Sweet as a Sucker August 27, 2013

Birthdays, birthdays, and more birthdays. As a parent of a young child, it seems like there’s a never-ending slew of birthday parties to attend. My son is fortunate to be pretty well liked among the children at his school and among my friend’s kids. So it really is a blessing that we are so often invited to these events. Yes, I did say events. This is Beverly Hills after all. It tends to not be a simple cake and ice cream situation. Many are full-blown extravaganzas, his own birthday, albeit at our home and not outrageous, was included in a national website and full of those typical Pinterest “pin”-able items. I love a good theme party; I always wanted one as a kid but never had one so now I go all Toddlers and Tiaras crazy mom on themes for him, but never to the extent that I have witnessed. Good thing we are not showering in diamonds daily otherwise I fear that I too might rent out a giant venue for a sixth birthday.

By this point, an outsider might start to scratch the surface on how obnoxiously fun these kids parties can be. We and others often include adult beverages to keep the parents smiling and entertainment to keep sticky fingers off of said parents, at least for a little while. Gift bags are more like swag bags from kids choice awards parties and everything has a touch of class at least compared to what I remember.

The differences do not end there. It is always a dance one plays when choosing the correct gift for the birthday child. How well does your child know them? How well do you know the parents? Are they the kind to calculate what you paid on said gift? Do you care (in case they do calculate) if they will think it is “enough?” For a child who as everything, what can you get other than a limited edition real life zebra, bred specifically for this season…. and could this child already have pre-ordered that zebra?

When trying to crack this insurmountable code, I always contact the parent of the child to ask what they’re into. I am not up on what is hip, cool or useful for the age four to seven bunch. After that, I kid you not, I start researching online. I tend to want to get something within the realm of the interest of the child but more obscure than the typical items found in stores. That makes the possibility of a duplicate gift less likely. After that, I bring my son into the equation. (I am incredible at making an easy thing far too difficult by the way.) My sweet boy usually needs a bit of a push to help decide what to get for someone else since he is more interested in what he can get for himself.

This last attempt was to find the perfect gift for his best girl, his sometimes “girlfriend” (as much of a girlfriend as you can have in kindergarten anyway.) He adores her and the feeling is mutual but that being said he had absolutely no interest in choosing between Barbies or other pink and glittery items. After forcing him to look through a few Internet pages, he found the “perfect” gift. It was one of those Mega McMansions, plus add on jacuzzi and pool that Barbie seems to have a plethora of somehow. (Oh the first world problems that poor Barbie must suffer!)

My son calls me into the office, to announce I need to pay for the gift that he found. Proud and content with his decision his face immediately changed when he heard me blurt out, “No way!!” His pride and happiness melted as I crushed his research, so I explained, “Honey, that’s very sweet of you and it’s beautiful, but we don’t even buy you $250 presents.”

He looked at me with a small frown forming and slowly exhaled, and with sadness in each word stated, “but she will really like this. I know she would play with it all the time and her sisters could play too since it’s really big.” My heart sank then, feeling like I crushed his dream when I noticed a smirk appear across his face. He fled the office immediately like a gale force wind into his bedroom. When he came back I started to smile, knowing his intention. He brought back his piggy bank and said, “will this be enough Mama? I don’t need it and I really think she would like the Barbie house more. You want us to donate money and gifts to people right?”

Right then my heart and mind were playing tug of war. How do I teach him that sometimes you don’t give your all to a person? It made me think of the future and wanting to keep him so sweet and thoughtful but at the same time I do not want him to be a pushover especially when dealing with the opposite sex. I never want him to be the sucker that falls head over heels in love and does any and everything for a girl who may or may not appreciate it. While juggling those things, I have to add in the delicate glass ball to juggle about differentiating need versus want. I want him to be generous to less fortunate people. He should want to help the needy but not forget about himself at the same time.

After having about seventy-six thoughts fumble through my brain, I decided to just ask him for a back up choice. I suggested he find something that would be more connected to him, as it would be more special. Luckily they do not make a Star Wars Barbie planet, because I know that he would gravitate towards that. He saw a golf cart with a Barbie sister that actually looked like his friend. Since he had just tried golf for the first time recently, it was perfect… and we didn’t even have to open his piggy bank.

The day this non-smoker could have used a carton of cigarettes July 26, 2013

Today was the first day I ever WISHED I had a cigarette. Why I wished for one shall follow….

Laying in bed at 8:20 a.m. today as I was trying to convince myself to get in the shower, I hear a loud slam on breaks and boom, followed by crunching of metal and breaking of glass. This guy totaled his car into a street light outside of my house. The soon car ended up in flames but was put out by our fabulous Beverly Hills Fire Dept that arrived within seconds.

After the car was gone and the fire hazard was cleared, I did as I normally do. I went out to talk to the driver and see if he needed anything: banana, water, cereal bar, ice pack… Etc. He was trembling, I didn’t blame him. He probably saw his life flash before his eyes as his car smashed into that pole. He said, “Thank you, but no. I need a cigarette or something.”

I responded, “I don’t have any, I don’t smoke. Are you sure I can’t offer you food or a drink?” Shook his head and smiled and mouthed “no thanks.” Right then I realized it could have come off as crass. I definitely do not like smokers or even to be in their vicinity. I am fortunate to live in a state with such high taxes and restrictions for smoking, but this guy needed something to shake that experience. I hoped he didn’t hear a tone of “holier than thou” emanating from my statement of “I don’t smoke,” because I normally do have that tone when I talk about smoking. I was immediately hoping I said it in a blasé fashion, but I could not be sure.

My son asked as we walked away, “what did he mean he wanted a cigarette? What’s that?” I smiled feeling fortunate that at five my child had no clue what a cigarette was, but it made me feel worse for the guy for some reason. It started sprinkling at that precise moment. I responded, “Some people smoke but we don’t. It’s not healthy, but some people choose to. No matter what, that young man had a bad morning as we have to offer whatever we can, when we can, to people who need help even if they don’t end up taking our help.”

My son understood but stated, “his car was just on fire, there was smoke on it, didn’t he get enough from that? He should have taken the banana and water.” I agreed and told him, I wish he would have. We crossed back across the street and walked inside. My son saw an umbrella and suggested maybe he could have that since it was sprinkling. I said that it was a brilliant idea. We walked out to give it to him and he was already gone.

Even if I was not able to help that young man with his need for a cigarette, I hope that he knows that there are actually people who care, even in “snooty” Beverly Hills. I also hope that my son continues on a path I am trying to instill on the importance of caring for strangers: no matter if we have exactly what they need (no matter what race, religion or other demographic that might be seen as different.) He definitely picked up my mood after feeling bad about not being able to help the young man.

With a Little Help From My Friends by The Beatles

May the Force Be With You Party July 2, 2013

May the Force Be With You Party

Here’s a glimpse into the birthday party I had for my lil one.  Quite an undertaking, but being the planner that I am I had it all squared away by a week prior to the party.

No, I am not your Ally… I’m just a normal human. June 16, 2013

My friend recently posted in her blog about her daughter’s questioning of sexuality and what it means to be “gay.”  We have an amazing couple, who happen to be lesbians, at our children’s school and she had to explain three years ago about how one child can have two mommies.  My child asked me the same thing at the beginning of the year seeing how the younger sibling is in my child’s class.  I found it easy.  (I grew up in Long Beach, CA where being LGBQT is pretty normal.)

I told my son, “Well __X & X____  very are lucky!  They have two mommies and even a daddy that love them very much.  You know how your mommy is part Mexican and part Irish?  Well it is the same as that; just a little bit of a different mix that makes things even more special for you.  We are so very fortunate to have so much diversity in the world.”  My son was ecstatic at that and was very happy for his friend that who got to have the extra special bonus of two mommies.  I did not have to explain much further, but even if I had to it would be a great opportunity for me to enrich my son’s view on the world.  I want him to embrace people no matter what their backgrounds are, be it LGBQT, different religions, ethnicities, socio-economic, special needs or whatever life brings to him.

That being said, I do not prefer to use the term “Ally” when referring to myself and LGBQT.  I think that is such a sheltering instead of embracing term.  I donate time to a wonderful foundation called The Point Foundation.  It is an organization that “promises LGBTQ students to achieve their full academic and leadership potential – despite the obstacles often put before them – to make a significant impact on society.”  I was there donating time a few months ago, organizing their applications and helping get the folders together for their upcoming meeting to decide the finalists.  The man I was working with wanted to know more about why I got involved since I was straight woman.  I had been asked the same question a few times at the last event that I helped with and had to explain the same thing.  “I really don’t know how my info was passed to the foundation, but I do not see any reason why I shouldn’t help this cause.  I love the community and see no difference from this foundation versus one that helps anyone else.”  I had been called an “ally” before and was again within this foundation.  I refrained from saying, “no I am not your ally” out of fear of immediately worrying anyone even if I did follow-up the statement with the rest of my thought.

My thought process is simple but long, “No I am not your ally, I am a human.  I don’t see an African-American man or woman and tell them that I am their ally.  I don’t announce that I am an ally of a Muslim.  I don’t have to state that I am an ally of a person in a wheel-chair.  No, I just am human and love you all.”   It is surprising to me that we have to note that we accept or approve of a certain lifestyle.  In fact I don’t see it as a lifestyle, I see it as life in general.  I will not understand people who hate people for random reasons.  In fact, to hate someone is to put even more effort in than ignoring that issue they have with… whatever.  Sometimes society amazes me, both in good and bad ways.  Someday I really hope that love can be more abundant and embracing.  In the meantime, if you cannot be a “normal human,” try working on at least being an ally.

 

Food for Thought April 24, 2013

Margaret Mead once said, “children must be taught how to think, not what to think.” I am still learning this… but today proved to me that without even trying I am doing a bit of that. It was a proud day to be my child’s mother.

Today is a milestone for my family. My lil guy turned five today. I woke up and immediately thought, “Holy crap, I have a five year old! Where has the time gone?!” I felt happy, sad, excited and old all at the same time. He was so proud of being a five year old, yet reminded me he will “always be my baby,” and it turned off any sad feelings I had felt.

My husband and I showed up after lunch to pass out treats and a small favour to all of the preschool classes at his school, about 50 children in total. Please note, this is Beverly Hills, people do way too much for their children especially on their birthdays. This celebration was hardly anything compared to what I have seen. We do have small birthday party planned as well, but it’s typical at my son’s school to have a school party and a huge outside of school party.

We arrived at his school and he was ecstatic. I don’t know if I have ever seen him so excited at school. The combination of his dad being there (a very rare treat), being the star of the day (which he normally does not want), treats and having kids like him for the day. He is well liked as it is, but I can tell he always hopes to sway any children on the fence about himself. The screams of giddy joy he made as we entered made me forget how tired I was. They sang, ate treats and played on the playground after. It was just one of those moments that made me so happy to see him happy that I would have paid much more if that’s what it would have taken.

To top the day off, he finally got to have his favourite dude over to our house for the first time. He has had play dates with him previously but never at our house. As they played with his new X-Wing Fighter Legos, lightsabers (which I’m just NOW learning the price of, and my sneaky husband bought TWO!), and miscellaneous “boy” toys, I was listening on the intercom just smiling.

After a couple hours I asked if they were hungry. His friend acted famished and my son is always ready to eat. I asked if they wanted fruit, broccoli or pretzels. The friend was not into those options and asked if he could look for something in our cabinet. He decided on plain penne pasta, so I decided to make it. I asked my son if he wanted pasta, he said no. He ate some pretzels and asked his friend if he wanted some salad. The friend replied, “yuck, no way.” My son returned with, “oh well, I do! Mama can I have salad?” I smiled and responded, “of course my love.”

As I cooked pasta and shredded spinach, I heard them discussing food. My son talked about how he used to really love El Pollo Loco, but does not want to eat junk food anymore. They discussed problems with too much sugar; his friend stated it causes cavities and my son mentioned diabetes. It was like listening to tiny adults and I loved being able to eavesdrop. I could not believe this was from the mouths of babes: five year olds!

Immediately I thought of how much of what we talk to our children about is absorbed. It was a very proud moment for me as a parent. Watching my son choose a spinach salad, even though his favourite dude thought it was gross. He was not worried at that moment if his friend would like him or not with that decision. Listening to them speak about good food choices and preferring to stay healthy made me proud of what both my family and his friend’s family are doing for our kids. Maybe this was a turning point.

These past few years have been rough, brutal at times. This past year has been one of the hardest. My child is on the Autism Spectrum, although high functioning. It seemed that we have been traveling backward to the terrible twos. His personality was getting less and less like the child I knew and I have been worried.

Today, his fifth birthday, was a glimpse into the fact that even though he can act like he is a lot younger than he is, he has quite an adult thought process going on. It’s like when he started to speak again, (he lost all speech at fourteen months) and immediate was able to count to twenty. Little did I know he was in fact taking in all of the information I had no idea he was picking up.

This in turn reminds me that I need to choose my words, thoughts and actions wisely. I knew this, but it is one of those things I have tended to forget from time to time. Our children listen, hear and learn from us even when we don’t realise it. Luckily these instances were positive models, but there are countless moments each day when I have lost my cool and he could be picking that up as well. He might have been more difficult this year and more childish because I might have been modelling that behaviour. Who knows…. But this year I hope to try and get through this road a little smoother by teaching him the correct way to act by example, rather than simply correcting him.

The Anti-bully Bully April 23, 2013

Television, especially reality television, tends to make one think deeply about issues of the day, right? Well, maybe not… but on occasion there are some gems that are tossed out to the audience which just could actually be thought provoking. Take the nugget that is handed to us by the lovely and not typical reality star, Heather DuBrow on bullying.

Heather makes a guest appearance on KFI, a news/talk radio station. She speaks on the over-use of the term bullying and her personal experiences as a teen actually being bullied. She also does an aside, an interview for Real Housewives of Orange County, stating how Alexis is calling her a bully when she’s simply pointing out a fact (or opinion.)

Listening to her speak on the issue, and the obvious over-use of the term made me think about the whole Anti-Bullying Campaign. As much as I agree that bullying is an awful thing that can create very hard circumstances for people, especially youth, I do think that the whole term bullying is getting tossed around like the new buzz word to use. That in turn makes the act of bullying anything from constant berating or even physical violence to things like not sharing a toy or calling a name on the playground.

How many of us have called another person a name? I know I have. Am I a bully for calling my husband “messy,” my son “cranky,” or another person “annoying”? At the rate things are going I am definitely on my way to being deemed a bully. Is my son a bully for rough-housing with friends and pushing a kid down, even if he just got back handed by the same kid? Nope, neither one is guilty in my opinion. Is my husband a bully for telling our son that big boys do not throw tantrums like a two-year old? Not in my house, he’s not.

These are all things that I grew up knowing happened and are dealt with as seen fit. If someone deemed those (or other similar situations) bullying we are headed towards an epidemic of over-use of the word. In turn, those truly bullied will just be set on a growing list of kids of all sorts of things; how will we be able to help our kids (or selves) differentiate simple childhood teasing versus true verbal and / or physical abuse?

Also, how do we expect to raise strong and independent children? I have a feeling that it will thwart us to a society that is a bunch of tattle-tales who cannot take criticism or even sarcasm. I cannot know what each parent or individual feels that actual bullying is but it seems like the volume of the people being “bullied” is becoming a very long queue.

This is not to diminish the actual people that are truly bullied. In fact, I have personally cried hearing accounts of people’s experiences. I just want those types of stories to be the ones that we are working hard to correct. I do not want those voices to be silenced because there are too many other voices that are louder. It is just starting to feel as those those over-using the term “bully” are becoming bullies in their own right. Again, these are just my thoughts… Please feel free to let me know what you think.

Please also see the government’s Anti-Bullying link below if you or someone you know is suffering from bullying.

Stop Bullying

Husbad April 18, 2013

Sometimes I just don’t understand, scratch that….most of the time I don’t understand my husband.  He is very into how he looks, making sure he’s always speaking effectively and making sure that deals business or personal, get done as they should.  Then again, none of those have to do with him being a husband.  Don’t get me wrong, he is a great guy; he always tries to make his family a priority, but what I do not ever understand is what makes the day THAT difficult to put a pair of shoes ten feet away into a shoe area?  Why can’t he simply go upstairs (or when we did not have an upstairs, to the next room) to take off the belt and shirt from the day rather than drape them over the couch and chair?

I remember watching an episode of “I Love Lucy” as a child and not believing that a man could make the mess that Ricky made.  Lucy went ahead and put a divider with masking tape down the room and he was able to do whatever he pleased on his side, but could not impose those habits on her side.  I remember thinking, “my dad doesn’t do that, this must just be a make-believe situation.”  My mom was back working by that point, after I was in kindergarten she decided to join the workforce again.  So now I think, as an adult (and stay at home wife/mom) that maybe this is just a life I have signed up for.  A constant battle to keep the items in the right place, and it’s not even like I have a Martha Stewart sort of nook for everything.  I am just talking about dirty clothes go in the hamper.  Dirty dishes… I don’t expect him to wash them!  I just ask that he puts them in the dishwasher.  Somehow he is capable to put the big dish in the dishwasher about 82.9% of the time, but always leaves a fork or knife just sitting by its lonesome in the sink!

I know I am not alone in this.  I have many girlfriends who go through the same thing with their husbands who do not have the same personality as my husband.  So what is it that makes men so messy and women the ones that are left behind to pick up the debris after Hurricane Steve/John/Wilbur passes through our homes?  Do we really need to have separate areas where they can be slobs?  If that is the answer then I think we might need a separate home for that situation.  I know I can get a little crazed about having things “just so” but if there is a stench coming from “the man cave” I am sure to find some sort of old food or filthy shirt that could walk out on its own if I dared to open the door.

Funny thing is:  I am the one who gets less sleep over it, I am the cranky one, I am the one who cleans it up angrily.  Meanwhile, he’s more content with life, he doesn’t get worked up about the small things.  He also generally is more cheerful.  Maybe a little disorder is good for the soul.  Maybe if I loosened up and just let things go, I just might be as easy-going as he is… but I know that when I have tried that (and secretly hoped he would get disgusted by how filthy the house got) the house looked like Mr.Messy moved in.  I think I would rather be Mr. Persnickety and have a stick up my butt but live in a nice clean comfortable and non-contaminated home.  So if you happen upon my family and see a young woman with a sour puss and a few more grey hairs than there should be, next to a jovial guy missing his belt (which consequently is still on the top of a chair); say “Hello, I see it must be cleaning day for you!”  It will be me and that way I will know you read this page.

(insert answer here)…. September 18, 2011

This was a tough past few days. I mean it was a pain in the butt to get home from my grandmother’s house with detours and traffic and complete loss in sense of direction, but that’s not what made it tough. Dealing with explaining death to a three-year old, that was the hard part. First off, my kid understands that things like insects die and so do plants if they are not taken care of. He understands that whatever it is no longer moves and breathes, but I am not sure to what extent his knowledge is. I was trying to shelter him from that whole talk about dying, even bugs, until he was a bit older. Unfortunately, our eight year old neighbor taught him the word “dead” within a month of knowing him.

Then this past Thursday as I am cleaning his little fish tank which holds his fish Bob, he’s pestering me and pestering me about something. I was just trying to have a moment to put the fish back in its tank and he just couldn’t stop yelling at me to look at his latest yoga move. Of course right as I am telling him to please be quiet so I can finish with Bob, our lovely aqua fish, slides out of the cup I was tipping into the tank and falls directly into the garbage disposal. There was NO way I was going to get him out with my hand, so I got a spoon and tried to get him out. He kept flipping around off of it or out of the way, until he completely stopped. It broke my heart and I did not know what to say. I cried out, “OH NO!” and my son immediately said, “What Mama?! What happened?!” I let him know that Bob had slipped down “the drain”. I felt so incredibly bad and kept apologizing. I had tried to call my husband a few times to ask him what to do. When he finally called me back I just broke down in tears explaining to him what had happened and that I didn’t know what to do.

My son saw my reaction and true to his form came up and started to pat me on the back. I am not a big believer in allowing much crying in the house, I do not want to have “the crybaby” (even though I break out in tears from sad AND happy / moving things). So he said, as I tell him, “It’s ok Mama. Bob is with his family. The sink goes to the ocean so he is with his family now.” (Just typing brings tears to my eyes.) It was so touching I could not let myself cry in front of him, since he was so adult about the whole situation. He was not upset completely about losing his pet fish, he was more concerned about me. He kept rubbing my arm and patting my back and asking if I was done being sad. So that was that. I let it go, since he was clearly okay with the situation. We moved on with our afternoon.

So not much was said after that about Bob, other than a couple of times that night where he asked me if I was happy yet, or if I was still sad about Bob. He also mentioned once to my mom while she was up staying with us how Bob went down the drain and swam to be with his family. I thought I got off easy and got to avoid the whole death talk. Boy was I wrong.

So flash-forward to today. My mom had stayed the night so we could all go visit my grandmother, whom we had not seen in a VERY long time. (Bad granddaughter!) My son was excited to go to her house and brought toys and other things to do. He took multiple trips to go see the birds in her den and on the last trip into the den, he had convinced my mom to take him after the final trip I said no more to, he spotted the “treasure chest.” It was a football shaped toy box that had belonged to my cousin as a child.

My youngest cousin, who had died at 18 in 2007 (a year to the day before my son was born), lived with my grandmother his whole life. My aunt (his mom) lived with my grandmother then too. So it was natural that she would still have his stuff there, although why she had toys from when he was really young baffles me, but I digress. So anyway there were all kinds of toys, mostly things from happy meals and a mish-mosh of random things. My son threw his new Imaginex toys to the wayside and went to town on these dirty old toys that were mostly broken or missing a wheel. He was in heaven. (That was totally a bad choice of word right there but I will leave it in.)

He became stuck on two of the million items. One, a pretend phone (at least I think that’s what it is) from McDonald’s and the other was a tiny Gumby figure. He kept them both in his pocket or maintained a playtime with both items the whole time we were there. I don’t think he has ever played with any toy we gave him for five hours straight like he did with these toys. When we were leaving he looked at me and said, “Mama, I take these to my home?” I responded, “No baby, they stay here, they aren’t your toys.” Of course his great-grandmother said he could keep them.  (She, who, as a typical grandparent treat,  fed him pudding AND three GIANT white chocolate chip cookies, while trying to wash it down with Sunkist soda.  She also told me that while at her house he was able to do whatever he wants.  There are no “restrictions” that I could give him.)  There actually was a third toy he played with that was required to stay with her since it was a very meaningful toy to her.  I protested and she turned to him and said, “Put them in your pocket and take them home.” So I let my grandma win, since it made her happy. He kept playing with them the rest of the day and even into bedtime routine.

In bed, just as I was about to kiss him goodnight he asked, “Where my phone Mama?” I told him it was right where he left it, on the toy box. He said ok and then said, “Mama, who they belong to?” I said, “You Baby, remember (Abuelita) let you have them?” He looked confused and said, “No who they belong to before me?” I explained to him that they belonged to my cousin Jesse and reminded him of the pictures we saw at my grandmother’s house. He then asked if Jesse wanted them back, if we were borrowing them from him. My heart just stopped. How do you even have this conversation with a three-year old?

I began, “No Baby, we aren’t borrowing them. They are now yours remember Abuelita gave them to you.  Jesse is in Heaven now.” He looked confused. We haven’t found a church in LA yet that we mesh with so he has not gotten much church time since he was able to comprehend going to one. He said, “Where is Heaven? Near Florida? Far far away?” I said, “Yes, it is far, far away, but it’s up in the sky, not on Earth.” (He is obsessed with planets and the solar system right now so I knew he would understand what “not being on Earth” meant.) Boy did I distort his mind though, since he asked, “So he on the moon or he on Saturn?” I tried to tell him neither which followed with, “Jupiter or Mercury?” (Yes, by the way my kid IS in fact a genius…) I didn’t know what to say. I said, “Sweetie, he isn’t on any planet or the moon, he’s with God in Heaven.” Of course my guilt is thrown right into it not being a practicing Christian as of late by him asking, “Who’s God?”

Oh dear. I want my son to understand things. I love that he is very into learning and getting the facts down correctly, but how do I even broach this subject? He is VERY black and white about things. He needs valid and proven answers to help him understand. He doesn’t believe in things just because you say so. He knows that shows on television are pretend (so there’s no fooling him into believing that someone dressed up as a character is actually that person/thing.) How do I explain this? I did not want to send him to bed with thoughts of death and there was no way in hell that I was going to explain to him that Jesse was murdered. So I just had to end the conversation by saying, “Heaven is up in the sky far above all of the planets and the sun and moon. He is safe up there.”

Lucky for me (tonight) that was sufficient. I do not know if he will bring it up tomorrow when he goes for the phone, but I definitely was not prepared for that conversation to go on tonight. Not after my breakdown from Bob. I do not want my son to have to be the strong one again. Life is so delicate, but explaining the delicacy of life can be even more fragile. I am currently not strong enough myself to do it, not today. So before the sun rises tomorrow I will be researching how to talk to a 3-year-old about death… just in case.

Rest in Peace Jesse

What the Caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls a butterfly.

Meetup.com founder remembers 9/11 September 11, 2011

I got this email from the founder of Meetup.com. It’s very touching and a great message to get out of your house, get off of the Internet and get to know one another! Thank you to Meetup for helping ME get out, get off and getting to know.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Fellow Meetuppers,

I don’t write to our whole community often, but this week is
special because it’s the 10th anniversary of 9/11 and many
people don’t know that Meetup is a 9/11 baby.

Let me tell you the Meetup story. I was living a couple miles
from the Twin Towers, and I was the kind of person who thought
local community doesn’t matter much if we’ve got the internet
and tv. The only time I thought about my neighbors was when I
hoped they wouldn’t bother me.

When the towers fell, I found myself talking to more neighbors
in the days after 9/11 than ever before. People said hello to
neighbors (next-door and across the city) who they’d normally
ignore. People were looking after each other, helping each
other, and meeting up with each other. You know, being
neighborly.

A lot of people were thinking that maybe 9/11 could bring
people together in a lasting way. So the idea for Meetup was
born: Could we use the internet to get off the internet — and
grow local communities?

We didn’t know if it would work. Most people thought it was a
crazy idea — especially because terrorism is designed to make
people distrust one another.

A small team came together, and we launched Meetup 9 months
after 9/11.

Today, almost 10 years and 10 million Meetuppers later, it’s
working. Every day, thousands of Meetups happen. Moms Meetups,
Small Business Meetups, Fitness Meetups… a wild variety of
100,000 Meetup Groups with not much in common — except one
thing.

Every Meetup starts with people simply saying hello to
neighbors. And what often happens next is still amazing to me.
They grow businesses and bands together, they teach and
motivate each other, they babysit each other’s kids and find
other ways to work together. They have fun and find solace
together. They make friends and form powerful community. It’s
powerful stuff.

It’s a wonderful revolution in local community, and it’s thanks
to everyone who shows up.

Meetups aren’t about 9/11, but they may not be happening if it
weren’t for 9/11.

9/11 didn’t make us too scared to go outside or talk to
strangers. 9/11 didn’t rip us apart. No, we’re building new
community together!!!!

The towers fell, but we rise up. And we’re just getting started
with these Meetups.

Scott Heiferman (on behalf of 80 people at Meetup HQ)
Co-Founder & CEO, Meetup
New York City
September 2011

Meetup.com

plant that seed… Never Forget to Love

A baby is born to love, whereas adults are bred to hate. Harsh truth, but it is the truth whether you want to admit it or not. Babies have no idea what color skin someone has, what they look like, who makes their clothes or who is giving them something; they only know it’s through love. As adults, we judge based on color, clothes and things we have or have not. On a day like today, marking ten years since the events that changed the U.S. as well as the world September 11, 2001, I want to plant a seed in your mind.

I visited the exhibit at the Annenberg Space for Photography entitled Beauty CULTure.  It was (in my eyes) a very important exhibit. In reality, the actual place is very small and although they are able to fit quite a bit of photography in the small area, it had a great impact, especially the documentary they showed on the screens. It reminded me about how we tend to hate ourselves and feel like we must fit a certain mold by looking, acting or even creating ourselves a certain way.

This, further compounded with the impact of our day of remembrance today, brought up conversations I had recently with different people. One person remarked about another’s wearing of a hajab in public. It’s their own feelings and they have the right to them, but it reminded me of going to one of my college classes on September 13, 2001 and hearing my Muslim classmate say that people were already threatening him even though they had never even talked to him. He was not a terrorist, he was from country from the Middle East, but he abhorred what had happened by people he stated “are not real Muslims.” He encouraged our class (which was actually “Intercultural Communications” class ironically,) to really not judge him by his religion, color or place of birth, but rather the way he IS towards us.

Back to current events, this statement about this woman’s attire, yes, maybe it’s not the best timing or even the best neighborhood since I live in a predominately Jewish city, but I do not know this woman. I cannot say the way she dresses is terrible, if I did I would be throwing stones in my own glass house. I tend to show more skin that others and that may offend some too. We just never know people unless they are given the opportunity.

I think about opportunities missed to get to know people based on many factors and am ashamed. Money, for example, is a great divider amongst people. It creates this wall of hatred that is almost invisible, yet very tactile to the invisible touch. A couple of months ago a man came to drop off his child at my son’s school. He was wearing scrubs and obviously off to work, but the thing that stood out was his beautiful Bentley Continental GTS. Mind you, that’s not a very typical car in an average street in Middletown, USA, but here in Beverly Hills, it’s really not that uncommon. A mother that was next to me stated something to the effect of, “Why can’t he just drive a SUV like everyone else? He can obviously afford it.” I turned to her and said, “I think that’s a beautiful car and I wouldn’t want to drive a SUV if I had a Bentley. Don’t judge him, I say ‘Good for him!'”
She immediately answered, “yeah I guess I just wish I had that problem.”

It’s true we can envy people’s things, I am definitely guilty of that myself, but outwardly saying something bad about someone because maybe they have something better than you is ridiculous. On the flip-side, also making judgements about people based on having less is wrong too. I, too many a time, have done this… even when I have no right in doing so. It is so strange the way our brains work. I am no better than anyone else either… I am just as guilty. I want to be better for my son.

I want to teach him to unlearn all that he has learned from myself and my husband on any judgments we have stated or inferred verbally or non-verbally. But how do you un-ring that bell? The only way I can think of is to start today. I have to re-learn to un-learn. I have to reset my brain to the age of my son where it was untainted with hatred for others, things and myself and get to know what it’s like just to love for love’s sake. We have to plant the seed of love for the future and for our pasts.

We will “never forget” a day like today, but we should try to forget our bias’ to start to rebuild, our cities, our children’s futures and our lives.

Never Forget to Love