Mama's boys to men

Two of my three sons are now taller than me. I rarely look at them without shaking my head in amazement. When did that happen? I've officially been a parent for a third of my life. How is that possible? My boys are turning into young men in front of my very eyes and the evolution is remarkable.

There have been some recent instances which have caused my heart to swell with pride and satisfaction, occasions that have certainly bolstered my positive response to those who inquire about how the boys are doing. In the past couple of weeks, the boys have demonstrated to me that beyond merely being fine, they are, in fact, growing up nicely. My 15 year-old opened my eyes to this fact by pointing out that I don't let him help me. It was a simple statement but I've heard his words repeating in my ears since he spoke them. And I'm trying.

We watched a wonderful movie the other night, Midnight in Paris. I know, welcome to spring 2011, right? Anyway - I'm glad we delayed viewing this movie until the ideal time because we both were utterly charmed. It was a lovely, lovely film. During one of the scenes, as the camera panned around the magnificence that is Paris, Liam asked me if I wanted to go there. I assumed he was angling to add a day or two to our hoped for trip next year - the visit to Germany that he has requested for "his" next special trip. I've been to Paris before, but only long enough to determine that it was the most beautiful city I'd ever visited.  I acknowledged to him that I would love to go to Paris again and he said I should go next year.  When I pointed out that he was in the rotation for next year's trip, he asked me a stunning question: 'Mom, when is it your turn?"

Well...isn't that an interesting perspective. 

On timing, springtime and past times

How appropriate was it that my divorce should become official as the religious celebration of rebirth approached? There are times in life when timing is perfect, and this is a fine example of that phenomena. New life, miracles wrought by faith and love, light where there had been darkness...This is very much a season filled with hope and optimism for many, including me.

I've been guilty, more than once, of saying that holidays aren't very important to me. I find it just as potentially meaningful to have a meal with those who I love any evening of the year - a red letter day isn't necessary to make a shared dinner special. I can appreciate however, the power of a holiday to make an experience a lasting memory. The boys will be with their dad this year and the promise of Easter baskets at Dad's will motivate them to move a little faster than usual on this Sunday morning. Last year Griffin and I flew east Easter Sunday after spending an idyllic Passover in Palm Springs - not too shabby for the goyim, right? We spent the afternoon in Connecticut with family, the same relatives I hope the boys will be enjoying the day with today.

My childhood Easters are a mishmash of memories - hunting Easter eggs after an ill-timed late snow, organized annual activities at the home of a gracious Greenwood Lake resident who opened their property to the community's children for festivities, pretty dresses, baskets filled with plastic grass and shrink wrapped chocolate bunnies. Dinner was always ham - from a can, naturally. Pineapple rings, maraschino cherries and brown sugar elevated that piece of meat into something that never fails to make me smile. Good memories.

Spring break was the school vacation that found my brother and I daring one another to jump in the lake for our spring "baptism." We leaped into the barely thawed water shrieking with laughter and life. Alive. Afternoons were spent collecting sacks of polliwog eggs, fascinated by the thought that from this cold jello-y substance frogs would come. Miraculous.

I hope you and yours, today and everyday, know the miracle that is life. Enjoy.

Reading between the (budget) lines

A number of years ago, then Attorney General Andrew Cuomo conducted a press conference in the library where I have worked for the past 8 years. The topic was predatory lending to college students and the media was there with notepads and cameras. This may have been the first time I became aware of Cuomo's self proclaimed assertion that he was to be a voice for the students, their powerful ally in a world looking to take advantage of them. We spoke briefly. I earned his laughter when I responded to his question regarding why the librarian field was so dominated by women with a cheeky, "because the job requires a lot of multitasking," letting the reply lie there for the moment it took for him to get the joke. His aide said it was the best answer to a question he had received all day.

But maybe my answer was incomplete. Maybe it's time to consider some additional factors that might make the position more appealing to woman than to men. Because, while dividing my attention, sometimes in 200 ways when "my" library approaches capacity is something I do every single day, there are some other aspects of the role of school library media specialist to consider. And, no, they're not on the evaluation form Mr. Cuomo has strong armed districts around the state to adopt. I have a facility with more than 40,000 items - books, movies, audio books, electronic items such as databases and e-books, equipment, newspapers, 60 computers stations... There is a budget to be supervised and staff as well, but these items will prove to require less attention as money and staff are further eliminated each year, I suppose.

Another reason females may be more prevalent in the librarian field is the fact that women are typically more accustomed to being marginalized. Year after year librarians are made to justify their contributions to the academic success of students. Elementary librarians are continually being replaced by untrained clerks and parents because the state does not mandate trained professionals fill a position that is often perceived as one where reading and shelving books are the primary focus. And we all know anyone can do that.

My library is anticipating a reduction in our staff by nearly 50% for next year. People, just so you know, the fat is gone - we're cutting through muscle and bone at this point. I'm disturbed, dismayed and disappointed by the decisions which have been made regarding which positions to eliminate, but I can't be angry with my district. Not to the degree that people seem to be angry with teachers, that is. Can we clarify a couple of things here? Thanks, I've got a couple of points to make...

For the last three years my union has voluntarily given our salary increases back to the district to preserve programs. We were under no legal obligation to defer our raises, but it was the right thing to do in these economic times (for which we, as a profession, are completely devoid of responsibility) and it was done with very little grumbling. I haven't ever noticed a professional athlete returning their salary due to their having a less than stellar season, but teachers, who will never make in a lifetime what an exceptional baseball player makes in a single season, allowed their anticipated income to be redistributed for the benefit of the students. And I don't ever hear anyone complain about how few days a year a professional athlete works either.

The salary and benefits package a teacher earns are negotiated and agreed upon. For teachers to be vilified for coming to an agreement with the representatives the residents have freely elected, is unfair and small minded. Health insurance premiums continue to increase, yet, I don't recall demands for fiscal conservatism or retention of current rates, being made of these corporations. We all recognize that our economic situation as a nation has suffered in the last decade and future contracts will certainly reflect these conditions, but please, can we stop blaming teachers for the current fiscal state of affairs?

My district is moving ahead with an action to challenge the governor's 2% tax cap. I was proud of the leader of my district for taking this stand, yet found it more than a little bit ironic that the news conference to discuss this legal action was held, again, in my library. I couldn't help but consider why the library media center is perceived as such an ideal location for news conferences, yet is held in such low regard educationally. I have to wonder if future news conferences might be just as convincingly conducted with the backdrop of a magical green screen and an lcd projector. It seems that the library media center after all is merely the setting for a story which I'd rather not have to read.

The day I got divorced

The sun was shining, but the wind was chilly. I went to the gym and used heavy weights that I knew would leave me sore the next day. I picked up my completed tax returns (married, filed separately) and discovered I might be able do some home projects. I realized that just like the wedding is a minuscule part of the marriage, the divorce finalization is a blip on the Geiger counter of the relationship's ultimate decay.

It had been a long time coming. No, it wasn't the transgressions, it was truly the knowing that together we would go no farther. We were done. Not with the children and parenting them, but with each other. I was more exhausted than sad, shaking my head with bemusement, wondering why it was so easy to remember when the love started, not so easy (all right, impossible) to recall when it began to fade. Like childbirth, you simply forgot.

Being successfully married (insert your definition here) is always described as being "hard work," and you know I don't mind working hard. It's just that I ended up finding other things which I invested my time and effort in to provide better returns. I'm a romantic, but I'm also brutally practical. I wasn't getting enough and I couldn't give more. Period.

The word divorce comes from the Latin "divert, or change direction," an apt etymology that parallels my own path. I still don't have a map, but a change in direction is something one can choose to embrace or to shun. Life is too short to snub change.

The day I got divorced was today.

Epicurea de Château Martinat. 2001

Epicurea de Château Martinat. 2001

Secret-sharer

image from: msluffa.files.wordpress.com

You know how I put most everything out there, right?  I was thinking about that personality trait of mine during a recent "get back into it, dammit" (after a 4 day stomach bug hiatus), run, and realized that I think I spill so much because I believe secrets have far more power to hurt than the truth. Examples?  Oh, yes, I've got a couple...

The things that have most deeply driven a fatal wedge in my relationships were secrets.  As a preteen, I learned some big stuff about my family history.  Nothing really worth repeating here, and nothing maliciously scandalous, just information  I (over)heard from family friends rather than from the adult I deserved to hear it from.  And once I heard this history, this story of how I came to be, I didn't know what to do with it.  I couldn't imagine raising the topic with a woman I always found unapproachable, so I swallowed it and allowed it gurgle and bubble inside of me, occasionally feeling it escape in an episode of bad behavior or a rebellious act. Not good.  

Maybe I would have ultimately moved beyond, or around, the crevasse  in this primary relationship, but, unfortunately, that wasn't the last time that a previously unknown was unveiled in a such a way.   Each of these spikes nailed  the door between she and I that much more tightly closed, and, at this point in my life,  I am content to let it remain unopened. I guess it's true about the physical spaces between the known and the unknown being described as the Doors, huh?

In more recent years there have been other secrets kept from me, and perpetuated by me, and they've all prompted more pain than honesty ever would have caused.  The power of those secrets has torn down structures originally designed to provide shelter for a lifetime. Or two lifetimes, perhaps.

I don't want anyone to have the ability to rock my world by revealing secrets about me or those I care about.  When someone on the periphery owns knowledge that those who are most deeply involved are lacking, the exchange of power is irrefutable.  And potentially devastating.

I'll keep your secrets, my friends, but as for mine, I'm sharing.  

My Saturday night!

My latest SEEN gallery over at the TU. Check out all the smiling happy people.