Book Bandwagon

When it comes to books, I admit I am a bandwagon hopper. I love to read. Always have. And I wanted so badly to instill the same love of the written word in my only child. When all the critics began picking on Harry Potter, I had to read the first book just in case my daughter decided she was interested. I enjoyed it so much, I was one of the first in line each year at midnight when the next in the series came out. (I didn’t dress up, though.) Attempting to get my daughter interested in reading, I tried to encourage her to pick up Harry, but she just couldn’t see in him what I did.


A few years later my daughter borrowed the first Twilight book from her lit teacher and read the whole book in less than 48 hours. For her, that was an amazing feat as her attention span was …

Squirrel….

You get the picture. So, of course, I had to pick up the book and see what caught her attention. I am a much more experienced reader – I finished it in one day, it had me so captivated. We both quickly were engrossed in the rest of the series as well. (Not such a fan of the movies.) I was able to talk Team Edward and Team Jacob with the best of them!

Last summer, every lady at our campground was talking about The Help – of which I had never heard. When one of the ladies offered to lend me her copy, I quickly snapped it up. I finished it in two days – forsaking food and sleep. And I bawled through the entire movie, from the opening credits through to the lights turning back on in the theater. While my daughter has not yet read the book, she was a huge fan of the movie along with me.

So, when Shades of Grey started monopolizing conversations, once again intrigued, I had it on my Kindle in 30 seconds or less so that I could speak intelligently about it as well. However, this time I will not be reading the others in this series. Even though Grey fans insist the other books are not as racy. I am so thankful that I had it on my Kindle! No book jacket to give away my indiscretions! I read it on the plane during a recent trip and was so worried that someone might accidently get a glance at what I was reading. I felt like I was reading porn. Actually, I think I WAS reading porn! I am pretty certain I blushed on the plane, while shifting in my seat uncomfortably. But I made myself finish the book just in case I was missing what everyone was talking about. One thing that did come out of me reading this book – I have been slapped in the face with the differences between my generation and the teen generation now. My now 18 year old daughter read Shades for the same reason I did – wondering what the heck is the hype. I did not want her to read it – however she is not living at home so I don’t have much control over that anymore. A couple of days later she said she was about half way through and didn’t get why people were getting so upset about it. She didn’t think it was that bad. Here I was, worried that her innocence was being jeopardized by reading this trash and she was immune to it. I remember being embarrassed by Judy Bloom's book Forever – you remember – the one where the whole section about Ralph was highlighted in yellow and the page was folded back for quick reference and no one knew what the rest of the book was about? (How many of you are Googling right now!) When I expressed my surprise at her lack of disgust at Shades, she reminded me of how her generation is surrounded by Twitter, Facebook, MeetMe, Chat Roulette, and any other number of technological advancements that shove porn, sex, hate, and bullying in the faces of any young person who turns on the computer. It desensitizes our youth. I didn’t realize how serious this is until now. I don’t pretend to know what the answers are to this new reality. However, on the positive side – at least she is reading!

august 21, 2012

My time, thoughts and efforts have been voluntarily monopolized every single minute, hour and day of the last 18 years and 39 days by the needs, desires and wants of one dear child.  Any decision that has been determined took her needs into consideration.  Any plans that were made were done around her schedule.  Any personal indulgence was had with at least a twinge of guilt.  All sacrifices were gladly and willingly made and I would do it all over again if I were given the choice. 

Yesterday all of that went away in just a few hours.  Last night was the first night that our daughter was in her new "home" at the university dorm.  And I am at a loss as to what to do with myself.  I walked around the house aimlessly.  I drank a glass of wine in an attempt to ease the anxiousness that was overwhelming my gut.  So what now?  Our daughter is beginning the next chapter in her life, as must I start a new chapter in mine.  Now to figure out what that will entail. 

I read a couple of articles about empty nesters and what one should do to combat the depression and loneliness that surrounds.  Bowling starts up in a couple of weeks - a little lame but I do enjoy spending time with the girls.  My new job will take me on travels, which is good.  But there is still the time between 5:30 PM and bedtime every night.  And weekends.  The articles say to find a hobby or do now what you have never had the chance to do but have always wanted.  I can't remember that far back.  My husband asked me, "What did you do before she was born?"  I said, "we had two TV's in different rooms".  We no longer have that - and besides I really don't want to be that couple that lives in separate rooms again.  And I really don't want to spend the rest of my life glued to the tube.  Nor do I want to be tethered to the computer or iPhone (better start weaning off those now!).  Money is definitely an object (remember, I said she moved into the university dorm, which equals huge tuition payments for the next 4 years!). 

So if anyone has any great ideas, please let me know!

Hoods and Hogwarts

So today is the day that I have been waiting for since the summer of 2006 when I started this journey called the Masters of Management program at Aquinas College. I have been so blessed that I have paid next to nothing for the honors of learning. The first 9 classes were paid for through the tuition reimbursement program through my employer. Then after the company closed down I applied to the No Worker Left Behind program offered by the state of Michigan for unemployed and underemployed. After some major hoop jumping I was accepted just prior to starting a new job. The remaining 4 classes were paid for by the taxpayers (Thank you !!). I decided a while back that when the time came I would definitely walk at commencement. Afterall I was not able to participate in the festivities when I graduated from Grand Valley because one of my best friends was getting married and I was in the wedding. Even though I didn't really mind missing the 1987 graduation, I tease Teri about it whenever I can (sorry, Teri). So I paid the $58.95 for the cap and gown, the hood and the tassle - which is somewhat funny because one spends all that money for something you wear for 4 hours and it can't even be altered for another use. I picked up the garments and hung them up, where they stayed for the past week and a half.

Now this is the funny part - so keep reading...

I put the gown on this morning around 11:00 and thought, "is this really supposed to go down to my ankles?" I mean, it's been almost 30 years since I went to my own graduation, but maybe things have changed. Then I looked at the size sticker on the inside. It read 5'10". In case you didn't know...I am barely tall enough to ride the rollercoasters at the amusement parks :). I looked at my order card, It read 5 / 0, which could, I guess, easily be mistyped into an order form. Panic set in. My daughter sensed it and instantly came to my rescue. "It's ok, mom", she said. "We can go and get another one." I was freaking out, "I'm not even going to be able to walk", I softly said. "All of this work and I can't even walk". I was trying so hard to control my tears. So 2 hours before I had to be there, Alison and I ventured out to Aquinas's bookstore to see if they can fix this crisis. Alison kept saying that it's ok. She just knew that it would be. I was not so sure. So we fought traffic and construction and finally arrived at the bookstore. I walked in and almost instantly teared up. I explained my dilemma and realized how funny it actually sounded coming out of my mouth. The nice lady next to me said she had safety pins if there wasn't another gown. I thought, yea, we can pin it to my armpits. First they brought out a gown that would work but quickly realized it was for a bachelor's degree rather than the masters (it makes a difference you know). Finally, she brought out one that was exactly my size. Whew. Tears of relief couldn't be controlled. Still not sure what to do with this stupid thing called a hood.

Now on with the race...we quickly made our way back home to pick up Joel who had been showering when we had to go on our adventure. Alison had to quickly change into a beautiful dress because we had noticed all the suits and nice outfits at the college - jeans would just not do.

Off we go. Again.

Made it just around the corner...did anyone grab the tickets for Joel and Alison to get in? Nope. Turn around. Oh, and grab some kleenex for the big cryer on the way out!

Off we go. Yet again.

I was beginning to wonder if this is one of those groundhog day nightmares :) Joel and Alison were left at the gymnasium and I continued on to the Academic building to meet up with the rest of the class who probably already knew what to do with the stupid hoods. On the way up the steps, a young lady with all kinds of honor cords hanging around her neck (getting her bachelor's degree as was evident by her gown) said, "I have a really stupid question, do you know what we are supposed to do with the hoods?" I laughed and said, "not a clue! But I bet there is someone in there to help us get dressed!" Which there was. All we had to do was drape them over our left arm. Duh! Who'dathunkit.

So. Finally. We walked from the academic building to the field house under the gorgeous sunny sky. Practically sat on laps while waiting for our second in the spot light. I had a vision for a fleeting moment that I was at Hogwarts with all the hoods and capes and colors and almost laughed out loud. But it all went off without a hitch. They even said my name right. And I did it. Time to figure out what I want to do when I grow up.

Anyone want a cap and gown for real cheap? I'll even throw in the hood for free!!

Making a difference

I received confirmation this week of one of the reasons I took this job in September. While I struggled with the decision when it was offered, I was hoping that by taking this job I would be able to do what I love to do most, which is making a positive difference in people's lives. A couple of weeks ago a man came into my office very distraught. His wife had asked him to move out. They had been together for 16 years, since they were teenagers. They have 3 children together. He works 2 jobs to pay the bills. But something happened and she decided she did not want him as her husband any more. He hinted that he had considered the idea of suicide. He and I went to an office where we could have some privacy and he talked for about 45 minutes. I told him a little about the problems Joel and I had so many years ago and how we ended up where we are. I encouraged him to talk to a professional and even got him a phone number of a good clinic. He did call the clinic and they put him in an intense program that lasted a week. He took a leave of absence in order to go through the treatment. He called me on Friday, his last day of the treatment. He said that he believes that God put me in his life to help him through this time. He mentioned that he didn't know if his marriage was going to survive or not, but he was going to be able to deal with whatever he had to with the help of the coping techniques he was learning. He thanked me for taking the time to talk with him. I was so glad that I could help him and that he is willing to do what it takes to get through it.

It's times like this that I am so glad to be doing what I do.

Looking Ahead

I have spent the past two years in sorrow for the loss of two wonderful women in my life. I have also experienced much apprehension due to job loss and changes. My hope for 2011 is to build on what I have learned from these experiences. Mission Statement for 2011: Keep the priorities in line - God, Family, Friends, Health, Career.

My family recently discussed our thoughts on where we should worship. We have been attending a couple of different styles of service. We were all slightly surprised to find out that that we were pretty much on the same page. Our family is basically united in our beliefs and priorities. While we liked the initial idea of the smaller service we have been recently attending, we discovered that it was not really in line with what we feel is important in a church service. We felt that it was not as inclusive as we would have liked, and to us, it felt more like a higher level religion course rather than a church service. Someone coming in off the street looking for refuge - we feel - would not feel comfortable in this setting. So we will be attending our original church again. We have to remind ourselves that there are humans in every church and not let that deter us from what is important. I must make an effort to not allow myself to become the hypocrasy.

I am once again going to commit to providing a healthier environment for my family and myself. Joel and Alison and I have all discussed the importance of healthier eating. We do not want to continue down the path of constant eating out and unhealthy cooking. Our busiest season is behind us for the time being so the "time is now". Joel is seeing the light at the end of the tunnel of his job and catching the glimpse of retirement. He does not want to go into that period unhealthy. I know that eating healthy will improve my moods and energy level as well.

I am going to make a conscious effort to accept that there are circumstances that I cannot control and for which I am not responsible. I cannot control what other people say or do and cannot expect them to live up to my expectations. Who am I to think that my opinions and standards are right for everyone? I cannot let my blood pressure be affected by others.

My final class in the Masters of Management program begins in just over a week. I have 12 more weeks of school. And then I will be graduating for the last time - I hope :) I am apprehensive about this class, but at the same time trying to keep it in perspective.

My new job is going to continue to challenge me. I am the only person in the Human Resource department at my company. I now have the responsibility of training the work force and helping to develop their skills and talents. It scares me if I think about it. I need to become more organized and stop procrastinating about the tasks of which I am uncertain. I am excited. I am scared. But it will be good. I was becoming accustomed to other people telling me what to do and just doing mindless tasks, which I knew was not good for me. So now is the time to step up the expectations of myself and perform to my abilities and beyond.

I am going to attempt to live each day keeping in mind what is important and letting go of things that really don't matter in the great scheme of life. What's important: God, Family, Friends, Health, Career. In that order.

Stop the Violence

First, I must apologize to all of my dear friends and family whom I have never told. I know you will understand.

This is the story that must be told. It should have been told many years ago, but like so many others before me, I chose to keep it inside. So I am telling it now. Hopefully someone will see themselves in my story and choose differently.

After it happened, I did not tell anyone. I was embarrassed. I was hurt. I was confused. After all, the person who did this to me was not a stranger. He was a friend. He was a friend who had asked me out on a date and I had accepted. One date that changed how I would relate to boyfriends and eventually, my husband and even my daughter.

Like so many women who have been a victim of sexual abuse and violence, I chose to keep it to myself. After all, who would believe me? I chose to go on the date. I did not protest when he drove to a secluded area and turned off the car. But I did say No. I did tell him to stop. I did tell him to take me home. He had said I wanted it. He ignored my tears and chose not to hear my pleas. He forced himself on me. He raped me. And to this day I wonder if he even knows that what he did was so very wrong.

I have been a victim for 28 years. From this point forward I am a survivor.

About a year ago God began to nudge me. A frank conversation with my daughter brought the truth out. The topic was the flippant use of the word rape among her friends. It was then that I admitted to her that I was a victim of rape as a teenager. Shortly after that another nudge. A student at Aquinas was working on a project that would bring awareness to the social injustices against women. She was looking for women who would share their stories. After praying about it and talking with my husband, I decided talk with her. The product of her work was The Jane Doe Project. She scripted together the stories of 10 or 12 women. The purpose was to bring awareness to the social injustices that result in women victims. I invited some people into my story and I was overwhelmed by the support shown. There were 20 people there to support me and the other women who shared their survival stories of abuse and neglect.

I thought that was the end of it. I believed that I had done what God wanted me to do by telling my story to some friends and strangers through the Jane Doe Project.

But God was not finished with me yet. Two years later I was in another class. A group project placed me with two other ladies. One of these ladies was obviously apprehensive about the group project – more so about being in a group to begin with. After she became comfortable with us, she shared with us how she was trying to get a non-profit project off the ground called “Not This Girl” (www.notthisgirl.com). She had been a victim of a very violent rape and was going through the legal process and standing up for all of the women who were not strong enough to stand up for themselves. I shared my story with her. And, as it always is God’s mysterious way, the other lady had been a victim of domestic violence. Her ex-husband had been very abusive and she had taken him to court to prosecute him. I felt that my story paled in comparison as far as seriousness. And yet, both of these ladies had the strength to seek justice, where I chose to bury the truth. We had been brought together randomly, but very intentionally.

One year has passed since this group project – for which we received an A by the way. Not This Girl has grown from a very hurt person seeking justice to a growing non-profit organization that offers a safe place on line to seek help and resources. I am still not sure what God has in mind for me, but I am pretty certain of one thing. He wants me to tell my story.

I was sixteen years old when I became a victim of date rape. I should have done something. I should have told someone. Had I done something then perhaps I could have prevented him from raping the next girl. Which he did. And she did not do anything either, likely for many of the same reasons. That is why I am telling you now. Do not let another person become a victim. Stop the violence now.

William W. Walker

What an interesting night. I always love to meet new and interesting people and often wonder about their story. Last night after church Joel and I pondered whether or not to risk the rain in order to go to Festival down town. I was a little apprehensive about it, but Joel wanted to drive that way and see what the weather did. The rain did let up as we found a parking spot so we decided, What the heck. We walked about 5 minutes and the rain started coming down. We picked up the booklet that lists out the events and found shelter under an awning. The best act was going to be at the stage that was as far away from where we were as you could get. I contemplated being a little whiny and getting my way and going back to the car and home to an uneventful evening. But something in me said, nah, it's only water. So when Joel gave me the opening, I said just that..."It's only water." So off we went. No umbrellas. Flip flops aflopping. We stopped off at the first food booth that had chicken on a skewer and indulged in some yummy festival food. I couldn't see through the raindrops on my glasses, but who cares. We continued on our treck. We found my favorite food booth and got some vegetable fried rice, an egg roll and two crab rangoons to share under the next shelter. Off to the music tent on the Outer Fringe - appropriately named. Of course, it was packed with people wanting to dry off, but we found a seat in a corner. The first musician - Drew Nelson - was so good I downloaded his album from i-tunes this morning. The second musician - Ralston Bowles - I have heard before. He is a very popular local musician who recently beat cancer. A couple of tear-jerking songs to be sure! During the performances the rain poured out of the skies. After the performances the rain became a sprinkle and a lot less wet for the walk back to the car.
As we were walking and talking down Monroe Avenue, we started to walk around who I had assumed to be one of the many street people who love to walk around at festival time. He was in an electric cart or scooter. I'm not sure what they are actually called. I didn't know if he was talking to himself or to us, but he was saying how his scooter was losing its charge. He asked us if there was an outlet where he could plug in and charge. Of course, there is not really anything along the way. But he was moving rather slowly. I asked him how far he had to go. He said about four or five blocks but didn't know if his scooter could make it. We offered to walk along with him to make sure he made it. He said if he could just find an outlet he would be good. As we crossed the street, the light turned green and his scooter just wasn't going more than a sputter. Joel held up the traffic one-handed (such a strong man I married!) and I helped to push his cart the rest of the way across. The man in the scooter offered us a drink as he apparently had a selection of fine beers in his plastic bag that he was carrying. We said no thanks. He offered us some of his food that he also had tucked away someplace in his packages. Again, we declined. We continued on the journey in search of electricity. As we turned the corner by the Children's Museum, the man in the scooter mentioned that maybe there was an outlet in the bar that we were coming upon. We offered to go inside with him to see. Joel and I were slightly amused to see him get up out of the cart to go inside to ask. It was obvious that he probably needed the cart to get from one place to the next, but he was able to travel short distances on two legs - although rather weavingly alcohol induced. We walked into the bar and asked the bartender if there was an outlet where our new friend could charge long enough to get him up the hill to his apartment. Turns out there was an outlet just inside the door and yes, he could use it. I did notice that this bar was a men only exclusive club. Not another woman was to be seen. I was the only woman there. And I had more than a few glances. The man in the scooter told another man that was standing against the wall, "see, there are good people out there..." as he waved his hands toward us. The man tried to tell the bartender to pour us a drink. For the final time we politely declined. But we did accept the hugs from the man, who if not for the heavy rains earlier would have been a challenge to the senses. I asked him what his name is and he told us, "William W. Walker. Like the w w w dot com. But that's not me. William Wright Walker but I don't write much." We smiled and Joel said "God bless you William". And as we walked out of the bar, a couple was walking in.
I'm glad that we braved the raindrops to see some good music. But I am very glad that we were able to help William W. Walker get to his destination. In looking back at the people in the establishment and William W. Walker, I am always amazed how it seems those who tend to be labeled as socially unacceptable are the first to accept. I am confident that if we were to have gone into one of the bars where there was a more socially acceptable clientele, they would not have had an electrical outlet to share. But I suppose I am judging.