Fully Present Post 50

I readily admit that I have no idea why 30-35%  of the U.S. population continues to support President Donald Trump.  In my mind, their continued support defies all reason.  I need to be empathetic and compassionate towards my fellow Americans, not angry at them.  It starts with trying hard to understand their point of view.

I’m thinking that perhaps they haven’t had anyone try to reason with them.  Maybe they have been too busy trying to live their lives to pay attention to any news besides Fox.  Maybe they remain in a bubble, surrounded by other Trump supporters.  Maybe they truly hate American government and want to rebuild it into a dictatorship (I hope not).  Or maybe they are just lying to themselves, too stubborn to admit the reality of the situation.  In any case, I’m compelled to lay out reasons why this President no longer deserves the support of any patriotic American. Continue reading “To Trump Supporters”

It’s July in Southern California.  It was around 100 degrees outside and according to my new Charger 2 Fitbit, I was another 5,000 steps away from my newly established daily goal of 10,000 steps.  I had already finished 35 minutes on the treadmill and the house was clean from efforts to reach the prior day’s goal.  While there is always gardening to be done, I’m a wimp when it comes to heat and so I only garden when it is cool, meaning early morning or early evening.  So, I did what seemed reasonable:  I headed for the mall. Continue reading “Escape to the Mall”

I planted American flags in various pots around  my backyard in preparation for a 4th of July barbecue with a few family and friends.  The early part of the day while cooking, I was glued to the History Channel’s retelling of our nation’s history from the reasons and events leading up to the July 4, 1776 Declaration of Independence and the subsequent War for Independence.  I watched episode after episode up through the Industrial Revolution.  So much in our history made me proud and made me angry.  I learned that a third of the cowboys were black and brown men.  I marveled at the bravery of the “rough necks” who built the first skyscrapers and bridges and the Chinese who bravely handled the nitroglycerin to enable the building of the railroad passages.  I was impressed at the ingenuity of Americans of diverse backgrounds whose inventions greatly improved life as we know it.   But at times, I was downright sick with sadness, like at the treatment of slaves and the payment for that horrible sin in the carnage of the Civil War. The decimation of the buffalo and the story of Wounded Knee brought me to tears.

Even though America has too often gotten it wrong in its treatment of humanity and nature, this is my country and I love it.  It is worth fighting for in word and deed.  For many, it was and is worth dying for.  We have always struggled to live up to our own ideals upon which this nation was founded.  We continue to struggle to get it right, arguing though protest movements, Supreme Court cases, a Civil War and now everyday protests and debates.  Today, with this President, we must fight as patriots to insist that we live up to those high ideals.  On my mind today is the fight over immigration since one of my son-in-laws is about to become a U.S. Citizen on July 14th.

It seems that some of us have forgotten that this is a nation of immigrants.  Some would like to ignore the Statue of Liberty and the poem, “The New Colossus”, written by Emma Lazarus in 1883 to raise public funds that were needed to build the base for the statue (a gift from France).  The words of the poem are now engraved on the tablet and it is good to remind ourselves of them:

“Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles.

From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. ‘Give me your tired, your
poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

I topped off the 4th watching the Macy’s Fireworks show on television.  It was beautiful.  Maybe next year, I’ll go to my hometown show again on the 3rd.  It just wasn’t the same watching them from my bedroom window this year.  Being there to celebrate with my fellow Americans makes a world of difference.

 

My father was an abusive husband when he drank.  And he drank a lot.  He was an alcoholic who got into enough car accidents that his license had to be revoked.  Thankfully, he didn’t kill and injure innocent people while behind the wheel.  Surviving in a household with a mixture of love and affirmation, violence and terror, occasional affluence followed by poverty, all resulting from one parent’s alcoholism takes some resilience and work to achieve and maintain emotional stability. Continue reading “Daddy Issues”

On occasion, I could see why my mother was attracted to my father.  He was a brilliant man, highly educated, and ambitious.  He was very handsome, too, and charismatic.  I’m certain she had no idea that the man for whom she left college to  marry and bare three children in quick succession would turn out to be a man who would only grace his children with precious few moments of real  fatherhood.   Continue reading “Those Precious Few Fatherly Moments”

I’ve taken a good number of personality tests over the years and every one  of them has reached  the same conclusion about my personality.  Of course, each uses a different label.  I’m type A, I’m a driver, I’m an achiever.  What is true is that I measure the success of my day by how much I have accomplished.  I set goals.  I like crossing things off my to do list. Although I like people,  I’m more task oriented than people oriented.  This is what makes the notion that I’m taking a vacation a kind of a misnomer for the weeks away from my job.   Continue reading “The Type A Vacation”

My 32-year-old son tied the knot in spectacular fashion last Saturday.  I give credit to the bride’s family, the Nonanthum Resort staff, and the city of Kennebunkport, Maine for welcoming the wedding party and guests and for creating a celebratory atmosphere for the entire destination wedding weekend.   Continue reading “The Beautiful Wedding”

In less than a week, this coming Saturday, my youngest son (age 32) is getting married.  A two year engagement seemed like a very long time, but here it is and I’m in full mother of the groom mode, which is notably far less stressful than the traditional mother of the bride mode. Continue reading “Mother of the Groom”

There is a lot of finger pointing going on today.  People are accusing each other of wrongly thinking they are somehow “entitled” to one thing or another.  I hear complaints that students today think they are entitled to good grades for simply showing up to class and turning in an assignment, no matter how substandard the product.  I hear that white males think they are entitled to the best jobs over women and people of color without having to be exceptional at anything (Donald Trump).  I even hear that the elderly think they are entitled to Social Security benefits and Medicare when they retire.  But wait.  Didn’t these folks pay into Social Security and Medicare while they were working?  I would say that this is an earned entitlement.  I object to entitlements based solely on group identity and false assumptions. Continue reading “Entitled to what, really?”

I count it a privilege to dress up in my academic regalia to honor the marking of a milestone achievement called graduation or commencement. Graduates are relieved to be done with final exams and are happy to be celebrated by family and friends who will fill the stadium to hear their name called as they walk across the stage to shake the hand of the University President.  Alongside the glee and great celebration, I also see and hear the anxiety that comes with leaving the comfortable nest of the college campus.

Working at a University, we try to make students feel like they are a part of a community.  We work hard to get to know traditional aged students (18-24) during a time when they are trying to transition from childhood to “emerging” adulthood. They are at a stage in life where they are finding out who they are and what they care about.  They are merging their classroom lessons with the life lessons gained in community. Perhaps the world has become much more complicated so that it takes these four years to get the basics down?  Many say that a bachelor’s degree today is what a high school diploma used to be. 

 I recall my own rude awakening to this as a parent when shortly after my daughter’s graduation from Pepperdine University she announced during a conversation that she wasn’t an adult.  She was only 22. Her not being an adult was news to me!  Up until then, I had considered 18 to be an adult. My generation considered themselves adults at that age. I now muse over how my generation of women called themselves “old maids” if they weren’t married by 25.  Times have changed.  The American students I work with today do not consider themselves fully adult until around age 26. Yes, international students are different; more mature and do consider themselves as adults.  For American students,  I’ve adopted the term, “emerging” adults from a book I read titled, “Not Quite Adults:  Why 20-somethings are choosing a slower path to adulthood, and why it’s good for everyone” by Richard Settersten and Barbara Ray.    

If High School and College graduations can no longer be considered the launching pad into adulthood, what are they?  I guess that depends on who you ask.  One student I spoke to is taking the next few months to travel around the world.  Another is heading directly to graduate school, sometimes considered a delaying mechanism of either work, the outside world, or paying off student loans.  It is true that some professions require graduate degrees, but as a former professor of graduate students, I’m in favor of graduate  students who have gained a few years of life experience beyond the academic corridors before entering the graduate classroom.  Others, who can afford to combine social consciousness with adventure choose a beeline to the Peace Corps or to teach English in a foreign country, like my son..  There are a privileged few who shrug their shoulders, having no plans beyond having a good time for now.  But the vast majority, facing student loan debts, have sent out resumes and been to a few interviews in hopes of landing a great job that will eventually enable them to live independent of their parents. Long gone are the days when the next step after graduation was a wedding. For now, most just return to the family home and claim a weird combination of independence and dependence (emerging adulthood).  The weddings I see now happen 5-15 years post-graduation.  This excludes the fun trips to Vegas for a wedding, followed by an immediate annulment. But back to the important day itself.

Graduations are still laborious events with the occasional interesting, if not humorous speech. These days, I marvel over the creative messages pressed onto the black mortarboards that dawn the heads of the graduates.  Some express gratitude to parents, others express pure joy over their accomplishment.  Some are just incredible works of art.  My favorite yesterday was the one that read, “I’m done with this B.S.” Maybe she was referring to her degree or all she had to deal with to get it or both.  All are a form of entertainment during a ceremony that can last for hours with the reading of each and every name.  One sure sign of relief is that I can now pull out my cell phone rather than struggle to stay awake.