Yesterday was one of those weird energy days. Thankfully, it didn't start out that way. It waited until I left the house. The first instance occurred when I tried to pull out of the library. I had plenty of room (I swear!), but the oncoming driver decided to speed up and honk rather than slow down. Hmm. Would you really rather crash into another car just to prove you were in the right? I made the turn before he hit me, and I didn't push the odds by trying to make eye contact with him.
Once I arrived for my volunteer shift for the Sundance Film Festival, tension only mounted. Peery's Egyptian Theatre was screening My Idiot Brother to a sold out crowd (800 +), plus 70 die-hards who braved the cold and hours of waiting for a chance to get in--they didn't. Now the theatre has a policy of "No Seat Saving," which generally means two people can't arrive early and save a whole row for friends who arrive late. However, when you arrive early, find a great seat and then nature (or popcorn) calls, you might think you would be okay to leave your coat on your chair. Not so for several last night, who returned to find coats on the floor and defiant seat occupants not willing to relinquish a good seat. Add to that those who came late who also expected a great seat and got a little testy when only the front row was available. One "gentleman" asked about seats at the back. When it was explained those seats were reserved for volunteers who performed a role in the theatre (ushers, door keepers, etc.), the "gentleman" complained, "So volunteers have priority over paid ticket holders?"
With a great movie and lots of laughter from the audience, things settled down--or so I thought, but this weird energy wasn't through. Driving home on a stretch of 50 MPH highway, a guy in dark clothes attempted to dart across the street in front of me. I did not see him until he turned around and headed back to the curb--where he began waving his arms as if to draw attention to himself to get traffic to stop. As no one could see him, no one stopped. My heart did though once I realized how close I had come to hitting the guy without even seeing him.
As I neared home I smelled smoke and saw an ambulance and firetruck on a street near mine. From my angle I couldn't observe what was going on (nor did I try as there was enough traffic congestion already), but I added the weight of someones misfortune to my already anxious heart and only breathed a sigh of relief when I reached home and closed the garage door, sealing that weird energy out!
I expect only good things today, though I'm somewhat concerned about leaving home. One of the perks of being a Sundance volunteer is getting a few tickets to shows. Since I'm not working tonight I can watch "The Music Never Stopped" (about a man whose memory is damaged by a brain tumor and music from his past is his only window for reengaging with the world), and not care if fistfights erupt around me! Wish me luck.
This space will consist of ramblings, funnies and thoughts. Hopefully I'll be here (at least) once a week. If you enjoy reading my blog, please forward my address to others. See you again soon. Thanks, Lynda
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
WHAT WOULD YOU DO?
There's a television program entitled, "What Would You Do." For those of you who haven't seen it, actors create a situation in a public area while the cameras roll. It's a test to see who will get involved, and why, when they see something wrong.
Mike had his own test recently, though it wasn't filmed. Here's how it went:
He took the Front Runner (the Wasatch Front commuter train) from Ogden to Salt Lake, then transferred to the light rail train (Trax) in Salt Lake to travel to Murray. My sister Bonnie and her daughter Cathy were with me and our plan was to meet Mike at the 4500 South stop. We waited, but no Mike. We wondered if he missed his connection and would be on the next train, so we waited longer. Soon I received a call from Mike, who was at the 5100 South stop.
Trax was crowded when it left Salt Lake and Mike, who had gotten on early, gave up his seat to a woman. As Mike never meets a stranger, he stood nearby and visited with the woman, until their conversation was interrupted by an obscene outburst. All eyes were turned toward a man lying on the floor in the junction between two cars. A man, who appeared to be high or crazy--or both, screamed every vulgar epithet possible. People became upset, children displayed frightened faces and a couple of women cried. A group of men circling the wild man seemed to be egging him on, including a 6'5" giant, whose appearance perhaps deterred thoughts of intervening by all except Mike. He approached the group and in a firm voice told Wild Man to knock it off.
"Yes, sir. Yes, sir," said Wild Man, and he did--until Mike returned to his place. Then, with further encouragement from his cheering squad, Wild Man became even more belligerent and violent, all still while lying on the floor. Mike returned to him, grabbed him by the top of his hood and drug Wild Man toward an exit. When the train stopped, Mike tried to get Wild Man in position, and asked other to open the door, but the train was already in motion again. Mike called and alerted UTA (Utah Transit Authority) of the situation. By the next stop, people hopped to get the doors open and to the applause and cheers of the passengers, Mike drug Wild Man off the train and thrust him into the arms of the waiting officers.
Mike may not have been the oldest passenger on the train, but there were certainly others much more physically capable than he. Why didn't they react? Why is it easier to turn a blind eye than to get involved? I hope if I ever get into a situation where I need help, Mike--or someone like him, is nearby.
Mike had his own test recently, though it wasn't filmed. Here's how it went:
He took the Front Runner (the Wasatch Front commuter train) from Ogden to Salt Lake, then transferred to the light rail train (Trax) in Salt Lake to travel to Murray. My sister Bonnie and her daughter Cathy were with me and our plan was to meet Mike at the 4500 South stop. We waited, but no Mike. We wondered if he missed his connection and would be on the next train, so we waited longer. Soon I received a call from Mike, who was at the 5100 South stop.
Trax was crowded when it left Salt Lake and Mike, who had gotten on early, gave up his seat to a woman. As Mike never meets a stranger, he stood nearby and visited with the woman, until their conversation was interrupted by an obscene outburst. All eyes were turned toward a man lying on the floor in the junction between two cars. A man, who appeared to be high or crazy--or both, screamed every vulgar epithet possible. People became upset, children displayed frightened faces and a couple of women cried. A group of men circling the wild man seemed to be egging him on, including a 6'5" giant, whose appearance perhaps deterred thoughts of intervening by all except Mike. He approached the group and in a firm voice told Wild Man to knock it off.
"Yes, sir. Yes, sir," said Wild Man, and he did--until Mike returned to his place. Then, with further encouragement from his cheering squad, Wild Man became even more belligerent and violent, all still while lying on the floor. Mike returned to him, grabbed him by the top of his hood and drug Wild Man toward an exit. When the train stopped, Mike tried to get Wild Man in position, and asked other to open the door, but the train was already in motion again. Mike called and alerted UTA (Utah Transit Authority) of the situation. By the next stop, people hopped to get the doors open and to the applause and cheers of the passengers, Mike drug Wild Man off the train and thrust him into the arms of the waiting officers.
Mike may not have been the oldest passenger on the train, but there were certainly others much more physically capable than he. Why didn't they react? Why is it easier to turn a blind eye than to get involved? I hope if I ever get into a situation where I need help, Mike--or someone like him, is nearby.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
UGLY
I lacked courage to post this blog the other day, but it gnawed on me and wouldn't let me be, so here it is. Disclaimer: I apologize in advance to those I offend. Blame the imp sitting on my shoulder who made me do this.
A few days ago I received an email portraying beautiful images of women of one political party and horrible pictures of women of another party--Gabrielle Giffords was not included. It saddened me, not just in light of what happened in Tucson, but because I too have forwarded such messages in the past.
How do we reach the point of ugly references to people who oppose us politically? When we're in a grocery store, do we pick people we think might be of another party and give them the evil eye? Do we avoid friends and neighbors--and even loved ones--who might not agree with us? Does spouting "vitriolic rhetoric" (a phrase we've all become too accustomed to this last week) make it easier to like or work with our opponent? Does such speech engender trust and cooperation?
I think most of us are beyond racial slurs, ethnic jokes and name calling, yet how many of us denounce others over beliefs or ideology opposite ours?
Yes, I'm aware this attack may not have been politically motivated, but does that condone screaming insults in anger, perpetuating mistruths or exploiting opponents? There's been a great outcry for more civility in our country in the wake of the Tucson tragedy, yet we can't just look to political leaders. It must start with you and with me being aware of our actions, of the words we use and the message our intolerance conveys. Just as hate perpetuates hate, so can kindness perpetuate kindness. Closing the door to judgment, superiority and intolerance might just help us learn to like each other.
So, starting today, I'm going to bite my tongue and smile when I'm tempted to yell "You Jerk," at the driver in the car that just cut me off. Who knows. It might be my next best friend who's just having a bad day.
A few days ago I received an email portraying beautiful images of women of one political party and horrible pictures of women of another party--Gabrielle Giffords was not included. It saddened me, not just in light of what happened in Tucson, but because I too have forwarded such messages in the past.
How do we reach the point of ugly references to people who oppose us politically? When we're in a grocery store, do we pick people we think might be of another party and give them the evil eye? Do we avoid friends and neighbors--and even loved ones--who might not agree with us? Does spouting "vitriolic rhetoric" (a phrase we've all become too accustomed to this last week) make it easier to like or work with our opponent? Does such speech engender trust and cooperation?
I think most of us are beyond racial slurs, ethnic jokes and name calling, yet how many of us denounce others over beliefs or ideology opposite ours?
Yes, I'm aware this attack may not have been politically motivated, but does that condone screaming insults in anger, perpetuating mistruths or exploiting opponents? There's been a great outcry for more civility in our country in the wake of the Tucson tragedy, yet we can't just look to political leaders. It must start with you and with me being aware of our actions, of the words we use and the message our intolerance conveys. Just as hate perpetuates hate, so can kindness perpetuate kindness. Closing the door to judgment, superiority and intolerance might just help us learn to like each other.
So, starting today, I'm going to bite my tongue and smile when I'm tempted to yell "You Jerk," at the driver in the car that just cut me off. Who knows. It might be my next best friend who's just having a bad day.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Decisions
After I checked in for final training and picked up my new down jacket for my Sundance Film Festival volunteer position yesterday, Mike and I went to see The King's Speech. What a fantastic movie. It highlighted for me again the importance one decision can make in your life, and in the world. If Edward hadn't been so besotted with Wallis Simpson and abdicated the throne, the outcome of WWII might have been much different--for all of us.
It reminded me of the choices I make each day--some minor, some life-changing. Where would I be today if I had chosen another option even once in my lifetime? I doubt I would be sitting at my computer in Pleasant View, Utah, on this gray Sunday writing this blog. Perhaps I wouldn't even know Mike, wouldn't have my children--but let's not go there! It's too scary!
How could our neighbors Chris and Kim know what their lives would be like when they chose to purchase the home next to us? We seemed innocent enough, but I'll give you one example of why they may regret that decision.
Chris likes to do special things for Kim's August birthday and he told me he was going to take her to Park City and stay in a fancy place. As the day drew nearer I asked what they were going to do with Rudy while they were away. Rudy is the smartest, cutest, most energetic Jack Russell terrier alive, by the way. Chris said they were just going to leave him home. I was shocked! Kim comes home on her lunch break every day to let Rudy out to romp and play, and do his business, even if on most days she has to coax him from his comfy bed and run around outside to get him to walk off the porch. Now they were thinking of leaving him overnight???
"Do you want us to put him out?" I asked.
"You can if you want. You know where we hide the key," Chris said, in a nonchalant voice.
That should have been a clue that maybe their plans changed, but no... Wanting to wait as late as possible so Rudy could make it overnight, at eleven o'clock I started bugging Mike to go with me to let Rudy out. Mike was already down for the night and not fond of the idea, but I persisted. So, pajama clad, we made our way via flashlight to the hiding place for the key, walked around to the front of the house, and opened the door. Rudy gave a muffled bark and Mike called out: "Rudy. Rudy. Let's go outside."
From upstairs we heard a voice. "Mike. Is that you?"
"Oh, #$%@," crossed both my mind and Mike's. (I know because we compared notes later!)
After uttering embarrassed apologies, we hastily locked the door and replaced the key and returned to bed, though the grumbling from my spouse didn't cease until sleep overtook him.
Outside our kitchen window the next morning (next to Chris and Kim's front door), a sign was posted: "HOUSE FOR SALE. GREAT NEIGHBORS. GREAT NEIGHBORHOOD NIGHT WATCH PROGRAM. WILL CHECK ON PETS ANY TIME."
Of course they didn't move, so they're still reaping the rewards of their decision to move next to us. Oh...and they make sure someone else checks on Rudy while they're gone now!
Not every attempted good deed is appreciated!
It reminded me of the choices I make each day--some minor, some life-changing. Where would I be today if I had chosen another option even once in my lifetime? I doubt I would be sitting at my computer in Pleasant View, Utah, on this gray Sunday writing this blog. Perhaps I wouldn't even know Mike, wouldn't have my children--but let's not go there! It's too scary!
How could our neighbors Chris and Kim know what their lives would be like when they chose to purchase the home next to us? We seemed innocent enough, but I'll give you one example of why they may regret that decision.
Chris likes to do special things for Kim's August birthday and he told me he was going to take her to Park City and stay in a fancy place. As the day drew nearer I asked what they were going to do with Rudy while they were away. Rudy is the smartest, cutest, most energetic Jack Russell terrier alive, by the way. Chris said they were just going to leave him home. I was shocked! Kim comes home on her lunch break every day to let Rudy out to romp and play, and do his business, even if on most days she has to coax him from his comfy bed and run around outside to get him to walk off the porch. Now they were thinking of leaving him overnight???
"Do you want us to put him out?" I asked.
"You can if you want. You know where we hide the key," Chris said, in a nonchalant voice.
That should have been a clue that maybe their plans changed, but no... Wanting to wait as late as possible so Rudy could make it overnight, at eleven o'clock I started bugging Mike to go with me to let Rudy out. Mike was already down for the night and not fond of the idea, but I persisted. So, pajama clad, we made our way via flashlight to the hiding place for the key, walked around to the front of the house, and opened the door. Rudy gave a muffled bark and Mike called out: "Rudy. Rudy. Let's go outside."
From upstairs we heard a voice. "Mike. Is that you?"
"Oh, #$%@," crossed both my mind and Mike's. (I know because we compared notes later!)
After uttering embarrassed apologies, we hastily locked the door and replaced the key and returned to bed, though the grumbling from my spouse didn't cease until sleep overtook him.
Outside our kitchen window the next morning (next to Chris and Kim's front door), a sign was posted: "HOUSE FOR SALE. GREAT NEIGHBORS. GREAT NEIGHBORHOOD NIGHT WATCH PROGRAM. WILL CHECK ON PETS ANY TIME."
Of course they didn't move, so they're still reaping the rewards of their decision to move next to us. Oh...and they make sure someone else checks on Rudy while they're gone now!
Not every attempted good deed is appreciated!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
So much for Resolutions!
Here it is eleven days into 2011 and I'm bruised and battered from the long fall from the resolution wagon! As you know if you've checked this blog lately, my hope of posting at least twice a week (Tuesday and Saturday) has taken a long vacation. This is dismaying especially in light of the begging email I sent out asking for followers, before I disappeared over the edge of the world without further notice.
What made me doubly conscious of my decline was feasting on my second piece of chocolate cake this morning. Does the fact that it was my breakfast, I preceded this devilish delight with my typical four mile walk and brushed my teeth for a second time after succumbing to this pleasure count at all in my favor?
The good thing about resolutions is they are not just for New Years, so I hereby pledge to renew my posts and eat right and get on with all of the other things I resolved!
As a way to banish the grayness of January (which I blame for my aforementioned shortcomings), here are a few funnyisms:
My mother: After receiving days on end of phone calls for "Jacques," (a foreign translation of Jack, my step-father), who had won $185,000 and would collect as soon as $400 was sent by Western Union to an address in Jamaica, my mother complained to the phone company. Being the phone company, and with an eye for further profits, they recommended my mother subscribe to caller ID so she could avoid these noxious calls--not withstanding most of these callers are not identified in the first place! My mother complied. Her first call so aided with this new wonder in technology was from my sister Bonnie, in Montana. Having never been acquainted with caller ID before, my mother pushed the "talk" button first, then checked to see what number showed on the screen. As no number appeared, she said, "There's no number here. How do I know who it's from?" On hearing the faint screams of my sister saying, "Mom, it's me. Don't hang up," my mother realized she could confidently answer the call.
My mother (again) (no disrespect intended, but she provides such useful fodder!): While my sister Bonnie, her daughter, Cathy and I were visiting my mother recently, my mother received a call on her home telephone. By this time the procedure to check the caller ID screen before answering the phone had been learned and my mother said, "Oh, it's just Jack calling from the bedroom upstairs." She answered the phone and after scolding him for being lazy, continued with the conversation--by walking up the stairs and entering the bedroom. Bonnie, Cathy and I looked at each other and smiled, but moments later when we heard Jack say, "I'm right here," and Mom say, "Oh, yes. Well, goodbye," before hanging up the phone, we couldn't contain our laughter.
My husband, Mike, while caught wearing a watch on both wrists: "Well, this one had the wrong date."
My five-year-old granddaughter Dylan: Somehow the logic of being old and having white hair had become a sure death sentence to Dylan and she asked me one day, "Grammy, will you cut your white hair, so you won't die?" "Honey, if I cut my white hair I won't have any left," I said. "Well, can't you just cut it like Papa's (Mike, whose hair is 1/4 inch long!), so you won't die?" After a silent chuckle, I assured her I wasn't going to die soon--and I intend to keep my promise. (Okay! No more chocolate cake for breakfast!)
My seven-year-old grandson Justin talking to Grandpa Mike: "Grandpa, who's your favorite out of Zac, Ryan and me?" Grandpa: "I love you very much, Jay, but it wouldn't be right to say you're my favorite. Zac and Ryan would get their feeling hurt. It would be like me asking you who's your favorite between me and Grammy." To which Jay responded: "You are Grandpa!" I still love him, even if he loves Grandpa better.
See. The sun is brighter now, and if I look right straight up I can see blue sky! Hope your day is filled with sunshine and joy.
What made me doubly conscious of my decline was feasting on my second piece of chocolate cake this morning. Does the fact that it was my breakfast, I preceded this devilish delight with my typical four mile walk and brushed my teeth for a second time after succumbing to this pleasure count at all in my favor?
The good thing about resolutions is they are not just for New Years, so I hereby pledge to renew my posts and eat right and get on with all of the other things I resolved!
As a way to banish the grayness of January (which I blame for my aforementioned shortcomings), here are a few funnyisms:
My mother: After receiving days on end of phone calls for "Jacques," (a foreign translation of Jack, my step-father), who had won $185,000 and would collect as soon as $400 was sent by Western Union to an address in Jamaica, my mother complained to the phone company. Being the phone company, and with an eye for further profits, they recommended my mother subscribe to caller ID so she could avoid these noxious calls--not withstanding most of these callers are not identified in the first place! My mother complied. Her first call so aided with this new wonder in technology was from my sister Bonnie, in Montana. Having never been acquainted with caller ID before, my mother pushed the "talk" button first, then checked to see what number showed on the screen. As no number appeared, she said, "There's no number here. How do I know who it's from?" On hearing the faint screams of my sister saying, "Mom, it's me. Don't hang up," my mother realized she could confidently answer the call.
My mother (again) (no disrespect intended, but she provides such useful fodder!): While my sister Bonnie, her daughter, Cathy and I were visiting my mother recently, my mother received a call on her home telephone. By this time the procedure to check the caller ID screen before answering the phone had been learned and my mother said, "Oh, it's just Jack calling from the bedroom upstairs." She answered the phone and after scolding him for being lazy, continued with the conversation--by walking up the stairs and entering the bedroom. Bonnie, Cathy and I looked at each other and smiled, but moments later when we heard Jack say, "I'm right here," and Mom say, "Oh, yes. Well, goodbye," before hanging up the phone, we couldn't contain our laughter.
My husband, Mike, while caught wearing a watch on both wrists: "Well, this one had the wrong date."
My five-year-old granddaughter Dylan: Somehow the logic of being old and having white hair had become a sure death sentence to Dylan and she asked me one day, "Grammy, will you cut your white hair, so you won't die?" "Honey, if I cut my white hair I won't have any left," I said. "Well, can't you just cut it like Papa's (Mike, whose hair is 1/4 inch long!), so you won't die?" After a silent chuckle, I assured her I wasn't going to die soon--and I intend to keep my promise. (Okay! No more chocolate cake for breakfast!)
My seven-year-old grandson Justin talking to Grandpa Mike: "Grandpa, who's your favorite out of Zac, Ryan and me?" Grandpa: "I love you very much, Jay, but it wouldn't be right to say you're my favorite. Zac and Ryan would get their feeling hurt. It would be like me asking you who's your favorite between me and Grammy." To which Jay responded: "You are Grandpa!" I still love him, even if he loves Grandpa better.
See. The sun is brighter now, and if I look right straight up I can see blue sky! Hope your day is filled with sunshine and joy.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Resolutions
New Year's Eve is a reflective time for me--like the year in review on many programs. I learned many years ago though, not to look back to previous resolution lists. It's just verification of all I haven't accomplished! My list comprises of things I believe are possible, like: loose weight, stay in touch with friends and family, pay off credit cards, finish my book, oh yes, and loose weight!
This is also a time of gratitude for the well-being of each person in my circle. We all might have wished to win the lottery, travel to beautiful places, never have a bad day and look like Angelina Jolie (or Brad Pitt), but we're still here and not doing too bad!
As much as I wonder what this new year will bring, perhaps it's best I'm not a seer--sometimes life is hard enough without knowing what's coming. How would I live if I knew I only had xx days to live? My natural inclination would be to jam as much living into every day as possible, but in reality I'd probably be paralyzed with grief at all I'd be missing and waste most of the time left. So, maybe the old paradigm of savoring each moment is still what life is about.
That doesn't mean I'm not writing resolutions this year. I know this will be the someday I will fit in the closet-full of (outdated) clothes, finish my book and get a fabulous publishing offer and live happy ever after (or at least another twenty years). It all starts tomorrow.
Happy New Year. I wish you life, love and laughter.
This is also a time of gratitude for the well-being of each person in my circle. We all might have wished to win the lottery, travel to beautiful places, never have a bad day and look like Angelina Jolie (or Brad Pitt), but we're still here and not doing too bad!
As much as I wonder what this new year will bring, perhaps it's best I'm not a seer--sometimes life is hard enough without knowing what's coming. How would I live if I knew I only had xx days to live? My natural inclination would be to jam as much living into every day as possible, but in reality I'd probably be paralyzed with grief at all I'd be missing and waste most of the time left. So, maybe the old paradigm of savoring each moment is still what life is about.
That doesn't mean I'm not writing resolutions this year. I know this will be the someday I will fit in the closet-full of (outdated) clothes, finish my book and get a fabulous publishing offer and live happy ever after (or at least another twenty years). It all starts tomorrow.
Happy New Year. I wish you life, love and laughter.
Friday, December 24, 2010
The Dirty Little Snowman
Grandpa Mel was the “hider,” and he was very creative at finding new locations to baffle the “finders.” His reward was seeing the excitement on a child’s face when the snowman was spotted. Our reward was the twinkle in Grandpa and Grandma Scott’s eyes.
Surely the little snowman was new and clean at one time, but somewhere along the way it got shabby and dirty, and lost its hat and scarf. Being left out at the curb, tucked in its hiding spot on the Christmas tree, didn’t help its image. How frantic the search when after Grandma left us, we realized the little snowman had not been retrieved before the tree was put out for pickup. Searching along the gutter and digging through dirty snow and slush, Mike found the tree and dug it out. Even then the little snowman was not evident and all seemed lost until joyous shouts of “Here it is!” were heard.
Since it is not possible for everyone in our family to have the original “Dirty Little Snowman,” we created “stand-ins” for each of our children. Our hope is for them to continue this tradition which delighted our family and highlighted Christmas get-togethers at Grandma and Grandpa Scott’s house.
It would be wonderful to be all-seeing and all-knowing, so we could simultaneously visit each of our children’s homes and watch every grandchild discover “The Dirty Little Snowman,” and share the wonder of this tradition with them.
Who knows, perhaps Grandpa and Grandma Scott are “stand-ins” for us.
Merry Christmas
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