Fly The Unfriendly Skies With United

I'm old enough to remember when people actually dressed up to get on an airplane like it was a social event. I mean, high heels, dresses, suits, ties; the whole nine yards. Now we have people showing up at airports looking, at best, like they're going to a slumber party. At worst, many patrons resemble homeless people. I'm also old enough to remember United Airlines advertising campaign slogan, "Fly the friendly skies of United." Every time I'm waiting, this is my hopeful image of who I will see when boarding:

Or this- an entire crew waiting happily to greet The Queen of The Universe!

But, that's fantasy. We all know that this is how it feels to fly these days, sadly...

Or, perhaps this image best conveys how your last flight felt?

I most certainly recall feeling like this. In fact, recently on a flight from Chicago, My Lion had to ask for a seat change because the man next to him was so large that Mike was actually turned out into the aisle which has to be against regulations, if not a crime against his aching back! Thankfully, the Flight Attendant was happy to get him another.

Sadly, that sort of help did not come for this United passenger who was dragged from a plane by airport security. Yep, dragged. A 60 something year old physician who was buckled into his seat next to his wife on their way home.

Normally I'm a rules girl. If you have the authority to tell me what to do, I'll generally do it without issue. So I could argue that the man brought on the altercation because he refused to get off the plane when told. However, as a PR professional and Human Being, I can't let this go by without commenting.

In this case, the flight was double overbooked, (Yes, that's actually a real thing, a real business practice!)  The airlines have taken to overbooking every single flight that they send down a runway. It started when the price of gas etc, was taking big bites out of their bottom lines. The airlines started coming up with all sorts of creative ways to help staunch the flow of red ink. That's when baggage handling fees went crazy and getting bumped more frequently from flights making a bad situation, worse. It changed the stressful occasion of flying into something akin to having one's head shaved with a cheese grater. It didn't simply go from bad to worse-- it went from bad to Third Circle of Hellish.

So, back to the elderly man on the plane. The airline needed four passengers to give up their seats because, ready for it, they needed seats to get some of their employees to their connecting flight. Yep, you heard me, they needed paying customers to give up their seats so their crew wouldn't be held up from getting where they needed to be, thereby causing the cascading effect of other missed flights. They offered $800 to any passenger who would give up their seat.  Perhaps that seems reasonable.

But, not to me. As far as I'm concerned, no business worth its salt passes on the pain of operating to a paying customer! And, the fact that United overbooks flights to the point that they can't get their crews around the country is certainly a problem for them. However, it should not have been that man's problem. But it became a big one!

Three passengers took the proffered $800, but the flight was still short one seat. Next they randomly selected the seat, which was occupied by the doctor. When they asked him to get off, he refused saying he had patients whom he needed to see in the morning. It would also mean that, either his wife get off with him, or she'd have to travel on alone.

The flight crew got airport security involved when Dr. Passenger refused to get up out of his PAID FOR seat. Before you could say, Buckle up, boys it's going to be a bumpy ride," the man is bloodied, dragged down the aisle by his arms, while every other passenger has out their cell phones videoing the entire nasty business. The poor man ends up in the hospital with some serious injuries. Can anyone say, "Lawsuit,"?

Post event, the horrified passengers began releasing their videos and the entire situation rightfully went viral. I could just imagine their PR Person screaming in his head, "Are you freaking kidding me?! How the hell can I even begin to spin this one?!" He gave it a really good try. In fact, the CEO of United took to the airwaves and did what you might expect, defend his crew for doing what they are supposed to do, etc. But when the backlash washed over him and United sending their stock prices into a tail spin, (see what I did there?), he was busy trying to publicly walk it all back and apologize. To no avail. Now they've refunded the tickets to all the passengers in an effort to say "Sorry you had to see that!"

As if that could even help.

Here's my point, aside from the one I stated about how stupid it is for any company to think it's right to pass off their operational problems onto a paying customer. While so many other businesses seem to have got the wake up call about how customers will not tolerate poor customer service, the air lines still act as if we are brainless cattle to be transported to slaughter.

Those who work in the industry complain about how we all act on flights these days; how we dress or don't dress to be seen in public; how fat we are; how demanding we are; how totally rude we can be. All the while making more money off of customers than they've ever made as an industry. In case you think they'd do away with those fees that may have been necessary to keep them afloat during the lean times, you'd be very wrong. Instead, the fees are still there and getting higher, and they've made the seats smaller, stripping away any form of comfort. No food is served, no in-flight entertainment, nothing at all. The Airline industry, through their choices, has turned it into an us against them scenario with you feeling like a sucker for paying to be abused. Tempers are short, memories are long, and no one is happy or satisfied. Sounds like a brewing recipe for disaster.

Now we can add physical abuse to the list of those things the unfriendly skies will provide at your full cost. How very nice of them.

From now on when I fly, instead of taking out flight insurance, I think I'm going to see if I can get a policy that offers Combat Pay. It seems like it will come in way more handy.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Still Flies But...

The Danger of The Cult of Personality

Richard M. Nixon was president when I was a senior in high school and resigned when I was a freshman in college.  He is the only president who has resigned.  It made for a very interesting era.

At 17, I was not much into politics.  I hadn't even cast my first political vote.  But, I hated this man. Absolutely. Totally.  Just despised him. If you had asked my 17 year old self who knew everything there is to know about the world, I wouldn't have been able to articulate my reasons.  The truth is, I hated him because everyone else I knew hated him and without understanding Group Think, I too, hated the guy. I grew up in Maryland which is historically Democrat in its politics and no one in Maryland liked him simply because he was a Republican!

                                      

Now as an adult, I understand that he wasn't a totally bad president.  He started the end to the Viet Nam war which should have gained him sainthood status from all of us young people. And, he was the President who began discussions and relations with China that has shaped world policy since. If I knew more about politics, I'd be able to tell you what other things he did well. But, I can't. Just like millions of other Americans who couldn't warm up to his cool, peculiar and distancing demeanor, we just hated him because.

Then along come these two beat reporters from the Washington Post who dug deep and ferreted out the story of a lifetime. Theirs is the story that brought down Nixon's White House around his ears. It's a complicated story as things like this are and too Machiavellian for me to explain in this blog. Essentially, it was all about how Nixon's senior staff and he decided to bug the Democratic National Committee headquartered in the iconic Watergate Building.

Woodstein, as they became known, caught this break of a lifetime because of their unnamed source, known far and wide as Deep Throat.  A Washington insider, this man (whose identity was a closely kept secret for over 30 years eventually revealed to be Mark Felt, the Assistant Director of the FBI,) gave them the info because Washington Elite were incensed that the Republicans would stoop so low as to break the law spying on and wiretapping the opposition party.

The resulting book of the entire affair, All The President's Men became required reading. It was all anyone talked about. And it launched thousands and thousands of students into journalism majors because of the unprecedented event and the Media's power to reveal the truth.  Bernstein and Woodward changed journalism and for a long time, we were better off because we had reporters and editors who understand that a free society must have a Media who is non-partisan and continues to day-light the truth. As a Mass Communication Major, I sat through countless hours in class discussing ethics, truth, these two reporters but with very little frame of reference to the political story. If you've never read it, maybe you should. It's thick and filled with things that I don't understand even to this day but it sure is fascinating the way watching an accident on the road is compelling!

At the start of Nixon's second term, he resigned. Seven top staffers were indicted and served jail time for their actions. Since Nixon's VP, Spiro Agnew (a Maryland Governor,) resigned prior because of fraud and tax evasion, that left Gerald Ford as the next President. Poor guy. I remember him as being nice, bumbling, and basically ineffectual. Again, I could be wrong because I was young and what did I really know? However, I clearly remember the celebratory feelings around that resignation. And just like that, a United States President became Personae Non Gratae.

Now years later, Donald J. Trump is the President. Elected despite what the best political pundits and Media reported and predicted. And, just like Nixon, he is despised by thousands and being protested at every turn. He too, is a Republican. His personality is bombastic and large. It makes him difficult to like and warm up to. He's been in office less than 100 days and daily the coverage is about what he's not done, what he's not been able to accomplish. The news is filled with political infighting, not just between the Dems and Repubs which one expects, but even within the Republican Party itself. While the Dems flat-out admit like it's a good thing, that they plan to oppose him on every thing.

How bad is it? Let me put it this way- if Trump walked on water in front of everyone, I'm afraid the media headlines would be, "Donald Trump Fails To Swim!!!"

Full disclosure, I voted for the man. For the soul purpose of not allowing Hillary Clinton to gain the seat in the Oval. Do I love the man? Not at all. Do I think he is the candidate of my lifetime? Only in how bizarre it all is that he's even the President in the first place.

But now as an adult, and a person who follows politics much closer, what concerns me is not the President so much as our reactions to this President. I am very concerned about the Cult of Personality that seems to be the driving force behind news coverage and our behavior.

Are we so shallow that we only want political leaders whose personality we like? Can the person only be considered a winner if they make us feel all warm and fuzzy? Seriously? Would you choose a surgeon that way? If I were to tell you that the only surgeon who could possibly save your life had the bedside manner of Attila The Hun, would you pass because you didn't like him? My suspicions are that you wouldn't.

So why would you hate the President because you just can't stand his personality? Why would you crow with glee when everything he and his staff attempt to do is thwarted by politics? Why would you hope that our President fail? If he fails we all fail.

Yes, he's difficult to understand and is totally unorthodox.  His communication style makes me cringe. Yes, he's a billionaire. He walks in rarefied air that most of us can't imagine. To be honest, so do most of our politicians who are, while not billionaires, certainly quite wealthy. Even President Obama who everyone loves in terms of his personality is an elite worth many millions. But, Mr. Obama has a much easier personality that's simple to like in terms of being a good family man and a loving husband and father.  Here's the thing, though, so is Mr. Trump. His children are extremely successful and well regarded. His beautiful wife is an immigrant now citizen, who was a successful model, speaks several languages, and is a fabulous mother.

Mr. Trump has many life long friends who say he is constantly supportive and loyal. So, in terms of the Cult of Personality, should we dismiss a person simply because we don't think we'd like them personally? Should that be the criterion? Or should we be making that decision based on their qualifications and accomplishments? Wouldn't those be a more accurate measure?

Interestingly enough, this story has another angle proving that everything in history comes around again. A storm is brewing; no telling where it will all end. It seems as if The Trump Presidency is in the middle of a wiretap controversy just like Nixon's. Only this time, it would be Democratic operatives who are playing fast and loose with surveillance of Trump staffers.

And, I can't help but wonder, where are the Woodwards and Bernsteins who genuinely care more about reporting the truth instead of being contemptuous of the guy who holds the office? Are they even there anymore? Maybe not, but the dangerous Cult of Personality is still very evident.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Is Older And Hopes Wiser

I Couldn't Have Predicted

If you're a follower here at Your Mother Knows, you know it's my mission to share with you things I've learned regardless of the fact that it might not be something many talk about... I want to give you some advanced warning about some of these serious life questions.

The other day, my Best Friend Forever, Pam and I were talking about stuff and she said, "I just feel like I want to yell and scream!  I'm going to be 62 years old in a couple of months and I just did NOT think it was going to be like this!!"

Upon talking further, she was stressed over her daughter not realizing that the things she'd like Pam to do to make her life easier make Pam's life harder; things like watching her granddaughter 50 hours a week without being paid in order to help her daughter save money...

Or, her husband figuring that because she's home all day, she can deal with the house work and the gardening, the major home improvement projects, and the finances because, after all, he works all day and since she's home not doing anything important...! Pam's frustrated because doing everything she can for everyone else means that she doesn't have time or energy to do anything she likes to do for herSelf. And not doing anything for yourSelf leaves you worn out and cranky.

Really, it wasn't anything monumental that was so upsetting to her. Just the normal stuff of life being burdensome at times and everyone else thinking that they have it harder than you do, without stopping to consider how many demands they heap on your not-as-young-as-you-once-were head.

Pam uttered, "I feel like I blinked and my life is gone and now I'm this age and wondering how I got here so fast!! I don't have the physical stamina or mental determination to just go, go, go! Nor do I want to, I just want to say, 'Give me an effin' break!'"

Instead, she simply sucks it up and continues to soldier on. To a large extent, I think that's what most of us attempt to do.  We just keep going until we can't.  It helped when I explained that I feel the very same way.  Then I added, "I go to bed most nights and think to mySelf, 'Is this all there is?  Is there nothing more to life when you're older than getting up each morning, going through your daily routine, only to climb back into bed each night?'" While we age, does our scope and ability to influence or be relevant simply slip away?

I couldn't have predicted how fast it all flies by! How do you find the joy and passion in life when who you were is not who you are now?  You don't have the professional cache' you once had. You don't have the energy to attack the chores and interests you once loved. It seems you're more what you're not than what you are.  And, the critical question becomes, who are you when your face begins to show its age and your mind no longer has the elasticity and your Spirit seems to sigh a lot more than it used to?

When you're young, you have a curiosity about what comes next; the next acquisition; the next accomplishment; the next relationship.  When you grow older, the world seems to grow smaller and the thrill seems harder to find.  Why? Is it that way for everyone?

This is one of my favorite pictures of Pam and me, circa 1981. I'm sure you could tell thanks to big sunglasses and bags. Yes, that's me with curly, permed hair which was the rage in the Big Hair 80s! It's a candid that captures what she and I do best with each other- LAUGH!  A lot.  I mean, hysterical laughter over the simplest things. We are best friends even though she lives on the Left Coast and I am here in the east.  We don't get to see each other often, but that's not changed how close we are. We find comfort in our shared experiences because it always helps to not feel alone. I know I took comfort in our conversation because she confirmed a lot of what I feel and haven't said about this entire aging thing. If I feel as if I'm whining about something, I have a tendency to just not talk about it at all.  However, not talking about it sure doesn't help me to gain any clarity.

The fact is, no one tells us how to navigate this phase of life.  We spend way more time telling a young girl what's going to happen once she gets her period!  But, how to love life as your physical self slows down?  No, we don't talk about that at all.

This quote by Friedan is my hope about aging, but I'm not there yet.  I'm almost 62 and I know that by today's standards that's not old.  But it ain't young either.  I know I'm only 28 years old in my head where I live and it's sunny all the time.  While I also know that when someone looks at me driving down the road, they probably see an old or older woman driving.  How does one reconcile who they are in their Spirit with who they have become as a physical entity?  If you know, please tell me.

Friend, Sheena, gave me a missing piece to this big puzzle when we talked recently. She was explaining that her doctor suggested that she get a second opinion about a medical issue that they still have yet to nail down.  Sheena said, "I told the doctor that I would consider that, but not now.  Just now, I don't want to go chasing further; I simply want to take a breath and live life.  I'll give myself time to just be and not worry so much about every little thing."  And, that makes so much sense to me that I want to give her a huge hug.

Maybe the key to aging with joy and grace is to accept it as it comes without putting so much comparison of what used to be on it. Perhaps it's about managing expectations of yourSelf by doing what you can, walking away from what you can't, and being kinder to yourSelf.  Stop comparing who you used to be with who you are currently. When you're tired, stop. When you're fretting, take a breath and let it be. Focus on what you can do when you're sick of obsessing about all you can't do. Don't sweat the small stuff and remember most of it is small stuff.

And, realize that while aging takes a great many things away from your life, it also gives you moments of joy and a richness to cherish.  This picture is Pam and me, circa 2013.  We're at the wedding of that little girl who is sitting in the stroller in that first picture! Aging has given me the gift of some very deep and critically marvelous relationships.  If I can only help mySelf adjust to the day to day of it all, I'm sure I can find a lot more to be positive about, than fearful of, aging.

I sure hope Mr. Lewis is right. I know Pammy is equally hopeful.  I wish all of us the joy of deepening knowledge and understanding as we grow older. I hope we find far better things than those we had to leave behind. Finally, I hold fast to the adage, "Growing old is mandatory; growing up is not." If Peter Pan escaped the growing up bit, perhaps I can as well.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Knows It Goes By So Fast

Use A Whip And A Chair

My day started out just fine. On Sunday, we all seem to do as we like at the pace we want to move. No real demands, no phones to answer.  And in my world, I thought I'd take the quiet time to do some laundry. It was all going pretty well.

Until the fitted sheet was ready to join the party. And my Sunday became a fight for my life.

I am a pretty awesome house keeper.  I've been taught how to do most everything that's part of living in a structure.  My Family calls me The Laundry Fairy. Hell, I even know how to can and knit.

But handling a fitted sheet?  I need a whip and a chair.  You cannot back down from the fitted when it comes out of the drier.  You must immediately command control.  If you even blink, the fitted sheet will be on you like white on rice and you will be totally consumed by it; especially if it is the most deadly of all the Fitteds...

THE FITTED KING SHEET!!!!

In my mind, In HollyLand, where I live and it is orderly and sunny all the time, this what I thought I'd end with; look at that!  Isn't it gorgeous?  Can't you just imagine opening your linen closet to see all of the sheets in their contained habitat?  You know you want these little packets of bed linen!  Admit it! Go ahead, I'll wait...

Not one to be outwitted by domestic wild life, I went on-line and studied countless hours of videos and articles.  Here's one that I came across.  First let me say that anything that takes 18 steps no longer falls within the classification of EASY....

...next, and perhaps more importantly, take a look at that woman's vacant, even a tinge fearful, expression.  She knows the fight she's in for and well, she doesn't have much hope of surviving.

So after hours of research and even more time in attempting to replicate the process, this is what I ended with and it is SUNDAY and I don't have to do everything the way it's supposed to be done because it is SUNDAY, (did I mention that?) and it's supposed to be an easy day when I do what I want at the speed at which I want to do it!  So, I am satisfied with what I did. Yes, that mushroom at the very bottom is the dreaded THE FITTED KING SHEET! Don't you dare judge me!! It was Sunday!

But, for those of you who are more evolved than I, and you want to know how to do this correctly so that your closet looks like Martha Stewart sprinkled Magic Martha Dust well, just follow this video. I've watched this so many times, I'm sure this woman has had two more birthdays by now.



You're welcome!

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Her Own Domestic Goddess 

Let It Get Cold

When I was teaching Public Relations Writing at Towson Univesity, I told my students to let their writing sit for at least 24 hours before editing. Our brains cannot simultaneously create and correct. So, time is needed for our brains to actually 'see' what's on the page and then the necessary edits and corrections are so much easier to spot. Why? Because the brain resets and sees it as it is, not the way you thought you wrote it. I call this: Allowing Your Writing To Get Cold.

Lately, I've been reading a lot of comments on social media platforms and articles about behaviors in the cyber connection world in which we now live.  And, one of the common threads seems to be the lack of civility and bad behavior we witness or receive.

The real conundrum is the total lack of common sense exhibited by people who simply broadcast everything they do.  Every thought they have.  Every sarcastic or cutting remark goes up for ingestion by the rest of the world.  It's so terribly wrong on so many levels. The absolute lack of understanding that a civilized person does not put their personal stuff out on the sidewalk so people can pick through it, is alarming.

As of the recent election, the amount of stories about bad, horrible behavior and treatment of others on social media has really up-ticked.  While most of us simply thought it would die down post election, which is true to a point, it seems that many people have turned into...

...Internet Trolls.

The Urban dictionary defines a Troll as: “Being a prick on the internet because you can. Typically unleashing one or more cynical or sarcastic remarks on an innocent by-stander, because it's the internet and, hey, you can.”

You might wonder why the name, Troll, which I find pretty accurate and funny.  If you think about the trolls that we all heard about in fairy tales, they seem to live in dark and unsavory places.  They lay in wait under bridges for unsuspecting travelers. Trolls just love frightening before they snatch you up and eat you alive.

If you've ever experienced troll behavior on your social media pages, you know it immediately even if you didn't know what it's called.  You can't help but pull back thinking, "What the hell?  Where did that come from and why did she/he even write that?!?!?!"

The cautionary tale for all of us is: BEWARE!  High stress situations can bring out the hidden troll in all of us.  It's especially upsetting when you are on the receiving end of troll-like behavior from someone you thought was a 'friend' on social media.  You wonder, "What the hell did I write that would cause him/her to be so crappy?"  And, the answer is generally because...

...Social Media has an immediacy that strips away good judgement and polite behavior, especially during emotionally charged times or topics. And, because you're not in the same space with an actual Human Being, looking them in the eyes as it were, we lose our normal filters.  If you had to look at the person with whom you are talking so shitty, well, you probably would hold back.

We are in the brave new world together.  And it's only going to get faster and worse before, or if, it can get better.  As technology shifts, as the world goes faster in a breathless pace of thought to  broadcasting, we must begin learning new ways of being. We must possess new ways of interacting-- new sets of manners and polite behavior.

Because if we don't, all of us will become infected.  All of us will become more Troll than Human Being.

I don't have the answers to what it's going to take to stem the epidemic, but I can start with this one from my teaching days:

When it comes to any topic on social media, especially those that are contentious or highly charged emotionally, before you hit SEND, let your writing get cold.  It's the knee jerk reaction to things that is getting us into Troll territory.  It's not allowing our polite filter to command our response.

When we're speaking and, in a moment of poor judgement, say something that turns out pretty horrible or passive-aggressive, with enough time, the impact will lessen.  Thankfully, we have short memories on so many levels.  But, if you write that same horrible thought, IT LASTS FOREVER! Unless it's deleted, it will be read over and over.

The best I can suggest at this point is, after you let it get cold...even for five minutes and think about how it might sound, you can stop yourself from turning into a troll.

The ultimate test is to ask yourself, "Is it really contributing anything to say it that way? Does it add value or simply cause further strife?"  If the answer to either of those questions is NO, and you would never want someone to comment that way to you, hit DELETE and be a better person for your commitment to be kind instead of an ass-hat Internet Troll.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Never Wants To Be A Troll

It's All Good

Which ever day you are facing, live it.  And know it's all good.  Nothing is ever wasted.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Lives

A Goldfish, Seriously?!?!?

I read a fascinating article today on Axios written by Jim VandeHei and Sarah Fisher entitled, "How Tech Ate The Media And Our Minds which I urge you to read too; just click the link.

There are some amazing statistics about what has happened to our way of taking in info, or maybe not taking in information.  It would seem that the total 24/7 bombardment of info available to our smartphones and other electronic devices, has changed how our brains react.

So what does it have to do with that cute little goldfish?

In ten short years since the iPhone has hit the market, millions of years of evolution have been short- circuited: The goldfish now has a longer attention span than you!

"A Microsoft study has found that since 2000, our attention spans have been cut by 25 per cent-- to shorter than that of a goldfish...," Do you not find this shocking? We keep gold fish to watch them slowly circling their bowl and calming our minds.  If the stat is right, we can only do that for 8 short seconds before we have to look at something else. But the gold fish could and would watch us longer!

"Our brains have been literally swamped and reprogrammed. On average, we check our phones 50 times each day — with some studies suggesting it could three times that amount. We spend around 6 hours per day consuming digital media. As a result, the human attention span has fallen from 12 seconds to eight seconds since 2000, while the goldfish attention span is nine seconds. And we just mindlessly pass along information without reading or checking it. Columbia University found that nearly 60 percent of all social media posts are shared without being clicked on."

The timing of this article really struck me because, just yesterday on this blog in Liar, Liar Pants On Fire, I was talking about posting things without fact checking them.  Seems like I am on to something here!

I don't have an answer to this one- it's just part of the evolution of this world of ours, I suppose.  I can't say it's right or wrong... just something to ponder.  It does speak to my concern over people no longer taking time to dig into things; take time to investigate; really read something.  It's probably why magazine and blog readership is down.  Probably because we don't want to invest energy in reading anything longer than a fb post or a Tweet. The stat seems to prove my thinking that we don't want to take time to investigate or learn...we just want to take time to react.

If that Microsoft Study stat is correct it means that you haven't read any further than that first line after the cute goldfish.  I am sitting here alone typing words that you won't read because your eight second attention span has kicked you out of this post...



... and now you're wondering if you have any Goldfish Crackers around because suddenly you have a craving for them. If that stat is correct, you're no longer here with me reading; you've left to go forage for crackers.

Let me know if you find any and are willing to share.  Wait.  What were we talking about?!

Anyone else get a giggle out of the fact that one of the article authors is named Fisher?  Get it?  Goldfish and Fisher?  Hello?

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly She Who Is Apparently Not As Attentive As A Goldfish

A Hard One

I did say this.  A friend liked it and made a poster of it.  I said it because I work at this a lot.  It's a hard one for me.

I still have a tendency to attempt driving the car forward by using only the review mirror.  It can't be done. What is behind me is simply known to me, not what was best of my life.  Not the most amazing part of my life, certainly not always the happiest part of my life.  It's simply the part that is known to me.

I misdefine the quality of my life because I don't live in the present.  What's going on around me goes unappreciated.

Do I give up the joy of discovery and the happiness in the now by constantly looking at what is gone from my life?

Do I stop mySelf from making new relationships because I only have room for all of those people who are important to me but now gone?

Are the people I knew more fascinating than the people who are now here or may be coming along?

Do I define mySelf by what I have lost instead of by what I have gained?

I think, maybe too much, I do.Which is too bad because constantly looking back holds me stuck emotionally.  And mentally.

Looking at the now helps me to live, and hoping for what's to come can add the spark of hope that we all need.

Be diligent. The Human tendency to seek the known, the comfort of what was is so strong that we don't even realize when we're no longer living forward.  No longer looking forward.

Be diligent.  Focus Forward.  Nothing we have ever experienced is lost to us.  It's always a part of me, but only one part.  The other part is yet to come.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly

Over A Year In The Making

It's taken me over a year to write this post.  I'm still not sure I'm up for it, but at this point I know it won't ever be my best work, or the easiest to construct; certainly it won't be easy to read, ever.  But, there you have it.  Some of the most necessary writing is the worst to create.  On the steps together are Argyle, Rory, and Fiona.  It's one of the last times I was able to capture an image with the three of them.  On January 29, 2015 Michael and I said farewell to Rory and Fi and sent them together on their journey to The Rainbow Bridge.

For any pet parent, the decision to do this is the worst.  I call it the Hideous and Heroic Thing. Hideous because you are making the decision to end the pet's life.  Heroic because, in all cases, the decision comes when you can almost hear your beloved pet whisper, "Oh thank you for loving me enough to end my suffering."

We decided to do it this way because Rory & Fiona had spent every day of their lives together after being born 10 days apart.  Fiona was first and from the same sire different dam.  Rory always looked to Fiona to tell them what they should do.  I never once saw him question her authority.  As they got older, if he didn't agree with her, he'd simply ignore her, but he never once challenged her.

In the end, they were only nine years old and both were dealing with very unexpectedly serious issues.  With Rory, I tried for two years to get him well-- after all, it was just a skin issue!  With Fiona, her cancer showed up out of the blue and as there is no cure for Transitional Cell Carcinoma of The Bladder- TCC for short, well, I just hung my head, opened my hands, and yielded to The Creator with this defeated prayer, "I can't do this any longer.  My life is consumed with trying to keep them together body and soul.  And, I am failing.  They deserve better.  I love them too much to keep them here."  Her cancer was the final straw.

I think I now understand how a parent of several children, one of them with special needs or serious behavioral issues, must feel torn.  All the energy goes to keeping the child at risk or in need together. At some point, though, in a moment of calm, your attention is attracted by your good child who never makes demands on you, always does as you ask, tries to help you care for the sick child, and never ever has your time. You think, "Oh you beautiful child how unfair this all is for you..."

I looked at sweet Argyle and realized he was getting more than the short end of the stick. Rory and Fiona had never bonded with him.  They learned to live with him.  They accepted he is part of our pack, but they never really interacted with him. Toward the end, I would see Fiona cleaning Argyle's face and I'd often them see them laying near each other, but the same can't be said of Rory.  In fact, it was a couple of months after Argyle came that I noticed a quarter sized red, wet, raw spot on Rory's side.

And that took off like wild fire; Rory became beyond miserable with a skin issue that no one could identify and nothing helped.  I became like a Valkyrie trying to heal him.  Eventually, it got so that My Silly Boydog wanted nothing to do with me or anything around him.  He was that miserable and uncomfortable.  And THAT, that was the moment I felt my heart break.  My Beloved Boydog, my Silly Boydog avoided being near me.  Just because I was constantly trying through baths, and potions, and pills, and powders, and oils, and, and, and....he just couldn't stand it any longer and neither could I.

Fiona, my little die-hard was much different.  First, she developed Cushing's Disease which, for me, was no big deal to manage.  I'd had a Cairn Terrier with it so I knew what to expect. Her drug, while expensive, kept her symptoms well controlled.  At its start, Cushing's is really a quality of life issue before it actually begins to effect the organs enough to make it a life threatening disease.

So long as the Bossy Bess got her two square meals, treats, and her bonies to gnaw on, things were good.  Then one day, she began having trouble peeing and there was lots of blood. We thought it was a bladder stone, but when she got to surgery, well, it wasn't that.  My vet called from the OR to give me the news that he'd found cancer. And that moment is when I felt my heart and back break.

There's no cure for TCC.  And, although the scientists at Purdue University are working like Trojans to find answers, any answer wouldn't come in time for our girl.  There are a rare few Scotties who go through treatment and come out cancer free.  Most of the time, an owner only gets a few hard months with their dog before the dreaded day comes.  And, those months are far from quality.  Far from...

Michael and I talked it over.  I called some very close Scottie friends to tell them what we were facing and to ask for their input. And, like I said, I finally offered my prayer of defeat or maybe it was a prayer of final acceptance, and we made the decision.

My husband made the observation, "I think, even though Fiona still feels pretty good, we should send them journeying together.  Fiona would be fine without Rory here, but I honestly don't think Rory could cope with the leaving of Fiona on top of how physically miserable he is feeling."  I couldn't have agreed more with that assessment.  At the same time, I knew my mind would snap if I sent Rory on and in six months or less, was looking to take that final walk with Fiona.  Call me weak, but I just could not do it.  "I think we should send them together; they've spent every day with each other. Let's allow them to take this final walk with each other," whispered Michael. I nodded.

Mike called our vet; he immediately said he thought we were making the right decision.  He agreed to bring a tech with him to our home where we could let them go surrounded by the familiar and loved ones. I said to Dr. Roman, "I'm afraid I'm cheating Fiona out of time."  He answered, "Holly, I think you're doing the right thing here.  Most of the time, we euthanize an animal on the worst day of its life.  It makes it that much more terrible for the family and the pet.  Allowing them to go when they are still a bit happy with life is a blessing."  I won't ever forget him saying that.

The end was quiet and peaceful as these journeys are generally.  I held Rory in my arms and Michael held Fiona.  And all too soon, their time with us was done.  We had them cremated together and their ashes wait, with all my other beloved dogs, to be blended with my ashes when the time comes for my journey to The Bridge.

Why has it taken me so long to record this in a blog?  It's not as if it was my first experience taking that final walk with a dog.  It won't be my last.  I think it's because of the immense impact it's had on me spiritually.  I think the two years of struggling every day with them, most especially Rory, had imprinted me with some form of post traumatic stress.  I didn't want to talk about it, even though I knew there were many kind souls who would listen. I could not find the words to express my feelings and thoughts.  I could not find the way to tell the story without covering every, terrible, harrowing detail of the struggle we'd gone through.  And, if I can't tell a story in a way that is clear and succinct, well, I'm not going to tell it.

So, I didn't write about it here although my friends on Facebook knew what was happening and their outpouring of grief and prayers and good wishes was a true balm to our souls.  It was heart healing to hear how many people had come to love our Scotties through my writings and how we shared them in pictures.  It really, really made clear how people can help immensely while you grieve even though there is so very little they can do.

I didn't write about it, because things on this blog have great meaning for me.  I didn't write about it here because I was simply too heart sick to attempt telling the tale.  I didn't write about it here because I was emotionally exhausted.  I didn't write about it here because I needed a break from all the sadness.  I didn't write about it here because I simply wanted to dwell is some joy with the sweet boy still with us.  I wanted to concentrate on Argyle who so patiently and stoically never interfered or insisted on having his way.  I didn't write about Rory & Fiona's death because I needed to concentrate on living with Argyle and Michael.  I didn't write because I couldn't.

An entire year later, I realize that my not writing about their death has left a bit of business undone. I've not given Rory and Fiona their moment of final glory by articulating how much they meant to me and how much their going has altered me and, hopefully, deepened my ability to care and be a Human Being.

A year later, I find mySelf wanting to record this and thank them for being such a marvelous part of my life.  I write to say how lucky we were to have brought Argyle into our home.  He helped us through our sadness by being with us and loving us quietly without demands.  He adapted quite easily to being an Only Child.  His uncomplicated and sunny personality truly helped me to return to life. He bonded to Michael and has chosen him as His Person.  He loves us both, but he totally loves sitting in Mike's chair in the evenings.  It's been sweet to watch him bloom after the shade of illness, sadness, and sorrow was ended.



The thing about life is that it does go on.  Life does move on, even though many of us mourners resent that it does.  While I don't hate that life progresses, I now realize that grief is not something to get past...it's a process that changes who one is- how one identifies themselves.  Grief is the fire that can deepen our Spirit and expand our ability to be compassionate.  Grief is the price we pay for having been given the grand gift of love.  And, I wouldn't avoid the grief at the expense of not loving.

So life has moved on here at Casa de Frock.  Michael and I talk about Fi and Rory quite a lot and it doesn't hurt us now when we do.  Argyle continues to be a handsome, loving, funny Scottie. He's our sweet Brindle Boy, (Except when the mailman or the UPS guys have the nerve to breach the Scottie Perimeter of Hostility, e.g. come to the front door.)

 And to prove that life rolls on, well almost a year later...

Here is the newest member of our Pack...please say hello to our baby Sweetie Wheatie!  This is Rabbie Burns MacCelti.  He is full of life, energy, and play.  Happily he and Argyle are bonding together nicely.  Argyle is the perfect mentor to teach him manners and how things work.



Not quite four months old and he has a chipmunk kill to his credit.  Somehow, I just know Rory was purring, "Auck, Laddie, ah am sae verra prrrrroud of ye!" While Fiona is saying, "Move over, time to eat!  I just love me some fresh Munk."

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who is Mum to Argyle MacPiper & Rabbie Burns MacCelti

I Don't Know What Possessed Me At Walmart

Yesterday, I was standing in an aisle in Walmart.  Staring at the shelves for something I just knew should be there, but wasn't.  You know that stare...the one where you're looking in your refrigerator, just hoping if you look long enough, something you want to eat will magically appear.  Empty vacant stare  Not seeing what you want.  Wait, is that it?  Yeah?  No, false alarm.  THAT stare.

At any rate, while I was intently looking, to the corner of my awareness came people pushing a cart. My staring contest was slightly interrupted by a youngish male voice saying, "Well that's just stupid, Mom."  To which said mom replied quietly, "Please don't speak to me like that."  I continued staring for my desired item.

The very next statement the kid made was, "Well it is Mom, sometimes you sound dumb as shit!"

And I truly don't know what possessed me, but before I knew it, I could feel my eyes blazing, and I whipped around and to the kid I said, "Excuse me, young man, I do not know you but I will tell you this: don't you ever speak like that again.  This woman is your MOTHER and she deserves your respect.  She most certainly does not deserve to be spoken to like that EVER!  Especially not from you and especially not in public where others can hear your ignorance and wonder about how stupid you sound!!!"  There was a split second of shocked silence...I think all three of us were shocked.

The kid mumbled, "Well, she just sounds dumb sometimes!"  I felt the possession growing as I replied,"You don't get to say that to me or anyone else.  She is your MOTHER!"  He looked down and turned red.

Here's the funny thing.  While I was having the exchange with that kid, the woman standing beside me started to alter her being.  I could feel her energy change.  She was round shouldered and small when this got started, but I swear to you I could feel her shoulders pull back and her head come up and she felt secure...quiet...but secure.  It was so odd to feel that shift.

The kid mumbled petulantly, "I think I'm going to go wait in the car."  And both of us together said, "Good idea!"

I turned to walk away but before I left, I said to Mom, "Please forgive me for getting involved in your private business.  It's just that I know he was raised better than that, and you certainly deserve better than that from him."  She looked at me and said, "Oh don't worry about it, you're right, he was raised better than that."  She never acknowledged the most important part which is that she deserves better.  That's a real shame.

Here's what makes me wonder now in this age when we can no longer truly parent, discipline, correct, admonish, direct, or punish our kids for fear of social or legal retribution:  How do we deal with them when they become so emboldened that they have no idea of the limits?  How do we deal with them when we have entitled them to hold us emotionally and mentally hostage?  Like the boy yesterday in public, speaking like that because he probably knows his mother's not going to take the risk of  lowering the boom and being thought of as a bad parent? How is that in any way fair?!  Just?  How is it in any way good for a young person to have the world cow-tow to them and never get the crap smacked out them for being rude, mean, tyrannical? Why do we no longer believe in taking the immediate, sometimes harsh, measures necessary to gain an attitude adjustment?!  Why is their personal self-esteem more important than their manners and civility?

We become increasingly alarmed at the lack of civil connection young people seem to exhibit.  We bemoan how they all act as if it's all about them with never a thought about those around them.  We scream about the increase in bullying.  The increase in petty meanness.  Yet we don't seem to make the connection between the increase in terrible behavior with the way we have abandoned some basic tenants of parenting! The need to discipline, punish and set limits is a necessary part of parenting.  It's the key to turning a young wild animal into a Human Being fit for living in, and contributing to, society!  Setting limits is part of loving a young Spirit...so is just discipline.  They are actually a form of love just as much as a hug and a kiss.

How did we allow this world to turn the need to set limits, require one to speak in a respectful, civil way, and basic discipline of a young person into a sin and a crime?!

Oddly enough as I walked away, I realized all that time I was in the wrong aisle; I wanted the next aisle over. That's where the hot sauce I was searching for is shelved.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka The Thunder

The Incremental Death of Racism

Today, Donald Stirling, owner of the L.A. Clippers has received a life time ban from the sport of basketball and a 2.5 million dollar fine for some blatantly racist remarks he made in a private conversation with his 'girlfriend', 30 year old V. Stiviano, who proclaims herself  half  black and half Latino.  From this point forward, he cannot even attend the games and practices of any NBA team.  The NBA also wants to force him to sell his team which he has owned for 33 years; as of this posting, Stirling is adamant, his team is not for sale.  The 2.5 million fine is the maximum that can be levied.


Previously, Stirling had received a Life Time Achievement award from the NBA; that's been stripped.  And this whole thing is really nasty business.  What the man said to his 'girlfriend' is terrible.  But, not unexpected from an 80 year old man.  Let me remind you, this is an 80 year old gazillionaire dealing with a 30 year old girlfriend who, like most of her generation, puts all her life on Instagram and other social media sites.  Like most of her generation, she seems to have no concept of the difference between personal/private vs. public life.  What started the fight was Stirling, getting all sorts of communications and gibes from his friends asking if he was aware of what she was posting.  He insisted that she stop posting pictures of herself with men all over her pages. The fight turned truly ugly when he made reference to her taking pictures with men of color and posting them. One of the black men in the photos is Magic Johnson.  Let me just say, that if I had a chance to post a picture of myself with Magic Johnson who is adorable, I'd do it in a heartbeat regardless of who did or didn't like it. 

But, I am not the kept woman of an 80 year old gazillionaire whose money, in all probability, supports her lavish and large L.A. Lifestyle.  Nor am I the 80 year old man who most likely thought he was having an argument in private with his 'livin' la vida loca,' girl-child-friend.  More than being worked up over her having lots of photos with men of color on her walls, I really think that Stirling was too proud to simply tell her that he's totally jealous and doesn't want the public and his friends to see pictures of her with any guys- period!  He wasn't willing to come clean and say that he's not happy with her having pictures with other men or bringing them to his Clipper games, or any of it.  After all, he is supporting her. Sadly, he didn't say his truth. It became about being in pictures with black guys.  His awful words got him in a world of hurt.  Does he deserve to be sanctioned for it?  What do you think?

What he said in the recording is pretty awful, unfortunate and makes one cringe.  But, I'm going to go on record to say that, it's not out of the norm for Stirling to think or feel as he does.  His generation did not live with inter-racial dating, marriage, or significant association or friendships with other races as part of their cultural norm.  In fact, it was pretty much frowned upon and kept secret.  And, while as a business man Stirling has been wise enough to keep his personal biases to himself, this time, those biases have become so public as to really be a case of how, "Racism ruins lives."  It sure has ruined his.  I don't condone what he feels or said, I'm simply saying it is reasonable to expect he might feel as he does.

I certainly don't know the man, but my guess is that he isn't one of those warm, fuzzy, and gentle men. I don't think I'd like to spend time with him, and when he was an attorney, I'm betting he was a total shark.  As an 80 year old with all kinds of stupid, "F You Money," who is used to being powerful and obeyed, his tolerance for his 30 year old girlfriend's behavior and her unwillingness to comply with his directives, had come to an end.  So, they had a fight. The brat recorded it, which, if she didn't tell him she was doing it is against the law in California.  Somehow it ends up being released to the media.  Racism rears its ugly head again.  This time the response and action taken to counteract it is swift and serious. This time, it couldn't be ignored or hidden and was swiftly addressed.  

However, no matter how swift, racism will die a slow death in tiny, incremental steps. Slower than any of us hope.  I will come clean here:  just the other day, before all this mess with Stirling, I happened to be watching television when a gorgeous black man came on the screen.  I immediately identified him as very handsome and appealing.  I'm not sure why, but the next thought that came was being a bit disappointed in mySelf because I am fairly certain when I was young and dating, I would not have had the courage to date a man of color.  I'd like to think I would attempt it if the opportunity had presented itself, but I honestly don't know if I would.  Now that I'm older- comfortable with who I am, and my father and family gone, I believe it would be a none-issue, but I'm not certain.  As much as I never judge my interactions with another Human Being on something as weak or unimportant as the color of skin or race; as much as treating anyone as fairly and respectfully as I can... I am still a child of the 50s.  I grew up in the race riots, civil unrest and fear in the 60s.  I am blessed to have formed my moral compass during the turbulent 70s...but I am who I am, and I find that I can only stretch so far until....  well, until, I have consciously question mySelf, "Holly are you doing all you can to accept each Human Being you meet?"

Like it or not, we are hard wired to stay within our own clans.  To stay with those who most think, act, look as we do and be suspicious or hostile to those who don't.  It's our old reptilian brain, the part that deals with survival, unconsciously driving our comfort levels in terms of race, culture, and norms.  Since it's old brain stuff, it's constantly, subtly running in the background, and it's only when we have new experiences that we get to consciously weigh them against that old brain thinking.  It's through those experiences that we begin to  change our thoughts and comfort zones. For many of us of a certain age and arc of history, we have learned the rightness of being color blind, but we cannot totally close of our life experiences.

CNN recently released an article that shares how black children cement their racist ideas about white people about the time they are 13.  Why is the story of interest?  Because it's about black, not white children. Yes, racism is not just a white man's burden.  All races have racism issues.  ALL of us.  Racism may not be overtly taught like it was when I was a child, but trust me, it's still being taught and it's the subtle ways that it is taught that can be the most difficult to identify and halt. What frustrates me is that, in our current ridiculously politically correct world view, the only form most often broadcast seems to be the examples of white racism and that's just wrong. The only way we will continue to make progress is if all of us, not just white folk, admit it's a Human challenge and stay on guard.

The only thing I can think of that might solve the problem is for everyone to stay vigilant.  For everyone to constantly check ourSelves to make sure we're stretching as far as we can in the right direction while we wait for older generations, including my own, to die off.  Because, thankfully, with each generation that follows, racism should become less, and less, and less of an issue until it is finally all but gone. Bill Maher, talk show host said it best, "Donald Sterling is 81. You know what will cure this type of racism? The flu."  He also contends that he shouldn't be forced to sell his team, "Calm down, being an asshole is still legal in America."  I don't agree with Bill Maher on much but I do agree with him on this topic.


Will racism ever be gone totally?  One can hope.  And pray.  But not unless we have open and honest discussions about it, and not until everyone, not only white people are held accountable for racist behavior.  And as far as kept young women behaving like brats while putting their stuff out in public and being sneaky and going public with things that are said in private?  Along with the discussion of 80 year old men thinking having a 30 year old girlfriend is a great idea-  Those topics will have to be taken up in subsequent posts.  But, then again, I'll probably leave those topics alone because we all know, even though I am Queen of the Universe, even I-  can't fix stupid.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Fights The Good Fight With HerSelf.