The Last Thanksgiving

Dear CEO,
As you debated your bottom lines, profit margins and shareholders, as you weighed out the benefits of opening your doors, phone lines, and web portals on a national holiday, did you consider what you were taking from your low level employees?  For many of them, you took their last Thanksgiving; you took from their families their last Thanksgiving. You may have even taken their very last holiday.  This year some of your employees will lose a parent, a sibling, a child, or their own life. 

Most of you did not join the rank and file in the trenches, you were home, ensconced in the glow and good cheer of your loved ones. You had one more holiday to look around the table and admire the domain you created.  You listened to petty arguments and laughed that your Mother always complains about the cranberry sauce your spouse makes wrong, watched your children struggle over the wishbone, and fell into a deep self satisfied sleep.

It is my hope that every low level employee that did not have a choice  about working yesterday gives you an account of their losses as the year progresses, that you are made to look in tear filled eyes as they tell you their mother had an unexpected heart attack and is gone. That you have to explain to a small child what "killed by a drunk driver" means and why Daddy is never coming home. That you have to explain why there was no last Thanksgiving. 

Justify your decision however you like. But know in your heart of hearts there, will be a price for your avarice.  Whether you ever hear what you have taken from the people you depend on, who's backs support your company from the bottom, your very foundation, rest assured, there will be a reckoning.

Thanksgetting

I am thankful this year that I do not have a job.  While I might miss having as much money as we have in the past and all the things that go along with more income, I do not miss wondering if I will have to work on the holiday.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  Have we thought about that?  THANKSGIVING.  Giving thanks.  And yet, so many people will leave their families tomorrow to shop.  Don't get me wrong, on one income, I loves me a bargain, but I love my family so much more.  I don't want to be anywhere but with them.  Listening and sharing stories of loved ones gone, memories from long ago, imparting traditions to my son for him to carry on with his children one day.

Tomorrow, if you are one of those shopping, look at the cashiers, the stock boys, managers wandering the floors.  They are there so that you can grab that deal.  While you are purchasing that sought after game station or my little pony or cashmere sweater and thinking about what you are saving, please, think about what you are costing the employees.  Realize that cashier is maybe a single mother who has left her child in the hands of a friend or Grandparent, so you can buy your child that barbie dream house.  That stock boy had to give up a trip home, he's working his way through college, tonight, he'll go home to an empty dorm room, so your son can have the new iPhone.

Yes, they might be getting paid extra, but they also were there hours before you walked in the store, dinner didn't happen for them, while you were serving out the pie, they were serving up signage.  If I offered you $100 or $200, would you have left your family, gone without your dinner, missed the parade?

For what?  So that we could indulge the greed and avarice we've instilled in our children?  When did Christmas become about "give me everything I want"?  I assure you, your child will grow up just fine and dandy without a new TV in their bedroom.  I know, I know, we all want our children to have more than we had, but more of what?  Sure, I remember not getting a pair of guess jeans for Christmas and the year I got red Jordache instead of dark blue.  I never had a barbie corvette, sigh.

So what does my son having more mean?  It means I am there, my mom always worked, until 2 months ago I always worked.  It means I recognize the importance of presence, not presents.  I wish my Daddy has seen just one school play, or prom, or, well, anything.  (Before you assign too much meaning, my Daddy was in the army, getting home for those things, well, it just wasn't in the cards)

Here's a test, if you think I'm crazy about presents not being important, ask your child what they got last year for Christmas, can they even remember?  What about 2 years ago?  Or 4?  Now ask them something they remember about you.  You will open a floodgate, and it will matter to them, and it will teach you about your place in your child's life.  Talk to your child, find out what is truly important, and do it by staying home tomorrow and talking to them, to your family, your parents, your nieces and nephews.  Talk, spend time, not money.  That's what tomorrow is all about, spending time, not money.

Remember, it's Thanksgiving, not ThanksGETTING.  If we stay home, maybe the retailers will see that it's not worth it, and next year, those employees will be home celebrating, don't they deserve that, just as much as you and I?

Happy Thanksgiving, to each and everyone.  Tomorrow I will be thankful for my family, my life and for all of you who indulge me so!  I will be with my family all weekend, I hope you are too.

PS, don't miss the follow up to this, CEOs everywhere, be warned, it's an open letter to you!  Enjoy your day home, we all know you didn't give up your holiday, though you expected your employees to, it may be the last one you have in peace if I have anything to say about it.  I know, my former CEO will be home, while many are in the office, making his bonus for him.  Enjoy, eat up, drink up.

Pot Roast Sliders and Other OCD issues

I have grown up in a world I most often don't understand, just like everyone else.  I am frequently baffled by the things I see.  I learned that you can't count on most things, or most people.  I still don't understand why.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I'm some kind of paragon of virtue.  I disappoint my loved ones, make bad choices, forget birthdays just like everyone else.  When I do it, I'm just as baffled as when I see someone else do it.  I try, very hard and fail often, to live by the maxim "because it's the right thing to do".  This doesn't always make me popular, even in my own home.  It doesn't make my life easier.  Hell, sometimes it doesn't even make me happy.  Making the right choice often doesn't.

So I have this thing.  Well, a lot of things.  Some have short lives and some match my 42 years.  They are the things I can't let go of, my go tos.  They are the things I count on, that help me make sense of the world.  The things that I cling to when I'm confused, or lost, alone, angry, well, anytime I just don't get it.  I hold tight to them.  They live inside me and I foster them, nurture them, protect them, because they protect me.

This is my life with OCD.  I'm not clinically OCD, I don't think.  I can function in the world like everyone else, and most people never even see this side of me.  IF they do, it's only one the outside, never knowing what's happening in me.  I'm a terrific actress when I need to be.  It's how I cope when I can't cope.  It's how I hold on when the world is flying apart at the seams.  I don't pretend to know what OCD is for anyone else, and this isn't a diagnosis to help you understand someone who is clinically OCD.  It's just an explanation of my world, maybe it will help you in some way.

We all have things we look forward to or count on.  For me, these things can become nonnegotiable.  When they don't happen, I'm confused.  I'm scared.  I get "stuck".  I find it hard to move past the thing in front of me to the next thing because this one is wrong.  This is where my world makes no sense.  This happened to me tonight.  We went out to dinner with friends to a restaurant I have been to a number of times.  I love this place, they make amazing pot roast sliders.  Well, they used to.  We had gone there just for drinks and decided to stay to eat.  I looked through the menu (I always do, even when I have a "go to" dish, regardless of the fact that I am not ever ordering anything else).  The sliders weren't there.  I thought it was a mistake.  The waiter actually took my hand and held it as he told me that they don't make them anymore.  This is not a big deal, to anyone I know but me.  Our dining companions laughed, my husband teased to make light of it.  I joined in.  I made fun of me.  What they can't hear is the rush of tornado force winds, the crashing of hurricane seas, the silence of 8 foot high snow drifts, the buzz of locusts across a farm, the decay of epidemic infected flesh, the roar of forests engulfed in flames that has become the soundtrack of my brain in this moment.  You see, I thought I could count on those sliders.  I thought that was a staple of that menu.  Through the mere whim of some chef I have never met, something I count on is gone.  Done.  Over.  Never.  If that's not safe, what else am I going to lose?

This is how I feel in those moments.  What else will be taken from me?  What else will be gone?  What else will I lose?  I can control nothing, nothing is forever.  Does that mean I am not forever?  IS there nothing else after this life?  Because I was pretty damn sure that I could always have my pot roast sliders and clearly I was wrong about that, and if I was wrong about that, what the hell else am I wrong about?  I mean, I was sure I knew for a fact what was going to happen when I die, what happened when my Granny, Daddy, Grandpa, Aunt Donna, Aunt Susie, Aunt Jenny, Aunt Ida, Uncle Sonny, Uncle Richard, Uncle Joe, Uncle Jimmy, Cousin Alan died.  Am I wrong?  Clearly I was wrong about the pot roast sliders.  What the hell!  What else did I screw up?  What else is going to be gone, never to be seen again, because I thought I was going to see them again.  This is just bullshit is what this is.  This puts me in a tailspin that will last all night.  I will not sleep well.  I will spend the night terrified that the world is far more precarious than I had thought it to be.  There is less in this world that is dependable than I had thought.  Clearly, because you better not be depending on those damned pot roast sliders!

It's a stupid thing.  I know.  Why put your trust in something you can't control, Richelle.  Seriously, I know I have no control over the menu there, but that's the thing, you see.  That's the rub.  I have no control over it, but if I can still count on it, then there must be something right in the world because some force somewhere knew how I felt and protected me.  Yet, that didn't happen, which means no force is protecting me and I just don't want to feel all that kind of alone.  I want it to be better than that.  I want somethings to be dependable.  Especially if here and there I can count on something I have no control over.  Everything changes.  That's what I'm told.  But maybe not.  And this is how I protect me.  Sometimes things don't change.  When they don't, I have found a safety net.  A safe place where I know it will be just as it was and will be.  Maybe I am right about what happens when we die, because after all, some things don't change.  Some things are exactly the same.  I always put my left sock on first after all.  That hasn't changed.  I will have to hold tighter to those things, and look for some new thing to replace the pot roast sliders, (somewhere else of course because they clearly don't understand a damned thing there and I'm just not going back to relive the horror again) until I do, I'm in turmoil.  I'm wondering.  I'm worrying.  I'm scared.  I'm stuck.  I'm stuck with an empty-no-pot-roast-slider pit in my stomach.  (BTW, replacement rueben I ordered?  Seriously disappointing!)

So, this is how I will cope.  Tonight I will go to sleep thinking about all the things I can count on that don't change.  I will list them over and over in my own personal rosary.  This is how I will get through it.  And trust me, this has not been an easy week for me on this issue!  I found out I'm not having a turkey for thanksgiving, we're having capon.  I thought "what the hell!  I never heard of some third grade pageant that had a thanksgiving capon!"  So, I'm working through it.  In 42 years of life I've always had a turkey for thanksgiving.  This was a go to, a thing to count on.  My coping mechanism is to remind myself that my family is having a turkey.  I won't be there to eat it, but the turkey is happening.  The turkey will happen.  (note to self, ask Aunt Neesie to send me a picture of the turkey.)  Turkey is happening.  This is my new family and I have to learn new things with them. Maybe I'll be ok with it.  Ok, who am I kidding, I won't be, but I'll put on a great game face and work it out.  In a few years maybe I'll have worked it in to a go to as well.  I'll have to, because my husband's happiness is a part of this.  I can't ruin a holiday over my issues, and I know this is my issue.  And I know few people understand it.

Maybe they do?  Maybe you're reading this and thinking of some tradition you can't live without.  Something that makes a day a day for you?  Or not.  I know.  You're thinking I'm crazy to be this worked up over pot roast sliders, but I'm telling you, they were amazing!

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Opinions are like a$$holes, everyone has one. Frequently, however, we let our opinions turn us in to a$$holes!  I've got an opinion on pretty much everything, I know, big surprise, right?  I try to keep my opinions to myself, I fail frequently.  The beauty of the blog is that I can get my opinions out and you don't have to read them.  Thank you if you do, good for you if you don't!  (I actually mean that last part)

What I hadn't stopped to think about until today is how often a well intentioned opinion share can be hurtful.  We often think of our opinion as good old advice and offer it up like a surprise Christmas cookie.  The difference?  I love a surprise Christmas cookie, not so much surprise opinions/advice.

I've recently taken a hiatus from the working world, that's all it is, a break.  A few months off is all.
Yesterday my Grandmother very pointedly asked me when I was going back to work.  There was no hiding the anger in her voice.  No discussion.  Her tone was clear, it said "you've had your fun, now go back to work and quit wasting your life and laying around".  It was acidic.  Eventually I got off the phone and felt terrible.  I felt like a lazy good for nothing.  I felt less than worth.  I sat down feeling dreadful and continued with the task I had interrupted to talk to my Grandma, writing my wedding thank you notes.  I finished.  I arranged them so my husband could sign them, put them on his desk.  My son came home from school.  We talked.  I made dinner.  We all ate.  I watched programs with my best friend, something we do every Thursday.  I went to bed, with a weight in my stomach.

Today my husband went to work.  I got up and started cleaning.  As the day went on, I dusted, and thought about my Grandma.  I vacuumed, and thought about my Grandma.  I cleaned the kitchen, and thought about my Grandma.  As the day has gone on I've gotten angrier.  At myself.  How could I have let someone else make me feel badly?  I don't sit around all day doing nothing.  I'm busy, working.  The house and laundry don't clean themselves, dinner doesn't magically appear on the table, nor groceries in the cupboards.  This is the agreement my husband and I made and we are happy with it.

I didn't ask my Grandmother if I should work or not, but she gave me her opinion anyway.  As a result, I second guessed myself and spent an entire day feeling badly.  A few people have expressed this opinion and I've let it get to me each time.  I started to examine this pattern and realized, I get unsolicited advice a lot and I let it bother me!

We so infrequently consider that maybe, just maybe, despite what we would choose for ourselves, that person we're mentally judging, is actually happy living their life that way.  Where did we get off thinking we had the only formula in the world for a happy life?  That our way is the only way, the right way?

Our well intentioned opinions or advice can be hurtful.  We hold in our power the ability to dash another's hopes and dreams, turn a solid foundation into quicksand.  We all think we have the right answers without wondering if anyone is even asking the question.

Solution:
If someone asks for advice, please give it and give it honestly.  If they don't ask, don't tell.

Mr. Rogers Forgotten Words: "To Me"

Remember I told you I love Mr. Rogers.  He is, and always will be, my favorite person.  I value him as a friend and I value his relationship with my son.  How has he managed to damage so many children?  Oh, he has.  So many parents have not been listening carefully to him.  Many have forgotten that every word is important and has a place and meaning.  To Me.  Forgetting these two words is ruining our children!

Every child needs someone in their corner.  Every child needs to know how important and valued they are.  What they don't need is to believe that the world is going to feel that way about them.  We need to prepare our children to be disliked, to be one of many, to be passed over, to lose, to fail because those things will happen and when they do we should want our children to be strong, to press on and to keep their self esteem intact.  Mr. Rogers said "You are special to me".  He believed every person is precious, but not everyone is Mr. Rogers.  Your child is going to meet those not-Mr.-Rogers far more than not.

How did my generation forget those very important 2 words?  To Me.   I know they did.  I'm surrounded by children with an attitude of entitlement all the time.  Children who have no concept of being told "no", think they should be in the middle of every adult conversation, and expect a reward for every little thing they do.  Look, here's the truth, your kid ain't that special!  My kid ain't that special!  Well, yes he is, To Me.  Why do I feel forced to think other people's children are awesome.  Some of them are.  I know some really terrific youngsters.  I also know some really irritating ones.  Quit telling your children they are the most wonderful thing ever!  They're not.  They're human and filled with flaws just like every other child out there.

My son is special. To me.  I don't expect him to be special to you.  He doesn't expect to be special to you.   He's not yours.  He has to earn that place in your life.  It's not a right.  By the way, your kid has to earn it in mine.  I refuse to think your kid is all that and a bag of chips just because they managed to come out of you!  Birth does not make them wonderful.  We need to quit letting our children think that breathing in and out all day is some sort of accomplishment.

Look, for those of you rolling your eyes at me and thinking how wrong I am because you know darn well your child is the most amazing thing to have ever graced the earth with the imprint of their feet, let me remind you that you don't really think that and knew it before that kid even got here.  If this child of yours is so gosh darn amazing, why did you (or their birth mother if they're adopted) expend so much energy forcing that kid to get out of you!  Children are smart, they let the mother do all the work because they don't want to be here, here is not a friendly kindly place.  So we push and push and push, in my case he had to be pulled out with forceps he was so determined to stay where it was nice and safe!  Remember that.  This amazing little piece of grace that tears around your house had to be pushed out into this world.  Keep pushing. Out and away!  Push them to be wonderful and full of wonder.

Remember those words, use them all the time, "To Me".  Tell your children how fantastic they are, special, unique, beautiful, to you.  Let them know they've got you in their corner, be their biggest cheerleader!  But please don't teach them that rest of us feel that way about them.  Teach them that for every other person in the world, they have to work hard to earn that place.  I don't love Mr. Rogers because he walked around on the world and was on T.V.  I love him because he worked so hard to leave the world better than he found it.  He earned my love and respect.  He did not expect it or demand it.  The only person that will love your child just for breathing is you, don't forget that.  Don't let your child forget that.  Remember to say "To Me".  When your child is fortunate enough to earn the love of someone else, celebrate that triumph, be proud, and remember, once you've earned love and respect, you have to keep earning it, it's not a given.

So, I will leave you with the words to the song as a reminder and some links so you can go visit your old neighborhood.  Read them, sing them in your head, sing them to your child.  Be grateful that you had a friend named Mr. Rogers who loved you, that your child has the same friend.  If no one else likes you, he does!

You are my friend You are special You are my friend You're special to me. You are the only one like you. Like you, my friend, I like you. In the daytime In the nighttime Any time that you feel's the right time For a friendship with me, you see F-R-I-E-N-D special You are my friend You're special to me. There's only one in this wonderful world You are special.

You Are Special By Fred M. Rogers © 1967 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXEuEUQIP3Q http://pbskids.org/rogers/ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mister_Rogers'_Neighborhood http://www.fci.org

I love Mr. Rogers.

Today on FB someone posted a link to 6 things you might not know about Mr. Rogers.  I smiled, I knew 5 of them.  Why?  Because I love Mr. Rogers.  My most prized possession in the world is a signed copy of the Koko the Gorilla episode script.  He's my favorite person.  If I can look at my son one day and think "Mr. Rogers has taught you well." I will have done my job as a mother.

How did so many people screw up his message?  I grew up with Mr. Rogers.  I trusted him.  I waited for him.  No matter what happened in my life, I could count on him.  He was always there, every day at the same time, doing the same things.  He was a constant in a world that was not.  

I introduced my son to Mr. Rogers.  The best thing I could say to correct any misbehavior in my young child was "what would Mr. Rogers say if he could see you right now?"  This always brought him to near tears.  He could not stand the thought of disappointing Mr. Rogers.  I learned this the day after we watched the escalator episode and my 3 year old started walking up the down escalator.  All I had to say was "and after Mr. Rogers just told you not to do that."  He almost cried and begged me not to call Mr. Rogers and tell on him.  He never tried to walk the wrong way on an escalator again.  I'd forgotten this.  My son is now 17 and full of himself.  He knows everything.  If you don't believe me, just ask him, he'll tell you.

So today I go to the link, I read the stories, I smile.  I scroll down.  These are the captions I saw for the next "stories":  "The Most Glorious Breast  GIF's", "The Most Perfect Butt GIF of All Time", "Human Barbie Meets Her Match",  "Want a Bar Rafeali Sex Tape?" and more.  I was offended.  I was angry.  It was the perfect underline to what we have become.  I showed it to my husband, he was not happy.  I showed it to my son.  He was detached.  He began to explain why. How those sites don't go anywhere, it's a marketing thing, blah blah blah.  And so I said those words I have not said in years.  "What would Mr. Rogers say if he could see you now?".  My son put his head down and looked at his feet.  He was ashamed.  

Mr. Rogers is still the very best I can set up for my son.  For a moment he wanted, and tried, to tell me why those site links were ok.  And then he remembered, it's not.  What would Mr. Rogers say to see such a thing?  I'm sure I can't even begin to guess.  I'm sure he would find a way to make the site manager feel good about himself as a person.  I'm sure he would find a way to make me love the site manager. I'm sure I'm no Mr. Rogers, but I want to be.

I asked earlier how did we screw up his message.  So far there's no screw up in this blog.  I want to write about that, and I will.  Today, let me love Mr. Rogers.  Let me remember that man who was a constant.  Tomorrow we will talk about how nobody really listened to him.  But today, today, I love Mr. Rogers.  I hope you loved him.  I hope for a moment you remember him and want to be like him. I do.  Today I want us all to think about Mr. Rogers, what he meant to us, who he was, what we learned.  Today find a moment to bring out your Mr. Rogers.  Tomorrow, tomorrow we will talk about how he screwed you up and you didn't listen.  I can't include myself in this one, I can't say we.  I did hear him, I took his lesson to heart.  Tomorrow I'll tell what he said, what you heard, and maybe you'll realize you weren't listening.  Today, we love Mr. Rogers.  Tomorrow, maybe you'll listen.

Anti Social Media

We are not friends.  It's important that you understand this.  We are not friends.  I read your blog, you read mine, we look at our facebook posts, tweets, instagrams.  We are not friends.  I am quite distracted that we now use this word as a verb.  It's not a verb.  If you're having trouble believing me, please feel free to look it up.  The word is a noun.  It is what you may or may not be to me, or me to you.  Friend denotes a place a person holds in our life.  We use it as a verb, "Oh, make sure you friend me." or "Here, let me grab my phone and friend you now."  When the act is accomplished, we are still not friends.

Let me digress for  just a moment to help you understand.  When my son was very little I faced the daunting task of trying to explain what a stranger is.  3 year olds have such a limited grasp on vocabulary, it's quite difficult.  You cannot say "it's someone you don't know".   To a child that means only that you don't know a person's name.  Some weirdo says "Hi, I'm Jim." and the child thinks they now know this person, after all, he's Jim.  I told my son a stranger was any person who had never been in our home and who's home we had never been in as well.  It seemed a good way to deal with the issue and it always worked.  It protected him from handymen and passing acquaintances.  I'm 42 years old and have just remembered this advice.

A friend should still be such a cherished thing.  None of us have as many as we like and are always surprised to find that one you thought was a friend is not.  We made the word a verb and did not attach strong requirements to it, no definition.  You are not my friend because you looked at my wedding pictures on facebook and read my comments stating just how happy the day made me.  You still know nothing about it at all.  You do not know my deep thoughts for that day, who was there, what surprised me, was I scared, am I happy now.  You know really nothing.  My friends came to wish us well that day.  Those who could not, called to wish us well and hear all the details.  They sent cards.  They made dinner plans at a later date to celebrate with us.  They came to our home, they invited us to theirs.  They found a way to share in the moment, there or not.  These are our friends.

We read so much on the anti social media pages and we mistakenly think we know these people.  Seeing what you had for lunch, how many diapers your baby used today, pictures from your vacation, venomous attacks on your ex-boyfriend, these tell me very little about your heart and your hopes.  This is where my friends live.  In my heart and in my hopes.  This is how I love them.  We love our friends.  We don't voyeur their lives.  We participate in them.  At least we should.  These sites are creating an anti social mentality.  We read so much, we assume we know what's happening and we don't make time to find out.  We've been hoodwinked.  We don't have cocktail parties, dinner parties.  We don't go out for a night with friends, see a play, go to a gallery, watch the game.  We don't pick up the phone for a good long catch up.  All that time we spend scrolling through the anti social media pages and we could have made a phone call and a real connection.  Connections, there are so few of them in our lives anymore.  We've all seen those pictures floating on the net with a group of people all out to eat and each one is scrolling an anti social media page or texting someone who is not at the table.  We all laugh, we all say how terrible it is, but we do it too.

So, Anti Social Media.  That's what it is.  All those outlets of information only trick us into thinking we have a social life will all those strangers, but that's what so many of them are for us, strangers.  All we are really doing is sharing information and very little of it at that.  Just the facts ma'am, not the feelings or emotions or the privacy.  Do not let it trick you.  These are not your friends either.  These are people with whom we only share the least important parts of our lives.  If you want to test my theory, that we are moving to a world of anti social behavior, try this trick.  Type the word "facebook" then type the word "friend", see which one your autocorrect capitalizes.  Then decide which one is capital F for you.

We are not friends. I'd like us to be, my door is always open.  Give me a call, invite me out, invite yourself over, have a cocktail party!  Go forth in the world and be social.  Go forth in the world and make Friends.