Let me preface this blog entry with a fact: my daughter is gorgeous. She's not just pretty, she's REALLY pretty. She's the kind of pretty that, when she walks into a room, people stop talking and look at her. Her hair is long, straight and golden blonde. She has enormous ice blue eyes. Her figure is absolute perfection. She's smart as hell and funny, honest and moral, kind-hearted and disarmingly self-confident but not conceited. I look at her and wonder how this creature came from my lowly DNA.
So, I was not surprised when the cashier in front of us at our local drugstore flirted with her. The check out line was long. People stretched behind us to the photo section. And the cashier started flirting. And flirting. And flirting. Every time my daughter tried to take the bag from his hand, the cashier had something else to say to her. He tried to help her with aa gift card she'd bought. He wanted to be sure she knew the number to call for additional information. People behind us coughed and shuffled. Women gave us the evil eye. Slightly uncomfortable, my daughter laughed and thanked him, took her purchase and moved off to the side to wait for me. The besotted young man continued to look at her and try to engage her in conversation. She turned to talk to me.
At this point I suppose the cashier realized his attempts were not working. And so he returned to the task at hand: checking me out. And not in the male/female way. In the "That'll-be -$12.22" kind of way.
He didn't ask if I knew the pros and cons of the eyeliner I was buying. Didn't try to talk to me about the benefits of my gel pen over a ball point. Didn't try to show me the customer care number on the receipt which, if I called, would enter me into a sweepstake for a $1000 shopping spree. I don't remember him even making eye contact. All he said to me was, "You don't need a bag for that, do you?"
Humbly, I acknowledged that I did not need a bag. And my daughter and I left.
Never has my lack of sex-appeal to a younger man been more poignantly pointed out. I did not look like a bag lady for once. I had make up on and my nails were done. I was even sort of dressed up. No matter to this 25+ guy. "Did you see that guy?" my daughter asked when we left? "And he didn't even give you a bag! What a jerk!"
She noticed.
My descent into oblivion from anyone younger than 45 began a few years ago. I was sitting in a park where multiple tourists asked me repeatedly for directions. They were probably from the north, visiting our Holy City in the South Carolina.... but they all, without exception, called me "Ma'am". Even the old guy with a gray beard. Perhaps that was just when I noticed it.
People treat you differently when you're much older than them. Men treat you differently when they're not sexually attracted to you. Women treat you differently if you're younger or prettier than them.
Have I been guilty of sexism? Beautify-ism? Ageism? Probably. This was an eye opener to me. My Autumn Resolution: try to look beyond youth and looks and gender to the person beyond..... after all- it's what I've always preached. Apparently, my daughter listened.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
My side of the Trees
Today I talked with an old friend at work. She's tall and slim, European, driven to succeed. She has her PhD and was in charge of major successful projects at my workplace. I've known her since I was 30. And I've been jealous of her for the past 20 years.
She has always seemed to have it all. An incredibly smart daughter who was in gifted classes for 12 years. A mother who moved from Holland to be near. Independence, both financially and emotionally. Interesting friends and a career she enjoyed. The respect of her colleagues.
But today, my old friend was crying on my shoulder. Literally soaking my sleeve with her bitter tears. Her husband lost his job of 20 years and the small business they started is bankrupt. Her husband found work last week painting cars. Her job where we work has been restructured and she is now doing a job she did not train for. The program she implemented was turned over to someone who accused her of not helping him be successful. Her daughter has run away from home. Her mother has Alzheimer's.
I was overwhelmed suddenly with gratitude. I'm a little overweight, but active and healthy-feeling. I have a job I love. I finished high school and college and graduate school and was the first member of my family to do so. My spiritual life is fulfilling. I am close to my brothers and sister. I'm proud of my children who have not run away and in fact call me almost every day. I have a husband who adores me.
I remembered something my grandmother used to tell me. I had forgotten it until today. I yearned for my grandmother's love yet it always seemed just out of reach. I looked for opportunties to make a connection with her. So each winter from the time I was 16 until I moved away I volunteered to drive 350 miles from my home in North Carolina to my grandmother's home in South Carolina. I would arrive around noon and we would gather her things and lock up and drive right back to North Carolina where she stayed with my family until the spring. We drove back up Interstate 95 and eventually dusk would settle on the little farms and houses which line I-95 in southern North Carolina. Lights from these houses twinkled through the pine trees like enchanged fairy lanterns. Things looked so cozy in those farmhouses, so safe. My grandmother would always say to me, "I wonder what people are doing in those little houses?" She was a sad lady and envied people who had lives different from her own.
Today I was reminded of that story when my friend was crying and I was trying to offer her comfort. All at once, it was gone. The jealousy and the envy. Just 'poof' and it wasn't there anymore. I don't think I worked on this consciously or that the jealousy fairy godmother tapped me with her magic wand to remove the green-eyed serpent.
I think it was experience and contentment and the wisdom which, yes, does come to some of us in dribs and drabs. It was gratitude and relief. It was being able to offer solace to an old friend. However it happened, today I realized someone might be looking through the trees at my own little twinkling lights. I hope it wasn't my friend, wondering if things were better on the other side of the trees.
She has always seemed to have it all. An incredibly smart daughter who was in gifted classes for 12 years. A mother who moved from Holland to be near. Independence, both financially and emotionally. Interesting friends and a career she enjoyed. The respect of her colleagues.
But today, my old friend was crying on my shoulder. Literally soaking my sleeve with her bitter tears. Her husband lost his job of 20 years and the small business they started is bankrupt. Her husband found work last week painting cars. Her job where we work has been restructured and she is now doing a job she did not train for. The program she implemented was turned over to someone who accused her of not helping him be successful. Her daughter has run away from home. Her mother has Alzheimer's.
I was overwhelmed suddenly with gratitude. I'm a little overweight, but active and healthy-feeling. I have a job I love. I finished high school and college and graduate school and was the first member of my family to do so. My spiritual life is fulfilling. I am close to my brothers and sister. I'm proud of my children who have not run away and in fact call me almost every day. I have a husband who adores me.
I remembered something my grandmother used to tell me. I had forgotten it until today. I yearned for my grandmother's love yet it always seemed just out of reach. I looked for opportunties to make a connection with her. So each winter from the time I was 16 until I moved away I volunteered to drive 350 miles from my home in North Carolina to my grandmother's home in South Carolina. I would arrive around noon and we would gather her things and lock up and drive right back to North Carolina where she stayed with my family until the spring. We drove back up Interstate 95 and eventually dusk would settle on the little farms and houses which line I-95 in southern North Carolina. Lights from these houses twinkled through the pine trees like enchanged fairy lanterns. Things looked so cozy in those farmhouses, so safe. My grandmother would always say to me, "I wonder what people are doing in those little houses?" She was a sad lady and envied people who had lives different from her own.
Today I was reminded of that story when my friend was crying and I was trying to offer her comfort. All at once, it was gone. The jealousy and the envy. Just 'poof' and it wasn't there anymore. I don't think I worked on this consciously or that the jealousy fairy godmother tapped me with her magic wand to remove the green-eyed serpent.
I think it was experience and contentment and the wisdom which, yes, does come to some of us in dribs and drabs. It was gratitude and relief. It was being able to offer solace to an old friend. However it happened, today I realized someone might be looking through the trees at my own little twinkling lights. I hope it wasn't my friend, wondering if things were better on the other side of the trees.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
I am not happy with some of my Facebook friends. I'm so unhappy with them that I've performed the ultimate cyber surgery... defriending.
"EGADS!" you cry. "Not Defriending?"
"Yes," I answer.
My friend list just shrunk from 150 to 63. Work friends... all gone.
After the initial 'enter' strike from my keyboard I feel curiously relieved.
Many of the little girls I work with, all younger than 35 and certainly more FB savy than I, had started posting very disparaging work-related comments. Mean-spirited comments about colleagues and work and even anonymous patients. I talked to a few of them about what I thought were inappropriate comments. They told me these posts were private and only their friends could see them. But, I told them, if one of your friends comments on your post, and I'm friends with that person, then I see the post, too..... Nope, they told me. Only their friends could see the comments.
A couple of things wrong with all of this.
1. FB posts are like sex.... when you sleep with someone, you're sleeping with everyone THEY have ever slept with. And, when you post to FB and one of your mutual friends posts a comment... well, kind of like commenting to an extended group of acquaintences and passers by.
2. Isn't this techno-gossip?
3. Don't mothers today teach their kids that gossiping is wrong?
4. While we're on the subject of manners, doesn't anyone send 'thank you' cards anymore?
5. That's a post for another day
Naturally, before doing my excision, I posted to anyone listening that I was removing all work friends from my FB account. My mother at least taught ME that anything you have to say to someone behind their back, you should say to their face.
I was overwhelmed by the responses.
1/4 of my work friends told me that they were doing the same thing! Why read about work, go to work, and then read about more work? they asked. Good point.
Another friend told me she didn't want to hear people she worked with saying ugly things about others.
And still another friend told me that she was pulling out the FB scalpel too.
Technology isn't just about bytes. To some, it's also about cutting remarks and words which fly into outer space but are always retrievable.
Good manners do not end when someone opens up their PC.
Mothers, you should log on to FB. And some of you need to remind your children of what I'm sure you told them when they were 8 years old:
"If you can't say something nice about someone, don't say anything at all."
"EGADS!" you cry. "Not Defriending?"
"Yes," I answer.
My friend list just shrunk from 150 to 63. Work friends... all gone.
After the initial 'enter' strike from my keyboard I feel curiously relieved.
Many of the little girls I work with, all younger than 35 and certainly more FB savy than I, had started posting very disparaging work-related comments. Mean-spirited comments about colleagues and work and even anonymous patients. I talked to a few of them about what I thought were inappropriate comments. They told me these posts were private and only their friends could see them. But, I told them, if one of your friends comments on your post, and I'm friends with that person, then I see the post, too..... Nope, they told me. Only their friends could see the comments.
A couple of things wrong with all of this.
1. FB posts are like sex.... when you sleep with someone, you're sleeping with everyone THEY have ever slept with. And, when you post to FB and one of your mutual friends posts a comment... well, kind of like commenting to an extended group of acquaintences and passers by.
2. Isn't this techno-gossip?
3. Don't mothers today teach their kids that gossiping is wrong?
4. While we're on the subject of manners, doesn't anyone send 'thank you' cards anymore?
5. That's a post for another day
Naturally, before doing my excision, I posted to anyone listening that I was removing all work friends from my FB account. My mother at least taught ME that anything you have to say to someone behind their back, you should say to their face.
I was overwhelmed by the responses.
1/4 of my work friends told me that they were doing the same thing! Why read about work, go to work, and then read about more work? they asked. Good point.
Another friend told me she didn't want to hear people she worked with saying ugly things about others.
And still another friend told me that she was pulling out the FB scalpel too.
Technology isn't just about bytes. To some, it's also about cutting remarks and words which fly into outer space but are always retrievable.
Good manners do not end when someone opens up their PC.
Mothers, you should log on to FB. And some of you need to remind your children of what I'm sure you told them when they were 8 years old:
"If you can't say something nice about someone, don't say anything at all."
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