The bravest people I know

In spite of all of its faults the subway in Boston offers a wide view of the human condition. A man, who looked Chinese, caught my eye on the 70 minute ride home tonight. He was petite, appeared to be in his late 50s, dressed practically and appropriately in brown corduroy trousers that were rolled up at the the ankle, and he had the front jaw of someone who didn't have stellar dental care over his lifetime. Most interesting was that he carried a bundle of six empty soda bottles tightly shrink wrapped in plastic.

As we traveled to the suburbs South of Boston I wondered who he was and what reason he could possibly have for toting around a bundle of empty redeemable bottles. It isn't unusual to see men pushing shopping carts on neighborhood streets, pulling bottles and cans worth $0.05 each from recycling bins, to be redeemed for their daily income. I've seen Chinese women with wide brimmed straw hats walking up the middle of minor highways dragging shopping carts in both hands piled high with bottles in filmy garbage bags. Never have I seen someone carrying six bottles as if it were a lap dog.

"There must be something special about these bottles," I thought to myself, "or this man is so poor the $0.30 he has in his lap is like gold."

Still wondering what story guided this man's life as I poured out of the train station, I espied an elderly African American man selling copies of the Boston Globe to evening commuters. He had no obvious teeth, the hood of his worn and frayed winter jacket pulled up over his head. He wasn't talking, just holding a hand written sign that read "Boston Globe, $1.00." He was a different seller than the white, heavy set but gnome-like man I'd seen selling the paper in the morning.

"I didn't know the Globe had an evening edition," I mused. The dialogue in my head continued. "I've lived in Boston for nearly 18 years, I'm not aware of an evening edition to the paper. Is he just trying to sell papers that no one bought this morning? Sheesh, are things that rough? Are people that desperate or scrappy or stupid?"

Walking towards the next stop on my way home I realized that immigrants and poor people are among the bravest people I know. There is no way I could imagine picking up my life here - whether it was a comfortable one or not - and moving to another country where I might not have (a) documentation legitimizing my presence, (b) money or other resources, and (c) the ability to navigate my way culturally or linguistically. And, if I had the cojones to do this, I don't think I have the creativity or resilience to try everything to make it work so that I could have the better life I was seeking. I don't imagine I'd sell discarded newspapers, or spend all day looking for bottles to earn a meager $0.30. I often see the glass as half empty, and can't imagine having the vision to believe that one day I'd be selling real newspapers rather than old ones I fished out of a recycling bin, or the desperation to try to sell discarded papers because nothing else I was capable seemed to work to put food in my belly.

I pitied the Chinese man I saw on the train and the African American paper vendor. And I also admired them. For their imagined scrappiness and hopefulness. These two men are some of the bravest people I know.

Who are the bravest people you know? Why?

Park and Shop (or structure binds anxiety)

I lay awake in bed this morning anxiously running through my list of errands:

• Post office - mail packages, buy stamps


• Gym - exercise


• Transfer station - trash and carboard recycling


• Library - return books (get more?)


• Bank - for cash


• "In-laws" - return book, leave newspaper.

I also want to go shopping for a new wallet, check out the possibility of getting new gloves (on sale) and look at late season winter coats. The house needs to be cleaned, dishwahser unloaded, laundry started, cats' nails trimmed, and homemade bacon smoked.

By now the horse is out of the gate and my mind starts to race.

If I really wanted to go nuts I could also mention that I want to return a book I borrowed from my sister and send her that t-shirt I don't want anymore while I'm at it, stash the spare buttons from the new suit jacket, and find a place to store all of my pashminas.

Am I going to hook up with that guy who wants to buy my mom's old beer steins?

I probably should start getting my tax receipts in order too. And research plane tickets to Orlando for May, And return that Christmas gift, and look for an olive oil vessel for the counter.

I could go on. But I'm getting anxious.

So anxious that I just ate dinner for breakfast.

And I haven't even finished one cup of coffee.

Stop. How do I manage this?

Structure binds anxiety. What this means to me is that the more boundaries I create to control my life - my day - my errands - the less likely it will seem out of control. You know the feeling - like you can't relax until you've cleaned the house, or you can't get started on that paper for school until your desk is straightened up.

To manage the anxiety about "everything I have to do" I turn to Park and Shop.

This is a board game that belonged to my mother when she was a girl. My siblings and I played it when we visited Gramma, and eventually it made its way to our home. The object of the game is to run your errands downtown more quickly than anyone else. You start in your car at your house on the game board. You drive to a parking garage and then start your errands on foot. Your errands are assigned to you by the dealing of yellow errand cards labeled "Fish Market," "Laundry," or "Haberdasher." The idea is to find the most efficient walking route, grouping your errands together and avoiding "red lights" marked on the board.

My siblings and I use the phrase "park and shop" as a verb i nour adult lives.

How will I park and shop my errands.

The Post Office, gym and bank are all downtown. I could go by way of the transfer station. (Ugh, if I carry trash in my car then I need to add "car wash" to the list of errands.) I really want to get the gym over & done with. But, if I do that first I'll be sweaty and likely cold when I run my other errands. Augh! In the amount of time I've been fretting over this I could have had all of these shenanigans done.

Deep breath. This is what I'm planning to get me through the first (functional) 2.5 hours of the day.
0. Write a note to put into the book package for my sister.
1. Post office
2. Gym
3. Library - drive through book deposit
4. Bank - drive through
5. Transfer station.
When I come home I'll get the pork belly being magically transformed into bacon out of the over. Then I'll shower. Then I'll make another list to get me through the next part of the day.

Easy does it, one step at a time, park and shop.

Would you rather....

...Drink apple juice, red grapefruit juice or carrot juice?

...Travel by train, bike or car?

...Vacation on a cruise, go camping or visit a new city?

...Own a dog, cat or bird?

...watch "Punk'd" or be punk'd?

...Play tennis, football or World of Warcraft?

...Drink beer, wine or bourbon?

...Have a lavish wedding, elope or live in sin?

...Remain age 23 or younger forever, remain between 24 and 39 forever or be over 40 forever?

...Go for a run, lift weights or watch "The Biggest Loser"?

...Shop at Target, Wal-Mart or K-Mart?

...Buy coffee from Dunkin' Donuts, Starbucks, or a McDonald's?

Don't look a gift horse on the Web

From 7:30-8:45 or so this morning I drank coffee, ate pancakes, and read the online version of The Boston Globe.

I "liked" one story about a recent philanthropic gift made by a Boston gazillionnaire. My tweeted commentary on this story was retweeted twice. I tweeted another story from the same online version of the paper, which has led to two separate, albeit short, twitter dialogues. I emailed yet a third story to a friend.

About 15 minutes after I wrapped up the quiet online review of the Sunday paper, I was outside brushing snow off my car so I could make a run to the gym for a quick workout. A car came around the bend of my sleepy street and slowed down in front of my house. I have a 1/2 a kayak on the lawn, waiting for trash day later in the week. I thought the driving was a garbage picker. As his window came down I thought for sure the driver would ask me some questions about the storm-battered boat.

"Is this (insert my address here)?" the driver asked.
"Yes," I answered slowly and suspiciously.
"The Boston Globe would like to give you a free copy of the paper," he said, handing a waterproof package to me.
"Is this because I've been tweeting stories all morning long?" I asked, my suspicion changing to glee.
"Don't know," he replied, "but the free paper lasts until the 23rd. Congrats and enjoy."

Then he drove away.

****

Now I'm not sure there is any correlation between my high use of social networking tools this morning and the free paper.

If there is it seems like a weird incentive. If I'm a high e-user of the paper, and I get a free print copy of the paper, my e-use is likely to go down, at least for the two weeks I get the hard copy delivered to my home. Maybe a better gift would be a free link to my blog or a free copy of The Boston Globe app in the Apple store.

Nevertheless, I am delighted with my free paper. I had actually intended to buy the paper today, so I could enjoy the magazine and the puzzle. About half-way through my e-browsing I remembered this with a Homer Simpson-like "D'oh!"

Now, home from the gym and freshly showered, I'm looking forward to brewing another cup of coffee and enjoying The Boston Globe Magazine. Thank you @bostonupdate.

Awesomely ordinary

I found myself close to happy tears earlier today as I wrapped up four hours of errand running.

I took a minute to consider that I might be confusing tears of sadness with the unfamiliar welling up of a joyful expression.

I didn't think so.

"Why? What happened today that would make me feel so happy?" I wondered to myself. "I had a perfectly ordinary day." This is what I did:

• Got up late (9:30 AM)


• Drank coffee, read the online paper


• Started laundry


• Cleared the hardwoods of clutter and mopped them


• I returned a gift for which I had no receipt with no hassle given
• 
  
• Picked up a special order at the bookstore for my sweetie


• Discovered an item I wanted at Crate and Barrel, while advertised, was no longer available


• Returned a handful of superfluous gifts I purchased for others in exchange for things I needed (bird seed, hair products, birthday cards)


• Braved the long lines at Trader Joes in exchange for $55 worth of coffee, faux meat products and frozen foods


• Drank 12 ounces of carrot juice


• Went on a duck buying odyssey that came up short


• Picked up three books at the library


• Filled the bird feeder


• Emptied the recycling and took out the trash.

Boring, right?

So why so happy?

I think because my day felt like it was completely my own. I felt accomplished in my errands. I didn't let irritating traffic, shopping frustrations, or a lack of nourishing food get me down. And right now, at 4:11 PM on a gray Saturday night, I don't feel like there is anything else I HAVE to do tonight.

So what am I going to do? I've lit candles around the house and am surrounded by a peaceful glow. I'm going to pour a glass of wine soon, start preparations for an early dinner, and then settle into the couch with one of my borrowed books.

Today was perfectly, awesomely, ordinary.

Celebrity Look-Alikes

Facebook memes often invite us to change our avatars to our celebrity look-alikes. I usually post a picture of Velma, the smarty-pants crime solver from "Scooby Doo."



In the last three months I've been told by colleagues that I remind them of celebrity chef Rachael Ray
,



and the smarty-pants crime fighter Garcia on the TV show "Criminal Minds."



I feel glad to (a) have celebrity avatar options, and (b) remind people of sassy smart gals.

How about you? Who is your celebrity avatar? Why?

10 things you might not know about me

The blogosphere is rife with lists of resolutions, non-resolutions, 2010 "best of" and 2011 "trends to watch out for" lists. I love lists, but don't want to be derivative. So...here is my list...of 10 things you might not know about me. I invite you to share your list in the comment section.

1. Like Filmmaker Ken Burns I love the National Park Service and have visited eleven national parks including the remote Dry Tortugas (FL), and Guadalupe Mountain and Big Bend (TX).
2. I was hit by a truck while riding my bike to work in October 2001 and literally saw my life flash before my eyes.
3. I lived in a commune for two years.
4. I will always consider myself bulimic, having lived with this disorder from 1986-1995.
5. Since I started working at age 11, I have held more than 30 different jobs yet I have never worked in a restaurant.
6. I published several academic articles on reform in medical education.
7. I am trained as a liberal sexuality educator using the Our Whole Lives Program created by the Unitarian Universalist Association. If I could make a viable living teaching I would.
8. In spite of this training and experience, I consistently find myself challenged by transgender men and women. The good news is I know it and am able to learn through these challenges.
9. I have two regrets in my life: not accepting my placement with the Peace Corps in 1992 and not going to public college for my undergraduate degree.
10. I am actively afraid of worms, snakes, and any creature that moves on land without benefit of legs.

What are 10 things I might not know about you?