America has a Birthday going on...

     We live in a pretty great country where we have the freedom to dress as we like, say what we want and live our day to day as we see fit. Freedom is a word that can easily be taken for granted and feel like a right instead of a privilege. As Americans there is an openness and freedom for the everyday that can be hard to grasp if it's all you've known. It's easy to feel entitled to being able to do what you want, when you want when that's all you have been exposed to. But our freedoms, our rights are not to be taken lightly.
 




 









     Nine or ten years ago I spent about seven weeks in the middle east. The majority of my time was spent in Israel, but I also did short treks through Jordan and Egypt. While in Jordan I had the opportunity to stay with Bedouins, nomads of the desert, in Wadi Rum. While at camp a few of the local men had asked me to sit and join them for tea and a chat. There were maybe a half dozen men ranging from mid-30s to late 80s. We engaged in conversation about religion, politics and ways of
 life in both the middle east and the United States. They were baffled by my independence, not being married and that I financially supported myself. My lifestyle and outlook on life was the antithesis of theirs. Jordan was much less conservative than Egypt in their views of women, but drastically different from the US. As a woman, you are viewed more as property expected to be covered almost head to toe projecting modesty, driving, voting and voicing your own opinion is out the window. Freedom is a beautiful thing.

     The summer before my junior year of college I spent some time in Minsk, Belarus. The aftermath of Chernobyl and communism were present in everyday life. As Americans we expect nothing less than 32 options for variety of bread, 89 options for ice cream flavors and there is even endless variety with what type of milk we buy. The first time I visited a grocery store in Minsk it made me feel like a total tool. It was mid-afternoon and I wanted to pick up some snacks for the next week. I strolled down the bread aisle to only be greeted by an empty shelf. There was no bread left and there was no snow storm on the way or tornado. I asked the clerk if there was any bread in the back, foolish question. Bread was delivered twice a week. There was only white bread. The same went for milk and fruit. When the product was out it was out until the next delivery. Variety and abundance were two foreign words. Freedom is a beautiful thing.

      A short time after  my return from Belarus I went to a Yankees game. It was the first time the Star Spangled Banner ever meant anything to me. Every word, every note hit my inner core. As the flag waved and I placed my hand over my heart I started to cry. I was so humbled at the fact that I was born in a country with freedoms I never before grasped or appreciated. Freedom is a beautiful thing.
 

   Our freedoms and our independence did not come without cost. I am profoundly grateful for the countless who presently serve and have served in order to make the soil we walk on what it is. I am proud to be an American. Be proud, be grateful and know that as fireworks streak across the night sky and blanket line the grass that your freedom is a beautiful thing.

Tassels and next steps

Not too long ago I attended my 20th high school reunion. It's weird to think I graduated twenty years
ago. There's a mix of it feeling a million years ago and like it was just yesterday. Last week the class of 2016 tossed their caps towards the sky, hugged and gathered for the very last time as one body. It's bitter sweet as a new chapter begins.

Sitting on the graduation field I scanned Seneca's Class of 2016 and wondered what awaits these 289 young minds. I've heard countless chide over the years, "high school is the best four years of your life." Man, how I hope that is an inaccurate statement for every single young person on every field across the country receiving their diploma. There is a whole lifetime that still lies ahead of them. High School can be a whole lot of good, bad and in between, but I certainly hope it's not the best. That would be a disheartening reality. Blah. 

Reflecting back to my four years in high school there is very little academic that pops into my mind as friendships, challenges and experiences greater define that time of my life. But even those memories can be grainy. I remember sitting with friends at concerts listening to Dave Matthews, paddling out to surf in 45 degrees on Christmas morning with my sisters and snow shoeing across town to get a Wawa hoagie in the blizzard of 1995. Good memories, but only one chapter in the of many chapters before and to follow. 

It's funny how much weight is placed on a high school experience that is a very narrow window in the frame of time. When I sit with young people there is often an all or nothing mentality with high school. Live large, think after the fact and jam everything in the span of four years. Many times this mentality has our kids making impulsive, irrational decisions. God willing, there are multiple chapters to be filled with joys, tears, love, loss and goodness.

After high school there's all the first time experiences that have a way of forging the person you become. The first time you apply for a job, begin to pay your own bills, take your first road trip, begin forging your own identity are all amazing 'first times' that stretch beyond the halls of high school. Life moves on and what a crazy awesome reality that is. 

As I circulated the room with about 150 of my high school alumni I found myself strangely uncomfortable. I'm not sure why. There were many I didn't recognize and many others I had not spoken to in twenty years. I enjoyed high school, but it's a part of my life that I'm ok not revisiting. Weird, I know. 

My hope for the class of 2016 both high school and college is that they will confidently step forward into their next chapter (even if it is anxiety provoking, which it is) and take the lessons from the last four years to make college, the work force, the military an experience that allows them to live in the present and not the past. 

A shout out to three amazing graduates who step into their next chapters knowing their four years in high school had a hand in shaping who they are, but all the many 'next's will forge them into the individuals they ultimately become. I cannot wait to see where their roads lead them. Rock on, ladies! 

Father Fest

When I was a little kid my parents always made a big deal out of celebrating Birthday's, Mother's Day and Father's Day. I remember waking up early with my two sisters as my Mom made a crazy full fledge breakfast and we ran around decorating like all get out from cut out hearts to hand made banners. I can close my eyes and be transported back into our kitchen and almost smell my mom's pancakes and see three scrawny little kids running around like mad to make sure Dad's day was special. My parents did the same for us when our Birthday's rolled around. It was a very cool tradition that allowed for a pause from the every day to take time and love on the ones that mattered most. It's one of many things they instilled in me that I am profoundly grateful for. 

Celebrating and lifting up those who hold special places in our hearts is something that should happen more than once a year. Sometimes life has a way of distracting us, clouding our priorities and time can slip through our fingertips where one year becomes five and five years becomes twenty. As I woke this morning fixing breakfast for my husband while chatting on the phone with my Dad as my Mom was still, thirty years later, flipping those pancakes I knew that neither of them had a Dad to call to say, "I love you." Blah. I didn't have the privilege to ever meet my Father's Dad or my Husband's Dad. I know, without words ever needing to be exchanged, that they both miss their Dads very much. Mother's Day and Father's Day is hard for so many who can't pick up the phone or kick a text. 

So as we roll into another week with work, summer classes and life going full steam ahead I encourage you to make a phone call, drop a card in the mail or give a hug to that someone that holds a special place in your heart. Meet up for a chat over coffee on the front porch. Maybe send an old picture that will put a smile on that special someone's face.  Give a hug and an "I love you" without prompting. 

But most of all, don't be a butt head. Don't take the ones you love for granted. Keep your priorities in check. Love fully, richly and unconditionally. Because one day that special someone may not be there.Life's too short to take the ones we love for granted. 

Thank you Dad for never being anything short of awesome and thank you Keith for loving me in the most beautiful and selfless of ways. Happy Father's Day! 

Memorial Day is a mindset not a fiesta

I may be getting jaded, old or (on a more positive note) maybe gaining a greater appreciation for life, but I have to say the past few days I've found myself becoming increasingly annoyed at the disconnect that exists with Memorial Day. We're inundated with commercials for epic sales on washers and dryers or clothing. There's the gazillion bags of chips and fritos that will line red and white checkered tables this weekend with cases of soda and beer to fuel hydration needs from sea to shining sea. Lots of greetings for Happy Memorial Day and have an awesome weekend salutations. 

As I sit on my front porch enjoying my day off what resonates in the back of my mind is the 'why' I have this day off. I spent a few minutes thinking of the many faces and hearts who will not be with their loved ones. I think of my dear friends, the Leonards, who spend their weekend with the absence of their son, Jared who paid the ultimate sacrifice in giving his life for us. I am thankful for Jared beyond words and as each Memorial Day rolls around I think of his smile, love for his family and country and the amazing man that he was. He gave of himself for us. 

Sometimes it can be more comfortable to not remember, because that can be uncomfortable. But we live in a society mired in comfort, political correctness and softness. In my opinion, reflecting and appreciating make us better as people. So as we honk the horn at the guy taking to long to move after the light has turned green or frustrated at the line at the supermarket or while waiting for our macchiato at the local bean shop; all of these beautiful pleasures in life we enjoy without really connecting how we arrived here. We have freedoms that many across the globe can hardly fathom. 

As you grill your burgers, work on your garden and talk politics over drinks take a few minutes to pause and remember the meaning behind today. There are thousands that won't have their mom, dad, best friend or cousin to play horse shoes with or sit around the fire pit at the end of a long day because their loved one paid the ultimate sacrifice. They gave their lives for our freedom. I am so very grateful to be an American, but today I am humbled to remember the countless who gave their life for my freedoms. Freedom is not free. Take some time to remember and never forget.

Life is but a vapor

One of my favorite verses in the Bible is found in the book of James, “ you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.” Our years on this earth, whether they be nine or ninety five, pass through our fingertips like grains of sand. Life is fleeting.

Seventeen years ago today was my greatest reminder of how very fleeting and fragile life is. In one moment, one person’s decisions placed an end to four beautiful lives. A drunk driver snuffed out the life of my sister, Shana, and her three friends, Angela, Megan and Amanda. It’s nearly impossible to grasp that they had only seventeen years on earth and have now been gone for that same allotted time.

  

In seventeen years it seems as though a lifetime has passed and yet I can close my eyes and see Shana’s smile and hear her laugh as though it was yesterday. There have been moments in my life where I can’t allow myself to absorb her absence, because even after seventeen years it stings and my heart aches terribly. But I am still here, and although I look forward to the day I will see her again, the reality is that there will be a day that I take my last breath. That could be today or it may be in fifty years from now. Life’s a vapor.
 

Seventeen years have been filled with thousands of days of lessons, challenges and refining of how I perceive life and those I surround myself with. We don’t know how much time we have, but so often we live absorbed and caught up with things, stressors and crazy that simply doesn’t matter. If you were to reassess how you spend your time, who you spend it with and if you’re taking the opportunity to appreciate what you have how would you fare? When is the last time you said to your loved ones that you love them, that you appreciate them or hugged them? We might have a rewind button for our dvds and dvr, but there’s no rewind in life. Don’t wait, don’t waste time on things that detract from the hearts of loved ones and don’t make excuses.

 

               

It can be uncomfortable to think about losing someone we love, but what’s more uncomfortable is having allowed time slip through our fingertips where we’ve neglected and undervalued a relationship that could have been so much more. One of the greatest gifts I have is the memory of the last time my two sisters and I were together. We stood in our driveway and did our three sister hug as I was heading back to school from Spring Break. It was a quick hug. We goofed around, smiled and I waved goodbye as I pulled out of the driveway. Little did I know it would be our last time together. I am so very grateful for that last memory. Since as long as I can remember my parents made us hug. There were so many times I complained, rolled my eyes and even did the hundreds of ‘half hugs’ when we weren’t on good terms. Those hugs outweigh any paycheck, meeting or fancy material item. Time, conversations and love are precious.

 

Take a few minutes today, make a phone call, send a text, give a hug or grab a seat and chat with that someone that makes you smile and makes life better. Don’t wait. Life’s too short to not embrace those worth embracing. 

Judge Free Zone

     Not judging a book by its cover is so much easier coined than lived out. It’s human nature to judge, evaluate and allowing our eyes to delve beyond the surface can be trying. But how very cool would it be that instead of soaking in a person’s clothing labels it was their heart you encountered first? I’m thinking that could backfire for some for sure. Have you been guilty of jumping the gun where your attitude and approach to a person may be softened or hardened depending on what they were or weren’t wearing, the piercings or tattoos on their bodies or how they spoke? If you haven’t, well you have…hate to break it to you.

     But the truth is what we find as aesthetically appealing to the eye on the surface, and we all have different definitions of that, can sometimes be very contrasting to what lies beneath. Some of my most in depth and thought provoking conversations have stemmed from the kid in my office who just looks exceptionally rough around the edges to the traveler I’ve shared dinner with that most would pass by on the street without a word or a glance. But we’ve all been guilty of assuming we know what an individual is about based upon appearance.  We discriminate without even realizing it and with that we hastily go about our day without realizing we missed out on something pretty awesome.

    When it’s you being discriminated against it can not only sting, but feel pretty crappy. I made an attempt to trek to the Czech Republic via train hopping from Austria with a few hour lay over in Munich, Germany. My frolicking in Munich got the better of me and I ended up missing my 2 am train leaving me with my pack, only a few Deutsch marks (pre-Euro) , utterly exhausted and totally alone. I opted to migrate to the waiting area where other backpackers and a handful of homeless resided to catch a few hours of sleep before deciding where I would head next. I was exhausted. I used my belt to tie myself to my pack that left no opportunity for it being lifted without them taking me with it. Good luck with that. My hair was pulled back, my jeans were visibly worn and my sweater had seen better days, but I had planned on throwing my things in the wash at my next destination. It was not quite 8 am when I was poked in the side by someone uttering incomprehensible words in German. All I wanted to do was sleep just a little longer. Words were exchanged again and just as I opened my eyes a sharp pain shot across my rib cage and my eyes filled with tears as I bit my lip to refrain from screaming. A billy club was my morning wake up call by the local police whose task was to remove the ruffians from the terminal before the rush of travelers set in. At that moment I had never felt such a sickening combination of pain, shame and anger that simmered with me long after I left Munich. My wake up was based on where I was, how I looked and how I was perceived as being a public annoyance lumped in with the homeless and other riff raft.

      It’s funny how little we really know about those we can sometimes be surrounded   by everyday who have a certain look that works for or against them impacting how we engage in conversation and approach them. Maybe they’re struggling with ptsd, their marriage is falling apart, bills are piling up and they feel like they’re drowning Or just simply they’re layered with life experiences that have the ability to enrich your life? There is always so much more than what lies on the surface.

    It’s kind of a cool challenge to allow your eyes to focus less on the wardrobe and exterior and more on the heart and character. It takes time and patience, but the reward outweighs the effort. It’s a great way to sift through the buttheads and find some gems that would have otherwise been overlooked.

Chewy didn't roll solo

Goose had Maverick and Han Solo had Chewbaka. Both of these guys had a wingman through the course of their journeys that endured both good and bad. As a new school year and college term has kicked off my hope is that every young person has their own Chewy or Goose. Whether in the hallways or on the weekends every one of our kids will be faced with decisions, moral dilemmas and peer pressures that can often be uncomfortable and sometimes has the potential to be life altering. It’s that person who not only has your back, but will call you out on poor decision making or will stand up for you when you are in over your head. Often times it takes a handful of experiences involving hurt, broken promises or even betrayal before the selection process becomes more refined. It isn’t an easy thing.

     After completing grad school I spent six months working in New Zealand and a few weeks travelling throughout Australia and Fiji. While in Fiji I island hopped in pursuit of good surf and diving. I met some locals who owned a dive shop on the main land and they invited me to do a trek with them free of charge. I was a very green diver, only receiving my cert a month or so prior in Australia , with only a handful of dives under my belt. When you dive you always are encouraged to have a buddy, or a wingman. My wingman, Raj, assured me I was in good hands and that we were going to check out an unbelievable wreck that sunk a few hundred years back.  I wasn’t certified to dive wrecks yet, but I caved in, put on my gear and eagerly accompanied my wingman in to the deep blue.

     As we descended I kept my eyes fixed on Raj who would turn around every ten I feet or so and give me a bob of the head with a thumbs up. I slowly followed him through the first passageway into the ship and as we entered visibility quickly decreased and my wingman was out of sight. There would be different doorways to go through and it was unclear as to which way they turned making it a very real possibility of getting lost in the belly of the ship. I knew the guys were probably only a few feet ahead, but I opted to make my way back to the surface.. But as I hastily exited the knob on my air tank became pinned in between the rusty shards of the door’s frame. I couldn’t move forward or backwards and for a second I was pretty sure I was done for. The only option remaining was removing weight belt and physically holding my air tank as I maneuvered by body where I was facing my tank. I jostled it and after a few jiggles the knob was free and I was able to strap my gear back on and resurface.

      My wingman did not have my back. I remember thinking on the boat ride back to land at how differently my outcome could have been and that my ability to trust someone I knew nothing about was foolish on my part. Every day adults and young people are faced with decisions that range from whether or not to say something if you’re in the car and the driver is texting, to speak up when we hear someone being bullied, to posting inappropriate comments or pictures on social media and the list goes on. Sometimes we have our guard down, don’t think straight or are just simply being a butt head. It’s times such as these that we need to be held accountable, called out and need a wing man.

     Sometimes it can be easy to get caught up in finding someone whose convenient or more fun than reliable and honest. My hope is that as our kids and loved ones begin another year the focus won’t be on how many friends are in their circle, but how good the ones they have are. Even having one solid Goose or Chewy goes a whole lot further than a dozen fair weathered peeps. May the force be with you.