Oscar winning ACTOR, Nuclear ReACTOR, or One Who Takes ACTION...which are you?

In life, there are many cliches about the categories into which people fall:

• There are two kinds of people: The haves, and the have nots
• There are two kinds of people: Them that can, do; them that can't, teach
• There are two kinds of people: The movers and shakers, and the rest
• There are two kinds of black people: The Talented Tenth, and the other 90%

You get the drift. As overused as they may be, the true beauty of the cliche is that at least to some extent, they are almost always based in truth. Each of the phrases above when analyzed will lead to the same conclusion, which is that on some level, the statement is based on an underlying truth which bears out, and as they say in geometry, proves the rule.

This got me to thinking about my own views on the categories into which I think people tend to fall and what truths if any in my own personal experience has fed these views; thus the title of this post. I believe people fall into three basic categories: ACTORS, REACTORS, and THOSE WHO TAKE ACTION.

THE ACTORS

We all have met people who always seem to be the life of the party. These are the people who live in the spotlight, and in any social setting, they seem to be part of the "in crowd". Actors know what it takes to pull off any part and they play their role accordingly...they are extremely good planners with a keen ability to look the part. They appear always to know exactly what to say in any situation, and as long as things remain superficial, they are "there for you...they've got your back".

The problem with actors, is that they can ONLY skim the surface in terms of their ability to navigate the choppy seas of the full spectrum of human emotions and relationships. Always great in the light of the sun, actors will leave you floundering every time when storm clouds roll in. Their usual M.O. is to just not show up when things get rough because that is a script they have difficulty writing. They'll always have a reason which sounds really good for why they were not able to be there for you, but when you examine your history with an actor, you will find that everytime you faced a tough situation, you faced it sans your actor buddy.

Unfortunately for the actor, the person who is most damaged by this behavior is the actor himself. Always the center of attention in public, the actor inevitably finds that when he/she most needs support and the comfort of others, it is unavailable. In their quest to portray an image, they have effectively isolated themselves from others by establishing and maintaining superficial relationships which have no significant foundation upon which to stand. These are the people who were voted "Most Popular" in high school who don't attend the 20 year reunion because they can't be found, have fallen by the wayside, or feel too uncomfortable to attend. How sad that in all their high school popularity, they unlike most of us, were unable to establish and maintain even one relationship that was deep enough to sustain itself throughout life. Without doubt, the life of "the actor" can be a lonely one.

THE REACTORS

Energy! In one word, that is the best way to describe a reactor, ENERGY..that eventually fizzles out! These are the people who are oftentimes found amongst those referred to as the Type A's among us. Usually, reactors can be counted on to carry out whatever promises they make, they are great at follow through with one caveat...only as long as things are moving along according to the plan. Reactors given a plan, will carry it out. These are the "to do listers, the clip board people". They live according to master plans, and believe wholeheartedly that they, and only they, dictate their destinies. Unfortunately, this belief is flawed from the start as it is impossible to dictate your own destiny while using someone else's plan.

The thing that makes reactors so interesting is that with all the self-direction skills they believe themselves to possess, they are most likely [even more so than actors] to be swayed by the opinions/actions of others. Reactors get their name honestly as they tend to re-act based on the actions of others. These individuals believe themselves to be the captains of their ships when in actuality, every major move they make in life tends to be a consequence of what someone else's action forced them to do. For example, reactors don't end unhappy relationships because they're unhappy, they wait until their partner decides the relationship is over and then still find it difficult to move on.

Reactors can only be counted on by others as long as things go according to the plan. When there is a variation from the plan, a total melt-down results. Reactors though dependable in smooth waters are even more fickle than actors in rough seas because as opposed to not showing up at all, they have a tendency to walk out at the most inopportune moments when things are as bad as they can get, making a bad situation horrible. This same trait is detrimental to the reactor as well as they are frequently unable to function when their own plans fall short and typically shut down when faced with unexpected obstacles.

Those Who Take Action

Ever met someone who seemed to have it all together? Whatever the problem, they were willing to work towards a solution, assist in any way they could, up to and including handling the scut work. These are the people who take action. Folks who fall into this category, have the ability to plan and follow the leader. They are as good at following up as they are at making the plan. In short, they are well-balanced. These individuals seem to be able to juggle whatever life sends their way while hurdling over any obstacles placed in their path.

They're the bright idea people [I bet you thought that was GE], always coming up with or chasing down new ideas. These are the people in our lives who don't quietly back out of the room when we are facing a crisis. These folks can be counted on to do what needs to be done be it planning the next move, carrying out the plan, developing a plan B, or cleaning up the mess of plan A. These superheroes should be nicknamed "The DEPENDABLES" as they will never let you down.

Those who take action will never sit around wringing their hands wondering what to do. They are incapable of rehashing situations that have occurred in the past as they are eager to decide what needs to happen next and get started making that thing happen. These individuals are a motivated lot and will do whatever it takes to move forward from where they are. To them, action is key and even if it means flipping a coin to decide what that action will be, some action must always be taken.

Though they sometimes come off as brash and insensitive in their quest to move forward, those who take action are great to have around in a crisis. They may be their own worst enemy in that they risk missing out on the enjoyment of savoring the pleasures of life because they are constantly looking to the future and what comes next.

Like most things in the world, nothing and no one is as cut and dried as the descriptions of these three personality types that most of the people I meet seem to fall in. In each of us lies the capacity to be any one or a combination of any of these descriptions depending on the day. However, each of these personality types comes with its own issues and it is important to understand which one you lean most heavily towards and what that means about the kind of person you are.

Questions such as:

• Am I dependable in a crisis?
• Does anyone really know the real me?
• Are my goals my own or am I checking off a list of society's expectations of me?
• Are there people willing to risk themselves for me?
• What do I give to others, and is it commensurate with what I receive in return?

may be valuable in helping each of us to better understand who we are and what if any value we bring to the lives of others. Furthermore and just as importantly, answering these questions for ourselves honestly will potentially alert us to the possibility that others are taking us for granted.

Personally, I have always done my best to avoid being reactionary. Don't get me wrong, we all must react to the situations we find ourselves in, however it is my opinion that my reaction should always be a function of my values, beliefs, and self-imposed morals. The best example I can think of is when I was involved in a relationship where my significant other was cheating with another woman. The advice I received ranged from getting a make-over so I would be better able to compete, to providing some good, old-fashioned tire slashing, to rolling up on him and her both and breaking out the vaseline. However, I in my normal, self-possessed state of mind would never embarass myself or my family (especially my son) by behaving in that manner. So as I saw it, the best response for me to that situation was to extricate myself from the relationship as I have never been one to hold on to someone who has let me go; and that is what I did. Obviously I reacted to the situation, but that reaction was an independent action on my part and not an [atypical of me] reaction to his action. In truth, I try at all times to be a person who takes action typical of the person I am, and, I have learned to do just that while still stopping to savor what I have already been able to achieve, as well as what is yet to come.

I am a very reflective person, which leads me to analyze and inspect the behavior of both myself and those around me closely. Most of the time I'm proud to say, I like what I discover...only most of the time. On the occassions when I see something I never would have guessed existed in me, I accept it for what it is and go about the business of making it more aligned with my own expectations of myself. When I discover traits in others that are at odds with my expectations for my relationship with that individual I do my best to address the issue with them as well. Sometimes, things work themselves out...sometimes working with that individual, I am able to make it work out...sometimes I find I have to say "Goodbye"...but never, ever will my reaction be one that leads me to penalize the innocent for what the offenses of the guilty. Furthermore, I refuse to give up my own natural optimism and ability to trust those who have not caused me injury... I wrote a poem about this a while back, wanna hear it? Here it go...

"Place Where Tears Hang Out"

Behind the eyes there is a place

where tears hang out until

A toe is stubbed, a promise unkept, or we face some other ill.

Over this place where tears hang out

we have on real control.

The tears just wait on the whim of fate to injure our very soul.

Ruling this place where tears hang out

are those we hold most dear.

Our hearts they break with smiles so fake but still we keep them near.

But in this place where tears hang out

something wonderful can be seen.

A sparkle, a twinkle, that indicates that we STILL have our dreams!

What about you? What would a bit of close inspection of yourself and your relationships reveal to you about you? About your relationships? About the status of your dreams? Hmmmm....

Through The Fire, To The Limit, To The Wall…

Life is about limits. Speed limits, credit limits, term limits…without question, life is about limits. I woke up this morning thinking about the limits in my life; the ones I pay attention to, but more importantly, the ones I seem to consciously ignore. Since I started this blog, I have spent a lot of time talking about my family, my own personal training ground on how to love and be loved in return. Coming from such a demonstrative family, I never felt anything less than loved, and I always knew it. How does this type of familial interaction impact me as a woman moving through life hoping to find my own “Perfect Match”? How does a women who has grown up having her love reciprocated deal in the cold, harsh reality of the dating world?

Those of you who know me personally know that I have a tendency to analyze (some would say over-analyze) situations and experiences I have had. Good, bad, or indifferent, that’s just how I’m built. At a week shy of 41 years, and still single, I find myself wondering why it is that I am still looking for “the one”. A self-inventory [that some might say is biased at best], illustrates a woman who has her shit together. Physically, I’m not hard on the eyes, and certainly no one has ever kicked me out of bed. Intellectually, I can hold my own in a conversation about pretty much anything. I read books by choice to the tune of at least 3 to 4 a month, and have been able to obtain a pharmacy degree and am beginning work on two Masters programs. Emotionally, I’m fit…I cry when it is appropriate, and laugh whenever and wherever the opportunity presents itself. I have no issues with being taken care of by the strong one when it’s warranted, or being the strong one when my rock needs a rock. Though not a religious zealot, my spirituality runs deep, and the foundation of my faith which is in God and the appearance always of the sun following any storm, usually leads to me being the chosen “go-to person” everyone I know seems to want around when storms show up on their horizon. Though some of us say it shouldn’t matter, I CAN and DO bring home the bacon [thick slab at that], though frying it up in a pan in the most consistent and spectacular ways is a developmental project in motion. So, self-assessment complete, I appear to be a good catch, and the question remains…why am I still single?

My romantic history is pretty simple and believe it or not, in my opinion, not very traumatic. Basically it boils down to a good deal of dating in my college years, and four significant relationships. Each brought new learnings to my life, and though they did not result in the life I imagined I would lead, they are not experiences I would eliminate given the chance. These experiences have not left me bitter or determined to make the next guy pay for the sins of his predecessor. On the contrary, each has made me a bit more determined than ever to find the one for me.

My first love was my first love (if you get my drift); we started dating when I was just 16 and we got engaged during my freshman year of college. We broke it off during the summer before my junior year, and the scripture, [Be ye not unevenly yoked] echoes in my brain whenever I think of this relationship. That notwithstanding, he was then and remains the nicest boy I ever met and he treated me at all times like a queen. His lesson was essential to my long-term development: "Accept only the best treatment". Though I did not always follow this lesson, it has stayed with me and at this stage of my life, it has become a guiding light in relationships of all kinds.

Big deal number two was the one instance ever of “love at first sight” that I have personally experienced. Met him through a high-school pal, fell in love and knew within the first week that he was “the one”. He knew too, so we got engaged at two months in and planned a wedding for the following spring of my senior year in college. Long story short, he died of leukemia. Hurt like hell without question, but even in our short time together, I took away a lesson: "Time is limited and not always on your side". Being an analyst of sorts, it is not my style to rush into things; however, this relationship was the one in my life of which I was the most sure even though it was the one that moved the fastest. The bottom line is that time is specific to the situation and the situation should not be dictated by the amount of time that has or has not passed. In other words, one should not necessarily hesitate to make a commitment because "it hasn't been long enough yet", nor should one stay because "we've been together so long"...

Next big thing was my son’s father. To be frank, though I loved him, I was never “in love” with him. He was my best friend then, and if he could be the man he should be in terms of being a good father to my son, I truly believe he would still be my best friend. His lesson: "Obligation changes some things". We were friends and he would have done anything for me under that circumstance but when we became parents, our friendship evaporated and we became nothing...not even enemies.

This brings me to the last "big thing" in my romantic history, the one who got away as they say. He was my fiance' three times believe it or not, and from him I learned many lessons I never knew I needed. The most important thing I learned from this relationship: "In life there are limits." Though I have been involved in some pretty intense, long-term relationships over the years, this is the one that took me through the fire, to the limit, to the wall...to quote Chaka Khan. For this relationship, I was willing to sacrifice just about everything. I wanted this more than anything I ever wanted for myself my entire life, and it took me almost fifteen years to reach my own limit in terms of what I wouldn't do to have it.

I remember as I lived through this situation many times that my family and friends seemed to be disappointed in me and uncertain as to why I remained in the relationship. Being the realist I am about all things, I never made excuses for my situation, it was what it was. However, it was very difficult for those who love me to accept my assertion that until I was emotionally and mentally able to move on, I had no other option than to stay. Having "my girls" to have my back is one of the most precious gifts I have in my life. So imagine the pain of not being able to make them understand my point of view. It's funny how when you are going through a situation like this, there seems to always be a song with lyrics that speak to you...for me during this period there were two: What You Won't Do For Love and Luther Vandross' "I'd Rather Have Hard Times With You". Now y'all know that's some serious shit there!

Finally, I reached my limit or hit the wall so to speak.

The crazy thing about it was that there was no final straw...even after fifteen years, three engagements, two planned and cancelled weddings, and my having moved out of the home we purchased together not once but twice. I simply reached my limit one day. I finally realized that you can truly love a person with everything you are and they can love you back in their own way, but it may not be enough. What I needed to be happy he could not provide and what he was willing to give was insufficient to sustain me. At the time, I didn't even realize that I was depressed by the whole situation. I believed I was living a full life. I believed I was happy. And then one day, I noticed I was a long, long way from happy. The thing that kept going through my head was the title of Patty Labelle's book, "Don't Block The Blessings". I knew it was time to clear the space around me so that whatever it is that is meant for me might have a chance of actually getting close enough to be seen and embraced.

I'm happy to say, there was no fanfare, no drama; just swift and decisive actions taken to rectify the situation as soon as possible. Moving back into my own space has released the Sharon I was always meant to be, the optimistic, self-loving Sharon that Ladylee spoke of in her comment on one of my recent posts (Thanks for noticing Lady!). I am moving on with my life, and in stark contrast to the Sharon of a year ago, I now know I am happy and living a full and exciting life.

Even so, I still wonder why not me when it comes to happy coupledom. I still feel some envy when I encounter people who are with their special someone and their happiness is obviously apparent. I still want to slap some folk over the moon when they have all the ingredients available to them to have what I want, and for whatever asinine reason, they seem to be blind to the fact and letting it all go to waste. In short, with all the gifts that have been granted me, I still see true romantic love as the ultimate gift one can receive. I am continuously appalled when I hear people talk about having met that someone special but because of their job, finances, this or that, they can't focus on that someone right now as if this is something that happens all the time. I see finding that someone special like being given the winning Powerball numbers the day before the drawing. This is not something you sit on...either you place your bet today, or you forfeit your payout...come now people, this is not the kinda shit that comes your way everyday!

Somewhere out there, is a guy who is perfect for me, [not perfect, just perfect for me!]. He is generous and kind and like me, understands the importance of communication. He knows that though grammatically speaking fidelity is a noun, in the context of our lives, the word is a verb that both he and I must make a commitment to actually DOING! He reads for pleasure and without hesitation would discuss what he reads with me over breakfast and vice versa. He loves family and holidays and big boisterous celebrations, but at the same time can be content without leaving the house for an entire week if the mood to vegetate comes along. He is industrious and ethical, and simultaneously understands that the desire to spend a weekend in PJ's reading and watching movies is not a sign of a morally corrupt soul. He's trusting and trustworthy, and does not hesitate to be comforting when comfort is required. He understands that tears flow for many reasons and realizes that individuals who perceive them to be tools of manipulation are simply attempting to justify their own insensitivity. He is comfortable in his own skin, and wears it with authority. He is strong and happy and smart and emotionally in touch with himself. He is secure enough to be himself at all times and to disagree even with his best friend, mother, or me if we are speaking bullshit. He will work with me to build something durable, honest, hopeful, and enduring because that's the whole point. He is able to be happy for those who seem to have all the things he still hopes to have and celebrates their good fortune. If he comes with children, Thank You God for the bonus! Hopefully he is taller than me and black like me and has a big smile like me and a sense of style like me and is grown up enough to know like me that none of the things in this sentence truly matter if he loves me and I he!

He may or may not be a college graduate bringing home the big bucks. As long as he handles his business, this is not important to me.

He does not need to be able to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, just the weight of us which will be heavier or lighter at various times based on which of us has more strength available at a given time.

He will be my partner in all things, and never my wind-up toy.

I wish with all my heart to meet him soon if I haven't already. For him, I would go again Through the fire, To the limit, To the wall...but this time, I would come out better, stronger, happier with him on the other side.

The Next Chapter Begins...

Fifteen years ago, this picture told the story that was my life. My son was all that mattered to me at that time, and all of my goals in life revolved around giving him the best start in his life I possibly could, and doing whatever I could to make sure he could reach his goals. When I look back on the years that have passed since this picture was taken, I'm stuck by the tremendous difference the life I lived was from the life I always thought I would live. As you guys have all heard before, I never planned the best thing that ever happened to me: the birth of my son. When his existence was first made known to me, I must admit, that I would have done anything in my power to turn that positive test result into a negative test result. I was a "Golden Child", and things always went just as I planned them to go. This wasn't part of the plan. How could this happen to me?

Thankfully, I have always been very responsible as well and even though there were available to me, "other options", I made the best decision I ever made in choosing to have and raise my son alone as a single mother. With that decision came a million other choices that I wasn't even aware I was making simultaneously at the time. Choices as simple as giving up hour-long showers to more complicated choices like delaying educational goals until my personal time commitment to my son's life had diminished. Some of these choices were easy "no-brainers" as they say. Others came with some anguish, and at certain points, even some remorse because as much as I have always loved my son, I like everyone else, also wanted to have what I wanted when I wanted it.

It's now sixteen years since the birth of my son, and a quick peek at my post re:drug testing in high schools (two posts ago) will provide a sneak peek at the fantastic young man he has turned out to be. We have had a great life, and though there were things that may have been delayed, I never truly had to give up anything on behalf of my son, and in actuality I only gained treasures that I otherwise would never have experienced had I not had him in my life.

Ryan is now a sophomore in high school and doing well. He is self-reliant, self-sufficient, and as embarassed as I am to admit this, his social life puts mine to shame ;). In two and a half short years, he will have graduated high school and if the plan he has for his life doesn't change, he'll be off to college in the fall of 2008. This leaves me, the Mom who has been all about her son for the last sixteen years, the perpetual "Golden Child" and planner, thinking, "What's the next chapter include?"

I have decided it [the next chapter] will be all about me! I have enjoyed no other role I have played in life more than I enjoyed being Mom to my son. I pride myself on being an over-achiever, and at being this kid's Mom, I excelled! Now that the "hands-on" part of that job is nearing its close, I have decided to circle back to the focus I had on my development prior to his birth. One of my goals back then was to pursue an advanced degree, and now seems like a great time to do just that.

As a single woman, who would love to be part of a couple, Valentine's Day has the potential to be brutal. Always looking for ways to make a difficult time easier for myself, I decided last year that to prevent the blues that can come on V-day, I would always do something special for myself on this day. Last year, I purchased for myself this very laptop computer which enabled me to start this blog. This year, I completed the application process necessary to begin a dual Masters program in Management and Leadership, and Human Resources Development. I felt like I was walking on air having finally pulled the trigger on this particular starting pistol. I am looking forward to this second chance to be a student as my appreciation for the privelege that is education is so far from the resigned attitude I had as a kid when I believed education was an evil means to an end. Now, the simple thought of learning things I don't know excites me; and though I'm sure a month from now I'll be dog-tired and sick of school, right now I'm psyched!

The timing is perfect because if I'm diligent and dedicated, I will be able to graduate around the same time my son graduates from high school, allowing us both to run around with T-shirts proclaiming us to be 2008 graduates. Additionally, this timing allows for me to enhance my professional credentials which will serve me well as my intention once my son is off to college is to get aggressive about my professional upward mobility in my company. Once my son is off to college, relocation will be an option, and picking up these two degrees should enable me to broaden the opportunities available to me within my corporate structure, and strengthen my bargaining power.

Always, I am open to the possibility of falling in love with some fantastic brotha who will want to be my better (scratch that), other half (and maybe every once in a while he may have to be my other three-quarters...you know like when I'm having a bad day--ha!ha!); however, my life is not on hold waiting or hoping for that to happen. If it does, it will probably change the plan a bit, but that's okay as the other time my plans went waaaaaayyyyyy different than what I thought, things turned out fantastically. On the other hand, the plan I have is not plan B, its plan A...proactively conceived, excitedly awaited, and finally about to begin. Can a woman whose life has already been as great as mine has been ask for anything more...I don't think so. The next chapter is NOW, and it' all about ME! I WANT TO BE ME WHEN I GROW UP!!!!!!!!!

(Sharon, August 2004)

Grandma's Girl!

Sharon presenting Grandma with "The Mother of the Millinium" award during the family talent show portion of Grandma's surprise birthday celebration August 26, 2005

Last week I spent the entire week in Orlando, Florida on a business trip. Though it was a long week, professionally speaking it was very productive. Upon my return home, as always, I found a huge stack of mail. My birthday is coming up next week, and though I will be 41 years old when it shows up, my Grandmother has NEVER failed to send me a birthday card which always arrives early or right on time, and usually contains "a piece of change" as she calls it. Going through my mail on Friday night, I found an envelope from my Grandmother which obviously contained a card. Immediately, I assumed my birthday card had arrived early. Opening the envelop, I found not a birthday card, but a simple note card.

The note card was a spur of the moment Thank You from my Grandma for my having always been there for her whenever she needed me. She talked about how I have never said I was too busy to stop and attend to whatever she needed. Reading the card brought tears to my eyes. All of my life, my Grandma has been there to make sure that I was taken care of, though I lived with and was raised by my Mother who I love very much as well. However, my Grandma has always owned a piece of my heart that was all her own. Amazingly enough, even though she has 69 grandchildren, I have always known that I had my own piece of her heart as well, and even with all those cousins, brothers, and a sister to compete with, my piece of her heart was not small.

Receiving this card from my Grandma made my year! I think we all strive to make a difference in the lives of those we love, but oftentimes, we never know for sure. My Grandma, being the extraordinary person she has always been, took it upon herself to make sure that I don't have to wonder about the difference I make in her life, thereby giving me just one more thing to add to my long, long list of reasons that she is the person who influences me the most in becoming the person I hope to be...someone just like her!

Random Drug Testing in High School:Why I'm FOR It!

Sorry it's been so long since my last post, but I have been caught up in a very public debate here in good old St. Louie, revolving around a proposed random drug testing program my son's private, Catholic high school is considering implementing. Being a pharmacist with several close relatives and friends who have had their issues both in the past and on-going with drug use (casual as well as severe), I have very definite opinions on the subject which result in my being strongly in favor of routine, random testing beginning in high school.

Last week, following a meeting at my son's school where this program was presented to the parent body for their consideration and feedback, I was interviewed by the local television news stations "CBC Parents Meet Over Student Drug Testing" regarding my position on the proposed testing. Consequently, my interview played over several days on all of the major stations in St. Louis, prompting many emails and phone calls from those who agreed as well as those who disagreed with the stance I took. One of these emails, came from a friend I have known since we ourselves were teenagers who attended high school together. I am publishing excerpts from his email (in order to protect his privacy), along with my emailed response below. I feel this is a very important issue, and would love to hear as much feedback from others as possible as to how they approach the subject of drug use with their own kids.

My son and many of his friends are in favor of the testing in some ways, though peer pressure (the real culprit) is resulting in public displays of rebellion I believe. Like many teens, they want to change the world and this is their chance to "buck the system". I tell them they are Rebels Without Cause, but I applaud their solidarity.

Anyway, the emails I spoke of are attached below...please read them and holler back!

Email from high school friend:

Oh Oh,
You touched a subject near and dear to my heart. I don't know about you, but I smoked marijuana in high school. Never at school and never on school premises. My mother didn't like it, but being a product of the sixties, she had to admit that not only had she tried it, but she liked it and did it (a few) times. Her aunt who raised her was very religious and who'd dare allow that (devil weed) anywhere near her house.
Sharon, I guarantee that not only have probably 75% of the kids at CBC's parents tried marijuana before, but probably still do some form of drug now. (Remember alcohol is a drug and driving drunk is ILLEGAL.)

I have a child that is a senior. Of course I don't want my child to do any type of drug, but I tell her of my experiences, both good and bad, and hope she makes the right choices. At the same time I realize that she will make mistakes and she will have to learn from HER experiences, not mine. Therefore I feel that the decision that you and the other parents at CBC or making is not only misguided, but arrogant (for any parent that uses drugs.) and wrong.
I have had the experience of having been subject to a school where I do remember that there where frequent locker searches and most teachers examined students to see if they were under the influence. I agree whole heartedly to something like that, but to prevent students from learning from their mistakes, in my opinion is WRONG!

My email response:

Now you done gone and done it...

I, unlike you did not smoke weed back in the day though my boyfriend back then was a weed-head (who I might add poured kerosene on himself and lit a match to impress a girl [not me] while high on crack which he graduated to after we broke up). I am not in any way sanctimonious about drug use or experimentation for that matter, but I don't feel it is necessary to actually make "a mistake" to learn a lesson. I, like you don't want my son to even try drugs, but in the event that he does, I would hope he would at least feel open enough to let me know so that I can watch for signs that he needs help. Knowing that he (or any teenager for that matter) would be very unlikely to clue his parents in, drug testing may be the only early alert I get that might help me to prevent a potentially serious problem from developing or a catastrophe that could have been avoided (i.e. car accident, reckless behavior, etc.).

The thing that concerns me most, is that these kids unlike my boyfriend and his weed-head friends back in the day seem to think that there are "degrees of bad" where drug use is concerned...they don't think of weed as just the beginning, and I don't think there is any debate about the fact that most serious drug use and addiction starts with alcohol and weed. Determining who will simply stick with weed and who will progress to other, "more seriously harmful" agents is the unknown. Unfortunately, alcohol (without question the teen's drug of choice) clears from the system so fast (within hours, usually less than 8) that it is very difficult to randomly test for its use. I am considered a "cool MOM" by Ryan's friends so even knowing my position on drug and alcohol use among teens, most of them talk to me about things they would never discuss with other adults including their parents; some even admit they partake. They tell me that marijuana is not physically addictive so it should be okay. In this way, they are different from us as kids as well, as they are much more intellectual in their approach and better informed regarding the science of drugs. I think if they are doing this much thinking, they should be given the rest of the picture to think about and take into consideration as well. As a pharmacist, I tell them that indeed marijuana does have limited physical addictiveness, though that is not the real issue. The real issue is the way that it changes perception (i.e. distance when driving, sense of mortality, etc.) and this is where the risk of using this particular drug lies. I tell them that minimally, if they use it, it should be treated with the same care that should be taken with alcohol use, do it at home, and please don't drive themselves and definitely not my kid around when they are using it!

Their ideas about physical verses mental addiction are also a major issue for me. You don't have to be a drug addict to understand that mental addiction is probably a hundred times harder to overcome than physical addiction. I tell them that physical addiction only requires removal of the addicting substance from the system which with most drugs is just a matter of time, followed by isolation of the addicted person from future contact with the addicting substance. Mental addiction on the other hand is much harder to overcome because it leads individuals to seek, plan, scheme, or do whatever is necessary to get access to the source of their addiction. Don't even look at it in terms of drug use I tell them, think seriously overweight people who won't stop eating, think alcoholics who won't stop drinking (even after re-hab has cleared the alcohol's physical addiction), think anorexics/bulemics who continue to starve themselves though any mirror should tell them they are too thin. These are all examples of the power of mental/emotional addiction. The key to recommending and taking whatever steps I can to convince and encourage my son to refrain is simple: Those who never experiment even once with drugs have no chance of becoming addicts. Though I realize he, like most teens will probably experiment at some point, I hope he will at least consider the consequences (all of them) of his actions prior to making his decisions. This, I believe to be the greatest benefit of random testing in schools, it gives the kid an incentive to think beyond right now, to the consequences he/she might face long-term (i.e. tomorrow at school). That is the overall goal of my entire parenting approach. The fact of the matter is that kids who know without a shadow of a doubt that their parents will probably find out that they did A, B, or C will probably not do it, as most of us refrain from things unless we are pretty sure we can get away with it. It also impacts my son's friends in potentially the same way, creating a peer-pressure that can potentially work in his favor instead of against him. Let's face it, if high school and college are supposed to prepare kids for the real world, then they should learn that in almost any industry they go into they will face drug testing as a pre-requisite to employment and potentially to remaining employed, so we're just starting the lessons earlier when they have a better chance of sinking in...you know, old dog, new tricks ;).

I believe that very few kids sitting home alone think "Maybe I'll try drugs today!" This being the case, I think that the overwhelming majority of teen drug use is consequential to the subtle peer-pressure they face (i.e. everybody's hanging at the mall, everybody's going to the park, the joint is being passed at the party, everybody was hitting it so I did too, etc.). I know that kids oftentimes end up doing things they would not otherwise do just because of where they are and who they are with. If more kids are saying no than yes, a kid is more likely to refrain; the reverse is true as well. So I see drug testing at school the way I see having a strict mother which my son's friends say I am. I have heard my son tell his friends, "ya'll know I can't do that, ya'll know my Moms!". I applaud him, and tell him to use me as the scapegoat anytime he needs to. On that same token, a kid attending a school known to have a drug testing program can say, "ya'll know I can't get with that, shit I might get tested Monday!". Used right, it can be a powerful tool, and from what some of the kids are saying, a tool they would appreciate having.

I truly am not all that concerned about what my son on his own would do, but I don't, can't, and won't underestimate the power of his peers. He is a great kid, as most kids are, and doesn't believe he is influenced at all by peer pressure as most kids believe. I beg to differ, and though I think he has some independent thinking abilities, I think that he and other really good kids like him are the ones at highest risk for many of these things because they do try so hard to please everyone, and be part of the "in-crowd". I was that kind of kid myself even though I kind of floated on the fringes of many crowds like a bee moving from flower to flower as my mother says, and will admit that though I did not do drugs, my friends got me into many other things I probably would never have considered on my own.

In closing I will relate an experience I had in November. I have a cousin (female, 2 months older than me), who I was very close to growing up. We had almost identical childhoods, as our mothers are sisters and raised us very similarly. She has been a drug user since we were 16; she started with weed. Her mother was recently diagnosed with colon cancer and I got to spend time with my cousin while visiting my aunt in the hospital back in November. As I got ready to leave, my cousin who I rarely see because she doesn't come around the family much, walked me to my car. In the parking lot, we had a wonderful moment and reconnected almost like it was when we were kids. As I got ready to leave, she asked me "What I thought the difference between her and me was considering how close we were growing up and how similarly we were raised?" She asked me "Why did I think things turned out like they did with me being "so sucessful" (I know that sounds conceited but I swear that's how she put it!), and her being caught up?" I told her that the only difference between me and her is that she is a gambler and adventurer, and I'm not, at least not in the same way. I explained to her that even back then, looking at our family, I thought there was a tendency to overdo things (addictive personalities abounded) that were fun (i.e. big time drinkers) and to avoid that, I simply did not try things that could end up bad while she did the opposite. I told her that I always assumed (and I still do), that I would get addicted to anything I tried the very first time if I liked it (my philosophy, if it feels good do it!), and the thought of addiction probably never occurred to her. Maybe I'm paranoid, could be, but I say all this to say that I truly believe that it has to be impressed on kids that it really is that simple...you can't get hooked if you don't try it in the first place!

Your drug-free buddy,
Sharon

Is Smut Taking Over Black Literature?

Yesterday as she and I discussed the feasibility of plot twists in a fictional novel we are working collaboratively on, my 22 year old god-daughter Carmen made me aware of an article she had read in the New York Times titled "Their Eyes Were Reading Smut" by Nick Chiles.On receiving a link from her to the article, I read it for myself and subsequently found myself thinking over the opinions and concerns expressed by Mr. Chiles in the piece. When browsing in book stores, I have had very similar experiences to those that Mr. Chiles describes, and though I have yet to actually publish any of my own writings, I can definitely identify with the impact the apparent decline in black literature is having on the marketing of books and writers in the black literature genre. When one makes a serious and dedicated effort to turn out a finished product that has some redeeming value which provides an opportunity to actually leave the reader with something worthwhile to take away from the time invested in reading, it is easy to understand how the current trend towards "literature" with little to no literary or even social value would be cause for concern.

This is not the first time I have had the opportunity to roll this particular issue over my brain cells as during my attendance in August of last year at the National Book Club Conference, a panel discussion was held titled "The Past, Present, and Future of Black Literature", which addressed this same topic. A panelist, Vickie Stringer, the head of Triple Crown Publishing, a well-known facilitator of the publication of this genre referred to as Urban Lit, street lit, and sometimes ghetto fiction, tried to defend her company's position as to why they aggressively publish this type of product. During this session, I found myself agreeing with both sides of the argument, the one that said that the glut of this genre in the marketplace is detrimental to good literature being produced; as well as the flip side which asserted that there is a niche market available for this genre which deserves to be recognized and serviced. A stroll through the African-American section of any major bookseller reveals that in fact this niche market may be taking priority over the broader market if the number of books of this nature available on book store shelves is a reliable indicator. The discussion became very heated with several of the panel participants including a well-known, best-selling author of popular black fiction seeming to attack Ms. Stringer, and actually bringing her to tears. My empathetic nature kicked in at this point, and I was much more strongly aligned with Ms. Stringer's point of view verses that of the established, successful writers, editors, and publishers on the panel, perhaps simply because they did appear to "gang-up" on Ms. Stringer. Once she had composed herself, Ms. Stringer very eloquently defended her position saying that this type literature was necessary to encourage reading in a subset of the black community who might not otherwise ever read a book. Ms. Stringer gave an impassioned retelling of how she herself had never read anything with which she could identify prior to the publication of Terry McMillan's "Disappearing Acts", and though she was not comparing this book to the "urban lit" her company produces, she did make the point that before "Disappearing Acts", she was not aware of books that were representative of black people like herself. She suggested that "urban lit" serves the same purpose for an entire sub-culture among black America, and might be the first step to getting this group exposed to the world at large that literature makes available.

However, now that several months have gone by, and I have revisited this question without the added pressure of the emotions flowing in that room, I must admit that I too, as a lover of black literature am quite concerned about what I see as the diminishing availability of black literature worthy of investing the cost of a book and the time required to read it. I am a member of two book clubs, one of which is dedicated to reading only black authors. We have been reading black authors exclusively since our inception back in 1997. Up until about two years ago, we never had difficulty finding quality books by black authors upon which the group could agree to read for upcoming discussions. However, in recent times, finding books that did not revolve around typical "sister-girl" themes casting men as dogs, playas, or no-good baby daddies, or plots detailing urban plight or blight that was so exaggerated as to have become ridiculous, has been almost impossible. In these times, stumbling upon a well-written book of fiction such as Ian Smith's "Blackbird Papers", Octavia Butler's "Kindred", or Tayari Jones' "The Untelling" feels like hitting the PowerBall. Lovers of fiction must mine deep for quality writing though for those of us who are lovers of non-fiction, the picture may not be as bleak. In his article, Mr. Chiles writes "As I stood there in Borders, I had two sensations: I was ashamed and mortified to see my books sitting on the same shelves as these titles; and secondly, as someone who makes a living as a writer I felt I had no way to compete with these purveyors of crassness." That a published author of quality literature should feel this level of frustration along with an "inability to compete" when faced with the reality of the marketing push behind "literature" of sub-standard quality is inexcusable.

Defenders of "urban lit" oftentimes make the assumption that its detractors take issue with the material that often becomes the subject matter in these endeavors. In actuality, though the topic of these works often do revolve around potentially controversial subjects including drug use/sells, violence, and sex including prostitution, the issue is more so in the way this material is approached. Many of these books lack the essential elements of good writing such as plot, theme, character development, etc. Even more discouraging, is the fact that many of the publishers of this genre fail to be mindful of the advantages that good editing and copywriting provide. I personally consider this failure to be minimally professional in their approach to what they can deliver to the reading public an insult. "Sugar" by Bernice McFadden is a beautifully executed story of a family of women who for various reasons were prostitutes for generations. While the subject matter is no different from that found in many "urban lit" projects, the level of attention to the more mundane demands of literary creation were closely adhered to resulting in a simple, yet wonderful work of fiction. As consumers who have long complained about the level of disrespect we as a people have been shown in the marketplace, we have an obligation to share in the responsibility of derailing this train before it reaches its final destination: the elimination of quality black literature.

As a "wannabe" writer myself, the question I find myself wondering about, is how do we curtail this decline? Currently swimming forehead deep in the process of writing what I hope will be my first publishable work of fiction, I frequently find myself at a loss for mentorship and guidance. In my opinion, writing is like any craft, it requires intensive training which might be best approached by apprenticeship-like liasons that could assist those just starting out in learning the ropes; while ultimately strengthening the quality of the collective body of work being produced. Vicki Stringer alluded to this possibility while defending her company's position, saying that she did indeed reach out for mentoring, guidance, and assistance to no avail. I'm an optimist by nature, which makes me choose to believe that good writing will always be sought, recognized, and published when found. However, as I look at the state of HipHop and rap music (another truly African-American art form), and how far it has degenerated from the music of my adolescence that I loved so much, I think I would be naive not to have some concern over the future plight of black literature. Since I was a small child, black authors have transported me to places I might not otherwise ever have traveled. I fear that the black literature that has nourished, taught, and sustained my natural curiosity, might indeed be taking the same route as HipHop and rap music into a world that will be just as overwhelmingly negative and potentially destructive.

As a people, we typically galvanize in reaction to something that has already occurred, most often when it is already too late to reach our desired goal. In this instance, the handwriting though on the wall is not necessarily written in permanent marker; therefore let's each do what we can to erase what appears to be the roadmap that has been planned for the literary future of our culture. REBEL! Without regard to what subject matter you prefer to read, force book sellers and publishers to be minimally responsible for providing a product which meets at least the minimal literary standards of good story telling. Then make them respect us enough to utilized accepted literary standards of research, editing, and copywriting. Afterall, its your time and money they are receiving in return, and I think I speak for us all when I say mine is at least worth that much.

The REAL Gift Is In The Giving!

My brother dancing with my best friend at a birthday party this past summer.

A quick review of my blog so far will illustrate a running theme: My family is important to me. My intention when I created this site, was not to spend so much time writing about my family, however, for some inexplicable reason, things have turned out that way so far. In the very near future, I promise I will focus on other more topical issues, but today's post, like those in the past is also motivated by my family, though topical, and I think, a must read.

In our society, almost anything you might ever need or want is available for a cost, and by hook or crook, most of us will find a way to pay the cost to get those things if we want or need them badly enough. On the other hand, they say "The best things in life are free", which though true makes having the best things in life (such as life itself)sound easier than it is, as this saying doesn't take into account that "free ain't necessarily synonymous with easy to come by". Currently, there are many individuals waiting and hoping to come by organs for transplant which though "free", are rarely available, especially to individuals in the black community who are in need of a transplant to survive or improve their quality of life.

My brother who is 45 years old was diagnosed with chronic kidney failure almost five years ago, resulting in his being placed on dialysis for 4 hours a day 3 times a week a year ago. In the absence of properly functioning kidneys, dialysis is a Godsend as it literally saves lives. This notwithstanding, and at the risk of sounding as if I'm "looking a gift horse in the mouth", if you've ever been close to someone on dialysis, you know that the quality of life that person is able to live is significantly decreased. My brother is a young, attractive, otherwise healthy, single, black man who is unable to do what most of us his age take for granted. Things like four day weekend trips are not an option for him. His diet dictates that he can't even partake of a baked potato or a plate of spaghetti for fear his potassium levels will be off-balance. At a time when having the support of someone who loves you means so much, he and others in this situation hesitate to date or become involved in relationships, not wanting to "burden" someone else with their problems. Without question, his condition in some way or other impacts every part of his life, and dictates what will or won't be.

After working hard to be compliant with his treatment in an attempt to demonstrate his dedication to protecting any kidney he might possibly receive in the future, my brother has been cleared to begin the process of trying to become a kidney recipient. I volunteered to be tested as a potential match for my brother, or in the event that we did not match, I agreed to participate in a "cross-match" scenario where my kidney could be given to another recipient who had a donor with whom they did not match but who matched my brother. When the transplant center called to tell us that our tests for compatability had been scheduled to take place on December first, I took that to be a good omen as December first is our mother's birthday. We both had to go in and give blood to be matched and crossed matched on a wide range of parameters. As the initial vial was filled, the phlebotomist removed it and attached another, then another, then another times "15 anothers" until I finally asked her if she was secretly feeding a family of homeless vampires or what! She smiled and told me to "buck up...my brother had to give up twice as much!" The test was as simple as that.

The results were not due back until around New Years, but for some reason they came back early. Unable to reach my brother, the transplant coordinator contacted me with the news. I immediately left my brother a message to call me as soon as he could. In the interim, I twiddled my thumbs and about lost my mind. Finally, after two and a half hours he called. Acting nonchalant, I casually told him that the transplant center had called and said that if I wanted to, and had nothing better to do with my time, I could give him my "extra kidney". He was momentarily in shock, and then expressed his gratitude with a silence that was louder than any verbal thank you I have ever received. In his silence, I could actually hear his joy, right through the phone without even being able to see his face...BEAUTIFUL! Once he had recovered himself, he whooped and hollered and pretty much acted a stone-cold fool like we had been bred to do since before conception...its in our DNA and we're proud of it.

After a few minutes, I interrupted his glee saying I needed to say something. He immediately got quiet again and asked me what I needed to say. I responded, "I know you realize this means your ass ain't getting nothing for Christmas so don't be looking for no box labeled from me to you under that damned tree next week ;-)".

All jokes aside, I wish I could make anyone reading this post know how I feel about being able to do this for my brother. Though he will still need to take medication to keep from rejecting my kidney, (soon to be his as once you give something away, it is no longer yours!, "Right Mama?"), my brother will mostly have his life back and pretty damn close to what it used to be. My grandmother, once she heard the news was overjoyed at first, then immediate concern for me registered on her face. She turned to me and asked if I was going to do it and if so was I afraid. I answered, "Of course I'm going to do it...to be tested, match, then say no would be just MEAN! Am I scared?, not at all." Call me stupid, but I prayed to be a match, and now that we know that I am, I know everything is going to be alright...this is the way it is supposed to be. Without question, God is Good, All the time!

Everyone who learns of this has complimented me on my generosity, and gone on and on about what I'm doing for my brother. I smile and say thank you, then I try to explain that being able to do something like this for someone I love is a priveledge, an honor. My brother has made it abundantly clear, how much he appreciates what "I'm doing for him", but I want him and the world at large to know that in fact, I'm the one actually receiving the real gift. The excitement, anticipation, joy, happiness, and peace I feel as the donor, is waaaaaayyyyyyyyy bigger than anything I have ever felt as a consequence of something I was receiving.

My mother told me about the theory of "cellular memory" which purports that memory is stored not only in the brain, but in every cell of our bodies. If there is any truth to this hypothesis, my brother may one day know how great I feel to be a part of this. He may also one day know some stuff he ain't got no business knowing as well. If that is true big brother, do me a favor and keep your mouth shut...afterall, we've all got our secrets!

Without question, GIVING IS THE REAL GIFT! Thank you big brother and I love you!

Four Generation Family Sleepover

As long as I can remember, I always wanted a guest bedroom in my home. In previous houses, I have had a home office/guest bedroom which was a bedroom which had been outfitted as an office with a futon stuck in there for the occassional overnight guest. Though this was better than nothing, for anyone who is as compulsive a host as I, it just wasn't the ticket.

In April of this year (2005), I moved into my current home which finally provided me with enough room to have both a home-office, and my heart's desire...a separate, dedicated GUEST BEDROOM!! Bring on the company ;)

Since I moved in, back in April, I have had many guests lay their heads on what I am told is one of the most comfortable beds you could ever want to sleep in. However, no turn at hosting has given me the sense of satisfaction that I received this past weekend when I hosted my spontaneous "FOUR GENERATION FAMILY SLEEPOVER"! On Saturday morning, I called my Grandma up out of the blue and invited her over to help me decorate my second Christmas tree downstairs and without thinking twice she agreed after which I suggested she pack a bag and make a night of it. My mother had been rolling with me the day before on a Christmas shopping excursion and had stayed over the night before, so she decided to stay again as well. My oldest brother and I get together occassionally and have movie nights at my spot so I decided to call him as well seeing as I have plenty of extra space for sleeping with the huge sofas I have in the basement. He agreed as well and thus...the sleepover began.

(l to r: My son, my brother, my Mother, and my Grandmother)

Pictured on Sunday morning sitting around my breakfast table, eating a breakfast I personally cooked (which if you knew me constitutes a miracle in and of itself!) are: (r to l) my grandmother (generation 1), my mother (generation 2), my brother (generation 3 which includes me, the missing person in the empty chair ;), and my 16 year old son (generation 4). As I sat at the table with my family members who I had gathered the night before for this impromptu sleepover, it occurred to me that I was actually sitting there having breakfast with four generations of my family. I was overwhelmed by how blessed that made me, and quickly ran to grab my trusty digital camara.

In the times in which we live, the liklihood that any family will span four generations is not something most would bet on, and at that moment, I realized that four generations were sitting at my table, and in actuality, I am part of a five generation family that is NOT the result of babies being born to babies barely old enough to have babies (No 13 year old mothers here!).

(The Five Generation branch of my family tree: Grandma, Hazel (my cousin), Odessa (Hazel's mother-my aunt), Anita (Hazel's daughter-my 2nd cousin), Storm (Anita's infant daughter-my 3rd cousin)...)

I am blessed to be a part of a family that doesn't only get together for special events, or sad events, or because we're obligated to, but just because sometimes we just want to! I am blessed to be part of a family that doesn't just "love each other", but one that actually "likes each other"!

Since I was a little girl, I can recall my extremely large extended family (at last count my grandma had 12 children who had given her 69 grandchildren who had produced 23 great-grandchildren one of whom had produced the single great-great grandchild...yep!, fertile as the Napa Valley ;) getting together at the drop of a dime and any reason or no reason was reason enough!

(Okay, okay, I'm third from left standing in grey dress with lollipop stick hanging out my mouth)

This picture was taken at my grandmother's when I was about seven or so, and though money was never something that was overly abundant in my family, its absence did little to curtail the joy we found in us...as they say, "Membership has its priveledges"!

So with Christmas fast approaching, I'm looking forward to hosting the annual family shindig at my digs. There will be more folks than I can begin to anticipate and yet, I invite more everyday. There will be plenty of good food and drink...because you know how we do. ;) But most of all, whether or not I will like my present is a moot question, because my present will be the sheer ecstacy that comes each and everytime I get to be swallowed up in the crazy, fun-loving energy that comes with membership in my big, loud, some say ghetto-fabulous, five-generation family.

THANK YOU GOD FOR HUGE BLESSINGS!!!

Happy Birthday Baby Bro!

Day before Yesterday, as in December 6, I remembered that tomorrow (December 7) would be my baby brother's birthday...I even shared the information with my son Ryan and agreed to remind him to call my brother Chris to wish him a Happy !

Today, as in December 8, I remembered that yesterday (December 7) I forgot it was my baby brother's birthday...talk about TRIFLING!

Twenty-nine years ago when I was about 12 years old, my mother hid her pregnancy from me, my little sister, and my two older brothers for seven months for fear we would be upset about it. To the contrary, when we were finally told, we were estatic. I even got her to agree to let me name the new baby and I chose Christopher which was the name of the first boy I ever loved back in third grade ;)

The Master of Disaster as I used to call him was born on the coldest, snowiest night imaginable, and I can still remember my uncle trying to unfreeze his car door locks at 2am trying to get my mother to the hospital to finally have this baby whose existence in my mother's womb had only been revealed to me two and a half months before... In the real morning, I was sent to school by my Grandmother as usual, the sixth grade, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening in my life. It was brutal, the not knowing what was happening...I never would have been able to wait nine whole months. I returned home that afternoon to learn I had a new baby brother. A more loved baby never entered the world, than my baby brother!













He was everything to everyone in my family and especially to me. I can recall as my friends one by one began to have babies as teenagers, my mother jokingly saying she had Chris so I would know what it meant to take care of a baby and would not fall into the trap of teenage pregnancy. Whatever her reasoning, without question, I fell in love with my baby brother and in a world where people who disappoint you appear to be the rule more so than the exception, I would have to say, my brother is the exception that proves the rule! He is always there, when you need him for whatever you need him. In a world where so many folks take, take, TAKE, he is a GIVER, plain and simple.

As babies tend to do, he too grew up. I left for college when he was five, but when I came home, it was less than two years before we had convinced our mother to let Chris live with me since I handled everything relative to him for the most part anyway and he spent all weekends, and summer vacation at my place already. This essentially resulted in Chris having two mothers, and I for one don't know how he coped, but he did. As much as I took care of him, he took care of me...maybe even more. From protecting me from any noise, light, or other painful intrusions during my migraines, to helping to raise my son, Chris was always there...being Chris. His graduation from high school was one of the proudest moments of my life and had a more profound effect on me than my own; afterall, my oldest child was graduating!!













Now, he is all grown up and in love with the girl of his dreams, my new baby sister Katrina. He has a new woman to take care of him, but just as my first kiddie crush for whom he was named did, Chris stole a large chunk of my heart the day he came home from the hospital, and no matter who I love, or who loves me, my baby brother will always have his piece of my heart to keep!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY BRO...I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER!

No Scrooge Here!

Two weeks ago it bit...I arrived at my best friend's house in Nebraska to celebrate Thanksgiving with her and her family, and when I arrived the exterior of her house had been decorated in full Christmas glory. With every ounce of my being, I fought the urge to rush into the season, preferring to let it gently wash over me instead, but every house in her neighborhood was in full Christmas regalia, or on its way.

(Angie's house all decked out for Christmas before Thanksgiving!)
Even still, I resisted the urge. Then, on black Friday when everyone else was up early spending money, my best pal recruited me to assist with set-up for a wreath auction to be held locally in the near future. Just what I needed, MORE decorations to drag Christmas and all that goes with it to the forefront of my brain. Withstanding this challenge without too much trouble, my buddy then decided to pull out the stops and convinced me to help her with decorating the inside of her house...

It was almost more than I could take...but still I returned home intent on resisting the urge to bring Christmas into my home early.

Unfortunately for my little great-niece, the urge to decorate and make things (even people) festive became too much to resist, and she ended up being my target...check out the coat and hat!!

As they say, the first step to recovery is to acknowledge you have a problem! I AM A CHRISTMAS FANATIC!!!! I love everything about the season and can't wait for any signs of it to make their appearance. When others are complaining on Halloween about the Christmas decorations going up in the malls already, I am getting lipstick on my earlobes my grin of anticipation is so huge. I am without a doubt in my element and at my best for the month of December each and every year!

So, take a little photo journey into my particular brand of madness; and if you happen to be in town Sunday, December 25, 2005, stop in and join the party...afterall, I'm expecting at least 50 folks, what's a few more!!!

Christmas in my living room......

A miracle on my mantle...

Christmas cooking in the kitchen...

Presents to poinsettias, to trumpet playing Santa Clauses and Snow Men who sing "I'm a SNOW MAN! A Rock and Roll Man!" on top of my kitchen cabinetry, I am completely, totally, unabashedly enamored of everything Christmas!!! So for those of you for whom all the "hoopla" over this most festive of all seasons is to quote a classic, "ba humbug!", my condolences...because without a doubt, with the exception of the arrival of a new baby, I can think of absolutely nothing more exciting.

No, without a doubt, There's No Scrooge Here!

MERRY CHRISTMAS

NaNoWriMo Officially Over In My Neck of the Woods!

That's right literature fans, it is official the results are in...National Novel Writing Month has officially ended in my time zone and I am exhausted, but proud to say that I, on my very first attempt have managed to exceed the 50000 word expectation (slightly), and just timely enough to qualify as a NaNoWriMo 2005 Winner!!!!!

I have to say that this has been a great experience for a literary perfectionist like me. I have written in some shape or fashion for as long as I can remember, but have never actually been able to "complete" a project because I have chronic "edit-itis". Edit-itis is a condition typically contracted by those who would write which causes them to be incapable of getting to the end of a piece of work because they are constantly re-reading and subsequently editing the body of work they have actually produced. A vicious cycle emerges, resulting in a complete and total failure to produce even one finished product.

When I began my NaNo novel two weeks after the start pistol had been fired, I was still suffering from this terrible condition. As the days passed and my word count did not grow quickly enough to meet the average per day needed to sucessfully complete my task, I realized that something had to give or I would FAIL! Obsessed with the desire to say I had done it, I forced myself to focus only on being as wordy as I could possibly be while at the same time trying to tell the story I had originally set out to tell. Slowly my daily counts started to climb until I completed a marathon writing session over the last two days which resulted in the addition of almost 20000 words, putting me over the top and into the Winner's Circle.

There are lessons in all things...what were my take-aways from this exercise?

• Stay the course...it will pay off--->I have actually written my first book! Right now it's short and it needs work no doubt, but it EXISTS!
• Perfection can be created only if there is imperfection first;in other words, to perfect something, you gotta have something to perfect--->I have a novel, bring on the revisions!
• NaNoWriMo works and creates writers if you work at it, writers Rock, and if the transitive property applies (if a=b and b=c, then a=c)--->I worked my ass off, I became a writer, and therefore, I ROCK!