‘I think there’s more to life than politics. I really feel sorry for people who get so obsessed that their blood pressure goes up 20 points on the systolic because all they do is sit around and make themselves angry and crazy, thinking about things they don’t like. I’m an optimistic person. I love this country, and I’m thrilled that I’ve had the opportunities I’ve had, But rather than get angry about the things that have happened in this country, I prefer to approach it in a fun kind of way, rather than ridiculing somebody. We will confront the issues and not the listeners’.”–Mike Huckabee

Until I know for sure, here is a link to a series page on blog spot.

Enjoy

We haven’t had much of a winter, by our standards, so far.  Like most of the nation and the world, it has been mild and/or odd.   A day of bone chilling cold, a half of foot of snow the next day, spring the next, and 3 inches of ice the day after that–pretty much sums it  up.  Heating bills are lower and our snow plow guys are lucky they have started other year round ventures to keep them employed since the plows aren’t out.  Groundhog or not, we all know, we are not in the clear winter wise until April 1st at the earliest, May 1st is more accurate, most years.  Our seasonal tease has begun early this year leading to colds, flu, desperate searches for a cheap tropical vacation, and sick days.

A year ago, I was debating the benefits of orthopedic botox treatments.  The now or never reality spurred me to action, action that has been life altering.  Actually, life restoring, if I am being honest.  It turned everything inside me, outside, and there has been no turning back.   I had no idea that was only the start of a year I couldn’t imagine if I tried.

The restoration of faith in myself, in my abilities balanced by the reality of the necessary ‘comeback’ to the outside world.  Watching my father become a grandfather in every sense of the word, then lose him suddenly a few months later.  Being thankful for an amount of emotional and physical stability I’ve never known as some of my dearest friends struggle with loss of ones they love.  And, somewhere, in the mix, the most unexpected thing of all: meeting someone who has changed my life in just a few months with a laugh, a smile and a semicolon.

Spring is not an easy season, days of blazing bright sunshine, flip flops, t-shirts and windows open, will be balanced by a few days of snow, ice, cold rain and bad moods.  I’m aware that personal spring is like that too: for every day of bright, there will be some dark, some cold, but, sooner than later, the sun will shine for two days instead of one, and on it will go from there.

Until then there are sick days and semicolons.

My life has not been easy or smooth, not by a long shot, but, when I think of everything and everyone I would have never known, if I had been successful, I just can’t imagine it.

The few lines above were written and saved for another day some time ago.  Since these words I wrote those words, someone very special to me took his own life.  He and his family have been part of the fabric of me for over 20 years.  His father is a fellow radio guy who attempted to keep me on an even keel during my first go round at radio station middle management.  His mother, a warm and blunt soul, who can offer a hug and a kick in the ass all at the same time.  And his sister, who inherited her parents love for the outdoors and the bold spirit to go out and make a life for herself.

Joey taught me so much about myself over the years.  He was the first kid who made me aware of my responsibility as an “older person”.  That the people kids look up to really do mean something to them.  That they aren’t just fun to hang out with and wind up on occasion, they are young people who deserve respect, love, and, yeah, the occasional wind up for fun.  Because of Joey, I am much more committed to my role as Uncle Wil to the children of my friends and family.

Joey and I were both born atypical, our brains our greatest asset and our greatest enemy all at the same time.  Joey’s Dad was the first to point out to me what a gift and a responsibility it was for me to understand that, and use that for some greater purpose, for his son and for others.

I do regret never telling Joey that.  That the last time I saw him was at the local Borders bookstore.  That Joey had made choices in his life to go his own way so he wasn’t as accessible as he was as a kid.  I told myself that one day, we’d meet up again, when things settled down for him, and pick up where we left off.  I believe that day will come for Joey and I beyond life here on earth, someday, down the road.

The reality is that we all make an impact on this life as we live it, some for a short time, some for a long time, and for most of us, somewhere in between.  In the last few months I have lost ‘people pieces’ of me that hurt every minute of everyday.  As sad as I am about that, the best thing I can do, is keep living my life,  and be true to the things they taught me while they were here.

Over the weekend, a friend of mine posted a video from Australia.  It promotes the marriage equality movement there, and ultimately, around the world.   Beyond the movement it promotes, it is an amazing video to watch.  Great film making, storytelling, in less than 2 minutes.

It moved me on several levels.  It captures moments in love, life and death, from the observers point of view.  Things seen directly, indirectly and in passing, as life moves forward.

If you had 2 minutes to make a film about your life, from an observers point of view, what would those images be?

Think about it, make that film in your mind, realize how fast life moves, realize that the most important things we observe, the things that make us who we are happen in our lives, at home, in our hearts.  Be mindful of the big picture and keep things that belong there, there.  Then make the movie based on the small pictures you have observed, use those to tell the story, and be thankful.

For all intents and purposes, the true forward momentum of my life ended in 2001.  I haven’t been sitting in a corner and rotting for 10 years though, I have done stuff, been places, met people, fell in love a couple of times or more, fumbled and bumbled, failed and tried again.

I wasn’t aware of it at the time I was doing it.  Every effort I made, every word I said was sincere. Looking back though I wasn’t living, as the famous quote suggests, deliberately.

My emergence from the lost decade began in 2009, not long after another milestone: my 20 year college graduation anniversary. Still living in my college town, close enough to campus that I can almost see it, the first 10 years here made sense, the last 10 were harder to define.  Since my father died in August, I am fully aware of the finite clock of life.

What I find most surprising is I don’t have this huge internal, screaming, “Carpe Diem!” drive inside myself.  It is more of a thoughtful, rational voice saying ” okay, time to get on with it.”  The progressive steps that have appeared before me are fairly simple, sensible and sane–just the opposite of what I have been drawn to for the last decade.   I am present in my own life again, that is the biggest change.  For 10 years I was presenting my life, constantly editing and producing to fit the changing audiences. There were many different episodes, characters and story arcs it was a full time job to maintain the presentation.

For me, the simplest stuff is always the hardest, always a red flag that I am settling or somehow not trying hard enough.  That putting down roots is somehow an anchor holding you in place, rather than the foundation that allows you to grow and reach new heights.

Everybody now agrees we need to cut spending and get our national financial house in order.  I’d like to see what all these “little” cuts that only require small adjustments to our daily habits and daily lives would add up to at the end of the day.   Nine more 150 billion dollar budget trims would be a 1.5 trillion dollar savings each year.

The major complaints are that a dollar coin is too hard to use. If using a big gold coin to buy your Coke out of the vending machine in the hall is your biggest hardship in life, congratulations.   What is even more ridiculous are the people who complain because the Canadians do it so it is just another attempt to turn our country into a “socialist” nation like they are.

The factual reality is Canada went through a wholesale restructuring of its economy within the last 30 years.  Government spending was slashed, they launched a national sales tax that was used solely to pay down the huge national debt.  They passed a balanced budget law. Privatized their post office.  All while maintaining a national health care system, education system and rebuilding their economy.  As a result, they have the most stable banking system in the world and were recently named the best country in the world to do business in.  Business, ya know, capitalism?  Jobs and stuff?

But if it works in another country, and we didn’t think of it, that makes it un-American and somehow bad.

I live just an hour south of the Canadian capital on the US side of the border in NY.  I have used 1 and 2 dollar coins for years up there.  It takes some getting used to but it works fine.

The rank and file people who benefit from new people using dollar coins are bartenders and other wait staff.  When you walk into a bar and order a beer, it is very natural to leave the “change” on the bar.  I remember walking out of a bar after ordering one drink and a bar snack, leaving the coins on the bar, that I reacted to like quarters but, I basically left a 10 dollar tip!

The next phase of using dollar coins is the joy of realizing, as you are ending your day with just a pocket full of change, you are actually richer than you think because they may feel like quarters but are worth so much more.

It takes some getting used to, you make some dumb transactions at first, but you get the hang of it and it works.

Common sense will tell you we, as a country, are in a period of great change and re-alignment, along with the rest of the world.  I am frustrated at the amount of pre-school type whining that seems to be the norm these days: if I stomp my feet and yell the loudest I won’t have to do what I don’t want to do, someone else will do it and then I will blame him for it.

The window of opportunity for us to pull up our socks and act like real Americans and take the lead is closing fast.  The myopic view that allows people to sit in echo chambers telling themselves what they want to hear while the rest of the world moves on, saddens and scares me.

My hope is we’ll start taking some baby steps in the right direction again, common sense steps, simple steps and pick up the pace from there.

But these days, I am not holding my breath waiting.

An article in this morning’s New York Post says that ABC/Disney is looking for $50 thousand dollars for a :30 second commercial on the new show debuting in the Fall of 2012.  Assuming there are no discount deals for :60 second spots and they run 6 minutes of spots per show, that is 600 thousand in revenue per DAY, over 200 shows a season, that translates to $120 MILLION a year.   Figuring an annual budget of $40 million a year (a million a week for a 40 week season, considerably less than an hour long soap in that time slot), that leaves $80 million in the pockets of ABC/Disney, Katie Couric and her producing partner, Jeff Zucker.   Not too bad.

By comparison, another ABC produced, nationally syndicated program, Live with Regis and Kelly, commands around 40k for a :30 second spot, pulling in about $96 MILLION per year in revenues.

Oh and just because I know you are wondering, The Oprah Winfrey Show pulled in, on average, 100k for a 30 second spot, yep, $240 million dollars.  The show also charged stations license fees to run the show.   Some large market stations were paying 250k a week just for license fees by the time the Oprah show ended this spring.  Now do you understand how Oprah became a billionaire?

Katie will have the advantage of being on at 3pm in the largest markets in the country as ABC plans to give the time slot back to local stations across the country (Bye Bye General Hospital?) and she will be live from NY every day allowing her to be topical and current, leading into the former Oprah stations that are doing local news at 4pm.

Katie will have the additional advantage of all the ABC/Disney cable platforms to promote her show and, possibly, have a repeat run.  7pm on Lifetime, perhaps?  ABC also created a digital broadcast channel, Live Well, that stations run on their .2 broadcast signals.    While the channel has been generally well received and has decent ratings, it lacks a marque brand, perhaps that will be a delayed broadcast of the Katie show, on tape, a week later.   Not to mention the potential web revenues.

Time will tell if Katie will be a multi-platform success or just another would be Oprah/Ellen/Rosie who despite considerable talents couldn’t quite make it work.  Starting at 50 thousand for a :30 second spot, she better make it work, and fast.

There have been much less humorous episodes on my path to a long term relationship.  That is just part of being human but, as usual, we are doing a disservice to ourselves and others by not admitting that our disability does matter, does have an impact and that, that doesn’t make us or our romantic partners bad people to talk about it.

My father’s sister (the term Aunt is one I use with affection, so it doesn’t apply to her) and I had a conversation about a lot of things one night long ago.  She hated hearing that would use ramps and automatic doors when they were available to me.  That I loved going to journalism school at a place with a disability initiative upset her.  When the conversation shifted to my college girlfriend the question came up “Is she normal?”  (A loaded question when talking about young women, truly) “I mean is she handicapped like you?  One of your own kind?”   I said no and she replied “it won’t last.”   My father’s sister who hated the thought of me using any of the readily available adaptations at my disposal because it was the “lazy way” did think, however, that I should date among my own kind.

She is the extreme example of a wide perception out there that we disabled people should just date each other.  While I agree it shouldn’t be an automatic no, it should not be an automatic yes either.  I have made jokes over the years about bedroom wheelchair traffic jams and what if my partner requires assistance I can’t provide to get “set up” for a wild night of passion?  So we’d need a third party?   Try to get my insurance to pay for that!   On the more serious side of things, personalities need to be compatible as well as interests and goals.

Just like my friends in the gay community who are frustrated when they have to endure a fix up where the only qualification for the fix up is the same sexual orientation—it is just one aspect of the relationship puzzle.

In some of my past relationships I have been too “grateful” that they accept me for who I am and what I am, which ultimately drove them away because I made it too much of an issue.  On the flip side, the opposite has certainly happened where I acted like it was not an issue, so questions, concerns, and reality were not discussed.  And, of course, non disabled people are taught it is rude to question or discuss, so…….

One relationship ended because I was too much of a “saint”.  Not actually a saint nor did I claim to be.  The issue was, when we would go out, other people would say ” We are so glad Wil has found someone, he is such an amazing person…..” and the sell job would roll on to a ridiculous point.  The relationship ended because someone I loved very much, and who loved me very much, felt ridiculous amounts of public pressure to never disagree with me, fight with me, make me unhappy or, god forbid, break up with me.

There is also the reality that managing a high functioning disability is like having a “mini me” that needs constant care and attention.  There are the hours and opportunity to meet and get to know people because social activities, by default, usually happen last or certainly at the expense of disability demands.   It is similar to what my friends who have kids say, “No more late nights for us, with jobs, mortgage and hockey practice at five AM.”   When they say it, of course, they did have their free and flexible years before that, allowing them to get where they are now.  THAT, is the difference.

The whole point of this series of posts, isn’t to lay blame on anybody or  to offer concrete solutions.  I am simply acknowledging what other people cannot say: being a high functioning person with a disability is different–you don’t fit in the disabled world or the non disabled world but some odd place inbetween.  Your heart and mind tell you to act one way, your physical self and the outside perception of that, require you to act another way.  That behavior, cause and effect comes from both sides.

There are no saints, just humans trying to learn, understand and travel together.   Travelling together on a path to sustainable health wealth, and love.    But to REALLY do that, we have to be honest and realistic.

Otherwise it is just a treadmill, parked in a blue space.

One of our campers was a kid with Cerebral Palsy.  Unlike me, he was non verbal and used a power wheelchair.  Like a lot of people with CP, he was smart, charming and a social butterfly on wheels.  I, along with people from the charity interacted with his family at different times during the week.  They spoke about their hopes for their son, a college education, a home, a family, the same stuff they hoped for each one of their three kids.   We all agreed that would be the way to go, that he would definitely have every opportunity to have a typical life, and we hoped the level of independence he was getting to experience at camp would help him grow to that place.

Later though, as I was walking away from the parents as they left, the head of the sponsoring charity said ” I hope there is some kind of program for him when he gets older. ”

I was surprised to hear him say that.  I reminded him of what he just said not an hour before “Yeah, I know but, its not like he is, well, like you or anything, he’s never going to really have a job, I mean, how can he? ”

Fast forward 10 years later, I am working as a consultant.  My new client is bragging how he moved a building from its original location to his site so he could “get around the Americans with Disabilities Act”.   The people in the meeting were shocked, trying not to stare at me to see my reaction.   My new client picked up on the vibe, looked at me and said, “No offence to you, its those troublemakers that piss me off, not people who work hard like you. ”  I smiled politely and waved it off.

In both cases, these were men I had worked for or was known to, in some capacity before these conversations took place.   And that is the key: if you have a disabled person in your life you don’t see them as disabled, but those “other people” are totally a different story.

But what they don’t get is that it is all a matter of perception and perspective because, outside of my group of friends and acquaintances, I am one of those “other people”.

The first time I ever went into a car dealership where I didn’t know the dealer personally, the salesman asked me ” is your helper coming?” and when I looked surprised he said “oh I mean the person who needs to sign for you. ”  I said no, and left the dealership promptly.

I called a housing development in the city where my girlfriend at the time was living.  I was seriously thinking it was time to relocate.  The development was an old textile factory converted into apartments.  It had a gym and the old “waterwheel” room had been converted into a swimming pool–super cool.  The pleasant rental agent assured me they had plenty of apartments and I should definitely come over and take a look.   When I cam crutching in, suddenly, all the vacant apartments had been rented, in less than 45 minutes.  She didn’t see a point in putting my name on the waiting list and she wouldn’t let me look at the rental model just to see if it would work for me.

A few years ago I was invited to an event promoting handcycling as a sport.  I was pretty pumped.  I envisioned finally hanging out with other active, highly functioning disabled people, being on a team, going to “stuff”, being part of an active social group.

When I arrived, the group was all injured veterans and guys who had been in some kind of accident.  I went over to introduce myself and the rowdy conversation became quiet, they were polite but remained quiet until the event organizer came over to get me set up on my orientation ride.   I was already crushed though.  I did the ride, actually crashed the bike (in a good way).   My friends thought it was cool and so “me” but there was to be no Bud Light Commercial moment for me.  Some friends did admit they were hopeful that I would find a social group of “my own kind” finally so I wouldn’t feel so left out.  So even they acknowledge, in their love for me that I am different from them.

I could fill pages with similar anecdotes.  The reality is that despite all the PR and the encouraging language about being “just like everybody else”, I know and the people around me know, the world doesn’t work that way, but it is hard to admit.

When I get the “your disability doesn’t define you” speech, from a non disabled person, I know they mean well, but it still frustrates me.

Disability is, after all, a profound life experience.  I think we do ourselves a disservice by pretending it doesn’t shape us, doesn’t contribute significantly to how the world around us perceives us and how we perceive the world.  I know their life experiences shape and define them.  They are actually encouraged to embrace them, to be proud of them.  When you are a person with a disability you are supposed to go on in spite of it, never talk about it, make it look easy, conquer the world without a sweat or a tear.

Ultimately, the people in our lives who do not see that we are different do it out of love and do it to encourage and support us.  Those “other people” view us through their own experience and their limited understanding of what it is to be a highly functioning person with a disability.

Or, to put it much more simply, they don’t ask, and we don’t tell because we have all been taught to not have the conversation.

Until now?

The term “super crip” emerged within the disabled community in the 1980’s.  A person with a disability who appeared to be so far above their disability on the surface: The clean cut athlete, the genius scientist, the parent with a disability.   The modern poster child who never seems to break a sweat or shed a tear unless they want to.   The non disabled world has its heroes, we in the disabled world have our role models–problem solved, regularly scheduled programming may now resume.

Unfortunately, poster children, whether the classic image used to raise money through pity wrapped in awareness or the modern image used to show how “normal” we can all be, is a public relations image.   We, as higher functioning people with disabilities, are taught that nobody really wants to know what is involved to get there, they want to see the end result, know that it is amazing.  Feel pride for us, relief for themselves and be done with it.

So we spend our lives perpetuating that image hoping that it helps us get where we want to be. Knowing the opposite would certainly get us no where.  Such a strategy though is unsustainable.  As with most things in life, the truth has to come out, eventually.   And after years, decades, and perhaps an entire life time of keeping the reality secret, the truth never comes out smoothly.

Early on, I was the master of reassuring hype.  During the second interview for my first job out of college at a local TV station, the ops manager confided in me that there was a worry if, because the company was a start up, they did not offer me a full time permanent position at the end of my initial contract that the parking lot would be full of protesters complete with negative PR.

I wrote an eloquent letter to the hiring committee.  Basically assuring them that I would be the model 22 year old employee with nary a worry or complaint if they would just give me a shot.  Furthermore I disavow any alliance to those “crazy handicapped people”.   After I got the job and was acting very 22 in every possible way, quotes from that letter were a popular way to mock me.

In addition to being very 22, there was a clock ticking that only I could hear.  My physical ability clock was moving and moving fast.  I no longer had a gym and pool at my disposal, I no longer had PT, I was regressing in silence.  The harder it got to move around, my brain started to slow down too.  My dexterity started to decline as well.  Typing, video editing, became harder each day.  My fear and frustration mounted, so I was not the most pleasant guy to be around.   When my layoff did come in November, just before Thanksgiving that year, it was a relief.

I went back to work almost instantly, working part time, at a local radio station.  I wasn’t doing PT or physical training then either, but I only had to hold it together for a few hours each week.  In the spring of the following year, I was promoted to Ops Manager, full time again.  Within 6 months I was burnt out again and quit on my own.

In fairly short order I got the reputation for being a decent guy, hard working but inconsistent.  Basically a “slacker” with a lot of potential.  Not unlike what was said about me in school for decades, which had its roots, in the same cause.   But it, in my mind, it was better to be know as a slacker than a “sick person”.  That I was under performing by choice rather instead of the reality that I couldn’t keep up with a typical schedule.   The thought of me asking for something to be adapted to make my life easier was, until very recently, right up there with burning a flag–I’d rather set myself on fire first.

Now, at 45, firmly planted in mid life, not only can I not do this anymore, I really don’t want to.  For people on the receiving end though, the reality is overwhelming.  I was on this path before my Dad died in August but feeling my own mortality now, the pace as quickened.  My father was 66 when he died, just 21 years my senior.  His father was 77 when he died, 32 years my senior.  I know how fast those years will click by, I’d like to make the most of them if I can.   In order to do that, the truth must come out.

In order for me to maintain my high level of physical function, in the rage of where I am now, I have to spend, 14 hours a week in physical therapy and physical training.  This isn’t for a beach bod or to compete in some kind of sport, this is a bare minimum requirement.  This isn’t a social activity that I do with a group of friends because my pace is slow and I need help to navigate around the gym more often than not.   And this is not temporary, this is for life, if I want to have a functional life.   For me, this is the 1 mile walk that your doctor says you should take after dinner or during your lunch hour everyday to maintain a base level of fitness.   And this time commitment doesn’t include the follow up doctor visits to keep my insurance carrier happy verifying that I am still disabled.

As I said, once all that is done, I am at my base level.  In addition to that, I have to find time and stamina to work, maintain my household and, hopefully have a social life of some sort.

Everybody has their stuff, I know this.  People work hard and make sacrifices everyday, and certainly there are those who work harder and sacrifice more than me.  More often than not though, their sacrifice has a tangable result or some kind of end date.   They do what they do to run whatever life race that they need to be run.  Marathon or sprint, there is a start and there is a finish.

Kids grow up and graduate from college, Cancer is cured or it kills you, degrees are worked for and eventually conferred, dues are paid, promotions are given.  Good or bad, long or short, there is a start and a finish.  More often than not, an effort and a reward, or at least a goal.

For me, and others like me, we do what we do, simply to get to the starting line.

I have had more than one person suggest that I just use a wheelchair full time to make it easy or move into some kind of care facility to have more of a life.  They say it with genuine care and concern for me but with a level of ease that shocks me.   Makes me feel like when someone once told me that I had it easier than someone who was paralyzed in an accident later in life, because I don’t miss what I never had.   Oh, don’t I?   (But that is another subject for another time)

When I hear that I think of old western movies when the bandit comes up behind someone, puts a gun to their head and says “your money or your life”.  That’s how it feels, more often than not.

There are certainly options, strategies and alternatives, but none of them are easy.   For me, I realized after several years of struggling with the same cycle in 9 to 5 jobs, I realized that the only way I might actually have a sustainable work life and home life was to be self employed.  Seven years later, I am still working out the balance between wellness and wealth.  Clients, banks and investors don’t care about your commitment to a highly functional life takes, of course, how can they, if, like most of you, have never been told the whole truth.

This is a small start to changing that.

I’m not looking for a medal here or to kick off some kind of pity party.  I’m just peeling back the layers of what I was told and taught to keep to myself.   I’m not angry, I am just tired and lonely.  Wondering if all have done, all the progress I have made, is going to pay off beyond personal satisfaction.  Have I waited too long, will it really make a positive difference?

I’ve never dared to ask those questions publicly before now, I hope I can handle the answers.

The local historical association in my parents town wants to purchase my father’s race shop building to build a new community museum. Good news in the grand scheme but…

Shop stuff, regardless of location or type, has been part of my life, like it or not, as long as I can remember. Whether is was pro stock drag racing or restoring a vintage water ski boat, something was always being bought, built and tinkered with in my life. Once my father retired and the collection outgrew the space at home (and violated more that a few community zoning laws) he bought an old commercial building, a small dairy plant, for storage and tinkering.

Even though Shop Stuff was part of my life, it wasn’t something I actually did myself.  Just like my one year old nephew, the sound of a high performance engine makes me smile.   He squeals with delight and does a little dance too (which is ridiculously adorable by the way). I cannot confirm or deny that I also do that, but IF I were to do that, it would be strictly on the inside.

The one thing that I will openly admit to, finally is, my lack of interest in Shop Stuff had more to do with my disability than anything else.  My frustration was rooted in not being able to say that and feeling like I could do anything to change it.

I always felt like I could only watch at the shop, that it was too much of hassle to figure out how to do more. My Dad always tried to get me involved in some white collar way—selling ads or writing copy, but that is basically part of my day job. It was just easier for me, for some reason, to just let him think that I thought that it just wasn’t my thing. It was just easier.

My Dad used to joke with me that one day before he “croaked” he’d get me over to the shop to turn a wrench or slide under a car. I’d shake my head no, and smile with my head down. It was just easier.

Over the last 6 months, after undergoing Botox treatments for my Cerebral Palsy, I definitely feel more able and capable physically which has translated into a new level of physical confidence as well.

When my father died, one of the project vehicles he left behind was his beloved 1972 Opel GT. Not much more than a high performance go-kart, it was known as the poor mans Corvette. He loved that car, drove it for while, bought parts for it to give it a refurbishment, but never got to it.

The day after my Dad died, my brother and I were over at the shop together.  I sat in the car and cried for the first time. My mother already said she planned to put the shop up for sale in the spring, to give us time to organize things and sell stuff off. I decided that day that I wanted to get the Opel back on the road, working along side my brother at the shop, in tribute to my Dad, because, for so many reasons, I finally felt like I could do it.  A great winter project, my goal was to have it on the road maybe by my Dad’s birthday on March 2^nd, maybe by my brother’s on March 28^th, definitely by mine in late April.

By this past Sunday, 60 days to the day, my mother had a verbal agreement to sell the shop. The new owners would like it all to go through in January. Just enough time to clean things up, sell things off and clear things out.

The business person in me understands that selling any piece of property right now, particularly in a rural area, is just short of a miracle. It is a good thing.

The night my father died, my mother called me from the hospital. For the last 60 days, I have heard her voice say to me “it all happened so fast, it all happened so fast” on a constant loop. The volume had faded to a more manageable level until this past Saturday.

Her voice has now been replaced by my own voice saying the same words.  Abrupt finality I was not prepared for, a result I can’t change, yet again, another new reality to adapt to  and live with.

60 days and counting……

A friend of mine said this to me earlier in the week:

“I’ve realized I have trouble being a receiver of anything from anyone”

Great observation, helpful along the self discovery journey, for sure.

A few minutes later, speaking to this person about a very painful time in her past she said “ I got no emotional support then, I’m still hurt by that. “ At the time, I just took that in, then later, driving home, I thought, “uh, wait a second….”

This person set herself up on a behavior treadmill that will never end up well. Someone who never feels she gets the support she needs, admits she can’t receive support, doesn’t see the connection between the two.

The reality is that ignoring the simplest truth that is deeply rooted in things we don’t want to deal with or can’t deal with, is what so many of us do. We shake our fists at the sky asking why, but then we don’t listen for the answer. We think that because we are still moving, still doing, we are moving forward, when most of the time we are just treading water hoping to get somewhere based simply on the energy expended

Sometimes the simplest solutions are the hardest to acknowledge. The answers we seek are always within us if we stop long enough to hear ourselves answer our own questions.

The early reports were that the young boy was beaten to death.  Facebook lit up with understandable outrage.  How could something like this happen is a small college town of less than 10,000 people.  Parents hypersensitive about bullying in the local school were particularly vocal, former residents from far and wide, chimed in with sympathy and pointed questions.

As the day went on, the earlier report was withdrawn, the investigators telling an eager local press corp that the boy had no marks on him and was, basically, found dead in his apartment after neighbors heard a faint cry for help through the apartment building’s thin walls.

I was a local radio reporter for several years.  Back when small town radio stations actually had real news departments that went head to head with the local daily newspaper and ‘one man band’ TV reporters working for the regional station.   Each had an experienced News Director who also anchored and reported.  When something like this story would break, they had the contacts and experience to make a few calls, see what the facts were and then sit on the story for a few hours to see what facts surfaced.

Today, if a small town news department still exists, it is most likely, one overworked, underpaid person with no support who is expected to know all, report all, 24/7 with no resources and no real information.  The fear of web based news and local cable channels has brought the dreaded 24 hour news cycle to Main Street.  Fueling rumors at the local diners and professional offices, turning friends into vigilante citizen journalists.  Grief morphed into outrage and panic in record time.

Small town journalism, in my view, is a special groove to occupy.  Reporting is critical, but, accuracy is even more so.  In larger communities, the race to be first is based on the number of outlets all competing for eyes, ears and ad dollars.  Report what you know or say you don’t know, but are working on it.

The early reports that this young man had been beaten had people afraid to send their kids to school, had others calling for the local police to do their jobs, and others mobilizing to prevent this type of crime from happening again.   In larger places, you have multiple outlets to cross reference, on Main Street there may only be one platform.

And if that one platform rushes to report, it doesn’t make Main Street better informed, just scared and angry.

Isn’t the death of a 6th grader tragic enough?  Do we really need to run it through the 24 hour news cycle and make it worse?

Living in a college town, I hear college students talk about the pressure they feel.  Being 45 now, with friends who are the parents of the college age generation now (yikes!) I hear my friends talk about the pressure they feel to provide the best possible college option they can to their kids.  Economic realities make that pressure even more intense on both sides.

I had a conversation with a friend recently after he told me his worries.  I asked “Have you talked to your son about realistic options? Are you both doing what you assumes the other one wants?”

Turns out, of course, they hadn’t spoke about it at all.  My friend, thinking he was being supportive and encouraging, told his son he could attend the campus of his favorite sports team, regardless of cost.  After they had the conversation, turns out the son definitely wanted to attend college in that city, but had recently become interested in the medical field, so he was looking at another campus, a state campus, a cheaper campus, there.  But he thought his Dad would be disappointed if he didn’t go where he thought he wanted to go when he was 15 years old.

Upon further discussion, Dad finds out that his son is still not sure which program he wants to be in, so he checked into a two year degree program at a nearby community college that would give him a degree (making him more employable in his field, earlier) and the opportunity to transfer directly if he wanted.

Sidebar: kids today are smart if we give them the opportunity to be.

Kid and parents are already talking to both campuses to make sure they have details covered for a transfer in two years.  Parents are thrilled that they can afford to pay for the first two years easily and, all parties are looking at some nice late model used cars for the college commute ahead.

I do wonder how the college experience would have been for my friend and his family if everybody continued to assume things fueling unnecessary expectations.

When you feel overwhelmed by responsibilities and expectations, take stock for a moment, how much of what you are feeling is actually being put upon you, by you?   You may be surprised by the answer.

Living in a college town, I hear college students talk about the pressure they feel.  Being 45 now, with friends who are the parents of the college age generation now (yikes!) I hear my friends talk about the pressure they feel to provide the best possible college option they can to their kids.  Economic realities make that pressure even more intense on both sides.

I had a conversation with a friend recently after he told me his worries.  I asked “Have you talked to your son about realistic options? Are you both doing what you assumes the other one wants?”

Turns out, of course, they hadn’t spoke about it at all.  My friend, thinking he was being supportive and encouraging, told his son he could attend the campus of his favorite sports team, regardless of cost.  After they had the conversation, turns out the son definitely wanted to attend college in that city, but had recently become interested in the medical field, so he was looking at another campus, a state campus, a cheaper campus, there.  But he thought his Dad would be disappointed if he didn’t go where he thought he wanted to go when he was 15 years old.

Upon further discussion, Dad finds out that his son is still not sure which program he wants to be in, so he checked into a two year degree program at a nearby community college that would give him a degree (making him more employable in his field, earlier) and the opportunity to transfer directly if he wanted.

Sidebar: kids today are smart if we give them the opportunity to be.

Kid and parents are already talking to both campuses to make sure they have details covered for a transfer in two years.  Parents are thrilled that they can afford to pay for the first two years easily and, all parties are looking at some nice late model used cars for the college commute ahead.

I do wonder how the college experience would have been for my friend and his family if everybody continued to assume things fueling unnecessary expectations.

When you feel overwhelmed by responsibilities and expectations, take stock for a moment, how much of what you are feeling is actually being put upon you, by you?   You may be surprised by the answer.

Living in a college town, I hear college students talk about the pressure they feel.  Being 45 now, with friends who are the parents of the college age generation now (yikes!) I hear my friends talk about the pressure they feel to provide the best possible college option they can to their kids.  Economic realities make that pressure even more intense on both sides.

I had a conversation with a friend recently after he told me his worries.  I asked “Have you talked to your son about realistic options? Are you both doing what you assumes the other one wants?”

Turns out, of course, they hadn’t spoke about it at all.  My friend, thinking he was being supportive and encouraging, told his son he could attend the campus of his favorite sports team, regardless of cost.  After they had the conversation, turns out the son definitely wanted to attend college in that city, but had recently become interested in the medical field, so he was looking at another campus, a state campus, a cheaper campus, there.  But he thought his Dad would be disappointed if he didn’t go where he thought he wanted to go when he was 15 years old.

Upon further discussion, Dad finds out that his son is still not sure which program he wants to be in, so he checked into a two year degree program at a nearby community college that would give him a degree (making him more employable in his field, earlier) and the opportunity to transfer directly if he wanted.

Sidebar: kids today are smart if we give them the opportunity to be.

Kid and parents are already talking to both campuses to make sure they have details covered for a transfer in two years.  Parents are thrilled that they can afford to pay for the first two years easily and, all parties are looking at some nice late model used cars for the college commute ahead.

I do wonder how the college experience would have been for my friend and his family if everybody continued to assume things fueling unnecessary expectations.

When you feel overwhelmed by responsibilities and expectations, take stock for a moment, how much of what you are feeling is actually being put upon you, by you?   You may be surprised by the answer.

My friend sent me a second article from Bloomberg when I doubted the information in the first piece.  The second piece made more sense to me.  The whole story is that the FDIC was objecting to the Fed’s actions, in other words, the REGULATOR for this kind of thing was stepping in and, at least attempting, to regulate the situation.  So my take away from it was, in the short term anyway, that the system, such as it is, is working.   The impression the first article gave was that this move had gone through and that utter and total financial collapse any minute.  The truth is, this issue is definitely one to watch for further developments and bad things could happen , but for now, just be aware.

We continue to live in a time of extremes: polarizing politics, down economy and pessimism = protection.   Simple awareness isn’t enough, in order to be prepared for the next calamity, you must beware of everyone and everything.   When you are scared, angry, and wary, how prepared and protected are you really?

Choose the behavior that allows you to be aware, functional, proactive and reasonable.  You’ll be amazed how much that changes the level of “challenge” in your life.