Pink With Purple Polka Dots All Over and Green Feathers Protruding From The Ears

Note:  I wrote the post several days ago.  It is only today that I have had time to read it over in preparation for posting.  I use the word “tsunami” in the second paragraph.   I will leave it.  It still seems to best describe my view of hate.  Please remember that this was written two days before the horrific tragedy in Japan.  I do not use the word in any disrespectful way. 

For a long time now I have described myself as an idealist who has had to become a realist.  I’m thinking I was totally clueless.  And I’m still an idealist.  And maybe even more so than before! 

I have found that a side effect of grief is the intensification of distress for others.  So you can well imagine how distressing I find this tsunami of hate that seems to have hit us.  I simply can’t understand it.  If you read my post “18 Months Ago” you’ll remember my description of little granddaughters all across the world in the kitchen cooking with Grandma.  I referred to the book, “Same Kind Of Different As Me”.  It was my attempt to see how much alike we are as opposed to how different we are. 

I collect quotes.  There are people who have such natural wisdom.  And they have the ability to verbalize that wisdom in a modicum of words.  I believe the mustard seed is the smallest of seeds.  So I think of these quotes as “mustard seeds of wisdom”. 

Anyway, years ago I learned of Will Rogers saying he had never met a man he didn’t like.  That really intrigued me!  How was that possible?  I like pretty much everyone I meet, but really!   Never to have met anyone he didn’t like?  I wondered if I could get down the road several years, look back at that point in time and say the same thing?  That I had not, in x years, met anyone I did not like?  I wanted to try.

But how to do that?  I decided that a good starting point would probably be to assume I was going to like those I might meet. Seemed logical.  

Also, I thought about the fact that I had always had the opportunity (and been enriched) to be around people so different, in lots of ways:  nationality, religion, ethnicity, native language, race, talents, educational level, etc.  I wanted to express that concept of being inclusive.  So I came up with my own little saying.  My own little mental guideline.  I decided that if I were to meet someone who was pink with purple polka dots all over AND green feathers coming out of his/her ears, someone far different from anyone I had yet met, it should not matter in the least.  I should notice the polka dots and feathers only in the same casual way I would notice that great purse some woman on the elevator has.  (Sorry guys!  I couldn’t think of something you might relate to.  So just go with this.  You’re smart.)  It should only matter, like always, what that person was as a human being.  I liked that.  That would work. 

I can’t say that I have liked everyone I’ve met.  I only wish I could.  (There does seem to be a few people who work hard at being as abrasive as they can.)  BUT, I do think this idea, this concept, inspired by someone else’s wisdom has served me well.  I have tried to train myself to look for the things that matter.  I have tried to see people as being just like me.  A regular person who works, takes care of his/her family, has good qualities as well as faults, is talented in some unique way or has an interesting and unusual blend of talents.  That person has good days and bad days.  That person does dumb things and then asks, “What was I thinking?”  That person has suffered some pain common to us all.  Etc, etc.

I know I am naïve.  And now I realize, as I said at the beginning, that I never ceased being an idealist.  But, guess what?  I don’t want to change.  In this one area, I don’t.  It allows me to enjoy most everyone I meet.  (But I do try to learn something from anyone I don’t enjoy or like so much.  That works well, too.)  It allows me to live without fear of others.  It helps keep me, for the most part, I think, from making sweeping, ridiculous and inappropriate generalizations.  At the very least, it keeps me aware of the debilitating nature of those generalizations. 

Let me end with another quote.  It is going to seem political because it originated in a political atmosphere.  But I assure you, for me, it is not.  It is just a good tool for everyday life.  FDR said, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.”   Come to think of it, that sounds like an antidote for hate to me! 

Scathing

“Scathing.  Can I do scathing?  I don’t know.  But I sure WANT to do scathing.”

That was going to be how I started this blog post.  But before I had the opportunity to write, I reminded myself to take my own advice.  And of course, had to completely change direction.  Let me explain.

I have certain work “rules” I follow.  One is that I do not check or write email, read news articles, or do anything of a personal nature during work hours.  In a lot of years I can tell you that exactly 14 times I have broken that rule.  I did so last Wednesday, March 2^nd.  I saw the headline about the Supreme Court decision regarding Snyder vs. Phelps.  You know, the church members who picket at military funerals.  Why did I do that?  I ended up incensed, frustrated, hurt, any number of emotions all within a short few minutes.  I could not imagine that this could be right!  Why would we let actions such as those of the Westboro Baptist congregation compound the hurt and grief of parents at the absolute worst time in their lives?  Where are the rights of parents to bury a child without the intrusion of hate-filled strangers?  I knew how we would have felt if we had been subjected to that, even though the age and circumstances of a military death and Natalia’s death are so different.  But once again, that concept of “the same kind of different” works well.  Details matter less than the shared experience of loss. 

It was early afternoon, so I had to get myself calmed back down and complete the workday.  Somehow I managed.  Trista and I go to Pilates class on Wednesday nights.   Want to guess how well I did at class?  Let’s just put it this way.  Our instructor, Ellen, whom I like immensely, started laughing during instruction!  I’ve never seen her do that.  And I’m sure she was looking at me! 

But, I’m sure I was comical. I was totally distracted, composing words in my head the entire hour of class.  I could not wait to get home and start writing.  Once here however, I realized I had not done what I always do.  What I believe in.  What I say should always be done.  I did not go to the source.  So I did several things. 

First, I checked two different reports.  For the first time ever I read readers’ comments, about 38 total.  I was surprised.  Only one thought the Supreme Court “got it wrong”.  However, I was comforted by the fact that all thought the Westboro Baptist church members’ actions reprehensible and despicable.  One person even felt sorry for them, saying that to live with that kind of hate is, in truth, very sad and a waste of living time.  I wish I could say my eyes were opened by that sentiment.  They weren’t.  I was not so generous.  

Having read the commentary, I sat for a few minutes, trying to think through why so many were in agreement that the decision was right?  Those few minutes were exactly what I needed.  I began to wonder how the vote could be 8 to 1???   I had been on the Supreme Court site before and read a decision.  Why had I not gone to the site immediately and read the decision before getting all upset?   Why had I not thought all this through on my own?  Because, as I’ve said a good number of times, when it is a personally emotional issue, all thought, logic, and normal pattern of behavior are tossed aside. 

So, to the Supreme Court site I went to read the actual written decision for myself.  I read 10 of the 36 pages.  But that was enough.  I have to say that I learned a lot about not only this particular case, but also about how the Court analyzed the case.  The case, as I understood it, essentially depended on whether or not the speech was regarding a private or public concern.  The controversial or inappropriate nature of the speech was irrelevant.  The Court examined content, form, and context of the speech.    As best I can summarize, here’s my understanding of what I read: 

• This Westboro Baptist group has been picketing military funerals for 20 years.
• They notified authorities of their intent to picket in advance of the protest.
• They protested on public land. 
• That land was approximately 1,000 feet from the church where the funeral was held. 
• There were several buildings separating the protest site from the church.
• None of the picketers entered church property or went to the cemetery.
• They acted in accordance with guidance from local law enforcement. 
• They picketed and displayed their signs in a peaceful manner.
• They did not yell or use profanity.
• There was no violence associated with their picketing.
•  

The action filed against this group by the marine’s father alleged claims of: 

• Defamation.
• Publicity given to private life.
• Intentional emotional distress.
• Intrusion upon seclusion.
• Civil conspiracy.  

A District Court concluded that Mr. Snyder could not prove the necessary elements for defamation and publicity given to private life.  However, the remaining claims went to trial. As described in the decision, Mr. Snyder, at trial, “described the severity of his emotional injuries. He testified that he is unable to separate the thought of his dead son from his thoughts of Westboro’s picketing, and that he often becomes tearful, angry, and physically ill when he thinks about it.”  Experts evidently testified that the anguish resulted in Mr. Snyder experiencing severe depression, and also that pre-existing health conditions had been exacerbated.   (You can well imagine how much I understand and hurt for this father.) 

Of course, the jury decided for Mr. Snyder and awarded damages.  Thus the Westboro defendant/s filed motions; the Court of Appeals heard the case and agreed that the First Amendment rights protected Westboro’s speech.  How?  The Supreme Court decision explained, saying, “The court reviewed the picket signs and concluded that Westboro’s statements were entitled to First Amendment protection because those statements were on matters of public concern, were not provably false, and were expressed solely through hyperbolic rhetoric.”

I won’t continue to summarize.  You get the point and I think this is adequate to show what and how much I learned.    First, I was reminded, again, that I believe in going “to the source” for several reasons.  It is wise to study and think for myself, as opposed to determining my conviction/s based on someone else’s insight.  And, equally important, there might be a perspective, a rationale that I need to understand.  That perspective just might change my mind on an issue.  Even if I don’t want it to!

Secondly, I was reminded of how relatively easy it is to “go to the source” in this age of the Internet.  Not a bad thing!  So, I have no excuse, do I? 

Thirdly, I was reminded of how important it is to “proceed with caution” when an issue has emotional implications.  It’s human, I know.  But it helps us all if we try not to draw conclusions from that perspective only. 

Fourthly, I was reminded of the importance of approaching an issue with an open mind.  I need to be willing to completely change my point of view.

Do I still abhor what people like those who protest at military funerals do?  How could I not?  We have lived and experienced the opposite of that kind of hate.  We received love and compassion and empathy, the very gifts that these kind of people will most likely never experience, not being willing to give it themselves.  Maybe I’ll get to the point where I feel sorry for them.  Right now my disgust eliminates any possibility of sorrow on their behalf.  Maybe that is very much to my shame.  I’ll have to think about that. 

Fairly Legal

A few weeks ago, on one of those nights I could not sleep, I came across a new television show, “Fairly Legal”.  It was a late night re-run of that week’s show.  I watched.   I can’t say I liked it tremendously.  I can’t say I thought it was particularly well done.  I can’t say there weren’t elements unnecessary and actually detracting from the basic premise.  But it was the show’s premise that drew me in. 

The main character is a young female attorney who prefers to do mediation.  She listens to both sides of an issue, or perhaps multiple sides of an issue, and comes up with solutions.  She creates win-win scenarios.  This young woman doesn’t say she is going to figure it out.  She goes way beyond a simple declarative.  She asserts, promises if she thinks it necessary, that she WILL find a solution.  She makes me believe it.  She makes me believe that she, in fact, knows there is always a win-win to be had, if only for the sincere, objective looking for it. 

Do I see that so much in real life?  I don’t think so.  But, boy, how I like the idea!  I like the idea that whether individually, or corporately, we approach problems with the absolute conviction there is a solution that will be agreeable to all involved.  Seems to me there would be some wonderful outcomes.  Obviously, life would have a lot less frustration, friction, animosity, and stress.  What’s not to like about that?  Who doesn’t want that?  It seems equally obvious, a lot more problems would be brought to resolution.  

You know what else I strongly suspect might happen?  I think problems would eventually be solved more quickly and efficiently.  You know why I say that?  Because I believe attitude is far more important than intellect, talent, whatever.  I look at our attitude/s as the teacher/coach.  Our mind is the student/athlete.  It does the hard work for us.  BUT, just as a good teacher or a good coach can motivate and bring out the best in students or athletes, so our attitude/s can guide and train the mind to be open to other possibilities; to be creative.  By contrast, I believe “all or nothing” thinking in effect constrains the mind. That overriding attitude gives the mind no permission to do what it does best, think and problem-solve. 

Remember the 1995 movie Apollo 13 with Tom Hanks?  You know, “Houston, we’ve got a problem.”  I do not know to what extent the movie depicted the actual issues encountered by the Apollo 13 mission.  What we have come to understand is the severity and critical nature of the problem/s the crew faced.  And we also know the very limited resources available with which to solve the problem and affect a safe return to earth.  But they had to work together.  They had to set their minds to cooperative problem solving mode.  Survival was at stake. 

I just wonder if we set our minds in the same way, with the same motivation, to find a solution, where might our lives be, individually and therefore in our togetherness?  NASA, in fact, termed the Apollo 13 mission a “successful failure”.  A “successful failure”.  Sounds awfully good to me!  Sounds like a lot of wisdom in two words.  I should be so concise…

In The Middle

In The Middle

Trista and I spent the afternoon together today.  It was not a particularly good day.  We discussed our need to know that this “thing” might end up helping someone.  Otherwise what is the purpose?  If we have to go through this kind of pain, why can’t we at least see some good?  We ask these questions with the knowledge and unspoken agreement that we may never have the answers. 

And yet, I sense something.  I see it, or think I see it, as if through extremely heavy fog.  Frightening, depressing fog like that I remember our family encountered late at night on the Ohio River while traveling due to the expected death of my paternal grandmother.  Or do I just want to see this “something” so badly?  The human heart needs hope.  I am beginning to believe that sometimes, at life’s worst moments, our need for it is equal to our need to breathe.  Without either we die.  The only difference is whether it is actual physical death.

Last night I said that, at any given time, I am reading both fiction and non-fiction.  I dog-ear pages and later review those pages to make notes.  (Yes, I DO fix the pages before returning said books to the library.)  Today, I ate lunch, fiction book in hand.  There was a reference to being in the middle of where we are needed.   I immediately dog-eared the page. 

I share that reference with Trista.  I explain that I am wondering if we are in the middle of where we are needed.  I rush on to remind her that maybe I am just desperate in my search.  Emotionally we are at the coldest, driest, windiest place on earth.   We are in Antarctica. And we are there during the long period of constant darkness.  And yet, we watch the sky for our rescue plane!  Illogical, we know.  But as I’ve said before, some emotions and the rational mind cannot co-exist.  Logic and the thought process can so easily be discarded if you hurt enough.  So we have to maintain the hope that the plane will arrive.  Or we will give up.   

But suppose we WANT all this to do SOMETHING FOR SOMEBODY because we are in the middle of where we are needed?  Wouldn’t that question, just the possibility that there is a need and it will be addressed, give us hope?  We want some “what” and “why” answers.  But maybe focusing on the “where” question is the source of our hope and comfort.  Maybe that focal point will lead us out of the worst of the heavy fog.  It might all of a sudden be clear, in the same way we can drive out of areas of fog, at least temporarily.  Or maybe it even represents our rescue plane.  I hope so.

18 Months Ago

Natalia died 18 months ago today.  I can usually comprehend what I read.  But even in print, I cannot grasp these words. 

I’ve written quite a bit about the grief of losing a child, just very recently.  But I have not yet decided whether or not to post those attempts at description.  But I can say here that I have not experienced that sudden nausea today.  The one that comes on instantaneously and without warning, the same way a flash flood does.  My body has not shuddered involuntarily today.  But I have no ambition, no self-discipline.  Allan is helping our son-in-law build a fence.  So I am alone.  And I think that is good.  I need some thinking time.  Some time of almost complete quiet.

It is a gorgeous day.  It is at least 70 degrees.  The sun is at its absolute brightest.  There is a mild breeze.  I can call it gentle.  It seems appropriate that I can do so.  I abandon all work, and even the pretense of being interested.  I go sit outside on the deck with a book.  Our back is relatively isolated and affords mostly privacy.  I don’t see the big heron in the creek, but he was probably here earlier this morning, standing at attention in the creek’s middle.  

Trista sends me a text from work.  She is hanging in there and wants me to assure her I will get some fresh air.  I send a reply text telling her where I am and what I am doing.  She responds, saying she is glad.  I pick my book up.  My usual habit is to read two books at a time, one fiction, and one non-fiction.  I pick up the fiction.  Probably a better choice for today.  I don’t care if I learn anything.  The plot has just taken a twist.  But I soon lose concentration and just sit for a while. 

At the end of last week, I started the book “Same Kind Of Different As Me”.  By page 17 I have felt a hot anger in my stomach and then cried.  My passion, if I have one right now, is how we treat each other.  Or, to my way of thinking, it is more accurate to say how we are alienating each other.  I’ve been thinking a LOT about that lately. 

I wrote something, most likely suggested subconsciously to me by my current reading selections.  But before I share it, I should tell you that I found several new cookie cutters, ones having to do with Spring, and I purchased them.  When I got home, I found my purchases resulted in a duplication of one cutter and gave me cookie cutters for two different kinds of flowers.  I set the new ones aside, ready to return them to the store.  But I kept thinking about those cookie cutters.  I decided I wanted two of the same one, even if I never use them.  And having the cutters for two different flowers seems necessary.  Yes, necessary.  I love the symbolism.  I need the symbolism, I think.  Eventually I began to think about grandmothers and little granddaughters making cookies together:

Across the world, how many little granddaughters are in the kitchen with Grandma? I envision it.  The cookies they are making may not be chocolate chip, our American favorite.  Or they may not be making cookies at all.  But that doesn’t matter.  Because everything else I see is identical in the various kitchens.  I see some form of flour or meal all over the place.  I see another ingredient falling to the floor.  Probably an egg, of course.  And/or something spilling.  I can hear each and every grandma saying that is OKAY!  I notice that the giggles I hear sound exactly the same.  Two little girls from opposite ends of the globe could trade places and there would be no recognizable difference in the giggles at all.   And you know what else?  I see each Grandma looking at those little faces, faces that might be different shapes.  And either darker or lighter in color.   Maybe the eyes are different.  But each and every Grandma is pausing and kissing the happy little faces, loving them with all her heart.  Kind of sounds like that idea, “same kind of different as me”.

As I paint these pictures in my mind, I have to ask, “If we could, whether we be mommies or daddies, or grandfathers or grandmothers, remember to look for the MAJOR similarities, how could it NOT change our approach to many, many issues?  Knowing what is happening in each other’s kitchens.  Wouldn’t that force us to live with more appreciation for each other? 

I’m just saying. 

Comments

Note:  This post is a result of two very nice people I do not know at all, Grace and Hayden. I assume since they both left comments it is okay to mention names.  If not, please let me apologize and ask you both to forgive me.  But if you keep reading, I hope you’ll see this blog is, in reality, a testimony to people like yourselves.  

Okay.  I’m afraid.  I admit it.  I’m afraid of comments.  But not at all for the reason you might think. Let me try and explain.  But, as with all things emotional, it might be difficult to make others understand.  And to attempt to share and make others understand something I, myself, do not understand in any way?  How do I do that?  I’m absolutely clueless, but here goes.

Remember my second blog post, “Yearning”?  I explained that my blog is the record of a personal journey.  A journey to figure out what seems to me a Twilight Zone-like world.  (Actually, at times I think the Twilight Zone would be easier to understand.)   I said that comments would not help me at this point in time.  I really thought that was true.  And, maybe to a certain degree, I still feel that way.  Because since starting the blog I have found I feel so much better after I have written something.  It is helping me.  I’m finding it therapeutic.  I don’t want that spoiled.  I need it. 

But here’s another reason for wanting to avoid comments.  I’m afraid that what I feel about individual people might be shattered.  And I desperately do not want that!  People could not have been more considerate, more compassionate, more loving than what we experienced.  They were everything good we humans can be.  It’s amazing.  It doesn’t matter that people couldn’t take our pain away.  Or even lessen it.  But, there is something about knowing people care and they would do so, if at all possible.  I don’t understand it.  I just know it is a truth. 

Although I am naïve, I do know there are hate-filled voices out there.  A lot of them.  But, I don’t experience them individually.  I hear them often (not always) as the collective voice of various groups, organizations, etc.  In fact, that is part of what is so confusing to me now.  How is it that the sum of a number of individual voices can bear no resemblance to the voices on their own?   I don’t get that.

So, to hear a number of individual voices that are different from what we experienced would bother me tremendously.  I don’t know if I have the emotional energy to remind myself that several voices make the extreme exception.   I want to be able to defend the individual voices I’ve experienced for as long as I live.  Truly.

But... (There’s always that “but”, isn’t there?)   Not knowing what I am doing, I must have inadvertently allowed comments at some point in time.  And I received two comments, from two people whose individual voices were exactly what we experienced.   They were open, honest, encouraging, uplifting.  And that makes me more afraid.  Now I don’t want their voices sullied by any nasty ones. 

Here’s what’s happened.  Saturday night when I couldn’t sleep I kept thinking that I wanted to at least write one post and thank those two people.  I appreciated them and wanted them to know that.   I was seriously considering that possibility.  When I checked my email on Sunday my brother had sent me a message to allow comments; that I was missing out on some wonderful online friendships.  The conclusion I thought I was arriving at was echoed by his assertion.     

And here’s what I’ve decided.  How about I move slowly and cautiously?  (I did, right up front, admit to being a wimp, in “Yearning”.)  I’m going to take Grace’s suggestion and sometimes allow comments.  I know someone can then comment on any blog post whatsoever.  But it might be easier if I only occasionally have to think about anything negative.  And hopefully if anyone gets nasty it will be easily offset by some new online friendships.  I think my brother might be right about that.  (Wow, hate to have to put that in writing!  He’ll never let me forget it!!  But, you know what?  I think people like Grace and Hayden are going to be worth it!)

Thanksgiving Wish List

No.  I’m not crazy.  At least, to my knowledge, I’m not.  I know it is January.  I know Thanksgiving is in November.  But bear with me.  Maybe, just maybe I’ll be able to explain. 

If you’ve read “Why Don’t I Know The Answer To That?” you’ll know I was wondering a lot about what we’re thankful for, individually and collectively.  Then Christmas was coming.  And it seems we can switch pretty quickly from focusing on gratitude to what we want.   We hear about the wish list.  Commercials for jewelry stores tell men what their female loved ones are wishing for.  They tell children what dads really want.  Etc.  Etc.  And because I would have loved to be buying toys (educational, of course!) and a little “party” dress, I started thinking about how our Thanksgiving list (“The Personal List”) and our Christmas wish list should be a lot more related to one another.   Maybe really considering what we can be thankful for would change the wish list and/or make it a whole lot shorter.  

Christmas passed.  Then New Year’s was coming.  I gave resolutions up years ago, so no pressure here.  But, evidently people still make them.  For at least the first two weeks in January Pilates and Yoga class was really, really full!  Now…not so much.  I kind of wondered how many people look back at last year’s resolutions to see how things went.  If they do, does that have any impact on what they resolve to do this year?   

All of that “thinking” (I obviously use the term loosely.) somehow led me to mentally combine all three ideas:  a wish list that really would be my Thanksgiving list.  And since I would be making this wish list for next Thanksgiving, some things would require a resolve on my part.  A resolve to make sure I could, on Thanksgiving Day 2011, look back and say I was thankful for the things on my already created list.

See how I linked the three?  (If you do, you actually follow how my mind goes on these tangents, you might want to consider getting help.  Seriously.)  Well, doesn’t really matter, anyway, does it?  This is my personal journey.  And besides, wasn’t there a book years ago, something about “I’m Okay.  You’re Okay”?  Let’s go with that. 

You know what’s coming.  Surely, you do.  My list.  My Thanksgiving Wish List.  But first, a reminder, just like in the previous blog.  This is NOT political commentary.  It is simply my sincere attempt to understand a world that is dramatically altered.  And figure out, if possible, what do I do in that world?  I repeat the reminder because my list does, in my opinion, reflect “The Personal List” and elements of what I’d like to see on  “The Corporate List”, if we had one.  It was difficult to make my list concise but inclusive of all that is important to me.  But I tried. 

So, as we say, God willing I be here, the following is at least part of my Thanksgiving Wish List for November 24, 2011, in no particular order:

• A family that is healing. 
• Friends who will tell me what I need to hear, not what they think I want to hear.
• A new sense of purpose, whether a completely new purpose, or an additional purpose to what I already do.  Whatever.  But, clearly defined. 
• If the above is not entirely possible, at least some strong indications about my purpose; some framework or outline I feel sure about.
• That someone or several might be thankful I’m on the planet.  Not for any sad reason.  I pray that’s not the case.  But simply because I’ve lifted them up, encouraged them, made them feel good because they know I appreciate who they are.  (Totally convinced people need more of that.)
• That we love all children as we do our own.  So much so they we care about the entirety of their childhood:  hungry little tummies, excellent and equal education, and healthy, safe environments.
• To be as healthy as I’ve always been.  And to know I’ve continued to try to do more to help keep and even improve my health.   Physically and mentally.
• That I’ve loved others as I love myself.  So much so that anyone who needs health care of any kind but does not have the resources gets it.  Some examples to illustrate why I feel so strongly about this:

ü     Anyone who needs hearing aids, like I do, but can’t write the check, gets them.  And consequently their everyday life, and that of those around them, is drastically improved and enriched. 

ü     Anyone who needs cataract surgery on both eyes, as I did, has medical insurance that covers it.  S/he doesn’t have to write a $10,000 check (cost several years ago).  That those individuals will be as shocked and thrilled at such improved vision.  (Note: it always seemed to me that cataract surgery was for old people.  My friend agreed with me.  But, as she pointed out, there are exceptions to the rule.  And I was not only that exception, she said.  I was the youngest person to ever have the surgery.  She’s very knowledgeable.  I take her word for it.)

ü     Anyone who needs back surgery has medical insurance to cover the bill.  (2003 cost was $19,000)

ü     That anyone who has had a tragedy doesn’t end up with a bill that will take years and years and years to pay off.  (One friend has a bill for $25,000 she might pay off by the time she retires.  But there is a good chance that won’t happen.  Wish that were the only example I could give for people I know.  But I have way more than I like to think about.)  

• That we have learned to agree to disagree.  And thereby we have continued friendships and relationships and discussion.  (At the end I’ll share what has always worked well for me personally.  Might not for anyone else, but works great for me!)
• That “All or Nothing” thinking is not the general rule of thumb; but rather reserved for those instances and situations for which we can not, without violating our very core principles.  Religious, ethical, etc.  (I’ve learned that for me there are about eight.  Everything else I can go way more than halfway.) 
• I’ll include all the “givens”, like jobs, the end to the wars, etc.  I’m most certainly not minimizing these things in any way.  It just feels like they are already included, so to speak.    How?  It seems to me if I get the other things on my wish list, these things will be on their way to resolution.  There would at least be a start. 

If I’m still blogging in November 2011, I’ll come back and take a look.  This is one wish list of things I really, really want.

I promised to share what has worked for me to keep friendships going if and when discussion could lead to failed relationships.  I have a friend who, I suspect, might actually be on the opposite side of where I stand on a lot of issues.  Although we have been friends for years, I really can’t say, at all.  That’s because that friend tends to be more “excitable” (translation:  gets hot pretty quickly) in certain types of conversations.  Since this person has a booming voice, I’ll call said friend “Voice”.   My solution when conversation threatened to get heated in any way?  I would always say, “Voice!  Voice! Whoa!  Whoa!   Let’s just skip to the part where I’m right, you’re wrong; and let’s find another topic of discussion.”  Voice would burst out laughing, right in mid sentence.  I’d laugh.  And we’d move on.  Result?  We became good friends.  And therefore, I think, if we had to work on a serious issue on which we held pretty opposite points of view, we could do it.  And do it well.  I would say to myself, “ Voice won’t agree to that, but maybe I can get him to think about this alternative.”  He’d say to himself, “I know Regenia.  No way will she go along with that.  Let me think of something else.”  I once asked my husband if he thought I was right about this.  He agreed.  We’d get the job done.  And still be friends.