From Whence I Come

I come from stock of the Depression era, with resultant parental frugality and childhood sense of deprivation in the midst of a well-off and ritzy suburb of Boston.

I come from the fifties… Ozzie and Harriet, Leave it to Beaver, and Father Knows Best sense of strong family values and clear division of labor, martinis and cigarettes, the middle of five children- three sisters and a brother

I come from family secrets, roles, and messages concerning worth and potential

I come from the sixties… Flower children, peace mongers, Martin Luther King and civil rights, most unfashionable in the height of fashion.

I come from a safe neighborhood, unstructured time, freedom to play and roam to a time fraught with stranger anxiety and relative isolation.

I come from Ben Casey, Dr. Kildaire, Marcus Welby, MD, Medical Center and the vicarious thrill of medical drama gone awry

I come from Violation by presumed friends of family and upstanding community members and lecherous old men

I come from The seventies… the women’s movement and environmental awareness

I come from Christian upbringing, Sunday School, parental pillars of the church, church fairs, pageants, youth group, Sunday School, potential seminarian, rejecter of Religion. Today I am an avid spiritualist with deep faith in a power greater than myself; that it is available to me for the mere recognition that I need only open myself to the energy that permeates the Universe.

I come from a house filled with classical music; show tunes, Mitch Miller and Benny Goodman. I am a wannabe musician, former Student of clarinet. Today I connect and attend to other cultures through world music…

I come from my feelings: rage and insecurity and expansive love

I have grown to become an environmental activist and wildlife enthusiast… avid gardener, horticulturist, birdwatcher… grateful witness of natural beauty through all senses- light and color and fragrance and music of songbirds and insects and frogs and breeze…

I come from connoisseurs of good food, leading to sweet tooth, devotee of dairy products, FAT

Girl Scouts… naturalist, artist, caregiver, committed volunteer

Long line of alcoholics leading me astray to the field of social work in search of answers for salvation

Generations of Book lovers and word smiths

I come from the anti-bureaucrat… resisting state regulation by refusing to be categorized and limited by guidelines deemed necessary by the powers that be,,, leaving social work in part as a result of red tape imposed, and avoiding educational certification on principle. I refuse to be limited and put in a box! 

I am not cut out to be a house wife- our house is embarrassing 97% of the time. I can't get after the boys to clean their rooms because our room is the worst one in the house but I think my family is afraid to point that out to me, although Ben has commented on it more than once. Once a five year old named Jenny Rose walked into my house and had the audacity to say “this house is such a mess!” Creative people live in a mess. I started to clean the house once from top to bottom. I made it partway through the second story (not including my room). Last month.

I love to be outrageous. Making peoples jaws drop is one of my greatest passions in life.

I don't beat around the bush and anyone I am speaking with may be the recipient of any manner of comment or inquiry. I feel kind of bad for my family because it means they feel they must be vigilant to come to the rescue of people they fear I may embarrass. And I forget that I am liable to be misinterpreted by people, especially those who do not know me.

I do not drive. While it can be annoying and even discomfiting to have to depend on others for transport, it has allowed me another opportunity for amazing friendship over the years, as well as a deep appreciation for God's palette and artistry that being a consummate passenger affords.

I have a problem staying focused. Whether that is a result of killing off too many brain cells as a youngster or hanging out with 3 year olds, ... I forgot what I was going to say...

After my parents died, I started viewing my friends' parents as “my” parents, in the same way that I feel a responsibility for my kids' friends, and other young people I come to know and care about. As a result, I occasionally stick my nose in where it may not seem to belong.

I believe that when babies are born, they know everything. This becomes obvious when speaking with children about all manner of things. They know the answers to questions without having ever been told. Their perceptions are pure, having not yet been adulterated by the cynicism of their elders. This is particularly obvious when you look at children's' unabashed artwork.

I am certain that the no child left behind approach to education is a dismal failure. The sole focus of learning has become not to enrich curiosity and love of learning, but to instill fear of failure. Children need to be exposed to things that teach them an appreciation for the diversity of their world, their environment, the basic goodness of people, a desire to discover and share the gifts and talents we have each been blessed with, and help others to do the same.

I love to garden. I love the color and feel and aroma of rich soil. I love the unique design, the growth, the miracle that is a seed. I can use a plant or garden or tree to visualize the growth of my personal endeavors. And I can make a tiny part of this planet more beautiful. One of my favorite things in the whole wide world is to garden with my children, or with a dear friend. The garden is my church. 

Bird watching is another one of my favorite things to do. I love when I learn to identify another bird (each year ;-) by it's song before catching sight of it. I love the beauty, the “personality”, the individuality, the capability of various birds. I am amazed by the connection between birds and the spirit world.

I love to write. Writing three pages on a daily basis makes all the difference in the world to my well being and level of productivity. Most of what I write in these pages which I call my journal is nonsense, with an occasional burst of self awareness or inspiration for program development or serious writing endeavor. I get frustrated by writer's block and while I have learned to accept that my life is cyclical on every level, the inertia becomes maddening at times.

I yearn to paint, immerse myself in photography, return to making quilts, have the wherewithal to learn a musical instrument (banjo, cello, piano...). So much to do, so little self- discipline!!

I could easily live the life of a recluse. I yearn to live in the countryside, to live in Vermont or on the coast of Maine, but can't bear to think of leaving this home and the echoes of the awe inspiring experience of watching my children grow up here.

I keep a drawer full of toys, coloring books and the best colored pencils, my own personal stash, in my desk. They help me to let go, relax, open my mind, and even focus. Everyone should keep a cache of toys, coloring books, things that put us in touch with the innocence, unfulfilled yearnings, and play of childhood.

I have found that given the lack of control I have over so many areas of my life and the way things eventually turn out, that living in the wing it mode is most useful. By maintaining flexibility I remain open to things and ideas that I may never have considered, particularly in my business endeavors.