Rubbernecking

I've never been much of a risk-taker. Maybe that's why my instinct is to run the other direction when I sense danger. Combine that with my belief that people have a right to dignified privacy and you'll understand why I don't slow down to rubberneck at accident scenes or hurry towards commotion that seems to be well-handled by authorities. (Which is to say that I have put myself in danger to help others in danger, but only until the experts arrive. Then I am sooo out of there.)

I thought about this most often when I lived in Manhattan. There was always some type of chaos attracting looky-loos. I didn't get it. I remember walking home from work one day and seeing a large crowd across the street. I heard someone say there was a sniper on the roof. WHAT?! I didn't wait around to hear more; I took off in the other direction and detoured around the scene to get home. When I told my co-workers about the incident the next day, they couldn't believe I hadn't stuck around to see what happened. Yeah, because I want to push my way right up to the edge of the police tape so I can be squarely in the crosshairs of the deranged guy with the big gun. 

Not too long after that, I saw the bomb squad near the Israeli Embassy. (I later heard on the news that there had been a car bomb planted by extremists.) Once again, people were pushing and shoving to get as close as possible to the action. What part of "bomb squad" and "Middle East" didn't register with them? I generously considered that perhaps there was a nearby meeting of the Hemlock Society and the members were just seizing a convenient opportunity. But no, these people weren't suicidal; they were just STUPID.

What draws people to gawk at messes like this, especially when there is danger present? 
I would much rather focus on something positive (and safe!)
 
I spent too much time on Facebook yesterday and today, reading posts from people I didn't know, about how much they love and support my friend Tara, who is battling cancer and just had a stroke. I was drawn to this outpouring of emotion and couldn't help myself: I read every single post on Tara's page. I don't know why or how Tara recovered from this stroke, a hideous fist-sized blood clot lodged in her brain, necessitating the removal of half her skull to extract the clot. I don't know how she managed to evade extensive damage, damage I was braced for, damage her surgeon predicted. She is alert and talkative and able to move the affected parts of her body. How is that possible? Is it a miracle, brought on by the power of so many concerned people praying for Tara's recovery? I'm sure the situation could be dissected to explain at a scientific and medical level how her cancer-ravaged body was able to overcome this latest assault, but I really don't care. It doesn't matter to me why or how she cheated death; it just matters that she did. Tara is beautiful woman with a kind heart who makes the world a better place. She deserves to keep on living. She is not ready to die and I'm not ready to lose her. I'm not jealous that she is loved by so many other people; I revel in it. I want to rush right up to the edge of the police tape and watch in amazement while Tara fights as hard as a person possibly can to hold onto her precious gift of life. And I want to see the crowd pushing and shoving to offer support and hope and love. I want to know that I am one of a throng, that I can lose myself in a volume of like-minded individuals who care about others and want the world to be good. And then I want us to disperse and all go home safely.

Sexy Legs

Sexy Legs. That's what we called him for a short while, until another one came on the scene and the two were dubbed Sexy Legs I and Sexy Legs II. We quickly shortened their designations to SLI and SLII, both for convenience and discretion. Then there were more, each with a secret nickname known only to the two of us. We whispered about them, passed notes encoded with the secret names.

We weren't the type of girls to gawk at boys' bodies. We were smart. More than smart. We were above all that girly giggling and physical lust. We needed maturity and intelligence to turn us on. But these boys were an exception; they weren't dumb jocks, they were athletes. They were runners. The members of the cross-country team were thin, but strong. They were subtle; their muscles didn't bulge ostentatiously. They were competitive, but often competed against themselves, trying to beat their own best times. They didn't grunt and push and pat each other's asses to make themselves a "team." They were a team of individuals. Smart, strong, healthy individuals.
And they had legs. The best of the best legs in school.

We were the smartest girls around. We didn't stoop to childish behavior. But those legs, who could resist those legs? After all, sometimes girls just have to be girls.

You Never Get a Second Chance to Make a First Impression

She was furious. She had flown over 2000 miles to see her first grandchild, a child so precocious that she started speaking at 5 months. Except that I didn't speak. Not a word. My grandmother accused my parents of lying. They bristled at the accusation, why would they lie? They hadn't asked her to come. Tension filled the house.

My grandmother was feeding me, unaware that I was perfectly capable of feeding myself. She had the routine down: scoop up the mushy food, scrape off the drip on the side of the bowl, and pop the spoon in my mouth. Mmmm. Liquid vegetables. What's not to love? And then I was full. I closed my mouth. "Open up," coaxed Grandma. I clamped my lips together tightly. "Yum, yum. Open, open." I was done. "Mmmm," said Grandma, trying to force the spoon through my tiny perfect lips. Last straw. "THAT'S ENOUGH, GRANDMA!"

She packed her bags and took the next plane home.

For a long time I couldn't understand why my grandmother didn't like me, was always at odds with me. Then I heard this story. And I knew I never had a chance.

Carpe Diem, Scarlett O'Hara

It seems like things are always waiting for tomorrow. I mean to call a friend, but the day flies by. I tell myself I'll call tomorrow. Days pass, weeks, even months. There are never enough hours in the day.

Today, I take a stand. I am not thinking about tomorrow. I drive over 200 miles to see a friend I haven't seen in almost 30 years. We had talked about getting together a few times over the years, but it never happened. This is not a great day to go. There are all sorts of reasons why I should wait for a better day. But I don't wait. I get in my car and head west. It's a beautiful fall day, warm and sunny, and the splendid colors along the tree-line roads are breathtaking. 

Our visit is easy and fun, with the comfort of friends who had seen each other just the other day. I feel happy and relaxed. I'm not thinking about all the things I need to do tomorrow.

As I head east towards home, a nearly full moon shines ahead of me, while I watch the vibrant sunset in my rear view mirror.  This was the day. Today was the day.

October

"He has breast cancer" my friend Helen replied when I asked after our friend Chet. "That's awful" I said. "I'd like to give him a call. Is it okay if I tell him that you told me?" "Sure," Helen said. "He's totally public about it." I had always respected Chet, but now I had even more reason to admire his bravery and selflessness in sharing his private diagnosis to promote cancer awareness.


I can't think about breast cancer without thinking about all cancers. Every year at this time, I'm reminded of the loved ones I've lost to cancer, of those who have survived, and of those who have spoken out about their experiences so that others might take preventive measures or utilize early detection options. And I'm reminded of the American Cancer Society ad reading "The five most dangerous words in the English language: Maybe It Will Go Away." We can't afford to wait for an unusual lump to go away. We need to remember that early detection is critical. We also need to remind ourselves not to jump to dangerous conclusions. We need to remember that men can get breast cancer, and that people who have a chronic illness can still get cancer even though they already have their "bad medical thing." (I've been told "I assumed my sister couldn't get cancer because she had Lupus." and "It didn't occur to me that my son could get cancer. After all, he has Down Syndrome.") If something doesn't seem right, it needs to be checked now, no matter who you are, no matter what your medical history.
When I was growing up, October was a glorious month filled with the color of changing leaves -- rich reds, oranges, and yellows. Somewhere along the line, October became pink. Every year, it seems to get pinker -- pink food, pink housewares, pink clothing & accessories. I wish we didn't need to be overwhelmed with pink. I wish women didn't need an annual reminder to undergo breast cancer screening. I wish breast cancer -- and all cancer -- would become a thing of the past, that my daughter could grow up thinking of October simply as a beautiful month filled with fall colors. But until that day, please, please be vigilant about your health. Take action while you can, and don't let yourself think "Maybe it will go away."

A Mother's Failure

My five-year-old daughter has lost one of the loves of her short life and she doesn't even know it.  She is in love with a sweet, kind, ten-year-old boy who dropped dead from an aneurysm. I like to tell my daughter the truth as much as possible, but I can't bring myself to tell her this. When I heard the news of this darling boy's passing, I saw his smiling face in my mind and I cried and cried. As the day went on, I went about my daily routine in a daze, seeing his face. When I closed my eyes that night, his face was there. And when I awoke the next morning, he was still with me, still smiling at me. I couldn't shake his image for three days. 

I didn't try to make sense of his death; I'm too wise -- or too jaded -- for that. But I struggled to do what I always do -- find a bright side, a silver lining to which I can cling. No matter how bad the situation, I can find that silver lining. But this time, no inspiration came. I had (and have) no positive feelings about this tragedy. And so I cannot tell my young daughter this horrific news, not without a single uplifting sentiment with which to temper the blow. The eternal optimist has stared defeat square in the eye . . . and thrown up her hands in surrender.

Maybe With Age Doesn't Always Come Wisdom

I told my soon-to-be 5-year-old daughter that my friend Eric was coming to her birthday party. "Didn't he get married?" she asked. "Yes," I said, "he married a man named Todd." So she asked the obvious follow-up question: "Is Eric's husband Todd coming to the party too?"

No preconceived notions whatsoever. My daughter knows that people who love each other get married, simple as that. What if real life were like her almost 5-year-old mind, where no one gets "gay married," they just get "married." I hope her instinctive practice of acceptance without judgment extends to many more people and issues and lasts her a long and happy lifetime. 

Happy Birthday, my sweet girl. May you continue to serve as a role model for the older but not-always-wiser grown-ups around you.

Do Me a Favor

We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit. ~Aristotle

Do me a favor: stop buying bottled water. I'm not saying never ever EVER buy a bottle of water again. I recognize that there are extenuating circumstances, but can we try to keep those to a minimum? 

We can do this the easy way (you say, "Okay, no problem.") or we can do this the hard way (I bombard you with facts and figures about how much waste is associated with bottled water, how it uses valuable resources, damages the environment, and drains your wallet without necessarily increasing the quality of the water you're drinking.) The hard way won't be fun. It will make me cranky if I have to compile all that data and I will lay on the guilt and pull no punches.

So maybe you're saying to yourself, "The environment is a mess. My drinking habits aren't going to make a dent in this problem." Okay, fine. So don't do it for the environment; do it for me. Have I ever helped you out and you said, "I wish I could do something to pay you back"? Well here's your chance. Turn on the tap (buy a filter if you need to) and we'll call it even.

Let's make bottled water a thing of the past, a habit so routine that our kids automatically reach for their reusable bottles when they leave the house. Let's send a message that we don't want to pay exorbitant prices for tap water in a pretty package. Instead, we want cleaner tap water and affordable options for safe and convenient filtration systems and reusable bottles.

We are excellent people who deserve an excellent place to live. So let's make excellence a habit, one drink at a time.

Short & Sweet (just like Tara)

I could tell everyone about all the rudeness I've encountered this week from drivers, shoppers, and customer "service" employees, but we all have plenty of those experiences to frustrate us, don't we?  So instead I'll share the one experience from the week that I've chosen to remember and remind myself of when I feel that rudeness is taking over our society.

A few days ago, I was in the parking lot at the children's hospital. Hannah was already in the car and I was struggling to get her stroller in the trunk. The woman in the next parking spot asked if I needed help. I thanked her and declined the help. I got the stroller situated and turned to see my neighbor. She had been kind enough to interrupt what she was doing to offer assistance; that was already enough to make me feel grateful and uplifted. But then I saw what she was doing: she was trying to transfer her toddler daughter from a car seat to a medical stroller without getting the girl's colostomy bag and catheter drainage bag tangled up. Seriously? She stopped THAT to make sure I was okay with MY stupid stroller? I thanked her again for her kindness and drove away thinking, "I'm going to commit this to memory and let it wash over all angry memories of the drivers who cut me off on my way here and people who literally pushed me out of their way."  I can only hope that I will have the opportunity to brighten someone's day the way this stranger did mine.

That's all for now. Like I said, short and sweet (just like Tara.) Love you, Tara. You inspire me every single day.

A Seed is Planted

A few days ago, a friend gave me a baseball cap that says "Advice from a Rose."
It has a picture of a rose and reads:

Make someone's day

Enjoy the sunshine

Remember your beauty stems from within

Be colorful!

Look past the thorns

Make new buds

Bloom!

Be scent-sational!

She received the hat as a gift but never wore it because . . . well, she's on the cutting edge of fashion and the hat is as described above. Enough said. But on me the hat seemed funny because my last name is Rose. Somehow the pun made the hat acceptable for me (that, and the fact that I am nowhere near the cutting edge of fashion.)

Over the next couple days, I experienced something that happens often: I mention to a friend that I have discovered a website, product, shortcut, cleaning tip, financial tip, or other helpful information, only to have my friend exclaim, "I can't believe you didn't tell me about this sooner!"

From time to time, I have toyed with the idea of a repository for learned information (not necessarily a blog). I came the closest to actually creating something when I was without health insurance and learned all sorts of helpful ways to obtain medical services at low or no cost. But I never found the time to commit this information to paper and share it with friends and family.

My friends know that I am picky about quality, value, and safety in products and services and that I usually do a lot of research before making decisions. So I often end up being the go-to person when friends or family members need to buy a car seat or find a dentist or decide what type of life insurance to buy.

All this has been swirling around in my head for the past week and tonight I suddenly decided "Maybe I'll start a blog." I'm not completely comfortable with the concept; I feel like it's arrogant to think anyone would want to read what I have to say. But that's the beauty of it, I guess. No one has to read it. And honestly, I won't be hurt if no one does. We are all busy. The only way to survive is to prioritize and strategize. If I don't make it to the top of your to-do list that is totally fine. We can still be friends. I won't be mad -- I promise.

I'm not exactly sure what will end up being in this blog. I'm hoping it will be useful information about finding ways to save time and money while still getting quality products and services for yourself and your family.  I've also been looking at ways to save time on chores and errands so I can spend more quality time with my 4-year-old daughter, Hannah. Not to mention free or nearly-free fun things to do with said daughter. One thing I don't want to do is vent. Those who know me well know that I could have a lot to vent about. But I want to try something different -- I want to try to focus on the positive, to minimize time spent doing what I don't like and maximize time spent doing what I love. Time is flying by and I want to make sure I stop to smell the roses. And I'd like to encourage the people I care about to do the same . . . even if that means I need to start a blog.

UPDATE: This blog out turned out to be not at all what's described above (with the original title "Advice from a Rose". Oh well.