• Cub Scouts with Antonio

    Cub Scouts ready to leave for Camp Tomahawk
    Cub Scouts ready to leave for Camp Tomahawk

    This is Antonio’s 5th year in Cub Scouts. That means that this is my 5th year in Cub Scouts. It started off when we were Tigers together when he was 6-years-old. I got the hint real quick that he would never allow me just to drop him off.  I also saw that our den leader needed help with this group of first graders so I became an assistant. That started my career in Scouts and Antonio tagged along.

    That was our deal. He would go, if I would go.

    It was important to Jody and I that Antonio learn to navigate his way in the ‘male’ world. The easiest place to find a bunch of boys is at Scouts.

    Merry-Go-Round of Death!
    Merry-Go-Round of Death!

    I’ve watched him over the years become friendlier and more social with his den. Especially, after the  Scout meeting when a pick-up game of tag erupts.

    I’m really not sure if Antonio has learned any life lessons in his last four years of Scouts. And there has been many times that he has told me that he loves his home with his two moms and his sister and that he doesn’t need the experience of Cub Scouts. I believe him. Still, I make him go. It just seems like the right thing to do. Throw him in a pond of testosterone and let him find his way to shore.

    Antonio knows that he can decide for himself whether or not to join Boy Scouts after fifth grade.

    We just came home from a 3-night camping trip at Camp Tomahawk for 2nd year Webelos (10 and 11-year-olds).

    OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI had a good time because Antonio was having a good time. He was the one shooting the BB guns, practicing archery, racing to the top of the climbing wall, riding the merry-go-round of death, and playing king of the hill on the raft.

    I was the one watching his smile.

    Yes, I still got the occasional, “When are we going home?” question. And also his own honest opinion of himself , “I miss home when I’m only a block away”, he said. I told him that I understood and that both things could be true. He could miss home and he could have a good time.

    I even heard him mention a time or two that he might join Boy Scouts.

    OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAAntonio doesn’t appear to be aware of the controversy surrounding Scouts. It wasn’t present at Camp Tomahawk. What was present was an awesome staff of young men who were intent on making a memorable experience for 10 and 11-year-old boys. And to that end, they succeeded.

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  • On Losing My Ambition (Open Letter to 35-Year-Old Hiring Managers)

    Recently I had dinner with my friend C., who mentioned that after years of freelance writing, she was interviewing to be a marketing communications manager—a position she’s eminently qualified for.

    She confided that during the preliminary phone interview, the interviewer expressed concern that C. wouldn’t be satisfied with being a mid-level manager. Perhaps C. would be uncomfortable taking direction from the younger director of the organization. C. paused during this anecdote, with her eyes wide and eyebrows raised. We both burst out laughing and couldn’t stop.

    “Being the director is the last thing I want! I just want to do the kind of work I’ve been doing . . . but someplace else. For me, learning the rhythms of that office will be challenging enough,” C. said and paused for a sip of white wine.

    “I know! I just want to do interesting work with coworkers I like and be respected for what I know,” I said.

    I’m not sure when I lost my ambition for climbing the corporate ladder, but it’s been gone for a while.

    womanclimbingladderEven saying that feels odd. I have always cared about my career, and I’ve gone to some trouble to have one (got a graduate degree, made several cross-country moves in pursuit of jobs, been a working mother). But I simply no longer have a driving need to be promoted. Unlike Sheryl Sandburg, who encourages working mothers to be all they can be career-wise (see Lean In), I leaned back a long time ago.

    When I was in my 20’s and early 30’s, my career was my main focus. But my priorities broadened after my sons were born. Instead of pursuing a classic corporate marketing or ad agency path, I launched my own freelance writing business. Would I have made different decisions if the workplace had been more flexible? Maybe. But having my own business worked well for me—stacked hat logo

    a) It gave me the flexible hours I wanted when my sons were growing up so I could be a bigger part of their lives. They spent fewer hours in daycare. In the summer, I’d occasionally knock off early and we’d go on excursions—the beach, the zoo, or the park. When they were sick, I’d be home. I still had deadlines and needed to work late after my husband returned from his job, but it was easier to manage. Plus, I could volunteer at their school and go on their field trips.

    b) With half a dozen clients, I could have the creative variety that’s often lacking for ad agency copywriters. Instead of being the head writer on the agency’s Visa team, I’d write for Land o’ Lakes, Visa, Radisson, Medtronic, Sears—whichever account was active that week.

    c) As a freelance writer, I had more free time to write personal essays and memoir pieces—the kind of creative writing I’d always wanted to do.

    I made choices that supported the life I wanted; my decisions did not advance a traditional career path.

    Shortly after my second son was born, while I was still working full-time, I was offered the opportunity to be promoted from senior copywriter to associate creative director. It was hard to say no—at that point I still had traditional ambitions and wanted to advance. But I turned down the promotion, because between work and family, I was already at or beyond full capacity. I simply didn’t have the energy to do more and to do the job justice.

    Several years ago, I chose to leave my freelance business behind (it stopped being as much fun and my sons were grown) and take a part-time job writing marketing communications for a children’s hospital. I’ve had several chances to go full-time and get back on the classic path to career advancement. Ambition flickered in my heart. I briefly heard the siren song of advancement, “You’ve got more in you–you’d be good at that job.”  But I leaned back again. New logo 2

    I have other goals and responsibilities now—

    a) Having the flexibility to help my siblings care for my 91-year-old mother in Ohio

    b) Having fun with my husband who recently retired

    c) Making time for my creative writing projects

    As I told C. during dinner, “Hiring managers don’t have to be so worried about Baby Boomers. A lot of us don’t want to take over anything. Work is just one of the things we care about. We have a number of priorities.

    C. and I raised a toast to that reality.

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    2 responses to “On Losing My Ambition (Open Letter to 35-Year-Old Hiring Managers)”

    1. bbachel Avatar

      There are days I mourn the loss of my ambition. But then I remind myself how lucky I am to have the freedom and flexibility to (pretty much) do what I want when I want with who I want.

    2. wendyaskinner Avatar

      Well told story, Ellen. There is more to life than chasing the rabbit. I love freelancing–and creative writing and friends and family and having fun with my husband (who isn’t retired)… I have to admit I cringed when I read that the hiring manager brought age into the conversation: “Perhaps C. would be uncomfortable taking direction from the younger director of the organization.” What does age have to do with it? What matters is if an employee performs well. I would hope the younger director didn’t have a problem giving direction to an older mid-level employee…

  • “My Hamster is Dead.”

    OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA“My hamster is dead,” Crystel tells me. I look at her. “Are you serious?” There are many times she is not and I can’t discern if this is one of those times. “Yes,” she says.

    I’m still not convinced. “Are you sure?” I ask.

    I walk into her room. Brownie has his eyes closed. He looks …at peace. But I also think that I smell the faint stink of something decomposing. I don’t want to touch him and feel his stiff body, though I know that will be forthcoming. It is my job to remove dead things. I get beckoned for spiders, June Bugs, a fly.

    “How did he die?” I ask her. “I don’t know,” she says. She goes on to insist that he outlived the normal life span for a hamster. I’m not so sure about that. We travel back in our memory for how long we have had the hamster. I recall the tooth fairy bringing it to her. “Well, why did Antonio get one then?” “Because you got one,” I say.

    I study the rodent. “Did someone choke it?” I imagine little fingers squeezing its neck. It would have been easy to do. I have refused to EVER touch the omnivore. It doesn’t seem normal to me having such an animal for a pet.

    “No,” she insists. “He lived a normal life.”

    “We will have to have a funeral soon,” I tell her. What I’m thinking is that we need to get this dead thing out of the house.

    July 11, 2013 022Crystel has the burial place already decided. “By my window,” she says. Jody isn’t so sure. In front of her bedroom window is a spirea and rocks for landscaping. But it isn’t like the hamster needs a large burial plot.

    I reached into Brownie’s apartment with a Kleenex and wrapped him in it.

    July 11, 2013 024Crystel and I covered Brownie with dirt and rocks, called Jody over, and said a few words. Crystel found a nearby rock for a gravestone.

    Antonio would need to learn about Brownie later. He was at a sleepover. Decomposition waits for no person.

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