Monthly Archives: November 2012

Word-of-Mouth Advertising

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The word INTEGRITY is written on the children’s whiteboard in their room. “We are working on integrity”, I tell them.

Instead of using the word integrity I could have used terms like truthful, honest, trustworthy, reliable, or reputation. I mean, we are talking about whether or not they are actually practicing piano and drums like they say they are. I have reason to doubt them, especially, since they enthusiastically want to practice when I am walking the dogs. Timing just happens to work out that their 20 minutes of practice finishes just before Jody and I walk back in the door.

“What is integrity?” they asked.

I said, “It is simple. Integrity means: Do what you say. Say what you mean.”

If my children can embody integrity they will be successful in business and life.

Our entire trip to Guatemala was done entirely because of integrity and word of mouth marketing.

Word-of-mouth is one of the most credible forms of advertising because people who don’t stand to gain personally by promoting something put their reputation on the line every time they make a recommendation.

In 1996, Jody rented an upstairs duplex from a couple. This couple adopted two infant girls, a few years apart, from Guatemala. Through the years, our contact with the family was sporadic, largely through holiday cards. In 2011, I contacted them because I was aware that they had made visits back to Guatemala. This was an email from them:

“As I told Beth we were just in Guatemala two weeks ago and had a great time. We had our 4th visit with the girl’s birth families that went very well, due in large part to working with de FAMILIA a FAMILIA   in Guatemala. We started working with them in 2001 and they successfully located both families. They have continued to work with us over the years to maintain contact and facilitate our support for the families. The women of de FAMILIA a FAMILIA are Guatemalan women who are very committed to the people of Guatemala and have a great grasp of the complexity of the relationship between adoptive families and their children’s birth families.”

Shortly after this email, Jody, Antonio, Crystel, and I met with this family to talk with their now teenagers about their experience meeting and staying connected with their birth families. Antonio and Crystel were sharp-eyed and attentive as the teenagers shared their Guatemala travel stories and photographs.

Within minutes of us saying goodbye to the family, Crystel said, “I want to meet my birthmom.”

I contacted de FAMILIA a FAMILIA the next day.

Our experience with de FAMILIA a FAMILIA in locating Antonio’s and Crystel’s birthmom’s surpassed our expectations. They documented the search for us with photographs and script. We saw pictures and read about the birthmom’s response to knowing that their son and daughter from the United States were searching for them. All of us felt like we were following behind the movie camera as it rolled.

When the time came for us to travel to Guatemala, de FAMILIA a FAMILIA, recommended that “I would suggest that you contact Nancy Hoffman for your transportation and hotel arrangements.”

I contacted Nancy Hoffman of Guatemala Reservations the next day.

Nancy also surpassed our expectations. I made the initial contact with only giving her the information of the dates that we were flying to Guatemala. She took it from there, asking me all the questions that she needed to provide us with a tailored itinerary for our 10-day stay. Prior to our trip, she stayed in constant contact with us via email and when we were in Guatemala we had her personal phone number. The two hotels that she booked for us were perfect for the adults and the children. The transportation she provided for us was safe and reliable. I could clearly tell why de FAMILIA a FAMILIA would recommend Nancy Hoffman.

In one of my emails to Nancy I asked her if she could connect me with anyone from the project Amigos de Santa Cruz and I told her that we were also interested in visiting San Juan’s medicinal and curative plant garden.

“Hi Elizabeth – a good friend, Lee Beal, (from the USA) works as a guide and is associated with the Amigos program and also with the folks in San Juan. You can contact him directly. I contacted Lee Beal and subsequently have written many posts about our experience with him and his organization.

de Familia a Familia, Nancy Hoffman and Lee Beal built their reputation by doing what they say and saying what they mean. 

After our Integrity discussion piano and drum practice has increased in length. Sometimes, I still mention the word Integrity when I ask them how long they practiced. Antonio and Crystel know what I mean.

Now, I’m trying to explain to them how NOT saying something or not volunteering information when they ‘should’ be volunteering information is also a form of honesty.  But … we are all works in progress. Even so, I hope I am starting to impart the idea that at the end of the day our reputation is our individual responsibility and it starts with having integrity. And, when we have integrity, no one can take that from us. It’s ours and it is personal to who we are.

Gratitude

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I was surprised when my friend Lisa told me she kept a gratitude journal. On the face of it, she had little to be grateful for—stomach cancer had returned and spread to her esophagus, chemo was nauseating and exhausting, and worry was ever-present. Lisa acknowledged that sometimes it was hard to find something to be grateful for. Some days all she could write was that she was grateful she didn’t snap at her son or grateful for a sunny autumn day.

At the time, my freelance writing business was on its last legs, and I had been looking for work unsuccessfully for months. But I figured if she could focus on what was right and good in her life, so could I.

A few entries from December 2009—
I’m grateful for my writers’ group—women who believe in my story and my ability to write it.

I’m grateful for cozy flannel sheets. I’m grateful for my Bunco friends who help share the burden of Kathy Duffy’s illness (another friend with cancer). I’m grateful for my first writing coach client.

I’m grateful for my youngest son Greg’s silliness—he crammed his 17-year-old body into a tiny Pokeman t-shirt he’s had since 4th grade and walked around the house singing, “I’m too sexy for my shirt!”

Written on a day when my oldest son Mike had returned from college for Christmas break and my husband John was preoccupied and frantic about work when Mike arrived—
I’m grateful for Mike’s maturity and wisdom. When I asked if he minded that John couldn’t spend much time with him tonight, Mike said, “He’s working his ass off to make my life and all of our lives better and nicer, and nobody really asked him if he wanted to do that, so No, I’m not hurt he didn’t have much time.”

From February 2010—
I’m grateful for John. He brought me flowers and said he appreciated that I didn’t complain about his lack of availability while he was under deadline for a grant proposal. I never thought to complain—I felt guilty for not pulling my weight financially—but I enjoyed being appreciated.

I’m grateful for Greg who nudged me to put together a celebratory dinner for John to mark the end of proposal hell. I’m grateful to have such an easygoing cooking partner. He stirred the polenta endlessly while I finished the sauce for the beef short ribs.

Cranky, mostly cranky. I’m not grateful for my hives or my migraine or my touchy tooth or my dog who vomits when she gets too hungry or my carpet cleaner that leaks and makes cleaning up after the dog even worse. But in the grand scheme of things, these are temporary annoyances (except for the dog—I’ve got to figure that out).

Although I no longer keep a gratitude journal, I am grateful for idea of it, and I’m even more grateful for Lisa’s friendship—she gave me so much during the 10 years I knew her.

If I were still keeping the journal this Thanksgiving eve, I’d say—
I’m grateful for my family and that we all can get together for this holiday. I’m grateful for my wise, fun-loving, generous Dad whose birthday is tomorrow. If he were here, he’d love having the family in one place, all the jokes and stories, the good food, and Pete’s excellent wine. He’d sit at the counter and “supervise” while I carve the turkey, and he’d enjoy the piece I’d hand him—a juicy hunk from close to the bone.

Rings. It’s more than just a Ring.

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“Do you like me better than you like Antonio?” Crystel asks last night at bedtime. I laugh. She laughs. I shake my head back and forth. She knows that I won’t answer that question. She’s asked before. “There is an abundance of love,” I tell her.

Sometimes as parents we are asked to put into practice what we say.

Last May, Crystel, Antonio, and I designed a ring for Jody’s 50th birthday. The children were very cognizant that their individual birthstone represented their ten-year-old self and jockeyed to have their stone be the closest to Jody’s birthstone.

One evening, after Jody received her ring, Crystel and I were lounging on the couch together. She told me that she wanted to create a ring like we did for Mama Jody with her and her birthparents stones on it. To clarify, I asked, “Just you, your birthmom, and your birthdad?”

“Yes,” she replied.

I felt a twinge. Why not one with Mama Beth, Mama Jody, and Crystel?

Then I was touched that she felt safe enough to tell me what she wanted and that she wasn’t worried about my response. There is an abundance of love. Right, Mama?

I got my laptop. We went to Jared’s website to design the ring that she wanted. First, she picked the design. Second, she took the laptop from me and put it on her lap. Third, she moved her birthstone to be in the middle, her mom’s next to her, and then stopped.

“What should I use for my dad’s birthstone?” she asked.

“For now, you can guess,” I said. “We will ask your mom when your dad’s birthday is. She is the one who will know. For right now, pick the one that you think it is.”

Her mom’s birthday is in September the same as hers. So, in her mind, since her dad was probably older, because all dads are older, it must be October, November, or December. She picked November.

Looking at the cost of the ring, Crystel saw that it would take her life savings. And, she still wouldn’t have enough money. It would take six more months for her to have a total of $225.00.

The ring for Jody was a symbol of her family always being with her and of our love for her. Crystel designed her ring with this same sentiment. Her mom and dad would always be with her. She was loved.

I felt proud of her for taking care of a want that she had. She wanted a representation of being loved by her mom and dad. She wanted them to be real to her. She wanted them always with her. Her ring was a way of her taking charge of her story. Yes, she was adopted. Yes, she had a family in Guatemala. Yes, she was thee Crystel.

She was living out the adage … don’t wait for someone to buy you flowers …. bless yourself.

Crystel was going to do for herself instead of waiting for something that would never ever happen. That could never ever happen. She wasn’t going to be bitter about it. She wasn’t going to be angry. She wasn’t going to be depressed. She was going to design a ring, put herself in the middle of her birthparents and be cradled by the universal belief that she was loved.

In June, during our visit with her mom, I asked the birthdate of Crystel’s dad and jotted down February in the small notebook I carried.

Crystel continued to save her money.

$225.00 dollars later, Jody, Antonio, and I accompanied Crystel to Jared’s to place her order. The person who was helping us suggested that the purple stone (Amethyst) be in the middle of the two blue stones (Sapphire). That would be more aesthetically pleasing, he said. I looked at Crystel. She shook her head.  I understood. She wanted to be held in her parent’s arms. She needed the middle spot.

“No,” I said. “Blue (mom), blue (Crystel), and Purple (dad). Just like she wants them.”

There was much discussion about the sizing of the ring. Which finger would be best as she grew from being a 10-year-old to a young adult. We determined that her middle finger was the correct size and as she grew she could move it to another finger. Jody and I talked to her about how we never take our rings off and that she didn’t need to either. She could always have her birthparents with her.

There is an abundance of love.

Daylight Saving Time

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When the clock’s sleight of hand

tricks reality

something stronger than habit

resists

relearning the day’s hours.

This recalcitrant instinct

like a knot in pine that will not sand smooth

persists.

I still struggle with Daylight Saving Time as much as I did when I wrote that poem years ago. Daylight Saving Time makes sense at a practical level—take advantage of daylight to work more, play more, and use energy resources more efficiently. But there is something inherently wrong about manipulating the clock every spring and fall.

I’m not a back-to-nature zealot (e.g. if only humans hadn’t interfered with the natural world, life would be better). And I have no problem recording TV shows to watch later. But like it or not, humans are basically animals. Our bodies are attuned to nature and humans, as well as plants and even bacteria, are ruled by circadian rhythms. Circadian rhythms are the logic behind our sleeping and eating patterns. Daylight cues the nerve cells in our brain (a.k.a. the biological clock), which regulate our sleep-wake cycles, body temperature, hormone release, and more.

So mammal that I am, as the days grow shorter, I’ve been craving more sleep, wanting hearty stews and soups, and feeling satisfied that my nest is prepared for winter. I’ve gotten used to getting up in the dark, so it’s unsettling to wake up when the sky is lightening up—I’m late! No, it’s OK, calm down. Plus my brain is full of complicated, emotional dreams (well, it probably always was full of busy dreams, but now I have to know about it). So I wake up disoriented and vaguely upset.

The shift to early darkness is just as perturbing. Why is it dark when I walk to my car after work? I should be home by now. Something isn’t right. This confusion and unease goes on for weeks.

We can, by an act of will declare that it’s Daylight Saving Time and disregard what our bodies need, but we’ll pay for it for days, and sometimes, weeks. Why? Because of a basic arrogance that says we can manipulate or conquer the natural world.

But when I get up tomorrow in gray dawn and drive home from work in full dark, I’ll be still be jangled and wondering if Daylight Saving Time is worth it.

Today, I have a second reason why my sleep was disturbed—I stayed up too late watching the election returns. Thank you to the people of Minnesota for helping re-elect Obama and for defeating the voter ID and gay marriage ban amendments! Thanks also to the Toledoans who renewed the library levy! It’s a good day in America.