Start Anew

Christmas, or as it is known in layman's term, winter break is almost over. I must admit that this break was a well needed respite for the entire family. 2014 was a difficult year for all of us. It began with the death of my beloved brother Eddie, he was 49. His demons got the best of him and although he was a college graduate with and I.Q of131 a successful computer programmer with three children and a school teacher wife, he lost his battle to heroin. Ironically, it wasn't heroin that ended his life; it was what heroin took from him, his will to live. He gave up and although he was in recovery and going regularly to the methadone clinic, he was sad beyond sad. It was more like he was abysmally sad because he couldn't get back to his former life. It’s a long story but in the end his girlfriend, hence his divorce from his wife, found him in what appears to be an accidental overdose of the methadone. Sometimes I get stuck on the word accidental.

It was really hard driving to school to tell our daughter that her uncle had passed away. We went to the school on the pretense of telling her we were there to pick up her broken dorm refrigerator. It was true that it was in need of repair. When we called her to tell her we were on campus she was annoyed and I was pleased. She was being normal. It was an inconvenience for parents to randomly show up at school. How awkward. What I remember most about that day was the comfort she received from her cousin Gabriel when they coincidentally found each other outside of the dining hall. It was a simple gesture that revealed the most love between two friends. He simply stretched his arms and held her in his large frame until her sobs subsided. Because I don't believe in coincidence, God provided what she needed in that very moment. It was the outward display of the bond that I hoped for when the two began boarding school.

Our daughter was close to her uncle and we kept no secretes from her. She knew his issues and she saw firsthand where a life of bad choices can lead. She loved him nonetheless. That’s a great lesson. Love in spite of what you see, love for what you know to be true. I love the person our daughter is becoming.

Play Around

My daughter recently auditioned for a role in the upcoming school production of The Three Penny Opera. Ugg.  I never really heard of the play so I decided to do some research and what I found was interesting. Well not really interesting but more like complicated and uneasy. Like most people my research was done on the computer and according to Wikipedia it challenges “conventional thinking”, which is why I guess the play was chosen in the first place.

The story is about Mack the Knife, a hustler who marries Polly Peachum only after a five day courtship. Polly is the daughter of the master hustler who is displeased with his daughter’s decision. The father wants to have Mack the Knife hanged because of the interruption in his plans to create a better life for his daughter. The story is sprinkled with dicey characters and spicy dancing set in the seedy part of Victorian London.

When I visited with my daughter this past weekend she told me of the story and the song she sang in her audition. The discord on my face was enough for her to tell me that I should let mother to see the play and only upon her approval should I attend the second night. I guess mother is more of a conventional thinker than I am.

Being a conventional thinker from my understanding, has a negative connotation. It means that you lack creativity and cannot think beyond traditional ideas and usually conform to what already exists instead of the potential for different. Simply said conventional thinkers don’t like to upset the apple cart. But sometimes, especially at my age, being conventional is not a bad thing.

After my research I felt, and still do, that The Three Penny Opera is too much for high school students no matter how progressive the thinking. I do believe that it is a bit permissive and should only left to adults, those 18 and older. Having children in adult roles seems to be the new norm. Just look at the reality shows and the way musicians dress. It is acceptable to continuously challenge others. Interestingly I agree.

Last year I sat through the school production of Goodnight Desdemona Good Morning Juliet. It was well acted and the stage scenery was exceptional, worthy of Broadway, or at least maybe off Broadway. The students performed their roles with conviction to the character they were responsible for portraying. It was obvious that they had worked hard and thoroughly enjoyed being on stage. The problem I had was the vulgarity they were asked to display. I know vulgarity is subjective especially when it comes to art. I know for sure I was not the only adult in the audience that felt a bit uncomfortable with the language and gestures “acted out” in the name of art. But really, did the part call for this type of acting? There are several ways to convey a message without the tasteless display of one self-groping publicly on stage.  But I guess that is what the non-conventional thinker does, provoke emotion to express their point of view, to carry the message with full vigor so that you fully understand the sentiment without question.

Consequently, the problem befalls upon the conventional thinker.  Because of course it is only the conventionalist who has the problem. I mean really everyone else is laughing, why aren’t you?

There is a dichotomy of sorts brewing in me.

On one side I believe that the freedom of expression, the full expression of who you are sexually, spiritually and artistically should be applauded and encouraged. To suppress ones ideas and belief is a form of control and bondage. I believe that you are born into your sexuality and as children you should express and develop into the person you are meant to become. On the flip side, I do not believe that children should take on adult roles for any situation. A parent should not leave children to raise themselves or make grown up decisions. We are parents first, not friends. Nor should parents live vicariously through the child.  I want my daughter to be a non-conventional thinker. I want her to feel comfortable in her body and her choices. More importantly, I want her to express herself the way she wants, not the way she is told. That includes school plays.

My point is, express yourself, just do it with style and class. Be Audrey Hepburn!!

The play is scheduled for December. I guess more to come.

Newbie on Board

Today I spoke with a single mother whose only child wants to go to Boarding School. I was given her name by my co-worker. I was surprised at my eagerness to speak with her so I dialed the number without any agenda, just the desire to share my thoughts and impart my boarding school wisdom on this newbie. I felt prepared to answer almost any question presented and felt that my personal experience was all she needed to hear to make her feel better.

There is a funny thing that happens to people who share similar events. Things that seemed large and obscure now appear to have definition and can be described in ways that only the person who the same exact personal event can only understand.

I listened to Karen tell me how remarkable her daughter was doing in her current school and her involvement in community events and the strides she was taking to ensure her success not just now, but for her future. She explained how she wanted her daughter to go to boarding school but struggled with the idea of having her leave home. Familiar pangs began to unsettle in my heart for her. Her words were familiar and I sat quiet reminded of what I convinced myself of three years ago. In order to have extraordinary children you have to present them with extraordinary opportunities.

Karen was standing at alarming precipice she had never considered. She asked herself the same questions I had asked myself. AM I CRAZY!!!  She is my only child, how can I possible let her go? Alone in the world to fend for herself, without me she cried.  I listen to Karen lament about the tuition which for a single mother is an exorbitant amount of money. Hell, it’s an exorbitant amount of money for my wife and I. Especially now that my wife has lost her job. But that’s another story.  

Karen wasn’t looking for advice. She was searching for someone who had gone through what she was about to go through. She was searching for someone to tell the where the landmines were placed. To show her how to navigate the ship she already knew had left the port in her daughters head. There was not turning back, there was no convincing her that there were other schools.  Attending Boarding School I now believe is a calling, a vocation to commit to a new way of life that demands the best from you. Those who hear the calling and accept the challenge are ready to be transformed into the person they want and are meant to become in the world. They may not get exactly everything, but they are at least willing to try.

I will remind Karen in our future conversation, and I am sure there will be plenty, that her child is special. That she made a conscious choice to do something different and that it was her child’s spirit that is leading her in the direction she is meant to go.  Her job, like mine, and as I have mentioned numerous times before, is to be the guide and the constant in her life.

Round Three

It has been a long while since I last published on this blog. So much has changed in my life that I can actually see the lasting effects. I’m different. I know that circumstances in our lives change us from what we once were to what we eventually become. This isn’t a new school of thought, it simply is.

This year has weighed heavy on me and my wife, which began with the death of my older brother Eddie. I thought I was his savior but my superpowers failed me. My enabling love for him was my Kryptonite, the more I tried the more I couldn’t.

This past June marked exactly one year since my wife has been unemployed. We’ve all been there in one form or another I realize that it’s just our turn right now. So we stay strong and move forward the best way we know how, with God first our daughter second the rest will follow and fall into place. It’s a struggle and as we stretch out our arms onto God we grow weary but not defeated. Pray for us.

Once again the dining room table is strewn with Adrianna’s school supplies of clothes, computer, bedding and the like. The routine is familiar and we’ve become wiser on what necessities really mean as evidence by the limited bags packed. She is ready and as we prepare the drop her off, the pang in our hearts can still be felt. I guess I was wrong in thinking that it goes away. It never does, the pang is softer, but it never goes away.

It’s her junior year and we’ve painstakingly talked about the importance of this year. It is the snapshot colleges will have to determine if she meets their criteria for acceptance. No pressure really. But I am okay for whatever happens. If I have learned one thing in 2014 it’s that you have to be ready for the change that life will inevitably throw your way.

Big Thighs and Curly Hair

(November 21, 2013) I just finished combing through my emails and came across a Holiday Greeting video that was sent out from my daughters school. It was a video of students and faculty passing a basket of food to one another and carrying it from location to location while staff and students expressed statements of personal gratitude. The video was well produced and edited to capture the beauty of the campus on a perfect autumn day.  I watched the video move from hand to hand listening to the statements of gratitude most of which were  the typical thankful form my family, for the students, for my friends, to play sports, you get the idea. The music that accompanied the video was familiar and kept my interest. But suddenly midway through the video I noticed that the basket was passed to my daughter. I was slightly taken aback but equally proud to see her. She was on the patio of Bettye’s Place, an on campus store. I was fixated on her and smiled broadly waiting to hear what she was thankful for. Would she be thankful for her parents, her school, or her family? As she reached for the basket with both hands she turned to the camera smiled broadly and said, “I am grateful for my big thighs and curly hair!” My immediate response was a giant burst of laughter. It was a perfect response. I rewound the video over and over smiling each time. “…big thighs and curly hair…” I smiled so wide my heart cheeks ached.

There's a Flag on the Play

(October 19, 2013) Boundaries are necessary, I get that. Knowing how far to go keeps us in the lane we’re supposed to be in. But what happens when the boundaries become smaller, when what formerly seemed normal is now considered the abnormal. We find ourselves changing our behavior and making adjustments trying to find our place.

In the firsts month of school my wife and I decided that it would be best to allow our daughter to stay on campus full time which to us means over the weekends. It has proven to be a very wise and successful move on all fronts and the transition had made all of our lives easier. Now our child comes home when she wants to be with us and trust me, we love it that way.

It Get's Better - I Promise

(September 23, 2013)Yesterday while sitting in the car of the school parking lot waiting for my wife to come down from our daughter’s dorm room, I saw friend walking solemnly toward her vehicle that was parked next to mine. She didn’t notice me but I watched her closely, her body language signaling to leave her alone. She sat in her car still and pensive and tired, but not physically tired, it was as though she was waiting for what she was thinking about to be over. I knew the look and feeling all too well. It was easy to identify. I allowed her to finish her thoughts before I rolled down my window. I stared in her direction hoping that she would see me in her peripheral vision. I didn’t want to be too intrusive, a characteristic my wife says I should exercise in moderation especially in her presence.  After several minutes and the intensity of the cramp in my neck from staring, I couldn’t help myself. “It gets better”, my voiced muffled through the closed window of her car.  Finally she looked my way smiled and rolled down her window. “It gets better”, I repeated. “Is it that obvious”, she replied.

Round Two

This past summer has been a season of change and new perspective. Slowing down is the familial theme. Life moves fast. I believe we contribute to the movement of our lives. We want to fill up each space with something meaningful to prove we have a purpose, that our existence matters. I guess that’s why I see so many “selfies” on Facebook. “Look at me I matter the pictures seem to scream. Well you do, we all count.

First Round - Knock Out

There is a constant struggle for independence brewing in our daughter which conflicts with our need to keep her forever young. The child you've reared and influenced suddenly appears before you in unfamiliar clothes listening to headache pounding music and fiercely ready to live in the scary world you tried to protect her from. It appears that everything you fought for and against stands before you in full contradiction making a mockery of the years it took to create a seemingly perfect child. You've done everything right, and remained true to your traditions and ideology. You incidentally taught her lesson on how to share, which for an only child seemed like a contradiction of sorts, taught her to pray, be kind to others, to be punctual, love music, sports and to freely move in the direction the universe instructs.  You have carefully guided her steps providing sage advice along the way. Gone are the days when no matter what you suggested their response was always a resounding yes. Waffles for dinner– extra syrup please!

Manage Your Children

Last fall I read an online article in the Huffington Post about a father from London who wrote an eight paragraph email to his three children. In his email he thought about his parenting style and took responsibility for his children’s failures albeit he provided them with a stable home and a proper education. He went on to say that by sitting on the sidelines and adopting a  “fashionable philosophy of not interfering, letting our children find themselves” may have led to the choices that now plague their lives and label them, at least in their father’s view, as failures. 

She Really Likes Him

George is the one that has stolen my daughter’s heart. His imperfections are what appeals to her and she embraces any and every opportunity to be around him for as long as she can. Her trips home are measured by how soon she will return to her adoring George.  Ironically, he is not exclusive but that does not seem to bother her. He is not callous in his ways, but provides her with precisely what she needs.  She is in the first year of their courtship and although I clearly see an end, forever seems possible from her innocent rose-colored view. The introduction was made by my wife and me and the moment she met him she knew instantly and instinctively that they would be together. My hands are tied as I watch their union grow stronger. Let go and let God. Let go and let God. George is the one that has stolen my daughter’s heart.

Wait.....What?

Two weeks ago my wife decided that we should attend the annual parent party at our daughter’s boarding school. Not only did she feel that our attendance was required, she believed that we needed to be of service and liberally placed our names on the clean-up committee.  By the time I learned of the party and my obligatory commitment there was no room for negotiations, I was going. 

Once we pulled up to the valet parking and had our coats checked in we made our way inside and immediately saw our friend Gail waving us over to bistro table where she sat with her partner. The party was held in the garage of a luxury car dealership owned by parents of a student.  The garage decor was faux outdoor fresco setting complete with stucco walls balconies overlooking the cobblestone floor. Ten foot workable lampposts and sconces perfectly place on the pseudo sidewalk where red and white striped awnings hung over makeshift offices and storefronts.  I failed miserably at not gawking at painted ceiling and décor stretching my so far back I was lightheaded.  The high ceiling provided an excellent acoustics for the live jazz band as bobbed heads and tapping feet were seen from corner to corner. 

There were no expectations for the party, we are opened minded people who are ready for anything and fully accept everyone for who they are and what they believe. We pride ourselves in the diversity of our friendships and how organically they are created and developed. We read everything from Franz Kafaka to John Girsham.  But all that goes out of the window when the uncomfortable truth of a fear is realized. While having a great glass of red wine and nibbling on a gourmet grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, a parent plainly asked, “So what do you think about all the sex and drugs that’s going on at school?”

Quince Speech

Today is the day that signifies your transition into becoming a young lady.  Crossing the threshold of childhood and entering into womanhood. Well I say, hogwash - stay young, be everything that it means to be fifteen years old there is no rush, have fun, make mistakes and learn and grow from them, discover new talents and meet interesting people along your way. Try things you’ve never tried before and Look to the example of your mother to carry the lessons she taught you about sharing, about helping others, about being authentic and having integrity in all that you do -  stay young, enjoy each day and live in each moment while collecting memories for a lifetime.

Life Jacket Not Necessary

It has been some time since I posted an update on how our daughter is doing in boarding school. Frankly, she is doing fantastic. She enjoys every aspect of boarding school, the independence, the academics, the diversity and the growth of things yet to come. She sees a future in her life and understands already that this is the first step to achieving her goals. I know, I know, she’s only fourteen; there is no possible way that she can know all these things so early on in her freshman year of high school. But I beg to differ. She does not voice her new knowledge but her actions tell me she understands what it takes to be successful. And in this case actions speak louder than words.

We recently completed our parent teacher conferences, and before I divulge our experience I should preface this by stating that our daughter had four nominations to the head of school and made the honor roll. Now that that’s out of the way, the reports of our daughters progress was mostly positive. The beginning of the semester was a slow crawl to her usual studious self, especially coming from two and half weeks of Christmas break so I  can reasonably understand her lack of focus to return eagerly to her rigorous schedule of studying and sports. 

We were givend two hours to complete our conferences. We picked up our schedule at the Library where a tray of gourmet cookies sat tempting me to oblige but I declined.  We were provided a schedule and had fifteen minutes to reach  each building and meet with each teacher. Keeping their motto in mind, “if you are on time then your late”, we walked swiftly to our first meeting clear across the campus. We repeated this pattern for two hours each time reaching our destination with bated breath as we scurried from one building to the next.  Finally at our last session ahead of schedule I was pleased that we were able to sit for a few minutes before entering the classroom.  Once inside the classroom, things turned sour quickly. The teacher was disconnected as she spoke about our daughter. It was as though she was speaking of someone else, as though the person, our daughter, did not matter.  Her approach was aloof, her mind occupied and all she wanted to do was get out and do what was on her mind. She was absent in our presence.  She tried to convince us that most parents would rather hear negative comments about their child.  My wife could no longer take the berating comments and stood staring squarely at her, asking, what action she had taken to ensure our daughters continued success. My wife wanted to know if teaching is a partnership or is the child left to fend for themselves. Her vague response confirmed what my wife already knew and took me longer to realize. Our daughter had to fend for herself in this class and no rope or life jacket would be tossed until it was time to pull the body to shore.

Once I really stopped to look closer at what was happening I learned a few things, - one, our daughter is a strong young lady and her resilience goes beyond the capacity and the limits we as parents have placed on her. Two, responsibility means having the ability to complete the request with the criteria given in a timely manner. Lastly, parents often see what they want to see instead of what they need to see. Our daughter needs to assert herself in the classroom and make her needs known. She must take the next step into young adulthood and truly fend for herself. I know that we have acted as her life jacket in the past, and we will be ready to be tossed into the chaos of her life when required. But for now, she has to make her way, her mistakes and her choices so that the natural consequences that will inevitably follow, will force the change she wants to become.  

I Love My Wife

Sometimes we get so caught up in our own lives that we cannot see what is going on with others, even in our own home. I started this blog as a means to channel my feelings about having our daughter attend boarding school. Her move was a grieving process I was not prepared for. I needed an outlet, a space where I could lament my woes and lick my wounds.  So I created this blog for that purpose, to stay connected to my daughter and keep her ever present in my life.

But as I stood in the proverbial forest unaware of the trees, I finally saw my wife, my beautiful, wonderful and talented wife. This past week was a heavy week for her.  As I previously mentioned, our daughter was home for a full eleven days. Each day was full of pure and unreserved joy filled with laughter, long dinners, music and late nights of TV and conversations. We moved like a well-oiled unit cohesive in all that we did. There was a constant harmony and the music we created was built from love.  

Most people would say my wife is a determined self-assured woman resolute in her beliefs who never minces her words. They’re right.  She has a strong nature and the best laugh you will ever hear.  But what most people do not know is that she is the MOST generous person I know. She opens our home, her talents, and her wisdom to anyone in need. When she dedicates herself to a project, a person or a cause she will see it through to the very end, it’s the only way she knows how to be. If you have ever been lucky enough to be on the receiving end of her gift giving you know what I am talking about. It’s not about the gift itself, it is the thought of the gift, the way it is packaged then wrapped. The perfect matching bow and the Hallmark card attached are customized specifically for the receiver. She gets great joy from giving to others and pays close and careful attention to the details. It’s how she raises our daughter; she pays attentions to every detail of her life. 

How does a mother cope with sending her child back to boarding school week after week?  I’m not sure, but I’ll tell you what I know about my wife.  She prays every morning on the way to work as she finds solace in her daily rosary. She places our daughter’s needs before her own. She counts the days until the weekend and bursts with delight when she receives her phone calls. She finds the strength to move forward through the tears she sheds. And more importantly, she loves our daughter more than herself. Her love is deeper than any canyon and wider than the oceans of the world.

Having our child attend boarding school was a choice we all made together. Taking our daughter back to school is an act my wife reluctantly undertakes but does with veiled courage. It’s what any mother does when the betterment of their child is a stake. Mothers do what fathers can’t. I was self-absorbed on my personal journey about boarding schools that I neglected to see a mother who had to contend with all her emotions and continue to balance my life, our daughter’s life, our home, her job, the bills, the laundry, etc., etc., etc.  The constant churning in her mind would make most people’s head explode and although she gets frustrated and exhausted at times, she makes it look easy.  My life is easy because my wife makes it so. She works hard for me and our daughter. There’s not much thinking I have to do and I am eternally grateful for that.    

Her struggle to not have her daughter home takes a significant toll on her. But she marches on enduring the weight of our family on her shoulders creating miracles along the way. She’s a corporate manager, a cook; costume designer, event planner, computer wizard, designs invitations, makes window treatments - I could go on and on. I understand now that while I can get used to the idea of boarding school, mothers never let go.  

Honey, I want you to know that I love you, everything about you. You are a gift that I will always treasure. You being in my life has given me life. Thank you for all that you do for us, the seen and unseen.

Stay Strong

Yesterday we took our daughter back to school after a wonderful Thanksgiving break. She was home for a full eleven days of laughter, food, and much needed sleep. Her last week of school was a plethora of final exams and long study sessions. Her hard work resulted in making the honor roll and receiving four nominations for Head of School.

As we drove onto the campus we followed the illuminated trail of lampposts to our daughter’s dorm.  From our car we could see the lit Christmas tree sitting on the porch of the otherwise dark home. We were the first to arrive. As we lugged all of her belonging up the flight of stairs to her dorm room we were meet with Joelle our daughter’s roommate’s mother.  Our daughter rushed ahead of us, dumped her things on her bed pleased to be back. We quickly got her settled and said our goodbyes. It wasn’t difficult for either of us to say goodbye. We are all evolving.

Downstairs we discovered that Joelle was waiting for a cab to the Trenton Train Station. Of course I volunteered our services, a gesture that my wife is accustomed to me making.  On our way to the train station I suggested that we stop for dinner and decided on a small quaint Italian restaurant. I only wish I had BYOB. Dinner was fantastic. But what made it better was our discussion on life. You see Joelle is currently undergoing treatment for Breast Cancer. Her spirits remained high and her attitude was more than positive, her attitude was an affirmation that she was going to be okay.  I asked questions that most people would think to personal but Joelle was open and willing to put my curiosity at ease.  My wife listened quietly interested in what she had to say and for once was not embarrassed by my intrusive questioning. Joelle reminded me of how great my life is, of how great her life is because of her illness. It does not define her. Joelle loves to travel and still does; she reads books, watches movies and hangs out with friends. She lives a productive normal life. To see her, one would never know her circumstance. My wife and thoroughly enjoyed our time with Joelle. She is strong, motivated and determined who puts into perspective the real meaning of being thankful during this season. Follow her story at www.caringbridge.org/visit/joellewilliams

Thankful

What I am thankful for

Ø  Our daughter being home for a week to spoil us with her presence and turning our house into a home full of her laughter, loud music and laundry.

Ø  That my parents are alive to witness me getting older and slowly becoming them

Ø  That my wife still enjoys sleeping next to me

Ø  That each time there is a commercial on the television, I can raid the refrigerator

Ø  That I enjoy a large mug of hot coffee on my way to work

Ø  That I can use all of my senses, but according to my wife, I need my hearing checked.

Ø  That I can go to the doctor to have my hearing checked

Ø  God laughs at all of my mistakes because He knows I can do better and encourages me to do so!

Visitng Day

This past weekend my wife and I attended parent teacher conferences. We arrived on time, which according to the school is considered arriving late. Their motto- if you’re not early then your late. Ironically the first conference was with the history teacher, the same teacher that gave our daughter an infraction for her tardiness during the first week of school when she was still learning her schedule. I suppose lateness or rather "on-timeness" runs in our family, most likely from her mother’s side. We sat in the crisp classroom of white walls, world maps, modern desks, a smart board and historical relics carefully placed on the windowsill overlooking the turf football field as she reported on how well our daughter was doing in her class. For the next four hours, we met with her teachers and heard the same report time after time. The common theme was that although she is quiet once she finds her voice and her way, she makes her needs known and communicates effectively. Her literature teacher was most impressed by her language skills, both written and verbal. So much so that he feels confident that she is ready for the Advanced English course in her Sophomore year and with some fine tuning in oral presentation feels that she will be ready for the International Baccalaureate program offered in Junior and Senior year. 

Even with all the positive reports we heard, the one not so nice comment from her Science teacher sticks out like a thorn on a rose for me. His comment, "...she is shy and lacks self-confidence...”. The words smacked my face hard leaving a sting and a bruise. I always knew that she was reserved and at times people confused her as being shy, but lacks self-confidence, wow. I could go on and on with numerous examples of how wrong he is and even let you talk to several family members that would agree with me, but what I find disturbing is how quickly he was to label her.  His assessment was based solely on how she performed in his classroom forty minutes a day five days a week. He didn't look outside of his classroom or perhaps didn't want to see what the other teacher saw, especially her Theater Arts teacher and the aforementioned English teacher.

Recently, on Facebook, a person I "Friended" posted a picture of a man dressed like a woman. He was dressed in a wig that was too big and had on a full face of makeup that perhaps was a tad too much for day wear and his expression on his face was of melancholy glam. There were over thirty comments about how grossed out and downright disgusted people were about this person. He was labeled crazy and a fool and ridiculous. People passed judgment on him just because they could and based their opinion on one photo. Haven't we all taken a bad photo at least once? Imagine if you will, being judged and labeled by one photo, one action or non-action for the rest of your life. I am not naïve in thinking that there are those who set themselves up and deserve certain labels, (i.e. abusers, thieves, murders – you get the picture), but I am speaking of unfair and unwarranted tags that stay with a person. The sad truth is that most of us are labeled. My siblings believe that I am a nervous ninny incapable of handling serious situations. On the contrary, I was a solid pillar of strength during the seven months when my wife cared for her dying mother. Most of my friends call me for advice regarding relationships or children. I have given speeches in front of hundreds of people. I chaired a national committee on multi-culturalism and volunteered for many civic groups and sat on several boards. I even had the audacity to audition as the voice for the Alfac duck and a QVC on-air host. Still I remain a nervous ninny to them. I was labeled for some action or behavior I demonstrated a long time ago or may still demonstrate, at least in their eyes.

My hope is for my daughter and all daughters and sons of the world, to not label one another and if you are, do something to break free from the binds of labels.

Dorm Room

 

This is her dorm room at school. Notice that her bed actually looks like a sofa. Its full of pillows of various sizes and shapes, and yes, she uses each and every pillow to sleep.   The chandelier is an applique with actual sticky gems see close up here. 

Her dorm room is neater than her room at home, I think its becuase she has a roomate and living with a total of 28 other girls forces them to stay neat and clean. Seeing her come into her own style as she discovers her taste is amazing. As a parent you certainly see the influences you've instilled, but letting them grow into themselves is a better discovery for parents.

  

Field Hockey Game 10/5/2012

This season she is playing Field Hockey. Although she has never played, she has grown to love the sport. We love seeing her on the field in full gear, face mask, mouth and shin gaurds and hockey stick, focused on her job as midfielder. (White Shirt #20) She'll start volleyball next season. 

The Other Side

This morning I called my good and trusted friend whose daughter attends boarding school with my daughter. We were trying to decide if we should bring them home for the weekend. I know, first I’m crying because she’s gone and now I’m thinking that bringing her home is the wrong thing to do, the dichotomy of parenthood. 

There are always two sides to every situation. Sometimes we are too selfish to see it both ways.  We believe what we believe and stand firm on our beliefs. A new perspective sometimes makes us think and feel that we are doing something wrong, going against the grain from what we are used to doing. In an article I read over the summer, a born-again Christian taxi driver had a Rabbi as his passenger, this by no means is a setup for a joke, really. The born-again Christian wanted to know why after so much praying his wife not had the same level of devotion as he did. He told the Rabbi that his wife believed in God and respected his way of worship, but she preferred a quieter form of praise, being vocal about her belief just wasn’t for her. How could someone who “truly loved the Lord’ not want to shout it from the rooftops. The Rabbi considered the cab drivers dilemma for some time and finally answered, “Just because your right does not mean that she is wrong.” 

Often times we fail to look at the other side and convince ourselves what we are doing is the only way, the right way, the way it needs to be for everyone else. We believe that if you do something against the norm you are wrong. I am guilty. We all are.

Today for lunch I decided to go to a local café I hadn’t visited in quite some time. I had previously befriended the owner and was happy to see a familiar face. I asked the owner about her daughter, a sophomore in high school.  She proceeded to tell me that her daughter attended a blue ribbon public high school in a very reputable city. She continued to offer that as a parent we must do what it takes to ensure quality education for our children. And although she did not live in that prestigious city, paying for quality education was justified.  Finally, I thought, another parent who understands. A parent who could appreciate the effort it takes to seek better opportunities for our children. Before me stood a parent who could see the other side of sacrifice and I was grateful for her sympathy.

After answering her question as to what high school my daughter attended, she turned her stance and retorted, “So you sent your daughter away? I could never do that.” I was bewildered at the response. The turncoat failed to realize like I had that that we are the same. She had to send her daughter out of district and pay for an education her daughter deserved. She has to travel twenty miles a day five times a week until June to provide her daughter with an education. That I wanted the same for my daughter did not matter. What did matter to her at that moment was she was right and I was wrong. I was wrong for not doing it her way, for not thinking like her. I felt the pang of anguish in my chest; my fellow ally had failed me. Once again I was alone.

But this time, I was prepared, I was ready. No longer was I going to allow anyone make me feel guilty for having my daughter attend a top boarding school. I smiled politely repeated what my trusted friend had just told me earlier today in our conversation when he was confronted by a sanctimonious parent. “You could never send your child to a boarding school because you have never been given the opportunity to even consider the option.” My statement was really mean and perhaps a bit snobbish. But I was okay because what I said next is really what I intended, "You never had to really consider every part of what it takes to send your child away to school." She finally understood, her silence told me so. I  am guilty.