Enough is as Good as a Feast
Mary Poppins said it best when she declared “enough is as good as a feast.” While I don’t have her lovely British dialect or her perfectly proper hat (though she did call me to say she wanted her oversized purse back,) I couldn’t agree more with Mary Poppins sentiment! This Thanksgiving as in previous years, I developed an emotional appetite and a gritty hunger to reexamine both the Thanks and the Giving in my life.
If you will indulge me, I would like to announce with sheer conviction, that Thanksgiving is unequivocally my favorite holiday of the year! There, I said it. And this year, Thanksgiving seemed to float in like a gentle breeze and rush out in a whirlwind, leaving behind amazing new memories and scraps of leftover turkey, pumpkin pie slices and string bean casserole. I guess what I treasure most about Thanksgiving is that it is the one holiday, the only holiday, that is not about the presents but is about the presence of loved ones!
It’s a time that my loving heart seems to expand to even larger dimensions to accommodate the pulsating joy that beats with precision as my home is returned to its natural state of happiness ~ having all three of our children under one roof at the same time. Cozy and crowded around our kitchen table for hours at a time catching up, talking and laughing. Spread out across our worn in sofas, legs draping over one another, sharing fuzzy blankets. Up all night engaged in junk food frenzy’s and movie marathons. Playing touch football with an occasional tackle to the ground. Watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade while scarfing down pancakes. For this I am deeply grateful.
The celebration continues as our multi-cultural Thanksgiving Day is shared amongst three amazing generations from ages 82 years young to 2 months old. Representing the globe is Honduras, Ireland, Russia, Cuba and America. I like to refer to our family as a mixed blessing. While our family trees have grown on separate lands by chance, our branches have intertwined by choice and we share a deep rooted love, appreciation and respect. For this I am deeply grateful.
As I strive to balance the scales of being thankful with the scales of giving, I am inspired by Winston Churchill who so eloquently remarked “We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.” Thanksgiving is a celebration of the harvest of the crops. Of greater significance is the act of planting seeds of compassion, generosity and altruism. It is these seeds of greatness that will grow in abundance and satisfy even the most insatiable emotional hunger. After all, it is the kindest of humans that contribute to humanKIND.
I would like to dedicate this blog to all of those who have championed to improve the lives of others. To Renee Herman and the heroic participants of The Harvest Food Drive 2011 (www.harvestdriveflorida.com) now in its 19th year for remarkably feeding 2,000 families during Thanksgiving and the week following. The Harvest Food Drive continues to put the GIVING in ThanksGIVING. For this I am deeply grateful.
Now as the next set of holidays frantically approach and we’re about to prepare more stuffing, let’s first think about stuffing our cars full of canned goods and holiday foods and donating to a neighborhood food drive. Before we dress another turkey, let’s go through our clothes in our closets and donate to a local shelter. Before we gather around our table holding hands with loved ones, why not lend a helping hand at a nearby soup kitchen. The holidays do seem like the perfect time for giving. But in order to “be the change you wish to see in the world” as Gandhi empowers, giving any day of the year will serve as the greatest gift of all. No wrapping necessary. Happy Holidays and I wish you enough… because enough is as good as a feast!
All Dressed Up and Some Place to Go
As soon as the fall leaves change colors across most of the country, or the Florida temperatures plummet to a refreshing 75 degrees, a transformation takes place on the inside as well. Shelves overflow with a variety of candy, marshmallows, cookies and sweets screaming my name and the names of those whose knees weaken at the sight of orange and yellow. Doesn’t Candy Corn qualify as a vegetable group? Aren’t Milk Duds a part of the Dairy family? I could have sworn Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups serve as a legitimate source of protein. On this delicious October day, as I move through the grocery store aisle in somewhat slow motion, I enter an emotional time machine and return to the year 1971.
Suddenly I’m posing in front of a full length mirror, a ten-year-old girl dressed for Halloween as a hot pink telephone. I am lanky and awkward and covered head to toe with a fluorescent pink poster board cut out in the shape of a telephone. An enormous round dial with black digits illustrates the base while a fancy phone piece rests on my head attached by a squiggly wire. My face is painted pink, of course, to complete the costume.
As I am about to embark on my journey through my neighborhood on this crisp Halloween eve, it dawns on me that most girls my age will be dressed like princesses, cheerleaders, bobby-soxers, famous characters or even witches. I on the other hand, will not even remotely be able to blend in with the other kids because my mom ~ best mom ever ~ insisted on making my one-of-a-kind, hot pink telephone costume from scratch. Sure, originality beats store-bought and predictable every time. But to a ten-year-old, sometimes you just want to fit in rather than stand out.
As the moon perched high in the sky, and we handed off our weighed down, candy-filled pillow cases to our parents to carry, the kids all gathered at the end of the block for our traditional costume contest. What a shocker; my hot pink telephone costume won ”most original!” Some of the other girls even seemed surprisingly envious. That Halloween in 1971 taught me that standing out is more important than fitting in. Being a telephone rang true for me after all.
Fast forward to Halloween 1998. My oldest son is dressed as a cell phone. Same concept, new technology. His is a store-bought costume because being crafty and handy skipped a generation (just ask my home economics teacher who barely passed me.) My middle son is all decked out and dressed like Rocky Balboa, black eye and all, ketchup dripping from his lip, because “use your words and not your fists” apparently never really sunk in. My youngest daughter is dressed as a self-inflatable sumo wrestler inducing hysterical door-to-door laughter at every home we visited. The biggest challenge was prying her out the front door.
Today as Halloween 2011 approaches, I am convinced that Halloween is ageless. No matter how old we get it still means eating candy until you are nauseous and your teeth begin to ache. It’s still about mom and dad checking the candy before devouring. It means dividing your favorites and trading with your siblings and friends. It’s still about choosing between the most outrageous costume or wearing the one that feels the most comfortable.
As I stroll down the aisle surrounded by pumpkin heads, meowing cat sounds, hanging bats and flying black crepe paper, I am distracted as a tug of war breaks out behind me. Two kids are calling dibs on the last Captain America costume. They have wrestled the costume to the ground and all I can ask myself is where on earth are their parents. When I put my glasses on to get a closer look, I realize the wrestling mania pair, now on the ground themselves, are the parents’. What we won’t do for our kids.
October 31. It is the one day of the year children and adults alike can officially “mask” who they are, kiss and “make-up,” get “all dressed up” with some place to go, and take the time to have an intimate relationship with an oversized Hershey bar. With my kids out of the house, I’ll most likely be participating in the latter. How ever you choose to spend October 31, and whatever your taste may be, I wish you an awesome and happy Halloween!
Empty Nester Awaits Return Flight
I cannot remember a single day when I was in a rush for my kids to grow up and leave the nest. I was the last parent to send my kids to pre-school, the proud mom who claimed to be Head Counselor during “Camp Mom,” treasuring summer as my favorite season of the year while stretching the days out like a rubber band ready to snap. I was the Mom who cried when the first sign of “Back to School Sale” draped across newspaper ads and school supply chains. I dreaded dropping my kids off at school that first day and insisted walking them in leaving a sticky wet kiss on their faces that they eagerly wiped off (or rubbed in as I liked to think!)
Every first was a milestone largely celebrated! From the Tooth Fairy’s visit to a new word mastered, a dance move choreographed and a slam dunk into the tot sized basketball hoop located in the middle of our living room. Everyday felt like Halloween while my children donned costumes and constantly wore their oversized imaginations. Gatherings often occurred around our kitchen table which was transformed into a tent to hide under during indoor camp outs, or a game table for competitive games of crazy 8′s or non boring board games. Many a homework assignment was completed at this table which especially “served” as a place to hang out and savor home-made meals, delicious take out, great conversations and tons of milk spilling out your nose belly laughs!
Graduations from pre-school seemed as monumental, at the time, as pomp and circumstance playing while our kids waltzed down the aisle at the end of their elementary school and middle school years. High School Graduation meant a sea of flowing royal blue gowns and matching caps sporting golden tassels waiting to be tossed to the opposite side, symbolic of our children’s significant accomplishments.
Over the years, as each of my children received their diploma and crossed the stage so effortlessly, I was brought to the sobering realization that they were now entitled, and encouraged by society, to fly the coop to pursue higher education and a fitting career path. Home would soon be a nest that would gradually become empty, at least for the time being.
I have always thought of myself as a hands on parent. Those closest to me, including my kids, might even consider me to be a helicopter mom, hovering over my children as a protector, worrier and overly involved mom. Okay, I admit that I may be a bit over zealous in regards to each of my kids and passionately in love with each of them. I have chosen to make my role as a mother all-encompassing. It’s my calling after all, so I picked up on the first ring!
As my baby embarked on her collegiate journey this fall, the last one to leave the nest, I am officially considered an empty nester. How does it feel? Bitter Tweet. I’m proud of all of my children’s new-found independence. I’m thrilled for their confidence and self-reliance. I’m happy for their happiness. I live for our daily texts, phone chats and weekly skyping. I’m enjoying the rekindling of my marriage of tweny~five years. What I truly miss is the happy chaos of morning, unmade beds, music blasting, noisy homecomings and family dinnertime. And of course kisses good night accompanied by big hugs. Repeat.
I guess this helicopter mom is going to have to wait until late November to land at the nearest landing strip to pick up my kids and fly them home for the holidays, a time when our nest will once again be full! Or maybe I should trust that they can fly south on their own with the rest of the flock. What matters most is that children always come home. That’s home tweet home! And this empty nester is counting the days and beyond eggcited!
Smile and the World Smiles With You
The best way to lift your own spirits is by lifting someone else’s first. This ordinary concept can create extraordinary results. Just ask my daughter and her devoted friends and fellow Operation Smile club members who chose to spend a few hours on a Friday night at a local grocery store. As they set up a simple card table laden with hand designed posters, Operation Smile pamphlets, before and after photos, mission statements and an oversized coffee can converted into a donation canister, it was immediately apparent that they were “open for business!”
Donning their own beautiful smiles, these teenagers were transformed into adults, speaking passionately to customers and educating them about the many children in other countries who are unable to smile at all due to cleft palates, cleft lips and other facial deformities. “But imagine, with your donations, children can receive surgery and smile for the first time ever and lives can be changed,” was the explanation given to those interested listeners. As people were entering the store with grocery lists in hand or exiting with overflowing carts, they were drawn to the Operation Smile table to learn more.
Donations poured in and the givers were as generous in their words as they were in their donations. Children loved squeezing their parents money through the opening in the coffee canister. It made them feel good to give. Community members of all ages dug into their pockets to produce a token of their kindness and flashed their own smiles upon doing so. Even some of the employees shared their hard earned tips for the benefit of others. Everyone seemed to break out in a larger than life smile to match their heart. Giving will do that to you!
That evening as my daughter and her friends expressed their appreciation to the many contributers, it was the contributors themselves who thanked the club members for their time and commitment. Giving is born out of compassion and comes in many forms such as giving of one’s time, monetary contributions, spreading education and awareness and donations of services. On that one special evening, the first of many, enough money was raised to pay for the surgery of one child! That means one more smile will be added to the world and that child’s family will have a reason to smile again. Smile and the world smiles with you. Paying it forward is truly priceless. Changing lives, one smile at a time… www.operationsmile.org
Love Is In the Air
From time to time, relationships may hit some proverbial air pockets and cause temporary turbulence. With complaints of ”he’s got baggage” and “she’s got baggage,” I usually try to apply the “let’s learn to live out of the same suitcase” rule. But if you ever need an emotional pick-me-up, just take a “trip” to the airport. Not to watch the airplanes take off and land, but to be on the observation deck at the departure area where you can witness love take flight.
Recently my husband was flying home from a business trip and suggested I pick him up at the airport at Departures instead of Arrivals since all he had with him was a carry-on bag and his briefcase. As I parallel parked at the airport terminal, eagerly awaiting my husband’s arrival, I felt as though I was suddenly catapulted into a drive-in movie theatre watching the world’s most romantic, real life movie minus the popcorn.
As cars pulled up all around me to deliver loved ones to the airport at a frantic pace, I watched the mayhem as trunks popped open, car doors went ajar and people of all ages, diverse backgrounds and in a variety of relationships scurried out to unload their suitcases and gather their belongings. Then all of a sudden, as if everyone realized what was unfolding, the hustle and bustle came to a defining halt. And that is when the magic began.
As if moving in slow motion, people became locked in embraces that revealed far more than words can express. It made my heart swell. Couples exchanged tender kisses that spoke volumes about the connection between the two people engaged in the moment. It tugged at my heart strings. Adult children were bidding farewell to elderly parents while crocodile tears flowed down their cheeks. I wanted to be the tissue fairy. Then there was a college student who seemed so excited to begin his journey of independence while his parents appeared reluctant to let him go. I bet they were already counting down the days until “parents weekend.” I wanted to scream to their son, “don’t go!”
As family members, friends, spouses and romantic couples waved good bye to one another, I could sense the separation induced sadness. Yet the optimist in me hoped for and imagined their eventual amazing reunions. These were perfect strangers to me and yet there was something profoundly familiar about their affection. It was universal, heartfelt, and infectious. For the moment I was living vicariously through these scenarios.
Love may not conquer all but it sure puts you in the best frame of mind to take on the world. It makes you appreciate that the human heart in all its strength can also cause the knees to go weak. It reminds us to celebrate that “presence” not “absence” should make the heart grow fonder. As my husband walked through the automatic doors I couldn’t have been happier that I was on the receiving end. He was a sight for sore eyes. I welcomed him home with a tender kiss and tight embrace and he welcomed my welcome. “Love is in the air” I stated. “And on the ground” he responded. That evening in departures, our moment had arrived!
What’s Gotten Into You?
Children often ask me how I got into writing? My honest response is “I didn’t, it got into me!” They may pause for a moment, pondering my response, until I ask them with rambunctious energy “what’s gotten into you?” That’s when they bubble over with carbonated excitement and cannot wait to share their passions with me. From soccer to star-gazing, computers to cars, acting to animals, ballet to basketball, kids are proud of their passions. And quite frankly writing may not show up on their list. However I have found that getting kids to write about something they love empowers children to write confidently, joyfully and from their hearts.
Invited writing, or more affectionately known as “the assignment,” (R.S.V.P. not optional) proves to be more challenging than Inspired writing which arrives at our emotional doorstep with opportunity feverishly knocking. For most children and those young at heart, inspired writing will show up like an unexpected visitor and overcome us wildly. It is in that moment that we are driven to express ourselves about an experience that has left an impact on us or changed us in some significant way. It’s as if we have no other choice than to share this experience or we may just burst. Children are naturally uninhibited and inclined to express their inspirations in a variety of ways so why not seize the moment and provide a clean piece of paper and a sharpened pencil to a child, encouraging them to begin the writing process.
When writing is introduced in a meaningful and fun way, it can be a priceless gift we can give our children. Emphasizing the process rather than the outcome, the journey rather than the destination will boost a child’s confidence while cultivating a love for written expression. Releasing emotions onto the pages of a journal that no one ever has to see is liberating. Writing a letter of appreciation to someone special is a wonderful way to express gratitude. Creating a story that flows effortlessly from ones heart and soul and fills the pages of a prospective book is beyond description.
I will admit that over the years I have attempted to recreate my personal wheel, but have learned that I am happiest when I just pump some fresh air into my existing tires. The main thing is to keep riding on my authentic path~ in my case the path that is “write” for me. And when it comes to empowering kids, about writing or any of their countless other passions, children need to spend less time worrying about how to get into something and more time doing what’s gotten into them. “What’s gotten into you?”
The Fruits of Her Labor
At a time when the face of careers are ever changing and the opportunities for work may be diminishing, I salute those whose work ethic has not been compromised. Those that show up everyday ready to give their all, roll up their sleeves and navigate through the work day with pride and perseverance. On this mileSTONE of my mom’s retirement, I salute a precious GEM who is the rarest find and a woman I am privileged to call my mom.
After 60 plus years of defining the true meaning of “work ethic,” my amazing, 80-year-young Mom is retiring from the workforce. Adele to some, but “mommy” to most, my mom has sold precious gems and worked in the Fine Jewelry department of Macy’s, redefining service altogether while building lasting relationships with customers and fellow employees over the past two decades. Her hysterical sense of humor, vibrant personality and toasty warm affection ooze through her pores within seconds of meeting her. But it is Adele’s compassion for others that draw people to her with magnetic force. On any given visit to Macy’s, whether riding down the escalator, grabbing coffee at the café, or hanging out at the jewelry counter, I am overwhelmed with pride as accolades for my mom overflow from countless peers.
My mom with all of her grandchildren.
Filled with pride but not surprise. Because I am the lucky one that grew up as the youngest of four siblings in a family where home was the nucleus of our lives, where love flowed immeasurably and relationships flourished. My parents impeccable work ethic was demonstrated in every aspect of our lives and has granted each of us PhD’s in life lessons. From their tremendous marriage of 55 years, to their devotion as parents and grandparents of 10, to over 120 combined years of employment, their hard work has played a significant role in developing great character and has payed off in “priceless” ways.
So while today is a momentous celebration, my mom still has very mixed emotions as she gets all dolled up to go to work this evening, her last official day at Macy’s. She may not miss working the past twenty “Black Friday’s” following Thanksgiving or the last twenty Christmas Eve’s. But there is plenty she will miss. Adele loves getting dressed up, reporting to work on a consistent basis, feeling productive and reliable, giving the ultimate in customer service and socializing with her Macy’s family. She knows it is the end of a long chapter of hard work and commitment.
But my mom also realizes that tomorrow begins a new chapter. One where she has the freedom to decide how to spend her extra time. Perhaps she’ll go to the beach more often. Perhaps she’ll volunteer. Maybe she’ll take in more double features at the movie theatre. For certain she’ll spend her extra time visiting her grandchildren who are spread out across the country. She will remain active on the social scene with her Macy comrades. And everyone knows my mom loves to shop and will continue to be spotted in the mall frequently. And fortunate for me, my mom plans to accompany me to my book signings and spend even more time together with my family!
So although today marks the occasion of my mom’s retirement, the truth of the matter is that my mom will never stop working. You see, Adele is one of those precious, rare gems that gives meaning to our lives and makes our lives “work.” She can “work” a room, get “worked” up with emotion through her empathy and help others “work” out their problems. And nobody has “worked” harder to enjoy the fruits of her labor. As one of my mom’s “apples,” I am always inspired to work incredibly hard and “not fall far from the tree.”
Blog Fog ~ The New Writer’s Block
I will totally come clean and divulge that having my very own blog is scary. At first the idea seemed dreamy, poetic and even romantic. Topics raced through my head, my imagination jumping for literary joy and my wheels of creative genius spinning out of control. But as I sat down to begin this first ever personal blog, the fog rolled in. Some may refer to it as writer’s block. I will affectionately call it blog fog.
It’s as if a huge cloud of fog moved inside my head, preventing me from using my natural ability to create and tell stories. I told myself ”breathe, Jayne, breathe. It’s stage fright and first night jitters.” I asked myself, “what if my blog isn’t worthy? What if I don’t strike a chord with the reader? What if the what ifs keep piling up? ” And then I realized that even in the thickest fog I can depend on my insight to see and my foresight to write.
Then suddenly the fog lifted. And I found myself writing my introductory blog. So why the blog? Writing is what I do. Warming hearts is who I am. As a passionate mother faced with the common “juggle struggle” of family, career, community and self, I want to impart life lessons and exchange insightful experiences that can nurture one another along the way. While the road to success is always under construction, I look upon this blog as a visceral compass intended to give its readers direction! Especially when the fog rolls in.
