On May 2, 2011, Oskar and I were watching TV when programming was disrupted by breaking news: Osama bin Laden had just been killed in a secret raid. I turned to Oskar and high-fived him (!) and then I was immediately ashamed. I had just high-fived my husband over a man being murdered—what was wrong with me?
Like all Americans, I had been devastated by the terrorist attacks on 9/11 and viewed Osama bin Laden as Public Enemy #1. My gut reaction to his death was a rather base reflex triggered by all of the anxiety he had caused me and my fellow citizens. As a Christian, I condemn evil in all its forms, but I also know that it’s not my job to condemn another human being (even if that human being does evil things) OR to celebrate their death. I was able to forgive myself for what I considered a very human reaction, and I prayed that in bin Laden’s final moments as the raid was occurring, he somehow recognized his sins and was able to make his peace with God.
History repeats itself
Fast-forward to last night: I read that Hope Hicks, a close aide of Trump’s, had tested positive for Covid-19. My immediate gut reaction was a mixture of excitement and hope, thinking: “Maybe he’ll get it and this nightmare will end!” Then again, as with the bin Laden incident, I felt ashamed.
This morning, I awoke to the news that my wish had come true when my sister texted me, “Is it wrong to say I hope he dies? Or at least gets very sick?” I responded, confessing that I had had a similar thought the previous night. Then I reflected on the whether it was morally justified to wish for some kind of karmic justice… After all, Trump is not an innocent victim of the coronavirus the way that millions of others have been. He has had top epidemiological experts advising him, access to the latest data/research, any precautionary equipment (tests, PPE) that he could possibly need, and a whole team of sycophants willing to cater to his every whim, and he has willfully chosen not to utilize any of these resources in a responsible manner. Furthermore, as a result of his negligence and his lies, 200,000 people have died.
So, my thinking is that if the virus is among us and someone is going to catch it—or even die from it—then there is a certain poetic justice in it being him. But, looking at the situation from my Christian perspective, I can’t “celebrate” that, in the same way that President Obama never celebrated the death of bin Laden, even though he was the one who ordered the raid. Instead, I will follow the lead of both Joe Biden and Nancy Pelosi who have exuded admirable class when they—honestly, I believe—express concern for those GOP members afflicted with the virus and pray for their recovery. Because that’s what decent human beings do in a civilized society. (Frankly, I’m not sure I would be able to display as much grace as they have, had I undergone the many personal attacks they’ve had to endure from Trump.)
Was I guilty of giving oxygen to hatred?
And that last sentence sums up my biggest issue with Trump. The thing that I hate most about him is that he has exposed my own hatred. I really loathe the man. I hate his policies, his greed and his racism, yes, but more than that, I hate the way that he makes a mockery of our democracy and plays Americans—even his most devoted followers—for absolute fools. And I hate the fact that he has done irreparable damage to my relationships with people who fail to denounce him. Because, by accepting (or even tolerating) his lies, his white supremacist ideology, his fascist dictator-like posturing, his condemning of the media, his threats of violence if the election doesn’t go his way—they have lost all of my respect. I can never look at them the same way or continue to have a social relationship with them.
And I hate myself for hating him so much. While I recognize that “hating the hater” is not the same as “being a hater” (after all, as we learned in math class the double negative cancels itself out) holding that kind of hatred in one’s heart is a poisonous proposition.
I realized earlier this week that I’ve been generally unhappy for a very long time. Yet when I examine my life, most things in it are going pretty well. I have a supportive spouse and family, I’m financially secure, I live in a comfortable home, have good health, etc. While I don’t like dealing with this pandemic any more than the next person, I’ll freely admit that it’s affected me much less dramatically than it has many people. In fact, I consider myself fortunate in many ways. So, it didn’t take me long to identify the source of my unhappiness: Trump. Or, perhaps more specifically, the hatred and chaos that he thrives upon and brings out in other people.
And then I had another realization: I have just one life and, for-better-or-worse, this is it. Yet each day I’ve been giving mindshare over to this horrible person who doesn’t deserve an ounce of my respect, let alone any of my waking thoughts. Consequently, I had been giving oxygen to the hatred that he thrives upon. Worse, I’d been letting him steal my happiness in the same way he’s been trying to steal the election. And then I got determined… I’ll be damned if I let him steal my joy!
Instead, I vowed to redirect my election anxiety into optimism and positivity. So, while I won’t wish a Darwinian death upon the cause of my unhappiness, what Ihope for—and will pray for—is that this experience does two things:
1) Wakes up the 1/3 of the population that thinks this virus is a “hoax,” “just like the flu,” or “will disappear” so that they start wearing their damn masks and stop undermining the rest of us who are trying to get this pandemic under control (so we can avoid further needless death and rebuild our economy), and
2) Gives 45 an excuse to bow out of the race (for health reasons). As a classic narcissist who is facing the near-certain humiliation of losing, this would allow him to save face. I don’t even care if he resigns while proclaiming that he has been the Greatest President of All Time. I just want him gone. Gone—so we can shore up our badly battered democracy, control the outbreak of this virus, begin to recover our economy, and provide basic human rights and justice for ALL Americans.
However, since we can’t be confident this will happen, we have to double-down on the original plan of making sure Biden is elected—and preferably by a landslide so as to minimize any post-election violence. My dream is to make this a reality:
If you have NOT yet voted, PLEASE DO SO. And vote EARLY, so there is time to straighten out any possible registration or postal issues. 2020 has been one for the history books. But we need to do our part if we’re to succeed in containing the chaos to just this one calendar year. If you have any questions about HOW to vote, WHERE to vote, how to register, etc., send us a message and we’ll help you determine a safe voting plan.
It’s nearly August and the Coronavirus continues to spread, largely unchecked, in America. Likewise, on social media, the mask debate rages on. (I bet other countries are surprised to learn that there even IS such a thing as a mask debate in this country. But that’s the topsy-turvy, Alice-in-Wonderland version of the US we’re living in, sadly, during this Trump administration.)
In 2015, I did a blog post on the topic of “Living Fearless” because that’s long been a motto that I try to live by. Which is why I get so annoyed by anti-maskers who believe that those of us advocating compliance with masking mandates are “living in fear.”
Basement dwellers and other myths
“I feel sorry for them, cowering in their basements…afraid to go out and live their lives,” they write…while congratulating each other for their bravery in “standing up for freedom.”
Let me just say: No, no and NO. This is not an accurate assessment of anyone I know who is an advocate of wearing masks.
Speaking for myself, I can assure you that I’m not living in fear of catching the Coronavirus. While COVID-19 cases range from asymptomatic to annoying to deadly, I believe that my catching it would be more likely to result in inconvenience than hospitalization. However, all of the evidence has shown that it’s quite contagious, can be transmitted unknowingly, and can have long-term and lethal consequences in some instances—particularly for people who aren’t as healthy as me. Therefore, I consider it a moral imperative that I take sensible precautions to protect others.
Let’s repeat them together:
Fear is not my motivation for these actions. But having a healthy respect for science and a willingness to be inconvenienced for the sake of other people? Guilty as charged. In other words, I plead guilty to being a considerate human being.
Let’s baaaaaaaaand together and beat this thing
Another annoying response to any online mask debate is the troll who will invariably respond with this gif:
Running a close second to the Haha emoji in its ubiquity, the implication is that those who follow these public health rules are sheep and not free-thinkers. Again…no.
Sure, a lot of respected leaders are asking people to wear masks. But do you know why? Because they work. And sometimes, knowledgeable people share their experience for the greater good—so others don’t have to learn the hard way. It doesn’t mean that the people who follow the lead of experts aren’t capable of making a decision on their own. It means they are exercising common sense. Take the old stick-your-tongue-on-a-frozen-flagpole gambit. You can ask 20 intelligent adults if this is a good idea and chances are not one of them will recommend it. So, are you a sheep if you follow their advice, or are you…maybe…just…wise?
(Spoiler Alert: Here’s how that would turn out for ya.)
I believe that what so many people are interpreting as fear or herd mentality is in fact exasperation and frustration. Most Americans were under a stay-at-home order from mid-March through the end of April and even longer. We collectively sacrificed our relationships with friends and family, our jobs, our children’s schooling, our ability to see our aging parents. We missed out on weddings, graduations and funerals. Lives were lost. Businesses were shuttered. It was a huge sacrifice, but we started to flatten the curve…and see the light at the end of the tunnel…
…But then we opened everything up much too quickly and in the span of a few weeks, erased most of the progress we had made.
Those who are advocating for the three common-sense measures (one more time for the guys in the back of the room)…
…are doing so, not because they are scared, but simply because they are tired of all this. They want to get on with their lives. They want to save our economy. They want the kids to be able to go back to school. And they want their friends, neighbors and relatives to lead long healthy lives. How to manage this pandemic is no mystery. Dozens and dozens of countries—even many third-world (or as Trump called them “shithole”) countries—have successfully handled it using the steps above.
In fact, people in those countries are somewhat confounded by the fact that America is doing so poorly when we have so much relative wealth compared to many of the countries that have beat this thing. They actually pity us for our poor leadership and our cut-off-our-nose-to-spite-our-face stubbornness.
So, to circle back to the theme of this blog, I ask you: Who is scared?
Is it the Frustrated, Exhausted Working Mom or Dad, juggling Zoom meetings and online classes, conscientiously limiting interactions with others, wearing a mask, and washing her hands?
Or is it the Don’t-Tread-On-Me Individualist defying public health recommendations and harassing shop owners who are trying to protect their employees and customers?
I contend that the true “Scaredy Cats” are the Don’t-Tread-On-Me Crowd. They are doubling-down on the mask issue because they are too scared to learn that all of their outrage and anger—at science, the media, and our liberal governors—has been misplaced. Too scared to discover that they’ve been contributed to the loss of lives and livelihoods for tens of thousands of innocent Americans.
If the latter group truly believes that this is all just a “plandemic,” and wants to refute my scaredy-cat claim, then let’s settle this debate with a Triple Dog Dare: There is a very easy way for you to prove yourselves right. Just follow the mandate for eight weeks and see what happens.
Many public health officials agree that with uniform compliance it would take only 6-8 weeks to turn things around. So let’s try it. If it doesn’t work and I’m proven wrong, I will be the first to admit it here. Go ahead, America, I dare you!
Have you ever known something but also not known it at the same time? That is, you intellectually know the facts around a subject, but emotionally or philosophically it takes you a while to connect the dots? I had that experience last week and when the realization hit me it was a revelation, so I thought I would pass it along to anyone else who might be struggling with this same issue.
Social Engineering via Social Media
I’ve had a love/hate relationship with social media since its inception. I have a very large family, as well as a network of friends and acquaintances that span the globe, so I love the ability to stay in touch via a simple and cheap communications tool. Cute baby photos, friends on vacation, funny memes from old classmates… that’s all lovely. I’ve also created group pages for my church, my condo association, and other families who have adopted from Blossom’s orphanage in China. I enjoy having a way to communicate with members of these various groups on topics of mutual interest. Lastly, as a marking professional, I also appreciate social media as an inexpensive advertising medium that lets you target specific audiences with ease.
However, what I HATE about social media is the way it turns seemingly rational human beings into abusive bullies and allows horrible people to connect with like-minded dirtbags who validate each other’s twisted views. And, when you add in Russian trolls and others who are actively and intentionally stirring up trouble in our country to divide the populace…well, let’s just say that checking one’s newsfeed becomes an exercise in blood pressure management.
Thankfully I have naturally low blood pressure, but the anger and vitriol spewed forth on Facebook have caused me to abandon my account several times in the past. I find it very difficult to not confront those spreading misinformation or abusive, racist statements, so I often find myself in a protracted online debate with someone whose mind I know will never be open to reason or facts. Yet despite this, I feel compelled to try. (Nevertheless, she persisted!) I feel that to leave these statements unchallenged is to appear to agree with them—the last thing I want.
These online conversations usually end with the other party giving me the “Haha” emoji (which I’ve concluded is the universal response for ignorant trolls who can’t think of any other way to counter a sensible argument). Invariably, these exchanges always leave me feeling drained, discouraged and, frankly, hopeless about the state of our country. At times it seems like the bad people far outnumber the decent people, which is a very depressing thought indeed.
And of course, that’s the point.
It was during one of these threads—about whether to mandate masks in our state—when a commenter posed a seemingly innocent question, “Who decides which comments are ‘most relevant’?” I believe they were noticing the default Facebook setting that displays relevant comments and implying that relevancy was determined by the “liberal elites” who manage our governor’s Facebook page. So, I ignored the implication and replied literally: “The Facebook algorithms.” This was followed by another baiting question, “But who designs those?” So I went into a high-level explanation of how the algorithms work. Now granted, algorithms are more complex than the explanation that follows, but I think it’s important for all Facebook users to understand the basics:
They’re in it for the money, honey…
Facebook is not free to use because Mark Zuckerberg is a philanthropist. The company makes money by selling ads to marketers (like me) to get them in front of potential customers (users like you). The beauty of the platform is it lets marketers target certain personality profiles and keywords based on information provided by the users—the groups you belong to, the pages you follow, the businesses or locations you “check-in” to, hashtags you use, things you post about, the comments you make on others posts, etc. The more specific the targeting, the more effective it is (and the more valuable it is for the advertiser).
If this strikes you as an invasion of privacy, you really shouldn’t be on Facebook. It exists to monetize your personal information. I know that and it doesn’t bother me. I don’t post truly private info, and if I’m going to be bombarded with ads online anyway, I would rather they be relevant.
Wallflowers need not apply
In order for Facebook to understand who you are, it needs you to engage. In other words, if you log on to Facebook and scroll through your feed, but never join a group, never like or comment, etc., Facebook has no real way to know who you are and subsequently can’t market effectively to you. (In other words, it won’t know what kind of ads to show you.) It’s the social equivalent of standing in the corner at a party.
Some people—KitKat for one—take this wallflower approach (ironically, in real life she is the first one on the dance floor). Because KitKat is also a marketer, she needs to understand Facebook, but she’s chosen to only observe on Facebook and never engages personally. Consequently, KitKat doesn’t stress out over social media the way I do. 😉
How to be relevant
Facebook wants and needs you to be an active participant in order to create the targeting data it needs to feed the algorithms. One way it does this is by trying to serve up the most interesting information, so you keep coming back for more. This is where the “Relevant Comments” come in. Although my troll friend wouldn’t believe it, there is no Democrat sitting in a Facebook cube that is marking every left-leaning comment as “relevant.” However, each time someone “likes” a comment, replies to a comment or tags the poster of a comment, it increases the relevance of that particular comment.
As I mentioned in the intro, I knew all of this already. But when I was explaining it to the online troll the understanding suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks: I had been making the problem worse!
Each time I replied to a negative comment or misinformation, I actually increased the relevance of that comment. In other words, I was directly contributing to the process that prompts the Facebook algorithms to deem a comment “relevant.” As a result, I was causing it to be shown to more people via their newsfeeds—which is the exact opposite of what I wanted to be doing.
If you’re an 80s kid, you might understand this analogy: “Feeding the trolls” is like feeding your Gremlins after midnight. It causes all hell to break loose.
But as the lightbulb went off in my brain, an even brighter realization occurred: I was overestimating the number of bad guys! There were far more “good guys,” but the nature of our collective interactions were giving the bad guys more visibility than they deserve! So, the question then became: Should I be addressing trolls at all? And if so, how? It turns out there’s an easy way to work around the relevancy algorithms and still fight for truth and democracy…
Never directly comment on a negative post. (I would make an exception for dangerous misinformation, but then only comment to discredit it—by linking to accurate information—not to start a debate.) If you see a negative comment on an otherwise positive or neutral thread (particularly if it’s a news source), don’t click on the angry face, sad face or the aforementioned “Haha” emoji. Also important: Don’t tag the person who made the negative comment so you are replying directly to them. All that will do is increase their comment’s relevance. Instead, click like/love on as many of the positive comments you can to increase their relevance and thereby drown out the negative voices.
Here’s a simple example:
Misinformation Marvin: Masks don’t prevent COVID-19. They increase transmission by 50%! Health experts agree!
Concerned Carly (clicks angry face on Marvin and tags him in reply): Misinformation Marvin, They actually DO help reduce the spread…Do you have a source for that statistic?
Having participated in conversations similar to the above, I can tell you that chances are Marvin’s next comment will cite a blog post by some obscure ex-professor who was fired from his teaching job for being a rabble rouser. Then, Carly will try to point out that it isn’t a credible source, and the exchange will go downhill from there until Marvin ultimately resorts to clicking on the “Haha” emoji.
A better approach…
Misinformation Marvin: Masks don’t prevent COVID-19. They increase transmission by 50%! Health experts agree!
Concerned Carly (does not click on Marvin’s comment or reply, but posts a new comment): I see that some people on here (like Marvin) are spreading misinformation; however, here’s a legitimate source that explains how masks actually DO help reduce the spread…[Links to reputable source]
As mentioned earlier, in addition to not commenting directly to Marvin, Carly should also click on every comment that supports her argument and/or cites credible sources. This will raise the relevance of those comments which, in turn, will increase the likelihood that they will show up in others’ feeds.
I call this approach “slaying Medusa” because the essence of it is to attack from the sidelines and not look directly into the eyes of the troll. It may be true that “eyes are the window to the soul.” But in the case of the typical troll, that soul is a black void—and you don’t want to view it directly, lest it turn your heart to stone. Commenting indirectly to trolls and reinforcing the positive posts directly is a simple way you can keep the focus of the conversation on fact-driven, compassionate, democracy-loving people and take the microphone away from those who are trying to damage our country and sew divisiveness.
By elevating the positive conversations and shining a light on true, factual information, we can inspire those who are on the fence about the next election to do the right thing for America. There are three critical months left before November 3rd. Let’s do everything we can to control the trolls—and particularly to get the “Troll in Chief”—out of office!
The proliferation of people calling out entitled middle-class white women—“Ok, Karen!”—has reached epic proportions lately. Granted, we’re all a little short on patience these days…what with the Coronavirus pandemic still raging across much of America, civil unrest that some days seems to be bordering on civil war, and a so-called “president” who denies the former and foments the latter. Really, it’s no wonder people are short-tempered. Yet, a lot of this tension seems to be being taken out on middle-aged white women named Karen.
Important Note: I’m not taking issue with calling out women who take their privilege for granted and use it to make life miserable for others. I’m taking offense with hijacking the name itself and turning it into a derogatory term.
The name “Karen” peaked in popularity in 1965 (the year I was born). As a result, I know a fair number of Karens and, truly, none of the ones I know embody the Let-me-speak-to-your-manager, anti-vaxxer/essential oil, racist soccer mom stereotype. So, when the trend toward labeling these women as “Karen” emerged, I would cringe a little each time I heard it—feeling bad for my friends that shoulder the burden of that moniker while thanking God for my own boring name.
What if we suddenly started calling every racist, “Amanda”? Or every homophobe, “Mackenzie”?
What’s surprising to me is that the negative branding of Karen has largely been at the hands of Millennials and Gen Z. These are the same generations who are quick to defend the underdog in nearly every situation. They’re generally more conscientious about political correctness than previous generations—using the right pronouns, including trigger warnings in their social media posts, and reminding others to not use the “r-word,” “gypsy,” or other violations of courtesy. Yet, the same people who would swoop down in an instant to defend a victim of body-shaming will think nothing of implicating thousands of innocent women whose mothers happened to choose a popular name.
As I mentioned earlier, I have no problems with calling out bad behavior or putting an entitled harpy in her place. If people referenced an odious fictional character in these situations (like using “Scrooge” to describe a cranky old miser), I’d be fine with it. Even the “Okay, Boomer” thing is different, because it’s directed at a whole generation. But to single out one name that so many women share—women who don’t necessarily act in the way that is associated with the name—seems unfair. What if we suddenly started calling every racist, “Amanda” or every homophobe, “Mackenzie”? I think there would (rightfully) be an outcry by the very same people who are so casually branding annoying women as “Karen.”
In the fast-moving world of social media, these kinds of cultural trends come and go rather quickly, so hopefully the whole Karen phenomenon is on its way out. And granted, in a world where black men are being murdered on video, wearing masks has become politicized, and our country’s leader encourages division while committing treason, the hurt feelings of some random women named Karen may not be very important. Those issues are far more serious and more important to solve. Like those Big Important Matters, it helps to put yourself in the other person’s shoes: consider racism from the perspective of a young black man, consider the pandemic from the perspective of an immunocompromised person, consider how your vote could help unite or further divide the country… But unlike those other problems, this one is super easy to fix: The next time you find yourself in a situation where you want to call out some middle-age, entitled white woman who is acting badly, go for it. Just call her by her own given name and leave poor Karen out of it.
EDITOR’S NOTE: After posting this blog, I read a suggestion online that these types of entitled women should be called, “Ivanka.” It’s brilliant. While Ivanka is not a fictional character, a lot of us wish she was—and she embodies entitlement in a way that few others will ever surpass. As far as I’m concerned, Ivanka it is.
When the Coronavirus pandemic hit the US in full-force, KitKat and I—like others around the world—went into “stay-at-home” mode. With additional time on my hands, I figured “There’s a blog post in all this…” However, I couldn’t figure out what to write about. I know that, compared to a lot of other people dealing with this situation, I’m very, very fortunate. Because—in addition to those who are literally dying from this pandemic—there are many others who are living through incredibly stressful scenarios. To name a few:
Going to work each day in healthcare without adequate PPE.
Being stuck in their homes with an abusive partner.
Not being at the hospital bedside of a loved one struggling with COVID-19.
Providing “essential services” at close to minimum wage and putting oneself at risk.
Facing sudden unemployment with no emergency savings.
Trying to work while supervising school for small children in a too-small apartment.
Small business owners struggling to keep their business alive despite being deemed “non-essential.”
Having a compromised immune system and being terrified to go outside or get necessities.
Being homeless with no way to protect oneself from illness.
Living alone and facing incredible loneliness.
Not being able to visit one’s elderly parents for risk of infecting them.
Actually, the last one of these is the only one that applies to me, but that’s a story for later. KitKat is dealing with a couple of these challenges as well, but both of us are relatively lucky as far as these things go. After living in this Brave New World of Global Pandemic for a few weeks, however, a theme has emerged that I’d like to touch on. It’s about resiliency.
You’ve probably seen memes similar to this one:
The implication seems to be that today’s youth are a bunch of wussies** compared to previous generations—particularly compared to The Greatest Generation. It’s easy to see where this perception comes from when I think of some of the haircare-related memes and messages floating through my social media feed lately:
I can see the humor in these and have even “shared” a couple. However, the underlying message—Do NOT try to cut or color your hair yourself!—annoys me.
While I appreciate the skills of a good hairstylist as much as the next person, we’re not talking about doing brain surgery on yourself here. If you’re adhering to the mandate to stay at home and find you can no longer stand your gray roots, then by all means—use a box dye and color your own hair. The world will not come to an end. In fact, millions of people who can’t afford or aren’t willing to pay for in-salon color do this all the time. You can’t pick them out on the street and, as far as I know, nobody has died from it (but you might want to Google “hot roots” first). Same with cutting your own hair. Plenty of people do it. And if you don’t like the results, hair grows back. Once this pandemic is over, you may decide to continue with the DIY or you might appreciate your hairstylist even more. But either way, you’ll learn that you can survive a temporary salon shutdown—and isn’t that empowering?
I’m not using this example to pick on hairstylists. My point is: You can do whatever you need to do to get through this. Of course, you can! I believe that this generation is no less strong than the ones that came before us. We just haven’t had as many opportunities to exercise our resiliency.
Another example: Technology. I’m one of those people who can’t live without my smartphone. But you know what? I actually could if I had to. Heck, I lived successfully for 30 years without one. I know it can be done. And, while it’s certainly a nice-to-have when quarantined, it’s also possible to live without cable TV or online streaming. One of my favorite stories involves Lucky telling me how her friends in middle school pitied her because our family was ‘too poor to have cable.’ I informed her that we could easily afford cable (we had just taken the whole family on a not-inexpensive trip to China and Japan) but chose not to have it. Her mind was blown.
Another example: Cooking. Restaurants are closed and while many people are ordering takeout/delivery to support those establishments, there are others who are fretting because they don’t know how to cook. Here’s a thought: Rather than doom yourself to Kraft mac-and-cheese and frozen dinners, try cooking. It’s really not that hard and it actually gets easier with practice. Many of you have the time, so what better way to use it than developing a skill that will serve you well for the rest of your life? Again, it’s not likely to kill you. Even a bad meal can usually be eaten—and you learn better from the mistakes than the successes. Julia Childs herself advised, “Learn how to cook. Try new recipes, learn from your mistakes, be fearless, and above all, have fun.”
Give it a shot! There’s no better feeling than know you have the ability to indulge your every culinary whim. In fact, tackling something that you find daunting is a sure-fire way to build resiliency and gain confidence in your ability to withstand challenges. And couldn’t we all use that kind of mental boost right now?
I referenced The Greatest Generation earlier. My parents were both of the GG and I have the utmost respect for the sacrifices they made. However, I don’t believe that they had some special strength imbued in them that skipped subsequent generations. I think their bravery and resilience were just qualities that they honed through use. They had to regularly flex their resiliency muscles to survive the tough times they lived through.
As I mentioned earlier, the last item in the earlier list of hardships applies to me. On March 7th we moved my elderly mother into Memory Care and the following week, her senior living community—like others around the country—banned visitors. During the window between move-out and visitor-ban, my sister and I were cleaning out Mom’s apartment when I came across some items of great sentimental value—my dad’s letters to his parents and my mother during World War II, when he was a 17/18/19-year-old serving his country. It was fun to read his letters and hear my dad’s voice in them. (My dad had suffered dementia for many years before he passed away in 2017, so this was a new glimpse into the man whose loss I had long since grieved.)
When one thinks of a war-time letter, it’s easy to romanticize the dedication to the cause, the call-to-duty, the patriotism, etc., “Dearest Mother, tomorrow I face my greatest challenge. Defending my country against the evil threatening our very democracy. I pray that God guides my feet and instills bravery in my heart as I meet the deadly foe…” or some such noble prattle. That’s not what these letters contained. Here’s an actual excerpt from my dad writing to his step-dad about serving on Guam (where he guarded Japanese prisoners as well as “important provisions”—like beer and cigarettes):
“There was one other question you asked and that was what I did in my spare time. When I’m not on watch, I’m either sleeping, eating, laying down or sitting down. I’ve given up all forms of exercise except walking and that’s essential. When I first got here, I used to throw the ball around a little, but this climate wasn’t made for that, so I gave it up. It’s really too hot around here to do too much of anything. Don’t misunderstand me ’cause it’s not that I’ve grown lazy, just too much heat.”
My dad’s other letters likewise contained evidence of boredom. He wrote about the tedium of Navy life, exchanged comments about topics pertaining to friends and family back home, and begged for more mail to break up the dull routine. In one letter that made me smile, he asked his mom to find him a lighter because his stopped working (like many of his peers, my dad smoked cigarettes when he was young but fortunately had quit by the time I came along).
Again, I’m not minimizing my dad’s service or anyone of his generation. Harold, my mother-in-law’s partner, was a ball-turret gunner during WWII. He flew 35 combat missions over Germany, so to call him brave would be a serious understatement. Yet, I suspect his letters back home were probably as unassuming as my father’s, simply because that’s the kind of man Harold was. Heroic, yes, but modest and humble. He just did what was required of him at the time. And when it was no longer required of him, he happily went back to farming.
Both my father and Harold had hard childhoods. Both lost their own dads when they were young children. Both grew up in poverty. No doubt, these earlier life challenges helped build within them the resiliency that later served them well in dealing with the challenges of WWII.
And our time is now. We’re all being called upon to help defeat a common threat and to succeed, all of us need to do what is required. There is heroism in that, too, even if all we’re required to do is stay away from each other. By helping each other get through this crisis, we are building our own resiliency. And let’s not overlook the true heroes among us. The healthcare worker in New York City who shows up each day despite not having adequate PPE is no less heroic than Harold flying those combat missions over Germany. These brave, selfless people are serving others despite a very real threat to their health. We all owe them a debt of gratitude, and we certainly owe them the respect of adhering to social-distancing guidelines so we don’t overwhelm (or further overwhelm) our local healthcare systems.
This pandemic got me thinking of my favorite passage from the children’s classic, “A Little Princess,” by Frances Hodgson Burnett. The main character, Sara Crewe, contemplates whether she is actually a decent person or whether it just appears that way because she’s lived a charmed life and has never had her character tested:
“Things happen to people by accident. A lot of nice accidents have happened to me. It just happened that I always liked lessons and books and could remember things when I learned them. It just happened that I was born with a father who was beautiful and nice and clever and could give me everything I liked. Perhaps I have not really a good temper at all, but if you have everything you want and everyone is kind to you, how can you help but be good-tempered? I don’t know how shall I ever find out whether I am really a nice child or a horrid one. Perhaps I’m a hideous child, and no one will ever know, just because I never have any trials.”
If you’ve read the book, you know that after Sara says this her life becomes rather wretched—testing her in ways she never could have expected. Yet she perseveres in dealing with her new challenges without becoming “horrid” or “hideous.” She discovered—like many of us are learning now—that the only way to build resiliency is by practicing it.
A couple of months ago, I posted a blog about what I thought the Democrats needed to do to defeat Trump. That post was based on my career in marketing and proposed how certain marketing best practices could be employed by the DNC to strengthen their overall campaign against Trump. While writing the post, I knew it was lacking a specific course of action. However, I was interested in gaining feedback from others to further my thinking on the topic. To that end, I pushed the blog out via several channels—LinkedIn, Facebook, Twitter—and as of this writing, it’s had over 500 views. (I think this is a solid number, considering it was posted to a brand-new blog I had created—one with no existing followers, SEO or paid marketing behind it.)
Given our contentious political climate, I expected lots of push-back from my post, but I didn’t get any comments from Trump supporters. This was disappointing, since I was interested in understanding their perspective. My social following tends to include many like-minded people (what Republicans would call the DNC Echo Chamber), so it’s not surprising that I did hear from numerous liberals. They nearly all agreed with my overall assessment of the situation and expressed a similar feeling of helplessness about how to reason with people who were supporting 45 in light of so much damning evidence against him.
An outsider’s inside view
However, the most interesting exchange I had on the topic was with a good friend of mine who is a 40-something white, male executive. This demographic is much maligned among liberals, but I think it’s an important group to understand because they still hold the most power in this country. I was particularly interested in my friend’s view because 1) He was born/raised outside the US where he experienced being a racial/religious minority firsthand, 2) he’s been in the US for long enough to be very informed about both politics and business and 3) he’s not a citizen, so therefore didn’t vote in the 2016 election. This gives him a uniquely objective viewpoint on what’s happening in our country.
We had a very spirited conversation via text. At one point in our conversation, I texted, “…I have no respect for Trump supporters for backing someone who is 1) so stupid and 2) destroying our democracy by ignoring the Constitution and colluding with foreign powers.”
His response to that really made me think. And truthfully, after reflecting on it overnight, it caused me to reframe the problem I identified in my earlier blog. He responded (paraphrased a bit for clarity), “The difference between you and them is that they also value not having a stupid president. They also value no collusion with foreign governments, they also value the Constitution, but they value all of those things secondary to the other values, like ensuring a conservative court, etc.” His opinion was that I likely had more in common with Trump supporters than I’d like to admit. But because they placed a higher value on certain issues, and then voted based on those priorities, we now found ourselves on opposite sides of a growing chasm.
It seems elementary in hindsight, but this discussion around priorities was really a revelation to me. My friend’s view, that perhaps Trump voters didn’t endorse his full agenda but just one or two key issues that drove their voting, gave me a glimmer of hope that our country may not be as divided as I had previously thought. After all, we all prioritize in that way. In a world with too many problems to solve, we all pick and choose which battles we want to fight. It just seems that when it comes to Republicans and Democrats, we view each other’s choices very differently.
The varying levels of commitment to a cause
Let’s begin by acknowledging that there are multiple ways to support any cause and that each requires a different level of commitment. For example:
Vocalizing your support or opposition of an issue in conversations with peers
Voting for policies that support certain causes
Donating money toward supporting a cause
Volunteering time or energy toward supporting a cause
Taking action in their personal life related to the cause
Let’s dive into a specific example—animal rights. Personally, I like animals, both
domestic and wild. I’ve had dogs, bunnies, birds and even a hermit crab for pets. I would never personally intentionally harm an animal and I don’t like for other people to harm animals. Yet, I’ll admit that I’m not a vegetarian. I eat meat regularly (as long as it comes from what I consider to be ethical farming practices). At the same time, I’m conflicted about hunting. I don’t personally hunt or like hunting. However, I don’t object to others who hunt (because the deer or duck hunters I know use the meat and it would be hypocritical of me to condemn that when I eat meat myself. However, I am disgusted by trophy hunting, which I classify as strictly killing animals for sport. Yet, while I profess to care about animal welfare, I will readily admit that I don’t regularly donate to animal rights charities because I prioritize other causes ahead of them.
You can see from this example that, although I believe in animal rights, my level of commitment to that cause is all over the place. And while I have friends who are much more dedicated to animal rights than me—they provide foster care for shelter animals and contribute time and money to related charities—I still get along fine with them. That is, they don’t condemn me for my relative lack of support of their cause.
The fact is, it’s human nature to prioritize issues that affect us or our loved ones personally. For example, I have a husband with a disability and a daughter who was adopted and is both gay and Asian. Because these people are precious to me, I tend to prioritize issues around Parkinson’s Disease, adoption, healthcare, minorities, immigrants and LGBTQ people more highly than I do many other equally worthy causes.
I think we all inherently understand that others have to prioritize their beliefs. You could take any issue Democrats collectively care about: immigration, healthcare, climate change, gun control, etc., and you would find the same varying levels of support and prioritization among voters. For example, it makes sense that the face of climate change, Greta Thunberg, is a 16-year-old activist. Her generation will have to live with devastation that won’t as directly impact your average retiree.
Liberals regularly extend slack to each other about which causes they throw their time and money behind, so long as they are all voting blue.
Yet, as a whole, Democrats don’t grant this same dispensation to Trump voters.
I’ll admit, I am 100% guilty of this. From my anti-Trump perspective, I believed that anyone who voted for Trump agreed with everything he stood for. Even though I personally have never agreed with every issue on either party’s platform but nonetheless have voted in every presidential election since I was 18.
How shared values can diverge in the real world
When my friend pointed out that, in all likelihood, Trump supporters were only concerned with one or two specific issues that they were prioritizing above all others (e.g., a strong economy or adding conservative justices to the Supreme Court), a light bulb went off. If Republic voters weren’t necessarily toeing the whole party line, then maybe there was hope?
I remembered a conversation from last spring when a Republican-voting relative of mine was diagnosed with cancer and debating where to go for treatment. His note included a little slam for his more liberal relatives: “Isn’t healthcare choice wonderful? Single payer? WTH?”
I was taken aback by his attitude, because when my husband had been given a devastating medical diagnosis years before, we had the opposite reaction. We, too, were grateful to have good insurance and choices in how to pursue treatment. But it drove home to us how awful it would be to face a similar diagnosis as one of the 27.9 million nonelderly individuals without health insurance.
In other words, my relative and I both shared the belief that “good healthcare is important.” However, he prioritized his desire to keep his affordable employer-provided insurance above the right of everyone else to have even a basic level of insurance coverage (assuming that extending insurance to everyone would result in higher costs or decreased options for him personally). Whereas I considered us fortunate to have good employer-provided insurance for my husband—and viewed that as a privilege that shouldn’t come at the cost of others being uninsured—he considered it critical to his personal survival and worth fighting for.
In voting for Trump, Republicans may believe that “the end justifies the means,” while liberals will argue that these same individuals have “sold their soul to the Devil.” However, once I wrapped my head around the idea that most Trump voters probably don’t support everything he stands for, it changed my view of the challenge facing Democrats.
Branding is what other people think, not what “the brand” thinks
Since this started as a conversation about marketing, I want to explain a fundamental principle of branding. That is, a brand only exists in the minds of the public. It’s the sum of everything a person knows about a company: its products, its services and its messaging about itself. Most companies spend lots of money to carefully craft a brand identity that will be embraced by their customers, but ultimately, the consumer is the one who will determine whether they are successful. If the company aligns to its brand in ways that extend beyond the marketing message, chances are good that the public’s perception of the brand will be close to the company’s intention. But if there is inconsistency, the consumer will put more store in the company’s actions—what they know to be true—than in its marketing message.
And the same applies to both Republicans and Democrats.
For example, while Democrats brand themselves as the compassionate party—the ones who are tolerant and care about others—many Republicans reject that branding because it goes against what they have experienced in their conversations at Thanksgiving Dinner or while scrolling through their Facebook feed. They see widespread condemnation of anyone who voted for Trump and consider the Democrat’s self-branding as the caring, tolerant party to be the height of hypocrisy.
Right or wrong, most Americans believe they are “good people”
Psychologists are aware of something called the “self-enhancement effect” which is people’s tendency to rate themselves “above average” when comparing themselves to others. While we generally cast ourselves in a positive light relative to our peers, above all else we believe that we are more just, more trustworthy, more moral than others. Consider the implications of this: If a Republican’s self-concept is that they are NOT racist, greedy or a white nationalist, how do you suppose they will react to the angry remonstrations of their family and acquaintances? In my experience, they will respond with bitter accusations of their own. The least likely reaction is that the Republican will undergo an immediate self-analysis and conclude, “Gee, you’re right. I AM awful for voting for Trump. I’m going to make amends by voting blue in 2020!”
Yet, most Democrats are just so darn angry about the situation our country is in that we WANT to blame everyone who helped put Trump in office. It makes us feel better in the short-term. However, to succeed in defeating Trump, I’m going to suggest another approach. Don’t engage in political discussions that appear to judge someone else’s priorities (even if you vehemently disagree with them). In other words, we need to resist from bashing Trump supporters. Instead, place all of your focus and attention on those who are being marginalized and help uplift them. Flip the conversation so that you’re appealing to your opponent’s self-concept of being a good person. For example, if there’s a new story that triggers your political ire, don’t launch into a diatribe blaming your brother-in-law and the other idiot voters who elected Trump. It might feel good in the moment, but it will only cause those individuals to further entrench themselves in their position. Rather, bring them into the conversation about how we as Americans can help those who are hurting.
We all prioritize our friends and neighbors—what’s happening in our own communities—above the suffering of others. It’s a human coping mechanism that allows us to function despite the many injustices in the world. But it’s also harder to ignore the plight of others when you begin to know them as fellow human beings. So, use that knowledge to get Republicans to see how Trump’s policies are harming others by personalizing the struggles of those who are negatively affected.
After all, if we’re going to live in a democratic society, we have to trust in the process. That means sometimes Democratic priorities will move forward and other times Republican priorities will prevail. At the same time, we still have a duty to protect the democratic process—so keep the spotlight on Trump’s impeachable offenses and on the victims of his policies. But do it without implicating or condemning those who—in their minds—were just choosing the lesser of two evils when they voted him into office. Even if you believe they deserve that condemnation, it simply won’t move us toward the end game of getting rid of Trump. So, with the new election year just a couple of short weeks away, we need to ask ourselves: Is it more important to get Trump and his minions out of office or is it more important to “punish” family and acquaintances that voted for him?
I believe that continuing to direct anger at Trump supporters is likely to make things worse for Democrats, not better. And despite my personal feelings on the issue, that’s a chance I’m no longer willing to take. Many recent polls have found that Americans on both sides of the political spectrum are troubled by how divisive our country has become, so let’s focus on fixing that problem…together. I believe that a new leader—one who doesn’t thrive off the chaos they’ve created—will naturally emerge as a result of all of us choosing to prioritize kindness and unity in 2020.
Postscript:As a strong believer in personal redemption, I wanted to suggest in this message that reframing the current political situation would allow those reading this to put aside their differences and once again reunite with estranged friends and family members this holiday season (visions of “A Christmas Carol” dancing in my head). However, I think the damage to our country— and to our individual relationships—is deeper than that and will take longer to heal. Still, much like Ebenezer’s nephew who invites Scrooge to Christmas dinner year after year, only to hear “Bah Humbug!” in response, I’ll keep trying. After all, eventually Scrooge said yes!
Last week’s visit by Donald Trump resulted in more news coverage than normal as well as lots of contentious Facebook posts from supporters and protestors. As someone who thinks Trump’s presidency represents a constitutional and moral crisis, it pains me to see so many people I formerly respected still supporting him after such clear evidence that he’s unfit. As a lifelong American Christian, it particularly pains me to see human rights violations being enacted in the name of Christianity and a complete disregard for the Constitution by those who profess to be patriots. Let’s just say, it’s put me in a bit of a funk.
I’ve been trying to figure out how to express my frustration, both to Trump voters themselves and to my fellow resisters who are floundering* in their efforts to have a rational discussion with irrational supporters. Having worked in marketing for the last 30 years, I tend to view things through a marketing lens, so I framed up my thoughts in a blog post and shared them with KitKat for her reaction (since she has nearly 20 years of marketing experience herself).
Because this is a serious topic, I didn’t want to hide behind Stormy’s identity. (Let’s face it, if you know me personally, you know my stance on this topic anyway… KitKat and I mostly just use our pseudonyms here to keep our respective children and spouses from becoming too embarrassed by our blog posts that mention them.)
As a result, I’ve posted this on my professional website and am sharing it via multiple channels. If you agree with the sentiments and are inclined to do so, I invite you to like/share/comment as well among your social channels. I really think that Democrats need to unify their message to succeed over Trump and his minions and believe that singular mission is more critical than advancing any individual DFL candidate over another.
It’s Stormy and I’m baaaaaack. I threatened to resurrect this blog a while back, but when your fandom reaches the very corners of the globe, staging a comeback is not to be taken lightly. I mean, KitKat’s comeback blog was saying goodbye to her father after a long and difficult illness. You can’t get more heartfelt and significant than that. Consequently, if I turn around and post about something inconsequential, like cleaning my fridge or sewing repairs, it could be considered a bit tacky… However, the lack of having something monumental to say could force my silence indefinitely, so I’m going to succumb to the mundane if only to get past this hurdle. Because, above all else, this blog is supposed to be a representative slice of life from the two of us as we schlep through our everyday existence…and sometimes, dear reader, that existence is pretty meh.
My most recent employer hired me at a pivotal time in the company’s growth. The CEO had been systematically fine-tuning the company over a number of years. And once all the product and service issues were addressed, he turned his attention toward sales and marketing—with the ultimate goal of making the company attractive to a potential buyer and selling it. I knew this going in, but it was still a whirlwind experience. I learned a lot and enjoyed what I was doing, but I was stretched far too thin to continue this blog. I also had developed an impressive variety of repetitive stress injuries, including carpal tunnel in both wrists and cubital tunnel in both elbows. Any non-critical typing was not a good idea, so less than a year into the new position, I decided to say goodbye to this blog.
So why am I writing to you now? Because the times, they are a changin’… at least for Stormy. Professionally, the last two-and-a-half years have been a very exciting and gratifying experience for me. Our team not only positioned the company for a successful sale—we were able to command a record price within our industry.
However, after the freedom and autonomy of my latest gig, I knew that I didn’t want to go back to working in a public company for the long term. After a successful transition to the new owners and with the full support of my spouse, I decided it’s time for something new.
The goal of my new schedule is flexibility. I want to spend some “quality time” with Oskar while he was still healthy enough to enjoy it with me. And so far, I’m enjoying the luxury. Think about it: Time is probably one of the most precious assets we have, but most of us don’t have enough time to do the things we want to do, because of our family and job commitments. And all too often we squander the time we do have because we’re too exhausted after working a full day to do much besides veg in front of the TV.
So, what exactly have I been doing with all of my new-found time?
Systematically catching up with busy friends that I haven’t seen in a while
Spending more time at my cabin (and reconnecting with my neighbors there)
Planning my next few arts and crafts projects
Eating and drinking more (unfortunately—but that’s the topic for another blog)
Spending more time with my elderly mother
Framing up what I want to do for my consulting business
Doing some consulting for my old company (i.e., my first consulting “client”)
In the one-off category:
I cleaned my fridge (including wiping down the shelves!)
I defrosted my freezer
I sewed up a hole in my tennis shoes (normally I wouldn’t get around to something like this and would just wear them until they needed to be tossed. However, my newfound time–and sense of frugality–is making me more mindful of such things)
I made a batch of smoked maple bourbon cherries…and some homemade vanilla ice cream that coupled them with caramel swirls
I’ve donated a lot of my professional wardrobe to Dress For Success
I took a workshop in Encaustic Painting (my soon-to-be new favorite medium)
KitKat and I had a fall sleepover at my urban cabin, which led to us creating a “challenge” for ourselves for the month of October (more on that next month)
It has been an interesting transition—and for the most part, an easy one. I actually feel like I have time to attend to the various parts of my life, and my stress level has dropped dramatically. I definitely feel like I’m starting a new chapter, and I’m excited to see what life has in store for me. Part of me thinks that as the days grow short and cold, I may regret this move and wish I had more on my plate. But I know that anything worthwhile is easier said than done and I’m determined to make this new phase of my life the best one yet.
Stormy and I had said goodbye and stopped blogging. But, after the new year, she told me she missed it and was going to post once in a while. I knew that I would also be writing at least one. I had something to say. I needed to say goodbye to my dad in writing. Well, at least try.
My dad, Bruno, had interstitial lung disease. I hate starting with that because it certainly isn’t what defined him. But it was what took him from me too soon. Some would say that I should be grateful since he lived 10 years past his diagnosis; normal life expectancy is only three-to-five years from that point. Though, if you knew my dad, you wouldn’t be surprised that he didn’t follow the norm.
My dad was stubborn, opinionated, competitive, and if you asked him, he was always right! This may have served him well battling the disease. Though, it could also have been his Achilles’s heel. We have seen dice, a ski, and a Monopoly board all go flying when things weren’t going his way
That may sound bad to an outsider. (“Gasp,” he threw the dice at his youngest daughter’s head when he was losing.) To clarify, he didn’t throw them hard, and Kristin was rolling with unbelievable luck. We played games for hours on end with Dad—from when Kristin was so little, she had to use a tinfoil container to hold the cards. Games were always for money and it was always serious. That is what made it fun!
We never stopped playing games. Just months ago we were still sitting at the table playing games. No dice were thrown, and Kristin now had a martini instead of tinfoil in front of her. This time my daughter sat at the table, too. As when we were little, she learned the pure joy of joining the adults late into the night, seeing them get sillier as they continued to pour drinks, and gambling and laughing along with them. I am so glad my daughter experienced what was so special but hard to explain about those memories. She still giggles and recalls stories of Grandpa teasing her when he was winning or getting annoyed when he was losing. She loved being with him and those simple game nights will stick with her.
Dad was fun. With my parents being divorced, Dad did get the luxury of being the “fun” dad. Parents didn’t share time back them. He lived in different state, and we would visit or meet him in Wabasha at the river when he was home to visit his parents. Though we didn’t see him a lot, the times we did were vacations and quality.
Besides fun, dad was mischievous. He loved to tease and found great pleasure in getting under your skin. His brother Mark can attest to this as a long-time passion of his. Nothing brought a grin to his face like when he was sharing his plot to “get someone.” Nothing was sacred in his plans. This was one of the things my son loved about him. Grandpa was naughty. When Grandpa took him to Mark’s in Florida for a special guys fishing trip, I received a photo of my 12-year-old son sipping on a martini with them. I should have known not to have lectured Dad about being careful with boats and drinking with my son along! My son loved that his grandpa would dare send an inappropriate photo to his mom and learned how fun it was to be an insider in one of Grandpa’s pranks. I can’t believe I am going to say this, but I will even miss the nights battling about politics, because as much as he believed in his position, I know some of his pleasure was just from getting such a rise out of me.
What sticks with me the most, though, through all the memories is that he gave me a safe place to not be perfect. I never felt I disappointed him, even at the times I fully earned it. He just simply adored me. it’s hard to lose someone in your life who regards you as perfect despite your imperfections.
I am thankful for every additional year we had Dad with us. I know he fought to stay around for us even though many of those years were a struggle for him. What I am most thankful to my dad for is giving me my stepmom, Shari. I don’t really remember Dad without Shari. My parents divorced when we were so little that I only have a couple of faint memories of them together. All of my vivid memories with Dad include Shari. She loved us from the beginning, and we loved her. We are family. This January, Shari, Kristin and I went out to celebrate their 41st wedding anniversary. A milestone Dad wasn’t able to make.
I want to share all the memories swirling in my head. The things that make me laugh. The late nights, times on the river, days on the ski slopes, or the hangovers we shared. Dad made everything fun. We would watch a movie together and he would whisper, “Let’s go sneak ice cream now that Shari is asleep.” I was in my 40s. Shari didn’t care if we had ice cream. But, the act of pretending we needed to sneak and tiptoeing around while attempting to stifle our laughs is an example of the fun dad brought to everyday situations.
When dad did finally succumb to the disease, he transitioned fast. He was never a patient man. Shari called my sister and me to get there as soon as we could. Within six hours of me being there Dad told Shari it was time. He wanted to die at home on his own terms.
I will save all the details of those last days for the memories of those who were there. But I will say, he went out leaving a Bruno story. Things didn’t go as planned. In general, we were told he would peacefully go to sleep after we turned off the oxygen. We had morphine to help him if he got agitated. Well, morphine seemed to make him a super her0 and a man who lived on 24-hour oxygen 24/7 seemed unaffected when unplugged. After many hours, plus three times of turning oxygen off….and back on…. and some surprising Pulp Fiction-like awakenings, we knew the three of us couldn’t do it. We had to transfer him to hospice. He needed more help to get through his final moments. and so did we. Over all he was agreeable to going to hospice, of course he had to grumble in the ambulance about how they took the bumps. If you ever drove in a car with Dad, you wouldn’t expect him to not complain about the way someone else was driving.
Shortening the story of the up and downs at the hospice, after about 24 hours they finally got Dad medicated to a peaceful place. The three of us took a quick break before the next step which was for the hospice workers to turn down his oxygen with us beside him – just family this time, without his nurses. We took a quick break to change and eat to prepare for what they thought could be a long night, and of course the jerk instead chooses to quickly die on full oxygen fifteen minutes after we left.
Since that time, I feel I am in a surreal world. Something so drastic has changed but everything else around me just goes on as normal. I am not fully functioning as a parent, wife, or friend, but instead I’m just trying to figure out my way. I know things will start to settle again. But in this new world, I am enjoying things that once seemed so small and unimportant. I am not letting little things bug me. I am also just doing what I want and not caring if it isn’t always what everyone expects. I don’t care because I have more important things on my mind. A friend told me to enjoy this part of the roller coaster: “It is the dead dad pass.”
I’m sorry I can’t write a true eulogy for you Dad. This was very random. There are just too many memories to sort out. Too many raw feelings to get through. I still need to figure out living in this world with a hole I didn’t have before. Or as Kristin said, an anchor that is gone. I want you to know that you will never be forgotten. I know you were so much more than a dad. You have so many friends carrying their own memories in your honor. To me though, you were just my perfect dad. Not a perfect dad. But perfect for me. You will continue to live on in me, Kristin, Shari, Mark, your grandkids and all your friends. You gave us all so many moments to hang on to.
Here is my toast to you:
I love you so much. I miss you. My heart hurts. But…I am so thankful you are no longer struggling to breathe. Shari, Kristin, Mark and I will be okay. We have each other. We will take care of each other. We have our Bruno bubble together. You certainly made sure to super glue that bond on your way out. 😉
Thank you for the love, the laughs and even the crazy traits I am stuck with. Most of all for the love you surrounded me with. The love you gave me was bigger than just you…Grandma and Grandpa…Mark and Shari. I never was, and never will be, lacking in that. I’m so proud to be a Procopio and your daughter.
In your memory, my goal is to remember to breathe deeply and enjoy the moments. And, of course, get into mischief once in a while.
Sometime last summer while walking with KitKat, I asked a question that had been on both our minds, “Do you think it’s time to kill the blog?” The first year we launched this blog, we posted 47 times. This past year, we barely mustered up three. It’s not for lack of desire or even lack of material. It’s just that… things…change. When KitKat took a new job at a start-up and had little time to write, I picked up the slack. I didn’t mind it, as I enjoy writing and I had the time to do so. Then I started a new job myself, and suddenly I was spending all my free time working. In addition, my elderly parents were requiring more of my time. Suddenly, what had been an escape started to feel like an obligation.
My personal goal with this blog was always growth. I wanted to learn more about the blogosphere and my own discipline of writing. I also wanted to work out some personal issues through my writing. I feel like I did both of those things successfully. In many ways, I feel like I’m a completely different person than I was in 2013 when we launched this thing. And so it’s fulfilled its purpose.
I believe “to everything there is a season” and that we’re entering a new season—older and wiser. I’m adjusting to my new job, but I know it’s going to continue to take a lot of my time in 2018. My beloved father passed away on Christmas Eve and I know that I’ll need to spend more time helping my mom this year as well. So, it’s time to end this chapter, but I have no regrets about either starting this blog or ending it. I’ve learned a lot along the way…about myself and about KitKat. I hope you’ve enjoyed our occasional rants and raves and that you keep in touch. Although we’re killing the blog, we may keep the FB page going for longer. Just to keep in touch. Peace!