You Go, Girl!

I saw this post on Twitter about encouraging girls in a high tech world:  http://www.thejuliagroup.com/blog/?p=1895

I liked it and I wanted to share it with others.  I am going through my notes today and I found the following very interesting statistics:

Women perform 66% of the world’s work, produce 50% of the world’s food, make 10% of the world’s income and own 1% of the world’s property.

Women represent 19% of all Advanced Placement Computer Science test takers.  Women occupy 56% of professional occupations, but only 25% of IT jobs and only 11% of executive positions.  Only 18% of Bachelors degrees in computer science are awarded to women.

We need a support structure.  We need to hear others say “You can do this!”  and “Go for it!”  So, to the women in my life…  You can do it!  Whatever “it” is.

Meta Christmas

Two years ago I stopped writing the annual Christmas letter and sending the annual Christmas card.  It was a dark time for me.  I just couldn’t bring myself to get it together.  Last year I told myself I was being ecological.  This year, although I cringe at the paper and resources I will use, I think I’m going to do it again. To psych myself up, I have Handel’s Messiah playing on iTunes and a pot of tea on the warmer.  Currently hosting an eye infection, I am unable to wear my contacts, so I am hunched close to the computer screen.  Waiting for inspiration.  Waiting.  Waiting…

I want to write a letter to share the highlights of the year, without sounding like a braggart.  Just because my child may have certain gifts doesn’t mean that another child doesn’t.  Where is the line between sharing joy and humility?  And because we have our joy does not mean that our days are devoid of heartbreak.  This week will be the third week in a row that I have attended a funeral.  This is not an occasion I would like to participate in with such regularity.  On the flip side, it certainly makes me grateful for the days I have with my loved ones.  Much to the dismay of my children, I have been giving them extra hugs lately.  A lot of extra hugs.

Mary went on a date yesterday.  I confess I texted her while she was on her date.   This is new territory for us, my family and me.  I am quite sure I will have my missteps and faux pas as we navigate these last years from childhood to adulthood.  One day at a time.  She is teaching swimming and doing well in school.

Cory spent the weekend sick on the couch.  He was healthy Friday night when he went to an event at school to sell coffee for the National Junior Honor Society.  A cluster of moms and I stood behind them a bit and shared stories of the marvelous things our children had done to make us smile.  I watched Cory chat with the girls.  The girls looked so mature and sexy.  Heaven help us.  I watched Cory smile at the little kids requesting hot chocolate and crouching down to their level while determining whether or not they wanted marshmallows.

Charlie continues to run The Art Shoppe.  The clientele is limited since it is in his bedroom.  He plays piano beautifully.  http://www.youtube.com/auntfun  He continues to try to juggle having so many different teachers at school.  He does his homework, but turning it in proves problematic.

Bruce is off singing in a friend’s music group this morning.  Reuniting him with old musician friends for the first time in 7 or 8 years.  He just remodeled my old home office to make it a more usable space.  His heart is no longer broken and he can share his experience, strength and hope with friends who are walking the same path he did for so many years.

Just how, exactly, am I going to turn all that into a Christmas letter remains my challenge.  Perhaps I will ask my family for contributions including tidbits from our annual family vacation.  No doubt most stories will prove embarrassing to me, but since I edit and publish the Christmas letter….  It will all be fine.

The Art Shoppe

The Art Shoppe has a very exclusive customer base but for those who are lucky enough to be able to visit, it is the experience of a lifetime.  Beautiful art adorns the walls and tea is freely available to all customers in the afternoon.  The Artist has allowed me to post some photos from his gallery.  If you would like to purchase anything, please contact me. Prices are as marked but with a $5 shipping and handling charge.

 

Just Behave Yourself

I am so sad about the Wallow fire gobbling up the forests of Eastern Arizona that I have loved so much.  Twenty years ago we first flew into the Springerville airport and I was hooked.  I think when there is something so beautiful as an unspoiled forest with tall trees that seem to have stood there since the beginning of time that it is tempting to think they will always be there.

On that day, we piled in the Wolkins’ car and went to their ranch near Hannagan Meadow.  Nestled in the puzzle bark trees their compound reminded me of Girl Scout Camp but in a very upscale way.  One could sit on the large wrap around porch of the main cabin and watch the elk drift down the meadow at sunset.  I felt like I could have stayed there forever.  But we didn’t and neither did the Wolkins.

I remember five years ago running from Big Lake back to Greer.  I was training for my first marathon and the air was a little thin up there and the path a little rocky, but I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.  The sky was bright blue, the air was still and tiny persistent wildflowers still poked through and marked my path.  I was running alone, which fills me with fears like swimming in the ocean.  Unrealistic fears borne of watching too many news stories of shark attacks or the lone woman picked up by a crazy killer as she jogged alone down the desolate path.  Were it not for being dogged by my imagination, it would have been perfect.

The worst thing about this fire, and the two other large fires currently burning in Arizona is that they were human caused.  My friend Leigh likes to say “Just behave yourself.”  Why is that so hard?

I Remember You

Today is Memorial Day. A day for us to remember people in the military. I just listened to a Story Corps podcast in which an Army widower said that sometimes it feels like no one knows they exist. My life isn’t daily touched by people in the military but it is filled with people I admire and respect. It is filled with people who exist in vibrant useful ways.

I remember the way you held my hand and you didn’t let it go. You startled me by reaching for my hand but I willingly slipped it into yours. I was surprised how soft your skin was and how firm your grip. I expected it to be delicate and fragile. I expected to feel as if it were going to break if I weren’t careful. But that wasn’t the case.

I am fond of thinking of people like beautiful glass eggs. So fragile and deceptively pretty. But you never know what is going on inside. You don’t know what is just beneath the surface so you have to be careful. More often than I would like to admit I am too absorbed in my own concerns to be as kind as I wish I were.

In your case, I have no idea what to say. So I smile and try to not overthink it. Just showing up is what is important. It doesn’t matter that I second guess myself and trip over appropriateness. Nothing I say is going to change the facts. But by showing up, I have the opportunity to be a part of something bigger than me and to show you and anyone who is looking that I remember you and you matter. You will always be remembered.

You didn’t let go. Your firm grip a dichotomy with your tender features against the pillow. I felt such peace being with you that I could have spent the rest of the day there if you would have me. I realized it wasn’t me who was showing you that you mattered. It was, in fact, the other way around.

Go Diamondbacks!

Saturday my neighbor offered me four seats to that night’s baseball game: Arizona Diamondbacks vs.  Minnesota Twins.  I am not a huge professional baseball fan.  My favorite baseball days were sitting on the bleachers watching Cory play during fifth and sixth grade.  But I suspected my boys would enjoy an outing, so I gratefully accepted the tickets.  I told Cory to invite a friend and luckily our geographically desirable, stand-by voracious Diamondbacks fan was available.  I paused for a moment reflecting that I didn’t give Charlie the option to invite a friend.  His friend lives so so far away, I didn’t think we could arrange it even if he were available.  And the pool of candidates for Charlie to invite to games is pretty shallow.

I knew something was wrong before we left the house.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I had that nagging feeling something wasn’t right.  When we got to the game, I gave each boy his ticket and after we passed through the gate, Charlie immediately handed his back.  I told him to hang on to it because he would need it.  The ticket dangled loosely from his fingertips and the breeze seemed close to lifting it away from his hand as we walked on the bridge over the railroad tracks.  I cautioned him not to lose it.

After finding our seats at the game, Charlie again tried to give me his ticket.  I said “No, you have to hold on to it yourself.  Put it in your pocket.”  “I don’t have any pockets.” he told me.  I said “What about this pocket right here on the side of your shorts?”  It had a button flap and was just the right size for storing a ticket.  He made a noise like the wind whistling through an old building, but he tolerated me as I said “I am just going to put it in there for you.  Now, it’s right there,” as I pointed to the pocket,  “for whenever you need it.  OK?”  He grunted his acceptance.  He wanted something to eat.  We had eaten dinner right before we left for the game and the game hadn’t yet started.  “Wait until the third inning.” I told him.

The third inning came and I told the boys I would give them $20 and they could buy whatever they wanted and split it between them.  I was only going to give them $20 total.  Stay together.  Look out for your brother.  Off they went.  I worried when they were gone, but I think at this age, they need times to make their own way in the big world.  Times when they are ensconced on the club deck of the baseball field.  It’s not like it’s out on the streets.  I kept glancing over my shoulder hoping they would come back soon and that nothing was wrong.  Before the fourth inning, there they were at the top of the stairs stopped by the elderly security guard who was asking them to show their tickets.  Cory seemed to be telling me that Charlie didn’t have his ticket.  Charlie just looked confused.

I went up to them and asked what was wrong.  “You have my ticket,” Charlie accused.  “No.  It’s in your pocket.” I answered.  He protested, but allowed me to fish into his pocket and produce the ticket.  Cory was so embarrassed.  I whispered what I hoped were encouraging words in his ear.  Privately, I thought that on a night like tonight, Charlie wouldn’t know who his parents were if someone asked him.  I was glad that he had his brother.

Stay Awake

Last night I went with a friend to a mass that lasted longer than any I have ever attended. I was there for over three hours. My friend left before I did, but when I heard the priest read from the gospel about who would stay awake with Jesus, I took it as a personal challenge.

As I sat there watching the mass unfold and listening to the readings, I found it interesting what Biblical proclamations are still explicitly followed by people because they are, after all, Biblical commands. I thought of religious leaders who use snippets of the Bible as rallying cries. Yet, other Biblical dictates are discarded. Why aren’t we procuring a year old male lamb on January 10? Or should that be April 10 and our whole calendar is messed up? Who is slaughtering these lambs precisely at twilight to be cooked up and fed to the family that very night? How do we, as humans, discern what is symbolic and what is absolute?

Wash my feet. I was not sure I was going to participate in the foot washing portion of this mass. But then I found myself standing up and going to line up for this sacred activity. Never have my feet been washed with more love, more care, than by the beautiful woman in the pretty print dress. Then it was my turn to wash someone else’s feet and as gross as I thought this prospect was before I went, I was ready. I was willing. There was no one there. I suddenly realized that I was the last person to have their feet washed. I wondered if God was saying to me “Relax. I’ve got it covered. You don’t have to perform to be loved. You don’t have to do anything. Just let yourself be a part of the human race. Just let yourself be loved.”

I stayed awake. I paid attention. I prayed in the desert. Darkness and silence stretched around as hundreds of candles flickered in the wind. Hot wax dripped onto my hand. Sister J on my left. Sweet little Emily Rose on my right. I remembered when her brother, Matthew, was born and when he died. I doubted she knew who this woman was next to her, covering her in a blanket to keep her warm. I looked around for her parents, but I didn’t see them. Emily Rose stayed awake. Sister stayed awake. I stayed awake. And when it was over, Emily Rose had disappeared. I walked with Sister through the desert and out to her car.

News From the Mountain

Yesterday I had a great day skiing.  I took a half day lesson in the morning and kept telling the instructor “I’m ready for what’s next!” He’d patiently answer “I know you are.” as he waited for the rest in our group.  At one point, I said “Put me in, Coach!  I’m ready to play!”  He laughed and started singing.  Afterwards, I enjoyed some “big girl runs” on the green trails far away from the bunny slope.  This was fun.

The instructor had said that skiing is “50% physics.  50% mental.”  Today, the mental got me long before the physics.  For some reason, I was fear filled today and on the first two runs got spooked near the bottom where it gets steeper and the fast skiers and snowboarders go whizzing by.  Yet I wanted to see the other side of the mountain, so when Bruce suggested it, I took the lift back up and began to ski down the other side.  It was easy and fun swooshing down the gentle groomed path on snow dappled with shade from the tall evergreens.  When we could see the valley on the other side of the mountain, I was in awe and thought “I am so glad I did this!”  It wasn’t too much longer after that that our gentle green trail merged with a blue one that looked like a death trap.  A near vertical drop straight to the bottom surrounded by skiers and snowboarders speeding by on either side.  I was doomed.  Bruce paused about 50 vertical feet below me as I froze.  I wasn’t cold, but I couldn’t move.  I was frozen evidently with no way out but painful death.  “Just go side to side!” he yelled helpfully.  Yeah, right.  I couldn’t move.

Sanity overtook me and I pressed the pole down on my bindings to release my skis, praying they wouldn’t get away from me.  I slung them over my shoulder and yelled at Bruce to keep going as I turned to walk back up the trail to the ski lift where I knew I could find a worker who could help me find a safe way off the mountain.  How far away was that ski lift?  A mile?  Two miles? Probably more like half a mile, but I had no idea.  I hoped I didn’t get lost.

It was a beautiful walk up the mountain.  It was as peaceful as I had remembered on the way down.  I was so glad I am relatively fit and able to tromp uphill at ten thousand feet in ski boots with skis and poles slung over my shoulder without much difficulty.  I did stop to rest twice when the trail got a bit steeper and my skis felt heavier and I pondered about the enhance mobility one has in running shoes at the expense of warmth.  Ski boots weren’t really made for hiking.

By the time I made it back to the ski lift, I was feeling pretty stupid.  I wasn’t necessarily mad at myself for freezing.  I am happy that there are times when I can listen to that little voice that says “Stop!”  But I was embarrassed that I was going to have to walk up to the lift and ask for help.  And I was feeling lonely.  It was then that Laura and her boyfriend showed up.  “Mrs Wyman!  Hi, Mrs. Wyman!  It’s Laura!”  I could not put a coherent sentence together and I think she was rather surprised.  She offered to ski down with me, but that was out of the question.  If you’re a teenager and you are standing in front of a teacher in tears at the top of a mountain, what do you do?  Where is the playbook for that?  I thanked her profusely and made my way to the lift.

The lift operator asked me if I needed help.  I said “Yes.  I can’t get down.  I am too afraid.”  She said “I’ll call the Ski Patrol to come get you.”  Jesus Christ.  The Ski Patrol?  That was overkill.  I said “Physically, I am fine.  It’s just mentally that I am a mess.”  She offered to let me ride down on lift.  I said that would be great.  Soon I was on my way, shamefully passing each skier who had to dangle in the wind when they stopped the lift for me to load.  Past the girls who yelled “Mrs Wyman!  What’s wrong?”  “I’m just scared.” I told them.  Best to be honest about these things.

I suspect today was my last day downhill skiing.  It was fun while it lasted.  I’m still game for snow shoeing, snow tubing, cross country skiing, and hanging out.  And who knows?  There was a time in my life when I gave up roller coasters, too, but I’ll be first in line for the Star Tours at Disneyland.

Holiday Confessions

To join in the Black Friday madness, Cory and I got up this morning at 5 AM.  The bank sign told us it was near freezing as we drove to Starbucks to get kick started for what lay ahead.  Then we went to a practically deserted mall that has always been struggling but the Mervyn’s bankruptcy a few years ago really did this place in, to work our shift at the Salvation Army Christmas Angel Tree.  We met up with the other volunteers outside the mall at about 5:45.  The other three volunteers were women of retirement age and very nice.  We stood around waiting for directions for about an hour before the mall manager told us that all the materials were locked up in an empty store front.  We fetched the materials, set up and got going by just figuring it out.  I liked these women.  We saw what needed doing and we did it.

The mall opened at 7:30 and we were ready.  But the crowds at the doors all ran downstairs to wait for Last Chance to open at 8 AM.  No one was interested in our angel trees.  As the time passed, I saw some people I knew and my fellow workers decided that I knew everyone.  It’s true that I can’t go anywhere without running into someone I know.  I like that.  I like it that my kids can’t go anywhere without running into someone who knows their mother either.

At about 10 AM our supervisor showed up.  He began to take charge and I began to enjoy the assignment less.  He had me cutting receipt labels off a roll.  This task made no sense to me whatsoever.  They were neat and contained on the roll.  I have no idea why he wanted them cut into pieces to be put in a basket that would no doubt spill in the tupperware containers when everything was stored in the empty store for the night.  But, since I was there to work and not attempt a hostile takeover of the Salvation Army, I cut labels.

Five hours after we started, our shift was done.  Later, I made the mistake of wrapping a tape measure around my waist after measuring Cory for some new clothes.  It read “Are you KIDDING me??”  Add that to the scale saying “Ouch” every morning and I am due for a spiritual awakening.  But does it have to happen now as we are headed into Christmas cookie season?  Perhaps this is why they call it “Black Friday.”

If I Can Make It Here…

Short form: New York, Baby!  Only 28 or 29 states to go

I had a tumultuous week last week that left me short on sleep, hydration and calories.  I have been anxious about going to New York for weeks and even though my amazing sister, in an effort to calm my fears, hired an escort for me…  I still wasn’t sure I was going to get on the plane.  But by Thursday afternoon, I realized I had no other option.  I hurried home from work just before 6 to shower and pack.

Friday after a red eye was interesting.  Lost in the subways without our escort, we learned an unexpected truth about New Yorkers.  They are helpful!  Any time we produced a map, someone would offer to help.  After stumbling upon the world’s best bagels in Grand Central Station, we made it to our hostel – which I never would have booked myself but which was sincerely perfect!  We went out to find something to eat after a short nap and we found St Paul’s Cathedral by mistake.  My companions indulged me and patiently waited while I said a prayer and lit a candle.  I had told someone I would spend some time over the weekend in prayer and contemplation and this was essential.  Then to the expo, which was more retail based than expos I have been in lately.  I bought a jacket.  Tony showed up (finally) and Mary, Cliff, Tony and I had dinner at Sylvia’s in Harlem.  It was a short walk from out hostel and it was excellent.

Saturday morning my escort showed up.  What a trooper Ruth was!  Hotdog lips and facial stitches from a bad fall a few days before, she arrived after her red eye with perky good humor and led the way.  Back to the expo for Tony’s number.  He makes friends wherever he goes!  He took me to the Jamaica booth and introduced me to his friends and tried desperately to teach me Jamaican.  He’s irie mon.

We went to see a Broadway show.  Million Dollar Quartet.  It was excellent!  Although I enjoyed my companions immensely, I sat there wishing my family could be there with me.

Then we went out to eat at an italian place that wouldn’t seat us so we settled for French food elsewhere.  God it was good!!  I wished Mary were there.  She would have loved it.  Then some souvenir shopping and back to get ready for the marathon.  I was short on sleep and hydration.  But whatever.

Up and out by 4:30 to get to the start.  Ruth took me the whole way!  I love Ruth.  Did I mention that?  I got on the ferry and instantly met a new friend.  Hong is an engineer with GM. She works at the proving ground and her work sounded like a lot of fun.  We saw Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty as well as Ground Zero.  It was a beautiful albeit cold morning.

Waiting around for hours in the starting area, I met the head of HR for Rio Tinto in Australia.  He was cool.  At the start, I met some interesting women who told me about a foundation to help girls called Strong Women Strong Girls. It sounded like Girls Have IT Day!

In mile 1 I met Kim who grew up in Tempe but now lives in Atlanta.  She was interesting and fun and we held a strong pace through 18 miles.  She told me about the different neighborhoods and what she had learned the day before on her course tour.  Fascinating.  At one point, the cheering stopped and I heard a man with a thick Russian accent ask “What happened to cheering?”. I looked around and realized that we were in the Hassidic Jew neighborhood.  The men regarded us suspiciously, the women ignored us.  At the end of the neighborhood, just before we hit the slums, three Hassidic Jew girls stood holding out lollipops without a grownup in sight.  I hoped the didn’t get in trouble.

The cheering got tiresome.  I don’t care for big races with big crowds.  I wanted to run alone for awhile.  Around mile 18, I told Kim to go.  I was having trouble.  My tailbone hurt.  That’s never happened before.  Then I realized that while my legs were on autopilot, I had no control over them.  I was lightheaded.  I was hot.  I was cold.  I was in trouble.  I decided to walk before things got worse – like I ended up in the med tent without a finish.  Walking was hilarious because my legs were going at weird angles, like I had seen on a classic Ironman video of a woman approaching the finish and it really is uncertain if she is going to make the three hundred yards or not.  I wondered if running would help and my lucid brain said “No! Walk.”. OK.  After a mile of walking I decided to try jogging again.  I wondered what had happened to my projected 3:45 finish, but I didn’t really care.  If I missed my plane, I would just cross that bridge when I came
to it.  Walking and jogging, I made it to the finish in something like 4:15.

Grabbing a food bag (thank God for food bags!) I began consuming calories as I made my way to my drop bag.  Magically, or not so magically, I felt terrific upon getting some calories!  Leaving Central Park, I had 14 blocks to walk to our meet up spot.  I could do it, but it was going to take awhile.  I hired a bike-cab and off we went.  This guy was terrific, deftly weaving through the traffic!  At the meet up, there was Ruth in her bright yellow hat and amazing smile.  I love Ruth!  She took me back to the hostel and then led me to JFK.  I wish I had Ruth to lead me around everyday.  Seriously, I think life would be more fun.

I caught my plane and am on it now flying home.  I miss my family, but I am glad I went to New York.  Spending time with my sister and her friends was just what the doctor ordered.  I am so lucky.