“Know when to give up, and when to keep forging on.” People used to always tell me, usually on the heels of some grievous defeat, that things will look up, that if I keep working hard the world would reward me. But that’s not true, is it? There are so many people out there trying … Continue reading Knowing When
I happened to be skimming through my Facebook newsfeed one day when Lexi comes in the room and glances at my screen. Luckily none of those swear-happy memes were up on the screen, but unluckily it was a large photo of a certain basketball team owner who said some horrible things about a particular group of people. I was hoping that Lexi hadn’t seen the photo and wouldn’t ask about it, but then again, on some level, I wanted her to ask. Because it’s never too young to learn the truth about some people, and to help sort out some questions she might have.
And boy, did she have a lot of thoughts on the subject.
Lexi: Who’s that guy? He looks really old.
Me: That’s the owner of a basketball team.
Lexi: Wow, so he must have a lot of money.
Me: Yes, he does, but that’s not why he’s in the news.
Lexi: Why is he in the news?
Me: Well, he said some bad things about people.
Lexi: What did he say?
Me: Just some really bad things about black people, and everyone is upset over it. That’s why he’s in the news.
Lexi: Wait. Don’t black people play basketball?
Me: A lot of people play basketball, but yes, black people too.
Lexi: So, if he likes basketball why would he say bad things about people who play on his team?
Me: That’s the point, Lexi. Lots of people have thoughts like that about particular groups of people. They just don’t say it out loud. But just having those feelings is wrong, whether or not you say them out loud.
Lexi: Yeah, if I didn’t like somebody I would just say it.
Me: But you would have a valid reason for not liking them, right?
Lexi: Yeah, like with Emma*, if she pushed me I wouldn’t like her.
Me: Right, but black people never did anything wrong to this man. He just doesn’t like them for whatever reason. That’s wrong, to hate one group of people like that.
Lexi: I’m black. Continue reading “Chatting With Lexi: On Prejudice”
We all have baggage, don’t we? But it’s not like luggage that we tag and hope gets to the same destination that we do. Our baggage is something we can’t help but carry along with us, whether we want to or not, and it stays with us. What we choose to do about that baggage is up to us, though, if we let it drag us down, or if we learn from it and become better about not accumulating more baggage.
I know I personally have a lot of baggage myself, and most of it has a lot to do with how I see myself today. When I was younger I tended to blame pretty much everyone else in my life for my opinions of myself. They told me I was a certain way and I internalized that, thinking it was true and creating my own baggage in the process. I was a nerd. I was too short. I was awkward around others. I was, in most respects, a basket case. Because I chose to believe others.
There was an episode of How I Met Your Mother that treated this idea in a wonderful way, by showing people with actual labeled baggage that they were physically carrying with them. How great would that be? When we first met someone we could see that they have 10 bags they’re struggling to carry, and we can walk the other way. Right? Of course if that were the case, I probably wouldn’t be married now.
You see, when we first start out in a relationship it’s the human way to dole out those pieces of baggage bit by bit, over a course of time. It’s called “getting to know each other.” Perhaps you’ve heard of it. In this way the other person is able to digest what we’ve told them one at a time instead of getting bombarded with it all at the same time. That’s the only reason they don’t run screaming away from us when we first meet, and why we advance to a second, third, and umpteenth date.
But think about it. One of the biggest issues we have in relationships is that we don’t ever divulge all of the baggage. Continue reading “Baggage Claim”
I just realized I’m predictable. You know those people who you see, who just go with the flow and everything always seems to be “whatever” with them? Yeah, I’m not one of them. I’ve never been one of them.
From the start, actually, I guess I’ve been a small bit contentious, and a big bit obvious. I’ve rarely given something new a chance. I would still be eating plain cheese pizza if not for my sister and best friend slipping some mushrooms under the cheese so I didn’t know it was there that one time. When I find a food I like, I stick with it, to the exclusion of a lot else.
Case in point: my wife and I like to get to Pizzeria Uno and/or the Olive Garden at least once a year or so, usually on an anniversary. She often orders different dishes to get some variety and to sample whatever she hasn’t sampled before, or at least not in a long time. I get pizza at Uno’s, and the filling penne pasta dish at the Olive Garden. Every single time.
In fact, I’m the person who others can order for and get it right 99.9% of the time. And it doesn’t just go for food either. When I find a show I like on TV, or a movie that is a particular favorite I will watch it over and over again. My favorite movie — Back to the Future Part II — I’ve seen 32 times. Yes, I keep count. Those shows and movies are like traditions to me. If you ever caught up with me on my birthday you would already know what I would be watching. That’s how predictable I am with most things in my life.
I remember when my oldest daughter was born, the first words out of my mind were, “Thank God she’s not Chinese.” Now, don’t worry. I’m not some Sterling-esque hater who puts down other cultures. I said it because one of the things people sometimes worry about with IVF (we utilized the technology to get both of our children) is that components from people other than the actual parents might have gotten mixed up. My wife — God bless her soul — having just given birth, just rolled her eyes and told the midwife, “It’s okay. He thinks he’s funny because we used IVF.” See. Predictable. Continue reading “So Obvious”
It was the best of times, it was the better of times. Or something like that. It’s been said that people either love the place they grew up in or they hate it. So many people spend so much time trying their hardest to “escape,” to get out and move on with their lives, because they don’t appreciate the place that raised them. While others are quite content to live and grow old in the place of their birth, around the people who have always been around and who will always be around.
I’m a bit different. I love where I grew up but I don’t still live there. Philadelphia is the most amazing city in the world. I was just there last weekend, and every time I go back it both reminds me why I love it, and why I still miss it so much. Of course I haven’t lived there since late 1998, a span of over 15 years, but it’s still a version of “home” that I treasure more than almost any other place in the world.
There’s just something to be said about that Philly atmosphere, even though I’ve never had one of those famous cheesesteaks (it’s the first question I get asked whenever anyone finds out I’m from the city of Brotherly Love). I mean, that Philly vibe is one of the most unique I’ve ever been around. I liken it to being a fan of a football team. You might adore the team, but when it does something stupid you scratch your head and complain. It doesn’t mean you don’t still love the team. You’re just so invested that you feel a part of it, even when you have no say over it. Continue reading “Tale of Two Cities”
“Ooh, you’re just too funky for me. I gotta get inside of you. And I’ll show you heaven if you’ll let me.” -George Michael
Often, I wish I were in a George Michael song, any George Michael song, because the characters that populate his lyrics are nothing if not breathtaking. They’re complex, like real life human beings, and they’re often broken or scarred. Their hearts bleed through the lyrics, and I connect with them. More than that, though, it’s really all about the feelings, the emotions they tap into, that leap out through the songs.
“Sadness in my eyes. No one guessed, and no one tried. You smiled at me like Jesus to a child.”
There is a completeness to the idea of being smiled at by Jesus. I spent my entire formative years reading about and listening to stories about Jesus, how dynamic he was, and how blessed anyone felt when he looked at them. I imagine being that child, being young and naive, but knowing there’s more out there. Wanting to have faith but being weak, with sadness creeping in to every facet of my life. Then being smiled at by Jesus and knowing it will all be okay.
“So, I just kept breathing, my friends. Waiting for the man to choose, saying this ain’t the day it ends, ’cause there’s no white light and I’m not through. I’m alive.”
Death is the great unknown, isn’t it? I’ve always wanted to be in charge of my own fate, but I know it doesn’t happen that way, not really. Is there a tunnel, and a white light at the end of it welcoming people to the afterlife? I don’t know, but I feel comforted knowing that there’s more to life than just trying not to die. There’s this feeling of just breathing without having to think about it, existing day by day, and living life in those days, through those series of moments. I’m alive and I’m going to make the most of it. Continue reading “A George Michael Song”
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Just a small town girl who writes about Christian stuff.
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