WordSisters

Category: inspiration

  • Choosing to Believe

    A few weeks ago, I visited Pearl Harbor and the USS Arizona memorial. I wasn’t sure what to expect. My father was in the Navy during WWII at Normandy and later in the Pacific. I wanted to honor his service and the legacy of my parents’ generation who sacrificed and died to preserve our democracy.

    I stared into the water at the rusting sunken ship, which is a gravesite for more than 900 sailors. I wondered if they were young like Dad who signed up at 21, or if they had any idea what they were getting into when they joined the Navy. Pearl Harbor was a large naval base, but in 1941, it probably seemed like they were in the middle of nowhere, doing nothing important. Until it was bombed.

    USS Arizona Memorial

    In his later years, Dad said matter-of-factly, “War is hell.” He didn’t favor patriotic parades or ever make a big deal out of his service. Much as he hated war, he was also profoundly committed to preserving democracy. 

    Standing on deck of the memorial with the breeze rippling the water and lifting my hair, I didn’t feel a deep connection to Dad. Instead I felt frustrated, angry, and deeply sad that 85 years later, our country’s democracy is crumbling. I want to apologize to all the people who sacrificed and died so we wouldn’t see a day when the Current Occupant would engage us in a senseless war, trash our relationships with our international allies, and run roughshod over citizens’ constitutionally protected rights.

    I am worried about our country’s future. We certainly weren’t perfect 10 years ago or 20 years ago, but at least democracy was viable and mostly functioning then.

    More recently, I heard Yo-Yo Ma perform with the Minnesota Symphony Orchestra, and the music was as exceptional and moving as I expected. When he came out to play an encore, he alluded to Minnesota’s ordeal with ICE and our impressive community spirit. The audience clapped long and loud, grateful to be seen and acknowledged. Ma described the piece by Pablo Casals he intended to play. He said the music gets so quiet it almost disappears and there is fragility in the moment, but the music grows and fragility becomes strength.

    I am choosing to believe that as fragile as our democracy is right now, too many of us believe in it to let it disappear, so it will grow strong again.

  • Thank You for Being a Friend

    There may have been times in my life where I’ve wished for more friends, but surveying the landscape of the years, I’ve been pleasantly surprised at the growing richness of friendship around me. These friendships are both comforting and surprising. As a lifelong introvert and a bit of a loner, it’s taken me a while to find my footing with my friends. 

    I’m surprised, perhaps, because sometimes I’ve taken friendships for granted or maybe even realized that I may not always have been the best friend. I have forgotten birthdays, or let too much time go between phone calls, or even missed responding to texts. My well-crafted reply to an email or text often gets lost in my head. This does not reflect my affections. When I think of my friends, I smile internally recalling ways that I’ve met people, our histories and ways we’ve time we spent together, even if it was a long time ago. 

    When I was young, I had visions of popularity, thinking that popular people had the most friends, and who doesn’t want a lot of friends? I quickly learned that my quiet, introverted nature often set me apart as being shy or just too withdrawn to make easy connections with others. I longed for real connections and conversations, but didn’t know how to get there. 

    The author with her daughter and former roommate (and friend of 30+ years).

    The insecurity of adolescence has annoyingly stuck with me, although it’s less of an issue now than it used to be. But it is still a force that keeps me in the shadows more than it should. 

    In my 50s now, I still want to connect with people and find that I can still get in my own way when I worry about whether someone will like me or when I feel self-conscious. It is all too easy to pull into myself when faced with a group of people I don’t know very well.

    When I do make a friend, it usually sticks. I’ve been fortunate to make meaningful connections with people through the years, and despite my occasional inattentiveness, somehow those connections have lasted. Often those friendships unfolded over time and with a shared history; other times my connection was immediate and easy. 

    I’ve been lucky to be a part of a writing group that has been going for 20 years, where we’ve grown to know each other in unique and vulnerable ways through our writing voices and so much more. I’ve been equally fortunate to be part of a knitting group that has been meeting for even longer, bonding over knitting, conversation, and laughter. And I’ve made individual connections with people here and there: A friend I used to work with who shares my love of reading and always laughs at my jokes. A former roommate who saw me through some tough times and is the one that still generates loud and frequent laughter in me. Another friend I met at a neighborhood park when our kids were preschoolers. Other friends I’ve made through my daughter.

    Writing Besties: Brenda, Ellen, Jill, and Elizabeth

    I haven’t always had the time or energy to maintain friendships over the years. One of my sisters has friendships from elementary school, and she regularly sees others from her high school days. I can date my longest friendship to a friend I made in college, when we met in journalism school and quickly connected over books and writing. Blessedly, we are still connected despite being separated by more than a thousand miles and one time zone.  

    Developing and maintaining friendships takes time and intention, and it’s something I’ve found harder to do in my middle age years. Marrying in my mid-thirties and then becoming a mother in my early 40s put me out of sync with many of my peers. Early motherhood was often fraught with anxiety, and I found myself wishing for more connection. And then the pressures of working and caring for family made it harder to carve out time for friendship. I can still find myself feeling lonely at times, as my daughter grows more independent and will soon be out of the house. 

    I think the answer to that is to lean into the friendships that I have and nurture them a bit more. So, if you are my friend, please forgive me for missing your birthday or not calling more often. Know that you still hold a place in my heart. And expect to hear from me soon. 

  • Because There’s Not Enough Wine or Chocolate in the World for This

    This has been a tough week for me. Perhaps for you, too. I avoided the inauguration, choosing instead to honor Martin Luther King Jr., truly a man of vision, integrity, and character. Nevertheless, my emotions have been turbulent. What follows is the evolution of my feelings. Feel free to skip to whatever part you need to hear today. 

    Frustration 

    “Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.”  Martin Luther King, Jr. from Strength to Love

    The first blog I wrote this week was about my frustration and dismay that so many Trump supporters reject mainstream media and rely on social media and political podcasts to form their views. In other words, user-generated content—someone else’s opinion. Facts are not expected or required.

    I struggled to think about how Trump’s supporters could possibly be influenced. How do verifiable truths become accepted again? Certainly not with factual arguments. But experiences can change minds. I hope that when it becomes clear he can’t deliver on his many outrageous promises, some of his supporters (not all–the diehard believers are beyond our influence) will become disillusioned and their disappointment will erode his power.

    • • •

    Then I thought, maybe WordSisters readers can’t bear another political conversation right now. So the next blog I wrote turned practical. 

    Survival Tactics

    “The dawn will come. Disappointment, sorrow, and despair are born at midnight, but morning follows.” Martin Luther King, Jr. from Strength to Love

    It’s imperative we not give up. But the bombardment of Trump’s awful decisions and destructive actions is hard to cope with. So I thought about sharing my survival tactics. 

    1. Focus on your family and friends. This is the sphere where you can have the biggest impact. Talk often, hang out together, plan meals and outings together. Take care of each other.

    2. Consume less news. Skimming headlines is fine. When you have limited power to effect change, being informed in a topline way is plenty. Read, listen, or watch news later in the day. Allow the good parts of your day to happen first. Good stuff dilutes the overwhelm. Avoid the many opinion pieces that speculate (Trump might ___. If Trump’s cabinet does this ____ might be at risk). Save your worry and anger for actual events.

    I believe in those coping mechanisms, but sometimes the world is too heavy and we need more.

    • • •

    Inspiration 

    What finally helped me the most was focusing on Martin Luther King, Jr.’s wisdom. He continued believing and fighting for years and years regardless of the many hardships and setbacks he and the other civil rights leaders experienced. We can too.

    “Let us rise up tonight with a greater readiness. Let us stand with a greater determination. And let us move on in these powerful days, these days of challenge to make America what it ought to be. We have an opportunity to make America a better nation.” Martin Luther King, Jr., from his speech in Memphis the night before he died.