We tell young people to try things out of their comfort zones and yet many adults live in the "do as I say not as I do" on this one. For me, I yo-yo in and out of reaching past my comfort zone and retreating to all the comforts of the known. Staying in my comfort zone is, well, quite comforting. However, sometimes we are nudged and we have to figure out a new balance. For me, it has come in the form of sports. Not playing them, I still don't do that. Talking about them is my new skill set. I have not fully embraced the space outside of my comfort zone, but I have found a happy medium for navigating this fraught terrain. For three of the past four years, I have been tapped to be in charge of recreational golf, aka senior golf, for a group of high school seniors who need an activity to do in the spring and are not playing a varsity sport. This makes me a coach, right? As the years have progressed, I realize that while I know nothing really about golf or any sport all of the way through, I do have some phrases that work for me and may help others. Here are some of my go-to golf tips for my players. Use them liberally - Adjust your grip. Adjust your stance. Keep your head down. Slow down your tempo. Hit one inch behind the ball and let the sand fly. Follow through on your swing. Visualize where you want the ball to go. Where do you want the ball to go? Hmm, look where your feet are pointing. Whatever you did on your last shot, do it again. And when I am feeling like I want to let out my inner @ManoloTeachesGolf...Smack that s@#t! Even before my life became golf adjacent, I noticed that a lot of people think talking about sports is a conversation starter. Who knew? Apparently everyone but me. I don't want to be left out so I have learned a few helpful phrases for those situations. You might think it would make more sense for me to learn the rules of the game, but my way is more fun. These work for basketball, football, soccer, lacrosse, field hockey, and even baseball. If that ref had not made that call in the second half/quarter, we would have won. Such a shame that the player, what's her/his name again?, was injured. We definitely would have won with s/he out there. They just need to work on their defense. They just need to work on their offense. It's a building year. Wow, if they could just make a few more goals/baskets/runs, they would have this game in the bag. If you ever see me at a game, I have some key phrases for those situations as well. They work across a number of sports. I encourage you to try them out. You've got this! Nice hustle! Hustle! Keep your eyes on the ball! Keep the ball moving! How did the ref miss that! (I use this one sparingly because I don't really know the rules well enough.) As a spectator for golf, clap politely. And, if you must say something, Nice shot! should work, or even safer and to be used after the match, I really enjoyed watching you play.
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I suspect I am late to the game on my three facts of today. How did I miss these? They seem like I somehow should have learned them through the osmosis of adulting but that is not the case. Not at all. The Rule of 72 [calculator] “The rule says that to find the number of years required to double your money at a given interest rate, you just divide the interest rate into 72. For example, if you want to know how long it will take to double your money at eight percent interest, divide 8 into 72 and get 9 years.” (MoneyChimp) Or the way my mind works: 7.2% interest = 10 years to double money 10% interest = 7.2 years to double money Neither of these is possible with any savings or checking account that I know of, but, even with a moderate or conservative investment strategy, these results over time are typically attainable. Money makes money strikes again. When I have money, this fact makes me happy. When I don't, it makes me mad. So, yes, I knew that higher the interest, the more money you make (or spend if it is debt interest). But I did not know about the rule of 72. Back to the drawing board to see if I have any money that might be sitting around looking to be doubled. Much better potential returns than most people get when they play the lottery. Getting a good credit score which is necessary for things like a mortgage means you need to buy on credit. [Improving Credit Score] I kind of knew this one but the more I think about it, the more ridiculous it seems. If I open a credit card and don’t use it much, I am building credit. But, if I never open a credit card and have the same spending habits, I am not building credit. (No favorable loan for me!) If I save enough money to buy my car with cash rather than take a loan, I am not building credit, potentially hurting my credit score (assuming I would make the loan payments on time). This does not mean you can’t spend within your limits and avoid debt while still building credit. It does mean that you probably need a credit card that you pay off monthly to make this happen. Did a man invent this system? My brain hurts. Budget the money you have in savings. What? How did I miss this? Game changing for me. Rather than have (hopefully) a chunk of money in savings, decide what you are saving for and mentally put each of those savings dollars in an appropriate envelope. Say I have $5000 in savings. Rather than seeing it as one big number, I now divide it up. Perhaps $2000 is towards my next car, $500 towards insurance, etc. Some amount will need to be an emergency fund. Here's the hard part about the emergency fund - I only should break the glass when there is a true emergency. I hate that part. This way I am less tempted to spend the money only to realize a few months later that I don’t have it for the thing I need. Until recently, I thought this is what I was doing, but I was not and every car repair, medical bill, pretty much every non-monthly bill came as a surprise. You'd think after all this time, I'd stop being surprised. This year I adulted much better on this front. In the past I would have already spent saved money 2-3 times in my head and maybe have already spent it on a perceived need to then wonder where it had gone when the inevitable non-monthly but knowable bill showed up. Surprise!? Definition of ally - a person or organization that cooperates with or helps another in a particular activity.
This is what I know after this summer: I can't be an ally. This was a tough realization for me. At least, I can't be an ally to Black people. It doesn't make sense. They are not the ones holding up the power of White supremacy. They have to constantly navigate the barriers erected by White supremacy, and, yes, since they swim in the same water as I do, there are members of the Black community who do things that may help White supremacy. But, that's not the point. If there is a problem (and there is), White people are the problem or at the very least have the greatest opportunity to benefit from White supremacy. White people therefore is the group that needs allies. It is time for my community to look at itself, help me look at me, and stop pointing fingers everywhere else. If members of the Black community decide to cooperate with me and help me and my white community in that journey, I welcome their allyship. After I made this connection, I found this quote from Roxane Gay in her article for Marie Claire, “On Making Black Lives Matter.” In it, she notes: Black people do not need allies. We need people to stand up and take on the problems borne of oppression as their own, without remove or distance. We need people to do this even if they cannot fully understand what it’s like to be oppressed for their race or ethnicity, gender, sexuality, ability, class, religion, or other marker of identity. We need people to use common sense to figure out how to participate in social justice. In case you are wondering, yes, I did feel pretty cocky when I saw that Roxane Gay would agree with me on this point, if she had a clue that I existed. Hero worship is a real thing. PS. If you still like the term ally, here is a more useful working definition than I offered at first. Allyship: Allyship is an active, consistent, and arduous practice of unlearning and re-evaluating in which a person holding systemic power seeks to end oppressions in solidarity with a group of people who are systemically disempowered. Via guidetoallyship.com On Children lyrics interpreted by Sweet Honey in the Rock (Kahlil Gibran author of original text) Your children are not your children; They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come through you But they are not from you And though they are with you They belong not to you. You may give them your love But not your thoughts, They have their own thoughts. They have their own thoughts. You can house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in a place of tomorrow, Which you cannot visit, Not even in your dreams. You can strive to be like them, But you cannot make them just like you. Strive to be like them But you cannot make them just like you On Children from the group Sweet Honey in the Rock song played from the car’s CD player when my now 18-year-old* was a baby. I have recited these lyrics to myself, read them, and played the song many times since those early days. The lyrics are true every time, becoming truer with each repetition, helping me navigate what it is to be a parent. Some days the revelation fills me with awe. They explain some piece of their mind to me or write a poem or a new chapter in their novel or show compassion to a friend, and I know for certain they have their own thoughts and that I can only strive to be like them. Other days, that awe converts to frustration for the exact same events because their independence proves that they are not mine even when I want them to be. *uses they/them pronouns in English, elle in Spanish I don't know what Trayvon Martin's last words were. I don't know what Tamir Rice said either. I wonder what Breonna Taylor talked about before going to bed that night. I do know what Eric Garner and George Floyd were saying before they were killed by police. I can't breathe. When I started painting masks this spring, it was a way to use up a surplus of cardboard boxes in my house and to do something concrete. Around mask 15, I had this idea to paint James Baldwin after seeing a portrait of him that I liked, and because I want everyone to read him until we live in a time where his words seem like history rather than words needed every day. Then I tried my hand at Frida Kahlo even though I have no illusions that I can manifest her in portraiture better than she did herself. The news crept in, and I learned that Ahmaud Arbery was shot, then Breonna Taylor, and now George Floyd was suffocated, and others who have been murdered without witness or video proof whose names I may never hear or learn. I don't watch the videos in fear that I will become numb to the visual of watching a fellow human be murdered. Repetition is not always a good thing. And the list starts in my head of Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, who am I forgetting? John Crawford III. Who did I forget to name? Names matter. Who did I forget? I painted Breonna Taylor, and I don't think I got her quite right. I put a halo over her head. I got that right. I am thinking about whether to paint George Floyd, and then I wonder how will I keep up with the list. It's as if I think painting will stop the murders. I have this memory that keeps going through my head. It is from July 13, 2013. It is the day that Trayvon Martin's murderer was allowed to walk free and there was another news story that was filling my Facebook feed. In Charlottesville, several young white women won their day in court against the police officers who had tried to stop them. The women were coming from a meeting about sexual assault and were on edge. The police officers were in plainclothes and banged on the window of the car to get the women to stop. I don't remember why, it doesn't really matter now. The women in their fear did not stop. They were not shot and the court found them not guilty. There is more to this story, and I am really happy that it ended in the way that it did. That day all of my white friends were posting this story and celebrating the court's decision. I live near Charlottesville, so this makes sense. However, there was a contrast in the feed. All of my black and brown friends were posting in grief that another black boy's death had gone unpunished. I don't remember a single post from a white friend about Trayvon Martin. I don't think I posted anything about either story, but I remember the day. I remember being really troubled that none of my white friends were posting about the killer of a black boy walking free. Why didn't we? I also remember being completely frozen by what my role should be. I did not know how to process what I witnessed from my little corner. I keep working on that. I still don't know what Breonna Taylor talked about before going to bed that night. I do know that I will run out of gold for halos if we don't figure out how to listen when someone tells us that he can't breathe. “To be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a rage almost all the time. ” – James Baldwin I can't even boil water," is an expression that keeps coming back to me as I think of cooking. I know I have left a few pots of water on the stove for so long that any water that was boiling is no longer in the pot. I guess I don't boil water perfectly every time either. You can do a lot with boiling water. Often after we boil, we simmer which means you turn down the heat for a low level bubbling. Sounds a bit like a life lesson is in here somewhere, something to do with cooling off. Before you start: 1, When using boiling water for food purposes, start with cold water. Hot water from your tap has been hanging out in your hot water heater for some time. Not sure you want to be eating that. Also, recipes assume a cold water start temperature. 2. Boiling water produces steam. Be careful when removing a top off of a pot of boiling water or pouring it out of a pot. You don't want your arm/hand burned from the steam. Here a few examples things you might cook with boiling water Hard-boiled egg There are so many methods of this. Here is one way:
Cowboy Coffee *In Panama, in the countryside, they cook the coffee with sugar added - black coffee means no milk, all coffee is served with sugar. Think sweet tea.
Steam Vegetables
This list goes on for uses of boiled/boiling water: Pasta Rice Brown rice in oven (boil the water then add to rice and put in oven in a covered baking dish. Delish!) Beans Getting peels off of tomatoes and peaches Soup Tea Canning Making manjar with canned sweetened condensed milk (dangerous) ... Boiling water is also used for non-food items Fitting a mouth-guard Sterilization of items Opening an envelope - I have never really gotten this to work with satisfying results but all of those mystery novels I read as a kid says it should. This is also steam, not the actual water. Boiling water is a pretty good skill set after all.
If you had asked, and you probably wouldn't have, I would have said that I have the computer skills I need for my current job with maybe a little bit extra. That was before.
In March, I embarked on a intensive, on-the-job training, with a live studio audience. Some things went better than I thought in the transition. And some things did not. I won't worry you with the details. I made a video to try to capture some of what I learned to share with my colleagues. Figuring out how I wanted to organize this video and screen cast this took time. Then I recorded it and realized that headset microphone picked up my every breath. It sounded like Darth Vader was trying his hand at online teaching. I decided I should probably fix that and back to my recording studio I went. Instead of a quick conversation over lunch, I found myself spending a few hours making a five minute video. I remembered why I stopped making videos after my last attempts about five years ago. Cost-benefit analysis said it was not a good use of my time.
This week, I decided my students needed to take a test. Usually, I stick with paper and pencil tests. Usually, when I need to give a listening section of a test, I cue up the sound clip I need and play from speakers in my classroom. Usually, I spend no more than an hour writing a test even when writing a long exam. I have been teaching for over twenty years. I have my systems. That was before.
I spent a good part of Tuesday writing a test for one of my classes and a good part of Thursday writing a test for another class. I had to upload sound clips and record others. Unlike a test I might administer in class, it needed to be beyond perfect. I want the students to be able to take it without needing to second guess any part of any of my directions. I always try to write clear directions, but I usually will be in the room to answer any questions. Did I mention that there are only thirty points on this test? Who knew that creating a thirty point test needed such patience with oneself? It would not be a school if there weren't clubs. Aside from a few emails, I have never considered any of the clubs I advise to be in the technical realm. I usually am in charge of buying food and drinks, and helping students figure out who to talk to about an event they want to organize. That was before. We Zoomed like the champs we have now become. We almost got stumped by how to take part in the Day of Silence, an annual event for the GSA. How do you organize a Day of Silence when there is no one on campus? My new technical over confidence told me that I could figure it out. I like my final product, but I think the people who work in communications are not in any danger of me taking their jobs any time soon. A week ago I was worried about lots of tasks on my to-do list. That list has been abandoned and most of those tasks forgotten. They seemed so essential once upon a time.
What does it mean to be essential? I am a teacher. Is my job essential? If it is not, how is my ego dealing with that realization. Jobs that seem essential to me these days are those in the post office, sanitation departments, and grocery stores and their supply chain. Those are the ones I am noticing a lot these days. But then I remember that I really need those invisible services such as electricity and running water. Definitely essential. Of course, the healthcare system and scientists are essential, but not in my direct line of sight and daily living. If I can’t see your profession, is it essential? My relationships are all more essential than ever. I find myself reaching across decades to dust off old friendships and reconnect, holding on tighter to the ones I have developed in more recent years. Other than food, shelter, clean water, and friendships, what else am I finding essential these days? Open spaces, spaces to walk in, beauty, card and board games, jigsaw puzzles, internet, books, humor. How will this list change during the next few weeks and what will remain essential, I wonder. “Ooh, he made a deal with the devil. There is no way he is your father, he is your brother.”
No, he is my father. His hair stayed put and the grey waited to grow in. So young, but his heart did not know. His heart grew and grew in ways that a heart is not supposed to grow. In medicine, a good rule of thumb is to avoid being an interesting patient. That is the largest heart I have ever seen, the doctor said. My father is an interesting patient. Great for the doctors, not so great for him. The small grandkids gallop around and chime in with occasional sadness. “I know you are going to die.” one of them says. “That is a big thing to know about someone,” he replies. “I am going to swim in the pool now!” You start to really make deals near death. Anything to hold it at bay. Well-meaning folks send health advice. Friends ask in hushed voices, “Are you sure there is nothing else?” He knows he is dying. He wants to live but not if this is living. At the same time, death is so very final, you know. What is he waiting for? When everyone gets home? That will be tonight. When it is his birthday? That’s Tuesday. When we all head home leaving our echoes and forgotten articles of clothing? For now we sit around the bed looking at him, looking over him to the pond, birds, and occasional deer. Sit and wait. This is the longest memorial service I have ever been to, someone jokes. We joke in sadness even though most of the jokes are not any good. We whisper and then we try to talk matter-of-factly about what comes next as if we were making a grocery list. I look outside and see the grandkids, the best of what he leaves behind. I look inside the medicine cabinet of rows and rows of pills. Unused catheters and bandaging materials. He leaves these behind, too. Once the difference between life and death, no longer effective at separating the two. I am not sure when it started, but at some point I noticed the insertion of "just" into many of the emails that I receive.
This is just a post. This is just an email. This is just a reminder. This is just a ______. I know that I, too, have been known to use this word, once even so naive as to think it a means to soften a reminder. Like so many things in life, once noticed they start to grow. However, instead of a beautiful pearl that started as a grain of sand in the oyster, this particular sore now causes a physical response from me that does nothing to reflect light into the world. A reflexive grimace of annoyance, a clenching of my stomach, a reaction to a threat. A potentially harmless, even useful word, now a weaponized passive aggressiveness especially when inserted into a work related email. No longer a reminder, now it is just a reminder because you were just going to forget otherwise. Even today, when I remember to proofread my emails, I often find one and need to exercise my delete button. It is just everywhere. |
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