Dear Kid,

I’m not going to the gym today. My ligaments wanted a day off. You know how it goes. The tendons hear the ligaments have a day off and the next thing you know everyone is whining. In no time at all, only three eyelashes and my left ear were willing to work out, so I’m taking the day off.

Now you know.

It’s easy to decide to take a day off from the gym. As long as I get my little self back there tomorrow there really won’t be any consequences. One could argue that it will actually be good for me to take a day off. (Unfortunately, one would be in for a silly argument because it’s not like I train all that hard.)

There are other activities that are easy to take a break from. Like deciding not to go out to eat every weekend, or choosing not to have coffee every day (yeah, ok, that’s pretty funny), or  opting not to text during dinner. Other things have much bigger consequences. Like skipping work or deciding not to go to class because you don’t feel like it.

Sometimes, taking a day off is a honkin’ big mistake. Like skipping coffee when you are addicted to morning caffeine, skipping obligations can cause a pretty nasty headache.

When you don’t feel like going somewhere/doing something that you know you really have to do or get to, it can be hard to make yourself get moving. Snuggling under the covers for oh, just another 10 or 12 hours can seem like a mighty fine idea. And just once won’t hurt, right?

Except that it will. Maybe it will impact your paycheck. Maybe you’ll miss the key lecture that will make up 80% of the midterm. Maybe not being there will tarnish your reputation. Or something will happen that you could have prevented. Or something won’t happen that you could have started. There are always ripples.

And skipping a planned workout can lead to a second skipped workout. So if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I have to go grab my gym bag. My ligaments need a Strong Talking To about where we’re going after work today.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

“I can’t change that.”

We were discussing a Third Person and how the Third Person reacted to certain behaviors of the Second Person (you may assume that I am the First Person in this story). In a nutshell (or other teeny tiny container if you prefer), the Second Person was not really happy with the reactions of the Third Person. I suggested perhaps the Second Person recognize that his (or her) actions were the cause.

The Second Person did not want to even contemplate this possibility. After I gently suggested (and by “gently suggested” I mean “bashed over the head verbally”) that the Second Person was causing these behaviors, Second Person said, “Well, I can’t change that” in the most dismissive tone I’d heard in a long time.

Um, yes, you really can. You may choose not to, but that’s different. It would mean doing things differently, recognizing that not everything you’ve done in the past is perfect, and that – just perhaps – you are not the center of the universe.

That’s what I wanted to say. In an act of Surprising Restraint I said absolutely nothing. Had you been there, you might have noticed an eyelash twitch in a slightly unnatural way or a microscopic lift of an eyebrow indicating I thought Second Person was (how do I put this?) wrong. Fortunately for me, Second Person is not nearly adept at reading my facial expressions as you are and just plowed on through the conversation.

For the record, you are not related to either the Second or Third Person in this story.

Change is inevitable – except from a vending machine.  ~Robert C. Gallagher

Some people say we can do anything we put our mind to. To those people I say, “Really? Anything? How are you at controlling the weather?” Then those people prove that one of the things they can do is karate and I end up in a little pile on the ground.

In fact, there are things we can’t do. I can’t reach stuff on high shelves without climbing on a chair or stepstool (and possibly falling off); my shortness of stature makes it a physical impossibility. I can’t be 18 again. (I was once, believe it or not). But the list of things we truly CAN’T do is pretty darn short (yeah, yeah, height joke, I get it). Generally, when we say “I can’t” we mean “I don’t want to” or “That would be hard” or “My mother would kill me!” (listen to that voice) or “I’d have to take the time to learn something new.”

He who rejects change is the architect of decay.  The only human institution which rejects progress is the cemetery.  ~Harold Wilson

In the Junior High Band Room there is a fabulous poster that starts with the word “CAN’T” in big letters at the top. Each row shows the letters morphing until the bottom row says “CAN TO”. I love that poster.

Change is not always better, but better always involves change. — Grandpa Hank

Change is not always better, but better always involves change (yes, it is worth repeating). It is not possible for things to get better and stay the same simultaneously.

Love, Mom

P. S.

In case you didn’t figure out the image, it’s a Yes, You Can. (I am hilarious.)

Dear Kid,

Yesterday my heating element went out. Which is weird because I’m usually too warm. But all of a sudden my circulation stopped working and my fingers and toes were ice cold (not to be concerned—this has happened many times before). Wherefore and hence, therefore and ergo, I went outside for a little bit to sit in the sun and warm up (how ridiculous is that for the end of August?).

As I sat there sunning myself like a happy reptile or the fuzzy boy (yesterday was crazy warm and Booker wanted to go out on the porch. In an act of indulgence Daddy said, “I’m not going to tell you no” and let him out where he flopped in his favorite corner and promptly fell asleep) …as I sat there baking in the sun waiting for feeling to return to my digits, I had the opportunity to reflect on all sorts of things (like I don’t have menus for next week figured out).

Just because I’m that kind of mom, I am going to share an important musing with you (that has nothing to do with menus).

Back in the day, we talked about being color blind—not the can-you-read-the-green-dots-number kind of color-blindness but the not-paying-attention-to-the-color-of-a-person’s-skin kind. It seems to me that the concept of ignoring color is completely out of date and that we are at a time when we should be embracing every color—because most people are many colors all at the same time. And I’m not talking about skin although I think skin color adds beauty to the world.

We should recognize and welcome the things that make us different. Can you imagine if everyone were the same? It might be momentarily fascinating but it wouldn’t take long for it to be just boring.

I love that different people celebrate the New Year on January 1, the first day of Tishri, tenth day of Muharram, or the first day of school. They each bring different colors to the world.

It’s wonderful that someone 6’5” looks at the top shelf very differently than I do. And that our ingenuity is tested very differently to get something off that shelf.

We should embrace people because their circumstances made them who they are as well as people whose choices made them who they are. We should be thrilled that some people study engineering and some study fine arts and still others study accounting or even forensic chemistry. It’s time to be delighted with all those different colors.

I’m not saying you have to love everyone. Just that it’s time for us as a society to get rid of the notion that the only fair way to think about people is remove all color from the equation. So if you’re going to dislike someone–just be sure you’re doing it because you really don’t like them, not because of something superficial like the color of their skin or the style of their hair or the Greek organization they belong to.

Being color blind is passé—it’s time to embrace every shade of every color. Except one or two shades of green that make me look like I am insanely ill. Those I will embrace from afar so no one will rush me off for a vitamin treatment.

Lecture over. There will be a test. It’s called Life.

Love, Mom

August 30, 1967, Thurgood Marshall became the first African American to be confirmed as a Supreme Court justice a fact I did not discover until after I’d written the blog…

Dear Kid,

Way back in 1817, Baron von Drais invented a walking machine that was basically a two wheel bike without pedals and made entirely of wood. If one wanted to meander the royal gardens more quickly than a walk, one hopped on this device (known as a hobby horse) and rolled oneself along like a baby on a scooter only with better clothes. In modern times, inventors proved that a walking machine needs tennis balls to work properly.

Fast forward to 1865 (when fast forward still hadn’t been invented) and some smarty pants decided to add pedals to the front wheel. However, this same smarty (being a nerd of the day) spent too much time indoors staring at the spot where his Nintendo wasn’t and didn’t taken into account the small problem of the streets still being made of cobblestones. Since the velocipede (as it was officially called) was not built with decent shock absorbers, it was popularly called a bone shaker and was suitable primarily for small boys who weren’t rich enough to own them anyway.

Later in the 19th century, solid rubber tires and HUGE front wheels were invented. According to http://www.pedalinghistory.com/PHhistory.html (where much of the factual information included here came from) the point of the big wheel was not only to get an early trademark on a children’s toy, but also because people figured out that the larger the wheel the farther the rider would travel on one rotation of the pedals. Other scholars (unnamed) think that the young men who purchased and rode these things may have been compensating. For something. Like not being given the keys to the horse and carriage.

Here are the really cool tidbits about the high wheeled bikes:

1. It was the first time such a contraption had been called a bicycle.
2. Because the rider was perched high and the center of gravity of the bike clung to a spot closer to the ground, if the front wheel stopped suddenly (“Hello, it’s a rock!”) the rider went head-first into the cobblestones. This is where the term “taking a header” comes from. It may also be the origin of pet rocks.

You, my darling, learned to ride a tricycle (made of white plastic with teal foot pedals as I recall) when you were 1 ½ or so in the hall outside our apartment in NYC. You would ride as fast as you could to the end of the hall where you would stop by smashing into the wall. Then you would get off your bike, turn it around, rinse and repeat. You thought this was fabulous. Eventually you learned the concept of turning when you reached the ripe old age of 1 ¾ or thereabouts.

Enjoy your new bike. Pedal far and prosper.

Love, Mom

“Individuals play the game, but teams beat the odds.” – SEAL Team Saying

Dear Kid,

Summer is off to a fine start. When we’re not in the midst of a monsoon, the sun is shining and the spinach is growing. There are s’mores to be made, lawns to be mowed, pools to be splashed in—in short: summer.

With all those fine, frolicsome activities comes the start of The Summer Job. Summer jobs are wonderful for all sorts of reasons. You meet new people, you earn some money, you learn about the “real world” work environment, and – perhaps most importantly – you’re out of the house  and off the couch for part of the week.

Working with new teams can be an interesting experience. The team you find yourself working on can make all the difference in how you view your job.

There are teams where you fit in immediately (camp comes to mind). These are the teams made up of people you feel like you known forever even though you met them thirty seconds ago. They are people you’d like to hang out with when you’re not at work.

There are teams you fit into pretty quickly but on a more professional level. You’ll never be ‘besties’ or get together outside of the office (or warehouse or restaurant or whatever), but they are nice people and make for a pleasant and cooperative work environment. Once the job is over, you probably won’t stay in touch, but that’s ok.

Then there are the teams where one or more member poisons the environment either by attitude or by skill level (guess which is more likely). Being on a team like that can be crazy hard as the team figures out what to do about the problem child (Teach him? Help him? Cover for him? Rat him out? Force him to eat homegrown spinach?).

I hope your job turns out to be all good things and that you enjoy the people you work with.

Please fill the bird feeders.

Love, Mom

On men versus women in astronaut training. From a 1984 video interview with Melanie Wallace of PBS NOVA. via Mashable

Dear Kid,

On June 18, 1983, Sally Ride became the first American woman to go into space. She remains the youngest astronaut in US history.

Interestingly, the first woman in space was a Soviet astronaut who went into space in 1963. Which says something about how women were viewed in this country.

I suspect it is almost impossible for you to truly understand what women faced as recently as thirty years ago. (Which was only a few years before you were born.)

Before her flight into space, Dr. Sally Ride, fully trained astronaut, holder of a master’s degree and a Ph.D. in physics, respected researcher in astrophysics and free electron laser physics, was asked important questions like “Will the flight affect your reproductive organs?” and “Do you weep when things go wrong on the job?”

In retrospect, this should be highly embarrassing not only for the media, but for society as a whole because it wasn’t seen as entirely ridiculous at the time.

Today, a reporter would be stoned and humiliated on Twitter for even thinking up questions like that. But there are organizations and countries where women are still seen as second-class (at best). It is so important that we remain aware of how people are treated—without regard to their skin color, gender, or preference in reality TV. It’s easy to think we’re over the barriers, past the glass ceiling, beyond discrimination—but we’re not. Not only is the literature (by which I mean the blog-o-sphere) full of conversation about discrimination, but the Supreme Court just agreed to hear a case about discrimination. Unfortunately, bias and prejudice are alive and well.

I find it interesting that there is almost nothing written about how she was the youngest American ever to go into space. I’m sure there is room for great commentary there. But I’m not sure what that is (suggestions welcome).

Sally Ride was a great role model. She helped break all kinds of barriers for women. Even for those of us who never lived without gravity.

Love, Mom