Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Little Red Wagon and the Angels Pulling It
By Patricia Lorenz
To be perfectly honest, the first month was blissful. When Jeanne, age six, Julia, four and Michael, three, and I moved from Missouri to my hometown in northern Illinois the very day of my divorce from their father in 1975, I was just happy to find a place where there was no fighting or abuse.
But after the first month I started missing my old friends and neighbors. I missed our lovely, modern, ranch-style brick home in the suburbs of St. Louis, especially after we'd settled into the 98-year-old white frame house we'd rented, which was all my "post-divorce" income could afford.
In St. Louis we'd had all the comforts: a washer, dryer, dishwasher, TV and a car. Now we had none of these. After the first month in our new home, it seemed that we'd gone from middle-class comfort to poverty-level panic.
The bedrooms upstairs in our ancient frame house weren't even heated, but somehow the children didn't seem to notice. The linoleum floors, cold on their little feet, simply encouraged them to dress faster in the mornings and to hop into bed quicker in the evenings.
I complained about the cold as the December wind whistled under every window and door in that old frame house. But they giggled about the "funny air places" and simply snuggled under the heavy quilts Aunt Bernadine brought over the day we moved in.
I was frantic without a TV. "What will we do in the evenings without our favorite shows?" I asked. I felt cheated that the children would miss out on all the Christmas specials. But the children were more optimistic and much more creative than I. They pulled out their games and begged me to play "Candyland" and "Old Maid" with them.
We cuddled together on the gray tattered couch the landlord provided and read picture book after picture book from the public library. At their insistence we played records, sang songs, popped popcorn, created magnificent Tinker-Toy towers and played hide-and-go seek in our rambling old house. The children taught me how to have fun without a TV.
One shivering December day, just a week before Christmas, after walking the two miles home from my temporary part-time job at a catalog store, I remembered that the week's laundry had to be done that evening. I was dead tired from lifting and sorting other people's Christmas presents, and somewhat bitter, knowing that I could barely afford any gifts for my own children.
As soon as I picked up the children at the baby-sitter's, I piled four large laundry baskets full of dirty clothes into the children's little red wagon, and the four of us headed toward the Laundromat three blocks away.
Inside we had to wait for washing machines and then for people to vacate the folding tables. The sorting, washing, drying and folding took longer than usual.
Jeanne asked, "Did you bring any raisins or crackers, Mommy?"
"No," I snapped. "We'll have supper as soon as we get home."
Michael's nose was pressed against the steamy glass window. "Look Mommy! It's snowing! Big flakes!"
Julia added, "The street's all wet. It's snowing in the air but not on the ground!"
Their excitement only upset me more. If the cold wasn't bad enough, now we had snow and slush to contend with. I hadn't even unpacked the box with their boots and mittens yet.
At last the clean, folded laundry was stacked into the laundry baskets and placed two-baskets deep in the little red wagon. It was pitch dark outside. Six-thirty already? No wonder they were hungry. We usually ate at five.
The children and I inched our way into the cold winter evening and slipped along the slushy sidewalk. Our procession of three little people, a crabby mother, and four baskets of fresh laundry in an old red wagon moved slowly as the frigid wind bit into our faces. We crossed the busy four-lane street at the crosswalk. When we reached the curb, the front wagon wheels slipped on the ice and tipped the wagon over on its side, spilling all the laundry into a slushy black puddle.
"Oh no!" I wailed. "Grab the baskets, Jeanne! Julia, hold the wagon! Get back up on the sidewalk, Michael!"
I slammed the dirty, wet clothes back into the baskets.
"I hate this!" I screamed. Angry tears spilled out of my eyes.
I hated being poor with no car and no washer or dryer. I hated the weather. I hated being the only parent responsible for three small children. And if you want to know the truth, I hated the whole blasted Christmas season.
When we reached home I unlocked the door, threw my purse across the room and stomped off to my bedroom for a good cry.
I sobbed loud enough for the children to hear. Selfishly I wanted them to know how miserable I was. Life couldn't get any worse. The laundry was still dirty, we were all hungry and tired, there was no supper started and no outlook for a brighter future.
When the tears finally stopped I sat up and stared at a wooden plaque of Jesus that was hanging on the wall at the foot of my bed. I'd had that plaque since I was a small child and carried it with me to every house I'd ever lived. It showed Jesus with his arms outstretched over the earth. Obviously solving the problems of the world.
I kept looking at his face, expecting a miracle. I looked and waited, and finally said aloud, "God, can't you do something to make my life better?" I desperately wanted an angel on a cloud to come down and rescue me.
But nobody came…except Julia, who peeked into my bedroom and told me in her tiniest four-year-old voice that she had set the table for supper.
I could hear six-year-old Jeanne in the living room sorting the laundry into two piles, "really dirty, sorta clean, really dirty, sorta clean,…"
Three-year-old Michael popped into my room and gave me a picture of the first snow that he had just colored.
And you know what? At that very moment I did see, not one, but three angels before me! Three little cherubs, eternally optimistic and once again, pulling me from gloom and doom into the world of "things will be better tomorrow, Mommy."
Christmas that year was magical as we surrounded ourselves with a very special kind of love, based on the joy of doing simple things together. One thing's for sure: single parenthood was never again as frightening or as depressing for me as it was the night the laundry fell out of the little red wagon and three angels appeared who permanently changed my outlook and filled my heart with the presence of God.
-end-
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Two Events That Shaped My Psyche
We hear a lot about self-esteem these days. About how important it is in the development of a child's personality…and how easy it is to destroy with a few thoughtless words. But it's also just as easy to build up self-esteem in a child or teen. Two events in my life did it for me.
One Saturday night when I was about seven years old I'd gone to bed at my usual time, eight or eight-thirty. By nine p.m. I was into a sound sleep when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Pat, wake up," Dad whispered as he shook me gently. "Are you awake? Your mother and I want you to come out to the kitchen."
"Huh? Why, Daddy?"
"Well, we decided to have root beer floats and we don't want you to miss out. Come on, honey, there's a big brown cow out there for you."
I padded to the kitchen in my big pink fluffy slippers and flannel bathrobe and plopped down next to Mom at the old wooden table. I watched Dad scoop the vanilla ice cream into the large blue, yellow and brown stoneware antique mugs, only used on special occasions because they were treasures from my mother's childhood.
The foam from the root beer tickled my nose as I chatted with my folks about school. Then I listened and shared excitedly as Mom and Dad discussed plans for our family vacation.
"Need some more root beer on that ice cream, honey?" Daddy asked as he created a new mound of delicious suds in my mug.
I never felt more loved than I did that night in the kitchen as I groggily slurped root beer and ice cream with parents. Why? Because Mom and Dad wanted my company enough to wake me up so I could be there. Me! Just a kid! Wow, what a glorious feeling.
Is there a child or grandchild in your life who could use a boost of self-esteem? The best doses come when you simply let that child know, without a doubt, that you really, truly want to be with them and that you treasure their existence enough to share your most precious moments with them in person. It's all about the gift of your time…the best gift anyone can give to a child.
The second thing that helped form my psyche was an adventure I had in high school that I think taught me that stepping out of your comfortable small home-town environment makes all the different in the world as to whether or not you accept or deny opportunities that fall in your path. It helped me adopt the philosophy of "Never say no to an opportunity unless it's illegal or immoral." I've tried to follow it ever since this trip to New York.
Five kids from my Catholic high school were elected to attend the national CYO (Catholic Youth Organization) convention in Buffalo, NY. My friend Suzanne and I were the only juniors. We crammed into a train out of Chicago with hundreds of other delegates and made what seemed like a forever journey by rail.
I can't remember how many thousands of high school kids were there but on the last night they had the largest sit-down dinner ever served in the United States. Bobby Kennedy was the keynote speaker. At the end he walked right past my table and I fumbled with my camera, snapped two shots and got the most unbelievable double exposure shot of him that you can imagine. It's still in a magnetic frame on my refrigerator.
I don't remember much else about that convention, however. Oh,yes, we figured out how to take the mirror off the bathroom medicine chest in the big fancy hotel so we could talk to the boys in the room below us. They did the same with their mirror and we could actually see each other and drop stuff down to them. Ah, youth.
But the point is, I went, unchaperoned, attended classes, met teens from all around the country, behaved myself (except for the mirror incident) and learned a lot about adventure, travel, responsibility and even the Catholic Youth Organization. I could almost feel my self-esteem growing.
One Saturday night when I was about seven years old I'd gone to bed at my usual time, eight or eight-thirty. By nine p.m. I was into a sound sleep when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Pat, wake up," Dad whispered as he shook me gently. "Are you awake? Your mother and I want you to come out to the kitchen."
"Huh? Why, Daddy?"
"Well, we decided to have root beer floats and we don't want you to miss out. Come on, honey, there's a big brown cow out there for you."
I padded to the kitchen in my big pink fluffy slippers and flannel bathrobe and plopped down next to Mom at the old wooden table. I watched Dad scoop the vanilla ice cream into the large blue, yellow and brown stoneware antique mugs, only used on special occasions because they were treasures from my mother's childhood.
The foam from the root beer tickled my nose as I chatted with my folks about school. Then I listened and shared excitedly as Mom and Dad discussed plans for our family vacation.
"Need some more root beer on that ice cream, honey?" Daddy asked as he created a new mound of delicious suds in my mug.
I never felt more loved than I did that night in the kitchen as I groggily slurped root beer and ice cream with parents. Why? Because Mom and Dad wanted my company enough to wake me up so I could be there. Me! Just a kid! Wow, what a glorious feeling.
Is there a child or grandchild in your life who could use a boost of self-esteem? The best doses come when you simply let that child know, without a doubt, that you really, truly want to be with them and that you treasure their existence enough to share your most precious moments with them in person. It's all about the gift of your time…the best gift anyone can give to a child.
The second thing that helped form my psyche was an adventure I had in high school that I think taught me that stepping out of your comfortable small home-town environment makes all the different in the world as to whether or not you accept or deny opportunities that fall in your path. It helped me adopt the philosophy of "Never say no to an opportunity unless it's illegal or immoral." I've tried to follow it ever since this trip to New York.
Five kids from my Catholic high school were elected to attend the national CYO (Catholic Youth Organization) convention in Buffalo, NY. My friend Suzanne and I were the only juniors. We crammed into a train out of Chicago with hundreds of other delegates and made what seemed like a forever journey by rail.
I can't remember how many thousands of high school kids were there but on the last night they had the largest sit-down dinner ever served in the United States. Bobby Kennedy was the keynote speaker. At the end he walked right past my table and I fumbled with my camera, snapped two shots and got the most unbelievable double exposure shot of him that you can imagine. It's still in a magnetic frame on my refrigerator.
I don't remember much else about that convention, however. Oh,yes, we figured out how to take the mirror off the bathroom medicine chest in the big fancy hotel so we could talk to the boys in the room below us. They did the same with their mirror and we could actually see each other and drop stuff down to them. Ah, youth.
But the point is, I went, unchaperoned, attended classes, met teens from all around the country, behaved myself (except for the mirror incident) and learned a lot about adventure, travel, responsibility and even the Catholic Youth Organization. I could almost feel my self-esteem growing.
Monday, August 9, 2010
The Stages of Coupling
It's going to happen sooner or later if you have married kids. Someday you're going to be in the room when they have an argument. He or she is going to say something to the other that should be said in the private place where they usually air their gripes and have their disagreements, but instead they blurt it out right in front of you. Feelings are hurt, the air becomes thick with embarrassment and you as the parent and parent-in-law have no clue what to do next.
When it happened to me, I didn't sleep well that night. I was their houseguest, 100 miles away from my own home and the argument happened at bedtime, too late for me to slip out, drive home and let them work out their own solutions and kiss and make up without me hanging around.
After a fitful night of sleep, I got up the next morning at 5am, made a cup of tea and headed for their deck before anyone else was up. I grabbed a book off the shelf on my way out the door, a serendipitous choice because it had a chapter on how relationships are developed, maintained and nourished.
The book, "Chop Wood, Carry Water" had been one of my child's textbooks in college. The chapter that caught my eye listed five stages couples go through. First, the romance stage in which the relationship exists for each other's pleasure and comfort. Each person thinks, "If I just do everything I can to keep him or her happy I'll reap the rewards of pleasure and comfort. Life will be so good." I remember those days, don't you? Too bad they don't last long, eh?
The second stage is the power struggle. That's when they discover their differences and try to change and mold the other person into the ideal spouse. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, oh boy, that's a real knee-slapper, isn't it?
The third stage is stability. This is the point where the relationship can actually foster spiritual growth and discovery. It's when they step back, loosen up the "I can change you" reins and discover the good qualities of their partner. In other words, they're desperately trying to recall why they hooked up with them in the first place. They have a sense that it's all going to work in the long run, but they just can't figure out exactly why or how.
After that comes the commitment stage. At this point the couple learns that they are part of a vast inter-connected network of friends, family, coworkers, neighbors, community and church members. They discover that the perfect couple definitely does not exist and thus are able to look at their own lives with a bit of detachment. Talk about a sense of relief. Now they can get on with the business of simply being.
The fifth stage in the life of a couple is the co-creative stage where each of them has the opportunity to grow outside each other and value each other just as he or she is. This is the time when the wife learns that her hubby is always going to be hunting, fishing, golfing or whatever his passion is and she's not going to change him. He learns that she is addicted to rummage sales, weepy movies, and playing the stock market and that he's not going to change her. Each partner has that delicious moment when he or she discovers that it's perfectly all right for them to develop their own interests, hobbies, and friendships separate from each other and instead of hurting the relationship, it can actually help it.
I think the last stage, the co-creative one, is what the Dalai Lama had in mind when he said, "The purpose of life is to increase the warm heart. Think of other people. Serve other people sincerely. No cheating." It's about having the freedom to step outside your little "couples" world and move into a place where you can grow and learn and take classes and make new friends and figure out what your passions in life are. So what if your partner takes up auto mechanics or musket shooting or buys a Harley and gets a fake tattoo to sport on weekends? If those are her passions, so be it.
Henry David Thoreau said lots of stuff that puts an amazing spin on life, especially on a gentle, more thoughtful life. But one of my favorites is this: "Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after." That statement helps me understand why some people love golf and hunting so much, two activities that I would never consider. It's more about peace and quiet and beauty and serenity than bringing home the bacon or winning the game. It's about the freedom to love the warm underbelly of your passions for no particular reason.
As I watch my children and their significant others weave in and out of the five stages of couples, I marvel at the things I learn by watching their struggles and changes. I know one thing, if I ever get married again, my long-awaited-for wisdom will come to the rescue and help me find and be a keeper.
When it happened to me, I didn't sleep well that night. I was their houseguest, 100 miles away from my own home and the argument happened at bedtime, too late for me to slip out, drive home and let them work out their own solutions and kiss and make up without me hanging around.
After a fitful night of sleep, I got up the next morning at 5am, made a cup of tea and headed for their deck before anyone else was up. I grabbed a book off the shelf on my way out the door, a serendipitous choice because it had a chapter on how relationships are developed, maintained and nourished.
The book, "Chop Wood, Carry Water" had been one of my child's textbooks in college. The chapter that caught my eye listed five stages couples go through. First, the romance stage in which the relationship exists for each other's pleasure and comfort. Each person thinks, "If I just do everything I can to keep him or her happy I'll reap the rewards of pleasure and comfort. Life will be so good." I remember those days, don't you? Too bad they don't last long, eh?
The second stage is the power struggle. That's when they discover their differences and try to change and mold the other person into the ideal spouse. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, oh boy, that's a real knee-slapper, isn't it?
The third stage is stability. This is the point where the relationship can actually foster spiritual growth and discovery. It's when they step back, loosen up the "I can change you" reins and discover the good qualities of their partner. In other words, they're desperately trying to recall why they hooked up with them in the first place. They have a sense that it's all going to work in the long run, but they just can't figure out exactly why or how.
After that comes the commitment stage. At this point the couple learns that they are part of a vast inter-connected network of friends, family, coworkers, neighbors, community and church members. They discover that the perfect couple definitely does not exist and thus are able to look at their own lives with a bit of detachment. Talk about a sense of relief. Now they can get on with the business of simply being.
The fifth stage in the life of a couple is the co-creative stage where each of them has the opportunity to grow outside each other and value each other just as he or she is. This is the time when the wife learns that her hubby is always going to be hunting, fishing, golfing or whatever his passion is and she's not going to change him. He learns that she is addicted to rummage sales, weepy movies, and playing the stock market and that he's not going to change her. Each partner has that delicious moment when he or she discovers that it's perfectly all right for them to develop their own interests, hobbies, and friendships separate from each other and instead of hurting the relationship, it can actually help it.
I think the last stage, the co-creative one, is what the Dalai Lama had in mind when he said, "The purpose of life is to increase the warm heart. Think of other people. Serve other people sincerely. No cheating." It's about having the freedom to step outside your little "couples" world and move into a place where you can grow and learn and take classes and make new friends and figure out what your passions in life are. So what if your partner takes up auto mechanics or musket shooting or buys a Harley and gets a fake tattoo to sport on weekends? If those are her passions, so be it.
Henry David Thoreau said lots of stuff that puts an amazing spin on life, especially on a gentle, more thoughtful life. But one of my favorites is this: "Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after." That statement helps me understand why some people love golf and hunting so much, two activities that I would never consider. It's more about peace and quiet and beauty and serenity than bringing home the bacon or winning the game. It's about the freedom to love the warm underbelly of your passions for no particular reason.
As I watch my children and their significant others weave in and out of the five stages of couples, I marvel at the things I learn by watching their struggles and changes. I know one thing, if I ever get married again, my long-awaited-for wisdom will come to the rescue and help me find and be a keeper.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
NEW HABIT: PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY
By Patricia Lorenz
It's been said that something becomes a habit in 30 days. Do the same thing every day for 30 days and it's yours for life. Drink eight glasses of water for 30 days and you'll have a new, healthy, lifelong habit. Spend five minutes in prayer every morning for the next 30 days and daily prayer will become a habit for life. Spend a half-hour with each of your children every day and you'll create a habit that will not only make you a candidate for "parent of the year" but it'll be a habit that will last until your children leave home. Plus, that's the sort of habit that carries on for generations and generations. You can bet your children will be spending at least a half-hour a day with each of their children one-on-one if you've laid the groundwork by doing it yourself. Good habits are contagious and can easily be passed down from generation to generation.
Today, I offer you the challenge to begin a new habit, one that will change your life dramatically. For the next thirty days read the following words every day three times. Read them when you get up in the morning. Read them at lunch time or on your first break of the day. Read them before dinner at night or before you get into bed. Three times a day for thirty days. If you do it, you will feel yourself changing inside and out.
I AM RESPONSIBLE FOR ME AND EVERYTHING I SAY AND DO. No matter how much I want to blame others or make excuses for my behavior, I will no longer do it. No matter what happened to me when I was growing up, or struggling in school, or at work, I will move forward. I will not carry grudges against anyone who has touched my life in a bad way. Instead I will move forward and thank God that I had that unpleasant experience because it taught me that struggles give me three wonderful gifts: They make me strong, they give me character and they make me interesting.
No matter what happens to me, as long as I accept responsibility for everything I say and do, I will never, ever lose my value in the eyes of God, family, friends, neighbors or co-workers. I am the only person like me in the entire world. God gave me life, a one-of-a-kind life. It's my responsibility to make me the best me that could ever be.
I will keep in mind that accepting responsibility for myself is hard. If it was easy, everyone would do it. Therefore, if I slip a little and do not act responsibly, I will work harder and harder at it. I will stop blaming others for making my life miserable, unhappy, or unsuccessful. I will acknowledge that I am the only one who walks in my shoes, lives in my brain and controls the movements of my arms, legs, and mouth. Only me. I am responsible for me and for everything I say and do.
I will find creative ways to be responsible. I won't just try to make lemonade out of lemons. No, I'll find ways to make lemonade out of turnips. The more difficult the challenge, the more I will embrace it. The more I want to feel angry or bitter or unforgiving or downtrodden, the harder I will try to calm down, smile, forgive and celebrate my life. I will accept the responsibility of changing me…not anyone else…just me.
I will constantly look for the positive in every negative situation. I will not give up in the face of obstacles. Instead, I will treat those obstacles like friends who are giving me the opportunity to solve a problem, create a solution, or rise to the occasion. I will celebrate obstacles, problems and struggles!
If my health fails, I will thank God that I still have the power of my mind. If someone I love becomes unhealthy, I will encourage them and help them and do what is necessary and then I will do even more than is necessary. I will be there for them every day and encourage them unconditionally because that is what someone does who takes responsibility seriously. A responsible person is a caregiver, a friend, someone others can trust and turn to.
I AM RESPONSIBLE FOR ME AND EVERYTHING I SAY AND DO. I will never try to eat the entire elephant in one sitting. No matter what challenges come my way or how big the project is or how unfathomable the problem, I will remember that mile by mile, it's a trial; yard by yard it's hard; but inch by inch, it's a cinch. I will never give up because a responsible person is persistent. If I have to do something a thousand times before I get it right, I will. I will do it ten thousand times if necessary. I am a responsible person, the only one responsible for everything I say and do.
It's been said that something becomes a habit in 30 days. Do the same thing every day for 30 days and it's yours for life. Drink eight glasses of water for 30 days and you'll have a new, healthy, lifelong habit. Spend five minutes in prayer every morning for the next 30 days and daily prayer will become a habit for life. Spend a half-hour with each of your children every day and you'll create a habit that will not only make you a candidate for "parent of the year" but it'll be a habit that will last until your children leave home. Plus, that's the sort of habit that carries on for generations and generations. You can bet your children will be spending at least a half-hour a day with each of their children one-on-one if you've laid the groundwork by doing it yourself. Good habits are contagious and can easily be passed down from generation to generation.
Today, I offer you the challenge to begin a new habit, one that will change your life dramatically. For the next thirty days read the following words every day three times. Read them when you get up in the morning. Read them at lunch time or on your first break of the day. Read them before dinner at night or before you get into bed. Three times a day for thirty days. If you do it, you will feel yourself changing inside and out.
I AM RESPONSIBLE FOR ME AND EVERYTHING I SAY AND DO. No matter how much I want to blame others or make excuses for my behavior, I will no longer do it. No matter what happened to me when I was growing up, or struggling in school, or at work, I will move forward. I will not carry grudges against anyone who has touched my life in a bad way. Instead I will move forward and thank God that I had that unpleasant experience because it taught me that struggles give me three wonderful gifts: They make me strong, they give me character and they make me interesting.
No matter what happens to me, as long as I accept responsibility for everything I say and do, I will never, ever lose my value in the eyes of God, family, friends, neighbors or co-workers. I am the only person like me in the entire world. God gave me life, a one-of-a-kind life. It's my responsibility to make me the best me that could ever be.
I will keep in mind that accepting responsibility for myself is hard. If it was easy, everyone would do it. Therefore, if I slip a little and do not act responsibly, I will work harder and harder at it. I will stop blaming others for making my life miserable, unhappy, or unsuccessful. I will acknowledge that I am the only one who walks in my shoes, lives in my brain and controls the movements of my arms, legs, and mouth. Only me. I am responsible for me and for everything I say and do.
I will find creative ways to be responsible. I won't just try to make lemonade out of lemons. No, I'll find ways to make lemonade out of turnips. The more difficult the challenge, the more I will embrace it. The more I want to feel angry or bitter or unforgiving or downtrodden, the harder I will try to calm down, smile, forgive and celebrate my life. I will accept the responsibility of changing me…not anyone else…just me.
I will constantly look for the positive in every negative situation. I will not give up in the face of obstacles. Instead, I will treat those obstacles like friends who are giving me the opportunity to solve a problem, create a solution, or rise to the occasion. I will celebrate obstacles, problems and struggles!
If my health fails, I will thank God that I still have the power of my mind. If someone I love becomes unhealthy, I will encourage them and help them and do what is necessary and then I will do even more than is necessary. I will be there for them every day and encourage them unconditionally because that is what someone does who takes responsibility seriously. A responsible person is a caregiver, a friend, someone others can trust and turn to.
I AM RESPONSIBLE FOR ME AND EVERYTHING I SAY AND DO. I will never try to eat the entire elephant in one sitting. No matter what challenges come my way or how big the project is or how unfathomable the problem, I will remember that mile by mile, it's a trial; yard by yard it's hard; but inch by inch, it's a cinch. I will never give up because a responsible person is persistent. If I have to do something a thousand times before I get it right, I will. I will do it ten thousand times if necessary. I am a responsible person, the only one responsible for everything I say and do.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
The Zero Factors
Believe me, I’m old enough to know that no matter how old you are, you’re never too old for love. And the kind of love I’m talking about is dating, romance, living close to each other love. Caring for each other in a way that transcends small idiosyncrasies, minor fights and old-age health problems. For some, not for me, mind you, but for some, falling in love at an older age means caring for each other as marriage partners in your later years.
I consider myself somewhat of an expert on men. After all I’ve been married twice and since my second divorce have dated three other men very seriously and for varying lengths of time, the current one since 2004. In between those men I dated many other guys, usually once once or twice because once you’re an expert on men it gets easier and easier to spot the zero factors.
Ah yes, the zero factors. The secrets of dating whether you’re eighteen or eighty-eight. If you're looking for a mate, a significant other, or just a very close friend who has your back when you have to go to the hospital or need help after knee surgery, chances are you've tried one or more of the dating services on the Internet, the personals in the newspapers or a dating service.
As a single woman who never really wanted to grow old alone, but who has a pretty tough standard when it comes to potential mates, I've had many, many years experience of meeting lots of men over a cup of tea or lunch in a very public place. How do I know if I want to see the gentleman again?
Simple. The Zero Factors. Ten simple little neon signs that start flashing usually within minutes of your meeting. Believe me, a two hour chat in a coffee shop is all you need to see if Mr. Possibility will become Mr. Maybe, Mr. I-Hear-Wedding-Bells or Mr. Quick-Let-Me-Out-Of-Here-So-I-Can-Forget-This-Date-Ever-Happened.
The Zero Factors work for both men and women and they'll help you decide, when he asks for your phone number whether you want to give him the real thing or the number for Dial-a-Prayer. I’m serious here. I’ve given many men the Dial-a-Prayer phone number. In fact, it’s a good idea to keep the number on a small piece of paper in your purse or pocket for that magic moment at the end of the date when he asks for your number.
The Zero Factors are simply ten kegs of dynamite. If the person you’re having coffee or tea with possesses even one of these powder kegs, he or she gets a Zero and that's it. You're outta there.
1. RACIST You can tell right away by the language. Usually, it's an unnatural use of the phrase "white people" that's a dead giveaway. Sometimes they go so far as to use the word "colored" when referring to colorful people. If you hear those words, excuse yourself, and head for the nearest exit.
2. DISHONEST Suppose you've invested two hours with a man who told you he was divorced and you're starting to think that he was meant to be on page one of your book of life. When you ask him how long he's been divorced, he says sheepishly, "Well, I'm in the process. We just separated last week." Bing, bang, boom. Zero! Not only is he dishonest, but he needs six months to get through the divorce, then a minimum of two years to get his life back in order and find out who he is before he even thinks about dating and starting over with you…or anyone.
3. SHALLOW I can't tell you how many men ask women on the first phone call how tall they are, how much they weigh, what they look like, what dress size they wear. Of course, this is a dead giveaway that he's much more interested in "arm candy" than having a real relationship with a real woman. Unless you're built like Barbie Doll you don't stand a chance with these guys so slam down the "zero factor" hammer immediately.
4. MIS-YOKED They say your faith life should be similar for a real relationship to work. So if he's a conservative born-again fundamentalist and you're a liberal Catholic, chances are you aren't going to be happy together at church. What you believe spiritually is what you believe. I'm not sure it's wise to expect one of you to change those deep basic faith roots. My first husband was Methodist. But I learned a good lesson and married a Catholic the second time around. But was it wise to marry someone 17 years older who was going through male-menopause at the time? Probably not because it didn’t last. The other two guys I dated somewhat seriously were not Catholic. But Jack, my hunka-hunka-burnin’-love is a devout Catholic and I now believe wholeheartedly that being equally yoked in your faith is one very, very important factor.
5. CHEAP I once spent two-and-a-half hours in a restaurant with a man who ordered nothing but water. I had hot tea and the waitress couldn’t have been nicer, keeping him filled up with ice water and me with more hot water and an extra tea-bag. When we left not only did he not even offer to buy my tea, but he didn't even leave a tip for the waitress. I took care of both, making sure she got more for the tip than the tea cost, and although I would have expected to pay for my own beverage or food if I'd ordered any, a man always gets rave reviews when he at least offers to pay on the first meeting. Being fair when it comes to dating is one thing, being cheap to the point of trying to squeeze copper out of a penny, is another.
6. HOMOPHOBIC Although I certainly don't have a full understanding of homosexuality, I do know many wonderful people who are gay and I believe that since God created them that way that it is a normal and perfectly acceptable lifestyle. I do think the Catholic church has a way to go when it comes to affording gay people a completely normal existence and sexual lifestyle, but at least the church welcomes gay and lesbian folks into the fold with open arms. Unlike some people of other religions I know without a doubt that I was not put on this earth to judge any other human being…and when someone does, as in someone you just met on a date, it's time to get out of there.
7. HEAVY DRINKER Having been married to an alcoholic all I can say is please, please, please, please, please don't go there. The pain is hard to describe. And believe me, the pain an alcoholic causes does not get any better. It only gets worse. Much, much worse. Why even take one step down that path? Unless your alcoholic is a reformed drinker who is still attending AA meetings and who has completed his or her Twelve Step program with gusto and grace, do not, repeat, do not date a heavy drinker. Or pot smoker. Or drug abuser. Do not. Are you listening?
8. EX-BASHER Why is it that so many potential date partners spend their time bashing their ex? Chances are, that ex is the other parent of his or her children. They should be able to get along for the kids' sake. Can you imagine what the basher will be saying about you if things don't work out?
9. SMOKER Smoking is slow-motion suicide, not only for the smoker but also, because of side stream smoke, also for you. Why on earth would you want to start a new life or a close relationship with someone who thinks so little of himself or so little of you?
10. NO SENSE OF HUMOR If I can't make him laugh or he can't make me at least smile broadly, the relationship doesn't have a chance in the world. Remember, a sense of humor, not only helps solve most of life's problems, but it's also a boon to your good heath. Follow this creed: No laughing, no loving.
So there you have it, the "zero factor" check list. Here's hoping none of your dates earn the goose egg award.
(Note: This is part of a chapter in my latest book "SLOGGING MY WAY TO HEAVEN A Cradle Catholic in a Protestant World" The book is nearly finished and I have great hopes that a publisher will scoop it up soon.
I consider myself somewhat of an expert on men. After all I’ve been married twice and since my second divorce have dated three other men very seriously and for varying lengths of time, the current one since 2004. In between those men I dated many other guys, usually once once or twice because once you’re an expert on men it gets easier and easier to spot the zero factors.
Ah yes, the zero factors. The secrets of dating whether you’re eighteen or eighty-eight. If you're looking for a mate, a significant other, or just a very close friend who has your back when you have to go to the hospital or need help after knee surgery, chances are you've tried one or more of the dating services on the Internet, the personals in the newspapers or a dating service.
As a single woman who never really wanted to grow old alone, but who has a pretty tough standard when it comes to potential mates, I've had many, many years experience of meeting lots of men over a cup of tea or lunch in a very public place. How do I know if I want to see the gentleman again?
Simple. The Zero Factors. Ten simple little neon signs that start flashing usually within minutes of your meeting. Believe me, a two hour chat in a coffee shop is all you need to see if Mr. Possibility will become Mr. Maybe, Mr. I-Hear-Wedding-Bells or Mr. Quick-Let-Me-Out-Of-Here-So-I-Can-Forget-This-Date-Ever-Happened.
The Zero Factors work for both men and women and they'll help you decide, when he asks for your phone number whether you want to give him the real thing or the number for Dial-a-Prayer. I’m serious here. I’ve given many men the Dial-a-Prayer phone number. In fact, it’s a good idea to keep the number on a small piece of paper in your purse or pocket for that magic moment at the end of the date when he asks for your number.
The Zero Factors are simply ten kegs of dynamite. If the person you’re having coffee or tea with possesses even one of these powder kegs, he or she gets a Zero and that's it. You're outta there.
1. RACIST You can tell right away by the language. Usually, it's an unnatural use of the phrase "white people" that's a dead giveaway. Sometimes they go so far as to use the word "colored" when referring to colorful people. If you hear those words, excuse yourself, and head for the nearest exit.
2. DISHONEST Suppose you've invested two hours with a man who told you he was divorced and you're starting to think that he was meant to be on page one of your book of life. When you ask him how long he's been divorced, he says sheepishly, "Well, I'm in the process. We just separated last week." Bing, bang, boom. Zero! Not only is he dishonest, but he needs six months to get through the divorce, then a minimum of two years to get his life back in order and find out who he is before he even thinks about dating and starting over with you…or anyone.
3. SHALLOW I can't tell you how many men ask women on the first phone call how tall they are, how much they weigh, what they look like, what dress size they wear. Of course, this is a dead giveaway that he's much more interested in "arm candy" than having a real relationship with a real woman. Unless you're built like Barbie Doll you don't stand a chance with these guys so slam down the "zero factor" hammer immediately.
4. MIS-YOKED They say your faith life should be similar for a real relationship to work. So if he's a conservative born-again fundamentalist and you're a liberal Catholic, chances are you aren't going to be happy together at church. What you believe spiritually is what you believe. I'm not sure it's wise to expect one of you to change those deep basic faith roots. My first husband was Methodist. But I learned a good lesson and married a Catholic the second time around. But was it wise to marry someone 17 years older who was going through male-menopause at the time? Probably not because it didn’t last. The other two guys I dated somewhat seriously were not Catholic. But Jack, my hunka-hunka-burnin’-love is a devout Catholic and I now believe wholeheartedly that being equally yoked in your faith is one very, very important factor.
5. CHEAP I once spent two-and-a-half hours in a restaurant with a man who ordered nothing but water. I had hot tea and the waitress couldn’t have been nicer, keeping him filled up with ice water and me with more hot water and an extra tea-bag. When we left not only did he not even offer to buy my tea, but he didn't even leave a tip for the waitress. I took care of both, making sure she got more for the tip than the tea cost, and although I would have expected to pay for my own beverage or food if I'd ordered any, a man always gets rave reviews when he at least offers to pay on the first meeting. Being fair when it comes to dating is one thing, being cheap to the point of trying to squeeze copper out of a penny, is another.
6. HOMOPHOBIC Although I certainly don't have a full understanding of homosexuality, I do know many wonderful people who are gay and I believe that since God created them that way that it is a normal and perfectly acceptable lifestyle. I do think the Catholic church has a way to go when it comes to affording gay people a completely normal existence and sexual lifestyle, but at least the church welcomes gay and lesbian folks into the fold with open arms. Unlike some people of other religions I know without a doubt that I was not put on this earth to judge any other human being…and when someone does, as in someone you just met on a date, it's time to get out of there.
7. HEAVY DRINKER Having been married to an alcoholic all I can say is please, please, please, please, please don't go there. The pain is hard to describe. And believe me, the pain an alcoholic causes does not get any better. It only gets worse. Much, much worse. Why even take one step down that path? Unless your alcoholic is a reformed drinker who is still attending AA meetings and who has completed his or her Twelve Step program with gusto and grace, do not, repeat, do not date a heavy drinker. Or pot smoker. Or drug abuser. Do not. Are you listening?
8. EX-BASHER Why is it that so many potential date partners spend their time bashing their ex? Chances are, that ex is the other parent of his or her children. They should be able to get along for the kids' sake. Can you imagine what the basher will be saying about you if things don't work out?
9. SMOKER Smoking is slow-motion suicide, not only for the smoker but also, because of side stream smoke, also for you. Why on earth would you want to start a new life or a close relationship with someone who thinks so little of himself or so little of you?
10. NO SENSE OF HUMOR If I can't make him laugh or he can't make me at least smile broadly, the relationship doesn't have a chance in the world. Remember, a sense of humor, not only helps solve most of life's problems, but it's also a boon to your good heath. Follow this creed: No laughing, no loving.
So there you have it, the "zero factor" check list. Here's hoping none of your dates earn the goose egg award.
(Note: This is part of a chapter in my latest book "SLOGGING MY WAY TO HEAVEN A Cradle Catholic in a Protestant World" The book is nearly finished and I have great hopes that a publisher will scoop it up soon.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Monday, May 3, 2010
Strength In Numbers
One day when I still lived in Wisconsin a tornado ripped through town a few miles north of my home. Afterwards the neighbors gathered outside to talk, share stories and help each other clean up fallen branches and scattered debris.
In 2001, a few months after 9-11, I visited Ground Zero in New York with four women friends, including my oldest daughter, Jeanne. We five stood there huddled together holding hands, overwhelmed with emotion, trying to understand and calm each other’s fears. I don’t think I could have gotten through that experience without those other women.
In 2004 when the edges of three hurricanes swept past my new Florida neighborhood, my neighbors and I gathered to share food during the power outage and plan for the next big wind.
In 2006 I visited the Florida Everglades during a drought. I stood on a walkway a few feet above a river that had all but dried up except for about eighty yards of murky green water. In front of me were 30 or 40 alligators who had gathered together, trying to maintain their normal environment. I guess even ‘gators find comfort and strength in numbers during times of stress.
Every weekend when I attend church with my friend Jack (the head usher) we always sit in the last pew. It gives me a bird’s eye view of the congregation and every week as the people file in, I can actually feel the peace and the strength in numbers. Suddenly any problem in my life feels like it’s under the umbrella of all those around me. Strength in numbers. A beautiful concept.
I’ve learned that sometimes, during times of turmoil or disaster, it’s up to me to help gather people together when times are tough just so we can feel each other’s warmth and be nourished by the strength of numbers.
In 2001, a few months after 9-11, I visited Ground Zero in New York with four women friends, including my oldest daughter, Jeanne. We five stood there huddled together holding hands, overwhelmed with emotion, trying to understand and calm each other’s fears. I don’t think I could have gotten through that experience without those other women.
In 2004 when the edges of three hurricanes swept past my new Florida neighborhood, my neighbors and I gathered to share food during the power outage and plan for the next big wind.
In 2006 I visited the Florida Everglades during a drought. I stood on a walkway a few feet above a river that had all but dried up except for about eighty yards of murky green water. In front of me were 30 or 40 alligators who had gathered together, trying to maintain their normal environment. I guess even ‘gators find comfort and strength in numbers during times of stress.
Every weekend when I attend church with my friend Jack (the head usher) we always sit in the last pew. It gives me a bird’s eye view of the congregation and every week as the people file in, I can actually feel the peace and the strength in numbers. Suddenly any problem in my life feels like it’s under the umbrella of all those around me. Strength in numbers. A beautiful concept.
I’ve learned that sometimes, during times of turmoil or disaster, it’s up to me to help gather people together when times are tough just so we can feel each other’s warmth and be nourished by the strength of numbers.
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