Kite Flying

When I think about why people have children, I realize how little it should have to do with the future.  If, before any children are conceived, we knew that our reward for raising them would be perhaps several phone calls a month, a very occasional visit, and the sense of having once been important in their lives, we might not do it.  But if we realize that the rewards are given during the raising, we will calculate the cost differently.  My children have taught me more than I have taught them, given me more joy that I have given them, and their not being present or even much aware of me now does not alter this.   ~ from The Journal Keeper, by Phyllis Theroux

Right before my son's senior year in high school, my friend Pat gave me a framed reprint of the poem titled "Children Are Like Kites."  You've probably seen it - the gist of it is that you spend years preparing children to "get off the ground."  You run with them, patch them up when they're torn, pick them up off the ground countless times.   You let the string out a bit at a time, until finally they're airborne.  Finally, "the kite becomes more distant, and you know it won't be long before that beautiful creature will snap the lifeline that binds you together and it will soar as it was meant to soar - free, and alone."

Of course, by the time you get to this part of the poem, you're choking back tears.  Even now, some 12 years later, I get teary eyed reading those last few words.

But then there's the final sentence:

Only then do you know that you have done your job.

I believe that's true.  It's in the letting go that a parent really comes to know what they're made of.  And if you've done your job well, when you read that very last line you'll dry your tears, stand up a little straighter, take a deep breath and move on.

Most of you know that my husband and I are only children, and in terms of feeling responsible for their parents' happiness,  I think the burden on an only child is rather great.  My parents and my husband's parents were as different as night and day in their child-rearing styles, but nevertheless, the outcome on each side was exactly the same.  Both of us always felt the need to be perfect, and to do whatever it took to make our parents happy, even if that meant subsuming what we desired for our own lives.  

So when we got married, we had an agreement - if/when we had children, we would not stand in their way, would not make them feel as if our lives depended on their constant presence, not make them feel guilty or worried about what we'd do without them. 

In short, we'd let them break the kite string and soar.

We've tried really hard to do that, and I think we've succeeded pretty well.  Our only son left home at age 18 to go to college in Florida, traveled more than halfway around the world on several occasions,  met and married a young woman from a completely different culture.  He's lived in Florida for the past 12 years, and is planning to move again - to Texas, this time, to embark upon another era in his life's journey. 

As a matter of fact, sometimes I have to laugh at just how well we've succeeded in allowing him to soar.  I'm sure his trajectory simply boggles the minds of our parents, as well as other more conservative folks in our families, who probably always wondered why in the world  we let  him do those things. 

Make no mistake, there's nothing easy about this process.  There's no magic pill you can take to stop missing your children, to keep your heart from aching when you're apart on birthdays and holidays, to prevent you from wondering what they're doing or how their day is going, if they're in a bad mood or on top of the world.   I've always been deeply  involved in my own mother's life (probably overly so),  and I  know that I will continue to become even more involved from now on as she draws nearer to the end of it,  and  it hurts sometimes to think I might never have that kind of relationship with my own child,  that I  may very well need to rely on the "kindness of strangers" to shepherd me through my later years. 

But, as Phyllis Theroux says in the passage quoted above ~"My children have taught me more than I have taught them, given me more joy that I have given them, and their not being present or even much aware of me now does not alter this."  

Watching those beautiful, strong, colorful kites waving proudly in the breeze is worth everything, and one of life's greatest experiences.

I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Marketing Madness (Take 2)

At that same business function I attended the other day, I met a woman who Tweets for a living. Yes, Tweets ~ as in Twitter.

She also does Facebook and Linked-In, and something else  whose name I didn't catch.

She's made a career of being a Social Media expert.

Meeting her was rather serendipitous because earlier that day at the office we'd been looking at the prototype for our new website, noticing that it had been configured to display a live Twitter feed.

"We don't need that, do we?" I queried. 

"I really think we should to try this," said E., the young woman who's managing our new marketing campaign.  "All the attorney's we're marketing have it on their web sites."

Naturally, Sandra, the Social Media expert I referred to earlier, was in total agreement.

"Absolutely! You must put your name out there and get involved in social media networking and marketing!"  

I still wasn't convinced.  A small medical case management group, targeting auto insurance, attorney, and geriatric cases ~ what on earth would we tweet?  Sandra wasn't going to give her secrets away, but she offered this tidbit. "Everything you post should either educate, motivate, or stimulate," she advised. 

Apparently while I've been playing around here in blog land, this brave new world of Social Media marketing has exploded all around me.  I started Googling the term, and the first link that pops up is Get A Degree in Social Media - from Full Sail University (my son's alma mater).  Not surprisingly, it's an online course.

So, I've been doing some further investigating, in hopes that any venture into this arena might be an area where my potential "marketing" talents might be put to better use.    My boss has even offered to send me to a seminar to learn more about this concept.    Although I'm still a little skeptical about the efficacy of social media for the needs of our particular company, I'm a lot more interested in the concept than I am in wandering around at cocktail parties or golf outings.

How about you?  What's your take on social media?

Marketing Madness

It's 10:30-ish, and I'm just now dragging myself in from work.  Actually, work is a relative term if you consider that I spent the evening at a cocktail reception and then enjoying a well cooked salmon filet on a bed of something that looked like mush, was really black eyed peas and roasted figs, and tasted absolutely marvelous.  I've been out marketing.

The entire staff  at my office has been drafted into the latest wave of developments to "market" our small medical case management company to the wider world.  While I was quite happy to write copy for the web page and brochure, and help with the design for some print ads, I was less than thrilled when I got drafted to attend an after work reception designed for "networking" with member of the Birmingham Chamber of Commerce.

Hobnobbing with strangers is not really my thing.  I can converse easily with people I know, and even people I don't really know but have some tangential relationship toward.  For instance, if I'm at a church picnic, I can go up to people and initiate a conversation because we all have the shared bond of being church members.  If I'm at a concert, or a fund raiser for a musical group, or even a dinner party at a friends house, I fell comfortable enough speaking to strangers because I know we have at least something in common, whether it be it an interest in music or my friends good food.

But to wander into a room full of business people I"ve never met and be expected to strike up a conversation while trying to drum up business - egad. 

Let's just say ice water was been running through my veins all day long.  This afternoon when it was time to go, I was dragging my feet like a five year old on the way to the dentist (without even the luxury of being able to whine about it).

At first it was about as bad as I imagined.  There were a dozen or so folks milling around, clutching tiny glasses of sour white wine in one hand and juggling business cards in the other.  My boss soon struck up a conversation with someone, and I hovered close behind her, glancing surreptitiously around in hopes of finding someone I might know.  I felt completely invisible, because it was clear that she was the one with the power in our little duet.  She's quite assertive and has a certain vision of the company she's eager to project. 

Another woman joined our little group, and the coversation turned toward elder care, an area we're trying to promote in our business.  Certainly I had something to say on that subject.  And then I hear the magic words from one of these ladies..."My brother's a musician," she said offhandedly, "and plays in the Detroit Symphony." 

I glanced at her name tag, and immediately recognized the last name.  "Murry Okun is your brother?" I asked.

"Yes!" she said.  "Do you know him?" 

I fudged a little, because I don't, but one of my friends does.  "My friend plays in the DSO," I replied.  "David Everson."

"David!" she cried out.  "I've known Dave for years!  And do you know his girlfriend, Jill?"

"Well, I believe she's his fiance now," I answered smugly, knowing they'd announce their engagement to the family last week.

"WHAT! I just saw her!  She never said a word!  Molly," she cried, calling over a friend.  "Did you know Dave and Jill were engaged???"

"No!" Molly shrieked.

Suddenly, I was no longer at a Chamber of Commerce function, but in the school yard of the junior high.

And - I was in.

My boss stepped back and let the conversation flow on about musicians, and girlfriends, and symphony functions.  Finally we got around to talking about the business' these women were involved in, and then they started calling over their friends and introducing us around.

My boss took us out for dinner afterwards (which explains the nice salmon filet and the reason I'm home so late).  She seemed pleased enough with the outcome of the event.  "Boy," she said to me, "you know  a lot of people, don't you?"

Not really.  Thankfully, the music world is very small, and brings people together in some very unexpected ways sometimes.

I got lucky, and the evening turned out to be a little better than I had expected.  Still, I'd rather stay in my little corner of the office and write copy for web sites and newlsetters and twitter feeds, all of which I think are in the offing as part of the marketing madness.

Relinquishing Martha

We have succumbed to the lure of lazy Sunday mornings spent on the back porch with an extra-large mug of coffee and a good book, and have not been to church all summer.  Not until yesterday, when we were sort of forced to show up because my husband was scheduled to be lay reader in the service.  It's good that we went ~we had a chance to catch up with friends we hadn't seen in a while.  Good to be reminded that folks in the congregation are like a second family to us, and have missed seeing us there.  I have to imagine that Jim was inwardly chuckling as he read the  morning's scripture lesson.  It was the famous story of Martha and her sister Mary, and the different ways they reacted to an unexpected visitor (that would be Jesus).   Martha goes nuts trying to be the perfect hostess, while Mary plops down on the floor at Jesus' feet and  just savours being in his presence.  Martha, frustrated at what she perceives to be Mary's abdication of responsibility, turns to Jesus for support.  "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work myself?  Tell her to help me!"

Of course, the Lord is no help.  "Martha," He says, "you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed.  Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."

Well. 

Just last week, when it appeared we were to have some unexpected visitors, I went into full Martha mode - hustling around, cleaning, shopping, fretting over the weeds in the garden and the dust on the draperies.   I do that a lot - get into a frenzy about all the "things" that need to be done.  

Yesterday as our minister talked about allowing ourselves time to communicate with God, to enjoy life, to reflect on the many blessings we've been given, I was reminded that the "better part" of living is not cleaning or organizing or paying bills.  Those things are necessary, of course, but so is a calm and peaceful  spirit.

So I'm trying to curb my Martha tendencies and be more Mary-like.

With that thought, I'm setting my usual Monday chores aside and heading off on a family walk.

Remembrance

They're on my mind tonight - the elders who are gone.  My mother in law, my aunt and uncle, even my grandparents who have been gone such a long time. Probably because tomorrow is my aunt's birthday.  Last year my mother planned a little celebration for her, in honor of her 85th birthday.  We had done a similar party on her 80th, but it was a surprise.   There were fewer guests this time around...seems like that's how it goes when you're that age.  Every holiday has one less place at the table.

And also because I signed the papers to close her estate today.  All my fiduciary duties are now complete, my last oppportunity to care for her, to do anything to help her - done.

In a strange twist of fate, tomorrow will find me at the cemetary where she's buried attending another funeral.  Our friend's mother passed away on Saturday, and her funeral will be held there tomorrow morning.  Her family had moved her to Cleveland several years ago, to facilitate being able to care for her.  But her roots are in Michigan, and so this is where she comes to rest.

There seems to be a steady stream of passages lately, and it's hard not to be depressed by it.  It makes me feel older than my years, I think, makes me worry over every little ache and pain, makes me stare squinty eyed at the people still left to me, looking for signs that they're moving toward that endless light  so maybe I can grab their arm and pull them back into the present with me for a while longer.  

Honestly, on some days, I'm not sure there's anything here worth pulling them back for.

But then Saturday afternoon there was a gathering to celebrate  baby Lenna Rose, the newest member of my extended family...a second-cousin-once removed (I think).  

And Saturday night there was a concert, a glorious celebration of the career of one man who has lived and breathed music for the past 40 years, a coming together of singers from all walks of life in proof of the ways music creates lifelong relationships.  Tomorrow, although the occasion will be sad, it will bring together three men who have been friends for over 40 years.  They rarely see each other, but continue to hold each other in high regard, continue to show up in remembrance of  important life passages.

So I try to remember these things when I'm inundated with bad news about oil spills, and stalled economic recoveries, and stock market losses.  Small good things, small pieces of evidence that there are miracles still to be found in my life and in yours.

Remembering is good.