Leaning In Since 1961

I've not yet read Facebook tycoon, Sheryl Sandberg's new book "Lean In."  But I will eventually.  She's everywhere these days doing interviews and touting the book.  She's had a little push back because she's up there in the stratosphere with Oprah and a few other lady moguls so regular woman can't imagine that she's speaking to them.

But I'm sure there's something in her book for all of us - even me.

I love this "Sally Forth" cartoon by insightful Greg Howard.  I had it blown up and used it when I spoke to women in the workplace. This one is from 1986 - but Sally's been "leaning in" since 1982.

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Emory University

I love this school.  One of the great universities in the southeast - and the entire world.  Last night Dave and I attended an alumni gathering here in Orlando.  Are we alums?  No.  I'm still grandfathered in because my husband Ken, was a graduate of the theology school, Candler, and because my friends make sure Dave and I continue on the invite list.

But I did take a couple of classes while we were there in the late 60s.  For a year we lived on campus and I worked in the development office.  And I had my first poem published in the Emory Magazine.

I love this school.

As you may know, the president of Emory, James Wagner, has been in some hot water due to writing an article in the Emory Magazine in which he used a really bad example of compromise in our country's history.  We would have to chalk it up to another one of those "what was he thinking?" decisions.  We've all been there.  I've been there several times.

So, last night, the last thing Dr. Wagner would want to talk about would be compromise.  Right?  Wrong.  The topic for his dialogue with Dr. Cecil Wilson was the need for a liberal arts education and compromise in our society.

It was a thrilling conversation.

Liberal arts has to do with the concept of critical thinking.  That is to say, learning how to think.  A great example he gave was - instead of joining a group and adopting that group's thinking - expand your mind through education and bring your own thoughts to a group.  What a concept!

I have no doubt that Dr. Wagner will weather the storm of his "misspeak."  Last night he was candid, smart and totally charming.

After about 150 years, Emory University continues to grow in every way.   And continues to be one of the finest universities on the planet.  Emory graduates continue to change the world for the better.  I'm proud to say I know and hang out with several of them.

I love this school.


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Dennis Rodman Is Not Dennis Leary

One of these guys is Dennis Rodman.  The other is Dennis Leary.  With Dennis Rodman getting lots of news coverage the last couple of weeks due to his famous trip to see his buddy in North Korean, I was reminded of a funny conversation I had at Christmas time.

I was in Chicago with Dave visiting his children.  At dinner I got to sit next to Dave's son who is a film editor in Los Angeles.  Somehow we got to talking about Dennis.

He clearly said Rodman but in my head I heard Leary.  So bits of conversation went like this.

Him:  He (Rodman) is a wild man.

Me:  Yes, but he's (Leary) really smart. 

Him:  You know he's had a serious drinking issue.  (Everybody who's seen "Celebrity Apprentice" knows Rodman has/had a drinking issue.)

Me:  No, I didn't know that.  But did you know that he (Leary) wrote a Christmas book and donated the proceeds to the firefighters?

It went on and on and I never caught on that we were discussing separate Dennises.  The next day when I was on a plane to Atlanta it hit me.  Dave's son must think I'm a crazy woman.  

Here's my news alert for you.  Dennis Rodman and Dennis Leary are not the same person.  To my knowledge Rodman has never written a book and given the proceeds to firefighters.  And Leary has never played basketball with Kim Jong Uu.


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No More Secrets

This morning in Forum we continued our discussion of Alzheimer's disease.  The book, Still Alice, about a 50 year old professor at Harvard who develops Early Onset Alzheimer's, is causing most folks in the class to think deep.  And discuss deep.

Although I'm happy with my care taking of my husband, Ken, the book and discussion are causing me to re visit how I could have made some better decisions - sooner.

Ken had dementia long, long before anybody else was aware.  I did a good job of hiding it.  Even from him. I was raised in a family that kept secrets.  So was Ken.  Image was everything.  In my family, illnesses like cancer and tuberculosis were never discussed.  Even when my aunts, uncles and mother were dropping like flies from these two diseases.

Toward the end, before I discussed Ken's mental state with friends and family, I'm sure many of my friends were very aware.  What a help it would have been to deal with it openly.  

I'm not so sure about family.  A few years before Ken died my son put together a book for his dad.  Ken loved political celebrities.  He loved hanging around with decision makers.  He was one.  The book contained photos from congress persons, senators and other leaders from around the country.  Some Ken knew well.  Others not at all.  But all personally autographed to Ken.

Ken thanked our son.  But he was totally unable to comprehend what he'd been given.  It was too late for any real appreciation of this tremendous effort to do something that would have thrilled him ten years earlier.

I have friends who've truly honored me and others by sharing a personal dark journey with the rest of us.  It's what I want to do from now on.  We're all in this together.

So, I've reformed.  I'm a new woman.  For the last several years I've been openly sharing my life.  But then those of you who read this blog regularly already know this.  


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Brightwood

The Polis Center is a research unit of the Indiana University and Purdue University (IUPUI.)   One of the things they've done is to create an encyclopedia of Indianapolis and thereby help communities create meaningful change.

One of the ways they do this is by creating a narrative history of an area.  A few months ago my brother sent me a narrative history that Polis has done of our old neighborhood, Brightwood.

We lived on an outer edge of  Brightwood.  This part of Indianapolis began around 1872 with a growing population of working class, foreign born European Americans.  Skilled and unskilled workers.

During the late 1940s, when I was a child, Station Street was the business hub of the neighborhood.  We lived about two miles from Station Street in a lower class section of homes and factories.  Our house was about 50 feet from the railroad tracks.

We lived there with our dad.  He was almost totally clueless as to what to do with us so, from about the ages of 5 and 7, every weekend, my little brother and I walked to Station Street to the movie theater.  We were each given a quarter.  That was fifteen cents to get into the movies, plus a nickel for a bag of popcorn.  One for each feature.  The theater was called "The Dream."  The photo above, that came from Polis, looks exactly like I remember it.

When we were a little older our dad (when the dry cleaning truck was available) drove us to the theater at night.  And some of those times he would forget to pick us up so we two little kids would stand on Station Street until the wee hours of the morning waiting for our ride.

All this to say we spent a lot of time on Station Street when we were growing up.  I liked the street and we loved our second home, The Dream.

Polis confirms what we already knew.  Brightwood, which was a blue collar community to begin with, continued downhill.  Many of the areas, including ours, were infiltrated by gangs and drugs and became very scary, unsafe places.  Then the interstate came through in the 60s and 70s and obliterated much of Brightwood.

Things have gotten better over the years, however Brightwood is still a neighborhood in transition.  This second photo, taken in the same place as the first, is of Station Street today.  No more retail but it has morphed back into a productive area. About a block south of Station Street is Martin University, a private, nonprofit college, created to serve low-income, minority and older students.

As I said in a magazine article a few years ago, the place where our house was has improved too.  The last time I  was there the house was gone and a junk yard was there in its place.  It was an improvement.


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Two Wildly Divergent Views

To be a poor man in a land of dollars is the very bottom of hardships.  - W.E.B. Du Bois

This week Dave and I had the opportunity to vacation for a few days at the Miccosukee Resort located in the Everglades but close to Miami.  We had a fine time and are grateful to our trip planners and those who took such excellent care of us.

The Miccosukees originated from the Creek Nation.  The Creek Nation was here prior to Columbus.  We all know this country was theirs first.  So we owe them.

In 1988 Congress formally recognized the right of Native Americans to conduct gaming operations.  It's been a major catalyst for community growth and economic development.

Dave and I and the other folks in our group enjoyed four days and three nights of great food and drinks, lovely accommodations and various gaming opportunities (although, other than our free 25 dollar vouchers I don't know of anybody in our group who partook of the gaming.)  All this came at an amazingly low price.

Of course, they offer this to seniors, and other groups, to get some of us into the casinos.  We understand that.

So it's all good.  Right?  Right?

Well, here's the other side:  Less than one percent of the country (2 million people)  are Native Americans.  They've always been the poorest of the poor in our country.  Even though we all know they were here first and we white folks have never done well by them.

The impact of gambling has been monumental in terms of wealth building, but, as a group, Native Americans are still poor.  And alcoholism is still pervasive.  Fully 11 percent of deaths are alcohol related.

When we wondered around this massive casino, covering what seemed like acres of gaming, the vast majority of those doing the gambling did not look like folks who could afford to lose much.

Some folks call gambling the poor man's retirement plan. 

 Of course, everything in the casino is designed to keep people gambling.  You can smoke, drink, eat and use an ATM without leaving your seat.  And, no matter where you are, there's a restroom close by.

Years ago, I worked hard to keep casino gambling and the lottery out of Florida.  We did this for one reason.  It oppresses the poor.  2.6 million people in this country are addicted to gambling.  Most of them have lost everything, and then some.


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Frasier and Mystery

Dave and I made a big (gulp) decision and jumped from basic cable to a box and Netflix.  Haven't watched much yet but last night we found the very first episode of Frasier.  It appeared in 1993.


Fussy Frasier Crane moved from Boston where he spent a lot of time in a bar called "Cheers" to Seattle where he went from being just a psychiatrist to being a talk show psychiatrist.  We were introduced to his job, his brother, Niles, his producer, Roz, his dad, Martin, Martin's caregiver, Daphne and Martin's dog, Eddie.

Also his grand piano and his Eames Chair.  Because Frasier had a perfect apartment in which he planned to live alone and have a perfect new life.

But, as we know after we watched eleven seasons from 1993 to 2004, it didn't work out that way.  Messiness ensued.

I've just finished leading a 6 week class on a book called "The Gift of Years."  I loved it.  The book was excellent and the discussion was even better.

Much of the book dealt with being comfortable with change and mystery.  I thought about the book and the class the entire time I was watching the pilot episode of Frasier.  Here are a couple of quotes from the book:

So mystery, the notion that something wonderful can happen at any time if we will only allow space for it, takes us into a whole new awareness of the immanence of God in time.  

Why not walk into the mystery of life until we are comfortable enough with mystery to trust it even at the end?

I'm not sure that, in the eleven years we lived with Frasier, he ever really embraced the mysteries of life but this pilot episode reminded me, once again, that I can't escape them.


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