Hawaii nice, but true gift time with family

January 20, 2008

My mother-in-law turned 80 last April and called everyone in our family to state her birthday gift: a trip to Hawaii that she was giving herself.

She added that she was taking all of us with her, on a seven-day cruise of the Hawaiian islands. On Dec. 21, 17 of us boarded the Pride of America to embark on the trip of a lifetime.

My mother-in-law, her four children, their four spouses, five of the children's children, one spouse of one child, and two of the children's children's children went on the trip. What a spectrum of family!

Ages 7 to 80 were represented in the four generations, and a variety of customs, likes, dislikes, and conversations were added in the mix. It was a rainbow of the usual joy, calamity, fun and exhaustion of family gatherings.

We all participated in the nightly family dinners in one of the ship's many dining rooms. There we gathered to share our daily Hawaiian adventures. Some family members went on a catamaran to snorkel, others rode all-terrain vehicles in a muddy rain forest. Some went touring volcanoes and craters or swimming with dolphins, while others stayed on the boat relaxing by the pool, ordering piña coladas.

I learned about my 20-year old nephew's college/job aspirations and was wowed by his intelligence. Meeting another nephew's new wife, talking about the house the newlyweds recently bought, and hearing about their plans for making it environmentally sound made a long car ride interesting.

Walking around the deck with my sister-in-law, talking about our daily lives now that our children are older, reminded me why I am blessed to have entered this family.

Best of all were the days when my husband, my mother-in-law, and whoever else wanted a spot in our rental car, toured the coastal land of Hawaii's beautiful islands, stopping for a piece of pineapple or a cup of kona. We chatted about our lives and admired the scenery, enjoying one another's company.

I'm grateful that my mother-in-law gave us all a large piece of her birthday cake.

It is so rare for families to come together at all -- much less for an extended period of time. Without the meals, rides and talks, I wouldn't have any of the details of my extended family's life.

I thank my mother-in-law for sharing the spectrum of all of us and recommend that other families find ways to spend time with their extended families.

Approach Christmas with a grateful heart

December 9, 2007

After 26 hours of driving, pounds of food and many laughs, my family and I returned gratefully from visiting family in upstate New York for Thanksgiving.

When we went around the Thanksgiving table and stated what filled us with gratitude, my mother said, "I'm just happy to be here."

Because she was diagnosed with cancer in June, this pronouncement was indeed profound. We were all happy that she and everyone else around the table were there.

Gratitude at its starkest starts with "being." That we are human is unconsciously attached to our being and is the problem with gratitude. We should be glad to be alive and part of the human race, but often we are not.

For example, this past week there was an e-mail in my work inbox inviting all employees to a wellness seminar to cope with holiday stress. If the holidays are a time for family interaction, spiritual rededication and joyful gift-giving, why are we stressed? Shouldn't we be grateful for all that we are and delighted that the holidays give us time off to remember one another and reconnect with those who make us feel human?

This year, two of my children are in college, and the third is a senior in high school. Each is employed part-time and suffering economic doldrums. When my eldest daughter sent me a text message and asked what my husband and I wanted for Christmas, I wrote back, "You're broke. Make a card. Write a poem. Send a picture. Don't buy any presents." My daughter called me later that night and agreed but said it would be a strange Christmas without the usual pile of gifts under the tree.

Luckily for her, I didn't go into a "being there" lecture. I reminded her that this was our gift to one another and that change is a good thing.

Then I started to plot. Certainly some inexpensive "stocking stuffers" was OK under this arrangement. Santa was coming down the chimney no matter our decision. I arranged my schedule and schemed time to get to particular stores on sale days. Soon I needed the wellness seminar to lighten the anxiety I felt about getting this all done. Any feeling of gratitude about all of us being together again was gone.

I'm going to take my mom's sage advice this Christmas. I'll be happy to be here with my family. I will host my annual Christmas cookie baking party for all the cul-de-sac kids and drive around the neighborhood to look at decorations. But that's it. In the peace of gratitude, all I want for Christmas is thankful presence.

Let's cuddle up to accepting others

Sun, Oct. 28, 2007

The air has finally cooled. My son asked where his flannel sheets were and said he welcomed "snuggle time."

We're big snugglers in this house, so I joined in his excitement. As we rooted out the sheets, he said, "People here use the word cuddle instead of snuggle. I like snuggle better."

I had never thought about these word differences. I noticed a variety of Southern/Northern dissimilarities when we first moved to the South. Most noticeable were Southern accents and different food and beverage choices such as grits and sweet tea.

In some instances, I had to work against prejudices I had about Southern traits. I didn't know I had them until I moved to Charlotte.

For example, I had an unconscious belief that strong, twangy accents represented ignorance. Years of watching shows such as the "Beverly Hillbillies" and seeing cartoon representations of "barefoot and pregnant" Southerners had rooted inside me in a prejudicial way.

It wasn't until these notions reared their ugly selves that I had to recognize them and dispel their mythology. Luckily for me, I was raised in a home where cultural stereotypes were always discussed when they popped up and talked about for what they were -- overly simplified and often harmful ideas.

When I looked up the definitions of snuggle and cuddle, I found that they were almost the same. The major differences were in their verb types and how they were used.

Often, the very stereotypes that cause hatred and prejudice are the very words or ideas that are not that different.

I am glad my son is aware of his surroundings and notices the diverse ways people use words. I'm also pleased he decides what to use in his own language.

Most important, I'm proud he doesn't judge someone for saying cuddle instead of snuggle. He notes the distinction and chooses to say "snuggle."

Pausing to understand cultural differences and accept them as only that -- different -- would help solve many of the misunderstandings between people who, in their humanity, are more alike than different.

Remembering the Scents of Fall Keeps Me Cool

August 26, 2007

I started teaching again this week and took my son back-to-school shopping.

These are two signs in my family that fall is arriving. However, it's hard to think fall when summer days are broiling, and our windows are closed to keep air conditioning inside.

It wasn't until I decided to change the aroma of my air-conditioned home that the scent of fall came to me. I went to buy a candle, and I took the lid off one called apple pie. Cinnamon, apples and sugar wafted up my nose, and Thanksgiving was in the air. Ninety-eight degrees were eradicated in one sniff.

It didn't stop there. I thought about raking leaves and the dank, earthy smell of leaf piles. Next, carving pumpkins and scooping out their pungent orange innards floated across my nostrils.

Then the taste of spicy salsa and guacamole to go with chips at a Panthers football party made my mouth water, and I wondered where my long-sleeved Panthers shirt has been hiding since last fall.

I made my way to the check-out counter with my apple pie candle and was asked twice to pay. I was stuck on the odor of the vanilla I put in the icing recipe for sugar cookies at Christmas time.

Bill paid, candle dangling at my side in a plastic bag, I made my way out of the mall. I looked through the glass exit doors and was shocked to see no snow. At that thought, the fragrance of hot chocolate came out of nowhere, and I turned to see who was drinking it. I suddenly realized it was August, and no one was fool enough to drink anything hot.

When I opened the door to leave the mall, I remained strong. I tried to ignore the blistering air by thinking about cool apple cider. I pulled the candle from my bag and took off the lid for a long sniff of apple pie. I walked swiftly to my car and turned on the air conditioner, strengthened by the scent of fall and knowing that summer would be over soon.

Once the air in the car cooled to the point that I could breathe and think clearly, I considered how powerful smells are. Our memories are a strong factor in what makes us who we are. Smells are some of our most influential memory sources.

As a trace of burning leaves and November campfires came to my mind, I realized how much the fragrance of fall had imprinted on me. I knew it was close to time to put away my shorts and pull out my corduroys, and I couldn't wait to get home and light up my apple pie candle.

Thank goodness for the scent of fall.

Through Blood, Sweat, Tears... and Cheers

At 54, I've reclaimed my body, and I'm now training for a triathlon

August 19, 2007

A bottle of Berry Propel Fitness Water is on the desk next to me. I have just completed a 19-mile bike ride followed by a three-mile run. It took me 1 hour and 40 minutes, but I did it.

Thank goodness for my iPod. If I had to hear my labored huffing and puffing, I'd stop after several minutes.

At 54, I'm not horrendously out of shape. However, up until 2 1/2 months ago, I never entertained the idea of running any kind of distance. I guess I hoped I could run out of a burning house to push someone out of harm's way, but I never thought to put on a pair of running shoes, decide on a distance, and try to run it.

Although I participated in sports as a kid and have had my fair share of going back to the gym after holiday indulgences, I've never been one of those people who really enjoy working out. The blood, sweat and tears of it all never appealed to me. As soon as physical exertion became that -- exertion -- I stopped. I didn't have an internal challenge button when my muscles began to burn.

I had no idea that this summer was about to change my relationship to physical activity.

First of all, I moved into a teaching position, so I have the summer off. I have free time. Second, my two college-age daughters are doing jobs and internships out of Charlotte, and my son has spent most of his summer away at basketball tournaments and camps.

Those two events alone might have moved me into a semi-midlife predicament, but then I met a personal fitness trainer while volunteering.

Fitness trainer Emily Knudson (Empowered Personal Fitness) needed a kayak for a triathlon for which she was training. I had a kayak collecting dust in the basement, testament to my inactive life. In exchange for using the kayak, Emily offered to give me personal fitness sessions. Since I thought that only movie stars and famous singers were fortunate enough to have trainers, I knew I had won the lottery.

I had also won the right to sweat and burn in places that I didn't know existed on my body. Working out with Emily was a rude awakening to how out of shape I had become. It was also the beginning of reclaiming my body and parts of myself I had forgotten over years of work and raising a family.

Emily started me out slowly, but relentlessly added minutes to my runs, and strength and repetition to my exercises. Most importantly, she encouraged me. When she said I could do a 5K run, she meant it and convinced me of it, too. I worked out four times a week, once with her and three times with the exercise plan she gave me.

I did my first 5K on June 30, at the YMCA. I ran the race with two of my son's friends. Needless to say, they had to wait for me at the finish line. But I was happy to finish and didn't come in last. I not only enjoyed the race but found new energy and pride in the achievement, and I fit back into clothes that were ready to take to Goodwill.

It wasn't long after I met Emily that I heard the University City YMCA was hosting an eight-week triathlon class. In all honesty, I had no intention of doing a triathlon in my lifetime. I could barely say the word, much less spell it.

I figured triathlons were for the hard-core and crazy fitness buffs who weren't remotely like me, but I had gotten used to encouragement from a trainer, and when the training exchange ended, I wanted to continue with others. I knew that left on my own, I would stop exercising.

I joined the class and attended the first six weeks of the twice-weekly instruction and workout class. Six weeks later, I know I can finish the Lake Norman Sprint Triathlon (half-mile swim, 16.8-mile bike ride and 3.2 mile run) on Aug. 25. Through the encouragement of Pam Sardinia, a fitness trainer and teacher of the triathlon class at the YMCA, and the rest of the class, I'm continuing to enjoy physical activity.

I know that my life is changing. My children will be gone soon, and if I continue to teach, my summers will be free. That gives me a good deal of time for myself, and I am glad that I have included physical activity as part of how I use it.

I feel great, and I know that my children and my husband are very proud of me. I have a new group of friends at the YMCA and do not wonder how to spend time when more of it is mine.

There will always be blood, sweat, and tears with any new steps, but the rewards from them are great.

Best Part Of Back Porch Is Viewing The Visitors

July 30, 2007

When we moved to Charlotte four years ago, we debated whether to live in the heart of the city or in the country.

We were thrilled to find the best of both worlds: We live in the University City area and jump on Interstate 85 to theaters, restaurants and sport events in 15 to 20 minutes, and still feel we live in the country because there are trees and wildlife.

We picked a home in the older section of Highland Creek, in large measure for the screened porch in the back of the house. Sitting on the porch feels like sitting in a tree house.

It didn't take us long to lure the birds singing in the trees closer to our home. We hung three birdfeeders and one suet feeder off the back of the house, in front of floor-to-ceiling windows. We hung a hummingbird feeder on the side of the screened porch.

Now we live in an aviary.

After researching what kinds of birds populate North Carolina, we bought black sunflower seed and thistle to feed the local birds. American goldfinches, house finches, purple finches, evening grosbeaks, pine siskins and song sparrows like thistle. Northern cardinals, blue jays, tufted titmouses, Carolina chickadees and red-breasted nuthatches like black sunflower seeds.

We feed a large number of Carolina wrens and a variety of woodpeckers with suet: hairy woodpeckers, downy woodpeckers, red-bellied woodpeckers and red-headed woodpeckers.

Ruby-throated hummingbirds like the hummingbird feeder. (Boil 1 cup of water and stir in 1⁄2 cup of sugar to make hummingbird nectar.)

Once our family got involved in feeding birds, I set out to learn more about them. I bought the National Audubon Society Field Guide to Birds Eastern Region and placed it on the coffee table, close to the bird feeders.

I researched them online and found out about the Great Backyard Bird Count sponsored by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. Every year people all over the world count birds anywhere over a four-day period, counting birds of each species seen together at any one time. They submit a checklist online to the Great Backyard Bird Count site.

I took a cup of coffee and the newspaper to the family room on a Saturday and Sunday morning last spring and counted birds. Over two days, 17 species came to our feeders.

As of March 5, participants had submitted 80,744 checklists documenting 11,066,350 birds of 629 species, according to the Great Backyard Bird Count site.

The next thing I did was read about N.C. plants that attract birds and butterflies. I went to the UNC Charlotte Botanical Garden plant sale last October. Larry Mellichamp, the garden director, guided me to buy native plants such as honeysuckle, coneflowers, bee balm and butterfly bush to keep the birds and butterflies happy.

I also urged everyone in the family to pay attention to the feeders. This spring, my husband asked me what kind of bird was eating sunflower seed. I looked at the feeder and saw a bird with brilliant black, white and red on its chest.

I flipped through the Field Guide and found that it was a rose-breasted grosbeak. He was migrating and stayed in our backyard for three days.

It felt as though we had provided a short bed and breakfast stay for him, and I hope he'll find his way back to the inn on his way home.

Era Of Entrepreneur Is Here

July 22, 2007

I grew up in a family whose members worked for people other than for themselves.

Jobs, careers and monthly salaries came from corporations or institutions. No one in my family tree started a business -- small or large.

I was the kid who helped with lemonade and cookie stands in the neighborhood; it was not my idea to start them. Surprise and awe, therefore, were my reaction when I started dating my now husband, visiting him at the fine woodworking shop he owned, eating at his brother's restaurant, and listening to the tales from my brother-in-law's consulting jobs as a fire inspector.

My children grew up in a dual universe -- around people who worked for themselves and those who worked for others.

My eldest daughter babysat for years, saved her money, and bought a seemingly suspect -- yet affordable -- thoroughbred when she was 16 years old. She broke him to ride, trained him in dressage and jumping, and showed him in eventing. When she went to college, she sold him for eight times the amount for which she bought him.

Again, surprise and awe were my reaction. In my 54 years on Earth, I had never done such a thing; she accomplished this by age 21.

My son started buying candy in bulk at BJs when he was in middle school and sold it for profit in the neighborhood. Every Sunday night, we drove to BJs for the weekly stash. He made flyers and learned how to change his prices when competitors undercut his. His bank account grew, and he bought different items such as T-shirts and other gear, turning better and better profits.

He learned how to advertise to his friends via the Internet, set up and track matters on a spreadsheet, and manage a bank account.

I am glad that my children grew up knowing they have choices for their professional lives and can take their own ideas and turn them into realities. This is the lay of the job land now -- flexibility, ingenuity, and change -- and seeing a variety of career paths is important for children as they grow up.

I have learned a good deal from my husband and children about entrepreneurship.

A writer my entire life, I'm beginning to reap small economic rewards for the words I put on paper. Who knows -- next tax season, I might need a tax accountant to file the fees I collect from a variety of my entrepreneurial jobs. Then again, I could just ask my husband, daughter, or son.