before we get into full tantrum mode. And there is plenty to be frustrated about – businesses seem to create rules for the specific purpose of frustrating their customers. Or, knowing a particular time of day is a high volume time there will only be 2 cashiers with a long row of empty checkout stations and a longer row of people who have somewhere else to be.

Anyway, back to defusing frustration. Reminding myself to breathe is a good mantra – have you ever noticed that your breath is shallow and rapid which makes your pulse get shallow and rapid? And your shoulders head north toward your ears? I can’t make the store bring out some more cashiers, but I can make myself breathe more deeply and shake out my shoulders until they are back where they belong. And try not to listen while the man behind me tells the woman he is with to calm down.

There Should be an App for That

Random thoughts June 20, 2014 Leave a comment

(Please remember as you read today’s post that I have a dumb phone and I know exactly this much – 0 – about phone applications. However, should anyone reading this decide that this is a viable idea and create such an app – you’re welcome.)

I’ve been to a few meetings and events in the past week or so that all start with some version of the announcement to turn off or turn down the beeps, bleeps, trills, rings and singing of electronic devices. I dutifully turn my phone to vibrate each time because I do rely upon that verbal reminder to take this courteous action.

I’ve had a cell phone for about 12 years now, clearly not an early adopter. My sister and brother-in-law got me into the mobile age by gifting a pay-by-month phone. I left it in the box until the morning that it was predicted that a huge snowstorm would bear down on us later that day. I picked up the phone – box, instructions and all – and activated it when I got to work.

Photo Credit: Wikipedia

(A year or so before that, I spent two solid hours inching past Woodfield Mall in a frustrating effort to get home during an evening rush hour snow storm. I was the 2^nd to last parent to pick up my kids at after-school care and due to the emergency situation was not charged the late pick up fee, thankfully. I could have used a phone that night.)

I digress, I use the cell phone for communication not entertainment. For it to be effective for inbound contact, I need to be able to hear it ringing. I can count on one finger the number of times that I have successfully remembered to turn back on the sound after a meeting or an event. I missed a call this past week that once again made me annoyed at myself. And led to this thought about apps.

There should be an application that activates when a person turns off the ringer and then finds a way to turn the ringer back on after a period of time or a way to notify the phone owner that the sound is off. Yes, this is not necessary for the folks who obsessively check their phones. But I know that I am not alone in the way that I use my phone.

What do you think?

The Changing Landscape

Random thoughts June 17, 2014 Leave a comment

I am not a gardener, more of a putterer. I admire gardeners and I enjoy the effect of a garden. My back and knees don’t want to garden, though. (They are protesting as I write this because I am itching to go and putter in the garden.) There is something so elementally pleasing about watching things grow and thrive.

Last year I read an interesting book called Founding Gardeners. I realized that I had something in common with Jefferson, Washington, and Adams besides a vested interest in the ongoing success of the ideals that created this nation – I enjoy a lot about gardening but wish that I could hire people to do the hard parts like they did. Sometimes I manage to get my son to step in.

A few years ago I decided to create a garden area in my backyard in my mom’s honor. We call it the Grandma Garden. The object was to add plants each year for Mother’s Day and my mom’s birthday. It was a way to stay close to her. For many years it didn’t look much like a garden and plenty of the plants that were added didn’t make it. (Often times thanks to the dog or other creatures, darn them. The dog inexplicably dug up a sand cherry repeatedly and I kept finding her playing with it until it died.)

Last year I got a bunch of mostly evergreen plants from my sister early in the season. I put a few in the Grandma Garden and for the first time it started to look like an actual garden area. I had to move around a couple of boxwoods – moving plants was a revolutionary idea to me that has changed my puttering entirely. The dog hasn’t been too kind to the boxwoods – digging near their roots unless I am vigilant. They have been tenacious though.

The Grandma Garden last year.

I worried about my new plants during this past harsh winter. The deep snow cover protected much of the plant bases but I have noticed signs of stress on the upper parts that were subjected to the wind and bitter cold. I tried waiting to see if they would revive, and then a bit of trimming.

I just had to pull up one of the boxwoods. The larger one, the one that had been more successful. Because it was larger, it got greater doses of the winter punishment. Now there is a big space which I am currently pondering.

One of the points of the garden was to find things that made me think of mom and the stories that she used to tell. She wasn’t a gardener, but she had an appreciation for nature and she liked to dabble (a step or two more distant from gardener than putterer happens to be) in planting now and again.

There were large bushes in front of the house that she grew up in and every year when her dad got out the pruning tools, mom would pester him to let her trim. That’s what the boxwoods were representing. For now, the stunted little one that remains represents these moments in my mom’s life all by itself.

We think of plants as stable, but when you start to work with them you realize that gardens are ever changing. Things thrive and things die – sometimes it doesn’t make any sense. Sometimes the changes are subtle and sometimes dramatic.

Do you pay attention to the landscape around you?

Come Banging After Me

Random thoughts June 13, 2014 Leave a comment

I have lost count of the number of times that I started to learn to play the piano. My mom had an old black upright piano that moved with us from state to state and sounded beautiful to me whenever she played – but the years and the moves weren’t kind to the poor instrument. It was a relic of her childhood, carried over into mine. At some point during my college years she treated herself to a new piano that now lives at my brother’s house.

Mom was more than happy to teach us to play when we took an interest. But she wasn’t going to come banging after us to practice, or in any way harangue us for this or any other endeavor. She loved to play, but had her moments during those learning years when she had to be pressed to continue by her mother. She had a picture of herself as a concert pianist, unrealized because she didn’t put in the necessary hours of practice and single minded dedication.

Mom at a piano, not the one I mention – and long before she was ‘mom’.

My nieces’ dance recital has brought this and other creative efforts to mind, as it does every year. I am enchanted by the growth of their skill, poise and grace each year. I don’t have to be there for the moments when they just don’t have it in them to go to a particular class. When they have to make a choice between practice and another activity. I just now realized that I haven’t ever asked my sister how much effort she puts into banging after them to work through a momentary dip in interest and effort. I know that she puts a lot of her own time and effort into making their ability to dance a reality.

I took dance classes too, here and there – now and then. We didn’t ever have the facility and the talented people that my nieces have had the pleasure to be exposed, that perhaps they don’t recognize as a gift. The other gift that they may not recognize is the time and expense that my sister puts into their pursuit.

There are so many options, so many interesting pursuits that we could take on – intellectual, creative, etc. A whole lot of factors have to convene just so to create excellence – dedication and a support system being just the start. Regardless of dedication, sometimes the difference just comes down to having someone to come banging after you when your energy and dedication flag a bit.