The Geeky Ties That Bind

SO I went to Dragon Con in Atlanta this past weekend :)  I could go on and on about what a great time we had, but what I really want to express can pretty much be summed up in this one story:  I was at a panel with Lee Majors and Lindsey Wagoner - that's right the Six Million Dollar Man and the Bionic Woman - pretty geeky, I know.  Well, at one point this lady went to the mic to ask a question. As soon as she started to talk you could hear a quiver in her voice. She told them both how happy she was to see them (they don't do many Con appearances) and how she watched them both growing up. She then told Lee Majors how from the days of the Big Valley and The Virginian to the "Six Mill" (as Majors calls it), to the Fall Guy - he was her mom's "top guy." Her voice got even shakier. Then she said that her mom had passed away just last month and how she wished she could have brought her to Dragon Con, but how happy she was to be able to be there herself and tell them how much they meant to her and her mom. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. Everyone clapped when she was done and both the stars said some lovely things. That show, though - with the track suits and Oscar Goldman and Steve Austin - that was part of the connective tissue between that lady and her mom. 

The reason there wasn't a dry eye in the house was because everyone was sitting there (picture the courtroom in Big Daddy) thinking about the geeky things they had done and seen with their mom, dad, brother, sister or best friend. They were thinking about the shows, the comic books, the cartoons, the action figures, the movies, the games (the pop culture energy that binds us all together) that were the impetus for many very special shared moments in their lives. That's the reason I love Cons.

I grew up watching The Six Million Dollar Man and the Bionic Woman and I wanted to share that with my son and all that it meant to me.  Lindsey Wagoner was one of the first women on T.V. that I identified with that was strong and independent and made her own decisions.  The show did an exceptional job of using Lindsey’s femininity and intelligence as a part of her strength and not just constantly relying on her bionics to solve every situation.  She was a superwoman without being a comic book character.  She was someone who could be real.  She embodied a woman’s strength at a time that coincided with the women’s movement.  I was only in grade school when the show was on, but my sister, who came to a couple of days of the Con with us, was a young woman.  And yet, for both of us, Lindsey Wagoner embodied the women we wanted to be, and it was a nostalgic and exciting moment for us to share.

My son introduced me to Dr. Who this past fall.  I was hooked after one episode. We then, introduced my husband to the show, and soon the whole family became pretty devoted Whovians. We spent last fall as a family working our way through all the current Doctors (9, 10 and 11) and are now selectively watching “Classic Doctors” as we await the start of the new season.  It was no surprise that my son wanted to see as much Doctor Who as the Con had to offer, and my husband and I enthusiastically agreed.  At Dragon Con we got to meet the 5^th Doctor (Peter Davison; who, for non-Whovians out there, also happens to be the 10^th Doctor’s Father in Law ;)).  He was friendly and personable and told personal stories and jokes and was everything we hoped he would be.

We also attended Wizard World in Philadelphia this year. As a smaller Con it offers easier access to celebrities and more intimate venues for panels, etc.  We went to panels on Whovian history and cosplay and we managed to attend several other panels, at both Cons, from Star Trek TNG to William Shatner to Stan Lee to The Walking Dead.  I wasn’t sure how much my son would “get” or be interested in some of the panels, but it turned out that he surprised me.  Not only did he stay engaged and asked some really smart questions afterwards, he enjoyed them so much, he wanted to see more. His enthusiasm remained un-dampened by crowds or lines (something rarely encountered in this 13 year old). Both Michael Rooker from The Walking Dead and William Shatner kept him laughing until I thought he would bust a gut!  His favorite parts, of course, are when the actors tell stories about being on set and playing pranks on each other or rib each other.  In the past couple of years he has become engrossed in his middle school theater group, so I think he not only relates to the stories, but is surprised and happy to hear that his experiences are not that different from adults in theater, particularly celebrities.

My point here is that, whatever your particular “fandom”, it really is so much more than just a T.V. show, book, movie, comic, celebrity, game, etc.  Pop culture and the Conventions that celebrate it mean so much more than just getting to see your favorite celebrity up close or an opportunity to dress up as your favorite comic book hero. It is an atmosphere of acceptance and understanding, and a place where fans can come together and let their “geek flags” fly with pride.  But most of all, for everyone there, and especially for this little family, it is a place where we can connect. It is the energy, the conversations that are sparked, and the memories made, that are one of the important ties that bind us.  

In Defense of Privacy - The Difference Between Private and Public

When Bradley Manning leaked documents to Wikileaks, DOD employees still couldn't look at them on their work computers. Why? Because in DOD's eyes, those documents, while having been made public were actually still considered to be classified. Sometimes the private gets made public - that doesn't make it any less private.

The same goes for Huma Abedin and her husband. Their problems were made public - that in no way changes the fact that they are very private, the most private, matters. The problem is that when they were made public, a lot of people thought that gave them the right, not just to comment on them, but to stand in judgment of how they (particularly Huma) were dealing with their problems. It didn't. What people should have done, is to say that it seems like an awful situation and I sure wouldn't want to be in that situation myself BUT (and here is the critical part) I don't know all the details, it’s not my life, I don’t live in their shoes. A woman (or a man, for that matter) dealing with a tragedy in her (or his) marriage deserves respect and privacy to deal with it.  

Can we, as a public, be any more demeaning and callous?


I don't presume to know why Huma made the decision(s) she made, but I'm going to respect her private life and not act like judge and jury and wear some sanctimonious cloak of 'I know better' and 'I would behave differently.'  The short answer and the true answer is that you're not her AND unless you're her best friend, I'm guessing she hasn't called you up to talk through all this. 

I also don’t have any idea why Hilary stayed with Bill after his escapades were made public. Again, that was a seriously private matter made public, and their handling of it was and is a private matter.  So I seriously think that anybody who wants to judge Huma or Hilary  - two incredibly smart, and by all accounts tough and successful women, are actually doing harm to the image of two women who could and should serve as role models NOT JUST for women but for men as well. The dirty truth that no one seems to want to admit is that it is much tougher, more courageous, takes much more self-esteem and hard work to try to repair a damaged relationship than to walk away from one. The fact that these women have had to try to do this in the face of public scrutiny should be respected, not ridiculed.  

No one is to say whose marriages will survive and whose won’t, what transgressions can be overcome and what can’t, and who can or will change and who won’t. Until you’ve walked a mile in someone else’s shoes you cannot say what they should do or what you would do in their position, because you don’t really know what “their position” is.  You only know what it looks like from the outside.   

Life is complicated; marriage even more so. Let's put down the arrogance and presumption that we know enough about the personal lives of anyone, including public figures, to judge them on how they conduct their private affairs. 

My husband is a historian who studied Early America.  It always upsets him when people refer to “The Founders” as if they were some kind of supermen and not really human.  They were human, they had flaws, they made some seriously questionable decisions.  But, on the other side of that scale, is the great work they did – not because they were superhuman, but precisely because they were human and they faced the same struggles we still do today.  That’s what makes people role models – not their perfection, but their imperfection; not their success, but the way they face their challenges.

Male or female, we all make difficult decisions in life.  I have a son, and I hope that I am a good role model for him.  I hope that when confronted with challenges in his life, he will be able to face them with courage, grace, intelligence and strength, and not let other people's judgment influence his decisions.  I want him to know that it is important to be respectful of other people and private matters, even when they are made public.

Happy Birthday To My Big Thinker

My husband is what I call a “big thinker.”  He is always full of out-of-the-box ideas.  The risks and adventures that we have taken in our lives are because of him.  Looking back at many years spent together, the vast majority of my husband’s ideas have led to some amazing things that we would never have experienced otherwise; people we would never have met, places we would never have gone and things we would never have seen.

I am much more detail-oriented and I often can’t see the forest for all the trees in my way.  It takes my high flying husband to see that vision and point the way.   We are opposites in many ways, and that’s a good thing.  He makes me more outgoing and social, pushes me to make changes and try new things.

After all these years, he is still the one person that I most enjoy being with.  He is the yin to my yang, the Westley to my Princess Buttercup, my blue lobster.

I am amazed by his talent, his intellect, his quick wit and sense of humor. We have been through a great deal lately; the good, the bad and the very very ugly, you might say. So, I appreciate, more than ever, the effort he goes to every day to let me know how much he loves me. 

So, on this day, my husband’s birthday, I just wanted to take a moment to let him know how much I love him and his big thinking. Happy Birthday @moehlert! I can’t wait to see what our next adventure is going to bring!   

The Quiet Cafe

I had an amazing dream the other night.  I went to a Quiet Café. It was so real and so blissful, that when I woke up, it took a few minutes for me realize that it was just a dream.  I’m afraid as I try to write this that it will probably just sound silly, and I really wish that I could do it justice in writing.  But, in my dream state, in my imagination, it was perfect and blissful.  I am the type of person who rarely remembers my dreams beyond those first hazy moments of waking up.  But, the Quiet Café is a dream that I know I will not forget, and in not forgetting it exists for me.

The Quiet Café is like a spa.  You check in at the front desk by signing your name to the guest book and being assigned a little room of your own, somewhat like a cabana.  Plush robes are provided.  There are massage and regular spa services, a pool, a library, and a little restaurant.  You change into your slippers and robe and can either take a nap in your cabana, watch a favorite movie (with headphones) or venture to the pool or spa areas or the library.  There are waiters who bring around tea or cocktails and a little restaurant with beautiful tapas-like foods and snacks.  The only rule – you got it – is No Talking, none; not even whispering.  There are little note pads for communicating when necessary.  It is pure bliss.

The reason why I am revisiting the Quiet Café this Sunday after a long holiday weekend is that I find myself dreading going back to work tomorrow.  I know that end-of-weekend (especially long holiday weekend) blues are pretty universal.  However, I’m finding the prospect of the full work week ahead of me particularly daunting right now.  My company is in the middle of the busiest selling season that anyone I work with can remember.  In addition, within the division I work, this is the busiest season of the year, with probably 90% of my deadlines occurring between June and July every year.

Also, like most office workers these days, I work in a cubicle environment.  To be fair, I have as private a cubicle as I could probably ask for.  The walls are high and I am in the corner against a window wall with a nice view of the mountains in the distance; not bad at all.  However, it is still a cubicle.  It is still an environment where co-workers can shout at each other over the walls and carry on conversations several cubicles away, that you would swear you are a part of, simply by virtue of being in hearing distance.  When I spend long hours every day pouring over contract details in an effort to provide concise and coherent advice on any liability or financial ramifications in provisions written by lawyers and  government agencies (in 8 point Times New Roman type, no less) I have to admit, the extraneous noise sometimes makes me want to pull my hair out.

I worry that I am getting burned out.  I have learned through past seasons’ experience, that both for the sake of my professional life and my personal life, I need to take particular care of myself during this season.  I spent my first few years with this company trying my hardest just to keep up.  There was a significant learning curve. My personal and family life suffered dearly.  I learned my lesson.  I no longer take work home with me.  If I need to put in extra hours, I make the effort to get into the office early or stay a little later at night; whatever it takes to keep it at the office.  When I get home, I relax, period.  I make the most out of my weekends with family trips and outings and dates with the hubby.  We focus on each other completely when at home together.  Life at home is good.  Maybe that is a little of why it is so hard these days to go back to work on Mondays.

Whatever the reason, I am sure I am not alone in my post-holiday weekend blues.  Couldn't we all use a little Quiet Café?

The Man Should Kill the Bugs

I woke up this Father’s Day to a big ugly water bug in my shower.   I hate bugs. I didn’t notice him until he was already drowned, but it creeped me out so much that I hopped out of the shower, soaking wet, and shouted at my husband “Bug in the shower! Bug in the shower!” He very sweetly, and without complaint, got out of the bed, came into the bathroom and scooped the dead, drowned bug out of the shower with a tissue.  His only comment was something to the effect of “yeah, that was an ugly one.”

This is exactly what I expected him to do.  Because that’s that what the man does. He kills the bugs.

I normally consider myself a staunch feminist.  So, I know I’m probably putting my foot in my mouth here and sounding like a total hypocrite.  But, it’s my truth.  So, here it goes.  The man should do the following:

1. Kill the bugs
2. Take care of the car
3.  Grill out

That’s it.  For me, these are the basics, and they are pretty much non-negotiable.  This is not to say that I am in any way unable to kill the bugs, take care of car maintenance, or grill a mean piece of meat.  It just means that this is my gold standard for how a household should run.  And why is that you may ask?  As a little girl, these are things I noticed that my father took care of, on a regular basis, no questions asked.  These things were his domain.  That is not to say that I never saw my father cook a meal or fold a load of laundry.  It’s just that those things were not, mainly speaking, his responsibility.  That’s also not to say, that these are the ONLY things that I expect of the man in the family and in no way does it mean that my father didn’t do a million other both amazing and ordinary things for his family every day. 

However, I have memories of his running to our defense, shoe in hand, at the call of “bug!”  I remember coming home from college and him having to check the oil and tires on my car or run it up to the service station and have it serviced and cleaned for me.  My father was such a huge fan of the outdoor grill that he would grill in any weather, and any season, literally. I have vivid images of him running outside to turn the meat, in freezing temperatures, through falling snow and pouring rain.  (Yes, that’s a little crazy, I know.  But, I love it.)

This Father’s Day, I want to blow kisses and thanks up to heaven to my Daddy for the example he set for me and for making me feel safe and loved. 

And to my husband, the father of my child, love and kisses on this Father’s Day.  Thank you for being my biggest supporter and a wonderful father to our boy.  But more than that, the person who knows me best in the world, the person who shares my secrets, my heartbreaks and my joys, my lover, my friend, my car guy, my grillmaster and of course my Killer of the Bugs.

Reflecting on Memorial Day

I have been thinking about my father all day this Memorial Day.  He was a veteran of WWII and would have been 87 this year.  He did not die in battle defending our country.  He died at the young age of 62, of lung cancer. 

I’m sure if he were here he would be reminding me that Memorial Day is a day to remember those who gave their lives in battle defending our country, while Veterans’ Day is a day to recognize those who bravely fought, and those who are still fighting, for our freedom. 

Although my father did not die in battle, he gave of himself, as so many young women and men are doing today, and he was, as they all are, forever changed by the experience.  He used to tell me that we live in the greatest country in the world and that we are the luckiest people in the world.  However, of his war experiences I can only tell you the following:

• He was an Army Corp. engineer (his dream was to be a Navy pilot, but his eyesight     was bad, (something I, unfortunately inherited from him) and so, even in wartime – the Navy would not accept him);
• He was an Avenger of Bataan;
• He watched a good friend die in a foxhole next to him (and he would become emotional just saying that);
• His last promotion was to a position in the watch tower, a job that came with a life expectancy of approximately 24 hours.  (As luck would have it, within a short time on his watch, the camp was ordered to disassemble and move on);
• He used to write letters to his mother, changing his middle initial in the signature on each letter, to spell out his location, so she would have an idea where he was.  It was supposed to be classified information;
• When he was on base and his parents could come visit him, his mother would ride hours or days carrying a banana bread loaf that she made for him, because it was his favorite.  (To this day, I make an amazing banana bread – can practically do it with my eyes shut at this point – and I think of him and that story every time I make it).

Like so many of my father’s generation, he didn’t talk much about the war.  These are the only facts/stories that I could ever get out of him, no matter how much I asked him to tell me.  Maybe he was trying to protect himself from reliving the memories.   Maybe he simply wanted to protect me from the atrocities of war, from the many harsh realities of the world and this often cruel life that we live.

There is so much I could write about veterans and what our country and society could and should be doing for them.   But, that’s not really what this blog post is about.  This is about my father.

There is so much that I would like to write about my father.  Meal time was an adventure.  He never sat down for a meal that didn’t last a minimum of 3-4 hours.  This is not an exaggeration.  I mean literally. I’m not kidding.  We routinely shut restaurants down.  When at home, my mother was constantly reheating food and refilling drinks while my father continued to tell stories and ask questions and pull stories out of dinner guests and family.  He loved good food and good conversation.  He used to tell me that he was forced in the army to eat rations in a cold, wet foxhole, and even when they had the luxury of a mess tent, meal time was limited to 15 minutes.  He swore to himself that he would never be rushed through a meal again.  And he wasn’t. 

He loved comedians.  He watched very little T.V. other than news and sports, with the exception of a few favorites including Carol Burnett, M*A*S*H, and Hogan’s Heroes.  He was a huge sports fan.  On a Sunday afternoon, he would have the little television in the kitchen on one sport, the radio on another, while simultaneously scanning the sports page in the newspaper.  The only sport he never liked was the steeple chase.  He said it was cruel to the horses.

He never read fiction.  He said life was interesting enough, why would you need to make anything up?   He could pick up any instrument and play it by ear.  He was generous and fun-loving and lovable, and also serious and firm in his beliefs and the way things should be.  He was a Republican back in the day.  He was economically conservative, but with decidedly liberal personal views.

He abhorred bigotry and intolerance of any kind, and instilled the same in me.  He taught me that I was smart (because that’s what he believed) and pretty (because that’s what I wanted to be).  He told me that I could be anything I wanted to be. He taught me that I am special and valuable, and to think for myself and stand up for myself.

I wish that I could fully describe what an amazing man he was, and what a great example he provided me.  There are so many things that I wish I could say to him, talk over with him and get his advice about.  I wonder what he would think about the world today.  What would he think about the fact that we have been at war continuously for over a decade?  What about politics today, terrorism, the internet?   I can only wonder and hope that I live up to his example and be the best me I can be, every day, in his memory.

Never Again.  Starting Now.

Why the F are there not mandatory underground shelters in homes and schools in tornado alley??!!  Yes, I know - the cost.  F the cost.  Yes, that’s what I said.  F it!  I’m angry, I’m sickened, and I’m devastated for the poor families that are suffering right now.  What makes me the most angry, is that I believe that the majority of the deaths could have been prevented.  There was warning.  There was time. Children were taken to their “safe” place – an interior hallway.  Seriously?  An interior hallway? 

While there are so many tragedies in this world that we cannot prevent, our society certainly has the intelligence, the technology and yes, the money, to prevent so many of them. And, yet we refuse to address the most important issues, mainly the health and safety of our people, and especially our children. I’m talking about everything from natural disasters to gun violence to health care. We choose instead to focus on political nonsense and who’s having affairs and sexting, etc. It makes me want to Scream (or alternately curl up in fetal position and disappear). God’s greatest gift to us is each other, and in particular, our children. Why are we, as a people and a country, not respecting and protecting and appreciating that Gift every day? 

On a personal level, we do not nourish our relationships as we should – spouses, children, parents, siblings and friends.  We take each other for granted. On a national level, we are not protecting our citizens from gun violence and terrorism. We are not making sure that things like child care, health care, including mental health care and medicine are available for everyone.  There are people starving in our own country and around the world – something that should be basic and solvable, should be a done deal.

 

I know I have been personally guilty of taking my life and my relationships for granted.  I’m sure I’m not alone in that realization, if we are all honest with ourselves.  But, I’ve learned that sometimes it takes almost losing it all, to appreciate what you have.  What is it going to take for us, as a nation, or just as human beings, to wake up and realize what a precious and amazing Gift this life is, and stop wasting our time here on things that just don’t matter? 

How would life be different if we were always aware of the fact that at any given moment we could lose someone we love?

While it seems that I don’t have the answers, just more questions, I will start here by sending a Big Thank You to my husband who, when these tragedies occur (and there have been way too many of them of late) has, unfortunately, the added burden of dealing with a weepy and emotional wife and an anxious son. My husband very adeptly navigates how much exposure both my son and I have to the constant, saturating influx of the devastation, and I appreciate that So Much.

So my promise (to myself) starts here:

1.  Never take my relationships for granted - Never Again.

2.  Be a better, more involved citizen - Starting Now.