The One About Black and White

 

 

 

Several weeks ago, Himself was outside with the Eggroll. Our neighborhood is ripe with little kids and there was a small group of them playing across the street. The Eggroll, being the social little kid that she is, wanted to play with the other kids and as she started across the street, one of the kids yelled "You can't come over here because you're black and white". 

I think time may have stopped for Himself. The Eggroll stated that she is in fact NOT black and white, she's Chinese. She returned to her father and shortly thereafter they both came into the house.

When he told me the story, I was a little put off, but not nearly as upset as he was. I told him that I was going to see the offending child's mother at a function, and if I had an opportunity, I would speak to her about it. The function came and went and although she was there and we spoke, the time to bring up something such as that just never arose. Himself was disappointed but not particularly upset.

Several days ago, I caught the Mom on the street. We chatted for a few minutes and since we were alone, I decided that the time was right for a difficult topic. As I relayed the story, I didn't flat out tell her that it was HER child that had uttered the phrase. I just said that one of the kids did it and that I thought she should be aware. She apologized profusely for the incident and I told her that it certainly didn't bother us, but it certainly might not be received well in other company. 

Situation resolved....

When I told Himself about the conversation, he was disappointed that I had not pointed out to her that it was her kid. He felt as though I let her off the hook. I told him that no matter how you word that one, no one is going be open and receptive when you accuse their kid of any kind of racism. It's calling them a racist by proxy...just not going to work....

And then, a half an hour later ...

"Oh Shit!" (he's watching the baseball game)

"Whassamatter? They give up another run?"

"No, no. Oh shit!"

"What is your issue?"

"The White Sox dammit!"

"What?"

"The White Sox, Nyt... their slogan.."

"What about their slogan?"

"Their slogan is "it's black and white" and we've had so many conversations with those parents about who's a Sox fan and who's a Cub's fan..."

"Oh shit...indeed"

 

 

Situation not exactly resolved.....

The One About Keeping It Simple, Stupid

I think life is inherently simple. In other words, I think that there are basic things that work 99.99% of the time.

Tired? Then sleep.

Hungry? Then eat.

Confused? Ask a question.

Still confused? Ask some more questions.

Still confused? Do your research.

Angry? Say it out loud.

Hurt? Say that out loud too.

Falling behind? Work harder.

Dirty? Clean it.

I have a very simplistic view of my life... do unto others...

The other day, Himself and the Eggroll were hanging in the front of the house. The kids across the street were outside playing and as any four year old will tell you, it's way more fun to hang with other kids than it is to hang with your parents. As Himself and the Eggroll headed across the street, the youngest tow-headed little girl yelled "Eggroll, you can't come over here because you're black and white". 

??????????

Himself explained that the Eggroll is not black and white, but Chinese. The Eggroll chimed in with "I'm from China" and the two of them returned home forthwith. After relaying this incident to me, I soothed both of the offended parties and promised that I would speak to the Mom at the BTS luncheon that's happening in a few days.

Simple right? 

Not so much. See there's nothing in my simple bag of tricks for this one.  I know I have to say it, but I'll be damned if I know HOW to say it. How do I say this one without a) making someone sound like a racist or b) making myself sound like a petty fool or c) making people uncomfortable or d) all of the above??

Under the category of "do unto others" I have to say that I would want to know if my kid behaved this way, or said something like that. But I also know that my kid's behavior is a reflection of myself and Himself. And as a wife and a parent I will defend both of them to the death. I have to assume that it's that simple for other folks as well. 

That simple fact plus my simple fact leaves me with a complicated conversation, and a whole bunch of considering to do in the meantime. 

 

The One About Heirlooms and Albatrosses

 

 

 

Momma was a great collector of stuff, a saver of things, a shopaholic. Every item had meaning and value to her, whether she used it or not. She could pretty much tell you the history and story behind just about every item she possessed. We had a standing joke between us, I would mercilessly tease her about her accumulating exploits and tell her that she couldn't die until she got her "stuff" in order. She would tell me her accumulations were guaranteeing that she would live forever... She didn't and without notice or preparation, I became the Shepard Of Stuff.

 

I grew up learning about the "things" that surrounded me. So many items were tagged with the admonishment to "never get rid of this" or "this belonged to.." or whatever reason she believed gave importance to the selected item. I carry these admonishments with me to this day.

And therein lies the problem...

 

In no particular order I am the owner of:

2 full sets of fine china along with a smattering of odd pieces left over from generations before...

 

An entire set (and I mean every piece made) of Waterford Crystal along with an almost full set of Orrefors.

 

2 full sets of sterling silverware 

 

A 60's era dining room set that I've never really been crazy about but it was my grandmothers so I've toted it with me for the last 20 years...

 

A vast array of chachtkes , paintings and decorative items. Some "quality", some not so much...

 

Plus 20 years of my OWN accumulations and those of Himself..

My many cups runneth over...

 

Recently, Himself and I came to the decision that we are staying right where we are until circumstances change so much that we can't live here. We've been in this house almost seven years and with a little tweaking, it will fit us for many years to come. We've decided to swap some rooms, change some furniture and really make this place suit the way we live. We are not fancy people. Should you enter our home we want you to feel free to have a seat, have a drink, have a meal, tell us your stories, listen to ours, relax, recreate...rest...  We want to be focused on you, your focus to be on us, our mutual focus to be on one another. It's about family, friends and fine times for us, not fancy stuff.

 

Achieving this means unloading much of the "stuff". The same "stuff" that I was told for years was important "stuff", heirloom "stuff", "stuff" that I should never get rid of. But I need to get rid of it. And I'm having a hell of a time doing it. Logically and rationally I know the "stuff" is weighing us down. It's weighing me down. I know that it would never be fair to saddle my husband or my child with the "stuff". But I feel a tremendous amount of guilt each and every time I even consider getting rid of the "stuff". And then there's the "what if I find out that I NEED this "stuff"?" portion of the program. It's making a kind of large project into a kind of huge project. 

 

And it's making me slightly more insane than I was to start with...

The One About Hospitals and Help

After less than a month away from the great Southwest, I'm back here again. After a phone call involving the words Flipper, hospital, and complete renal failure, I hopped a plane the same evening and, by midnight I was back in the desert. No one faces anything alone. It's how Momma did it, it's how I do it, it's how it's done.

I am a fierce advocate. I expect nothing less than full cooperation, I demand nothing less than the facts. It took me less than fifteen minutes to scare the crap out of an unsuspecting urologist. (he has since recovered and become a valuable team member) I am not a medical professional (though I'm asked if I am continually) but I am fluent in the language, I have a better than average knowledge of the human body and its workings and I am blessed to have friends that are medical professionals who are tops in their field. My challenge, at this point, is that my resources are 1800 miles away. I'm making evaluations of people, at least, without the personal recommendations of those that I trust. I haven't second guessed myself yet, but I fear that it's coming soon.

Back in the windy city, we deal with nothing but university hospitals. Here in the great southwest, our only choice right now is a community hospital. Although highly rated, my opinion of community hospitals is not rising. I am the advocate that will seek out cooperative staff, but I'm finding that the kind of quality I'm used to seeing in the big city requires a heck of a lot more seeking down here. And the mechanics of the hospital itself? Not so much. In 36 hours, I've endured lost or incomplete medical records (I literally fixed that in less than 5 minutes), staff that has no idea where anything is located (to the weekend ICU staff that I asked for help? Endoscopy is ONE HALL up from the ICU door) to areas that where not staffed AT ALL. As an aside, many thanks go out to Ronald the security guard, who not only found me, but found Flipper and the doctor. He spoke directly to the doc, let him know where I was and that I would like to speak to him after the procedure. And then gave me his extension number if I needed more help. Ronald my dear, you ROCK. I'm sending a letter to the House Manager, I hope it helps you out, it's the least I can do.

Speaking of folks who are awesome, I'm a little bit in love with the nurse on Flippers floor. A Russian immigrant and transplant from NYC, she is everything that nurses should be. We see her often, she never administers anything without telling us what it is, why you need it, and what it's supposed to do, and I've seen her run down doctors to help patients out. On top of that, she actually brings me test results so that I can know what's going on. Awesomeness! As always, nurses are under-rated, many folks forget that they are the ones on the front-line. Someone once told me, if you want to know whats going on, ask your nurse, skip the doc. It's totally true.

For the rest of the "family that isn't family" down here? You all are superb and I can't thank you enough. I will ask you to stop being so damn nice to me, it makes me cry. I can't do the crying now, I have business to attend to. Years ago, when Momma died, I learned all about "family". The conclusion? Family has nothing to do with the people who are actually related to you, it has to do with the people who "show-up". Each and every one of you has "showed up" and offered me more than I could ever wish for. I will be forever grateful.

This last part is about something that I rarely talk about, but I really should. And that is the man I married. I am grateful. Though whatever trials and tribulations have been thrown our way, he continues to work with me as one half of our "team". There is no obstacle that is too large, he accepts the "crazy" without question, and supports whatever adjustments have to be made. No one could ask for a better partner. Once again I will be forever grateful that this person has chosen to be with me. Of course, none of that will keep me from bitching about the little things....

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The One That May Or May Not Be True

"Wait for meeeee......."

It's a cry heard often on playgrounds, in backyards, on streets, and in homes across the country and around the world. In any language, in any place, the cry is universal. As a matter of fact, you don't even need to speak the language to understand the meaning, you know the sound and you've felt the feeling yourself. Everyone has at one time or another. Everyone at one time or the other, has been the one uttering the plaintive wail.

"Wait for meeeee......"

As parents, we dread the day when our child is the child uttering the wail. We know it will happen, as sure as the sun will rise in the morning, our kid will be the kid left behind at least once in their lives. When it happens, we soothe the offended child. We tell them that they are worthwhile, we tell them that they are valuable, we tell them that we love them. We tell them that every person has value. We tell them that evey human being has something worthwhile within them. Once the wailing has subsided, we tell them to remember this feeling. We tell them to remember so that they won't make someone else feel as bad as they do right now.

"Wait for meeee......"

Inevitably, it will come to pass when our child will be the child who leaves someone behind. And our hearts hurts. Our hearts hurt not only for the child who has been left behind, but for our own child, the one who has done the leaving, because we never wanted them to be burdened with the guilt of hurting another, and we try to teach the lesson once again. We tell them to "bring enough for the whole class" and "how did you feel when that happened to you?". Perhaps we choose another route, perhaps we try and teach them about endurance. We say things like "just play one game with him/her, then you can be on your way." Maybe we go with bribery "if you stop that, I'll get you..." And we hope it doesn't happen again, but we know it will...

"Wait for meeeee...."

As our children age and travel through school and friends, we hear the wail from time to time. Whether it's our child doing the wailing or someone else's, it still hurts our hearts. We still hope that our child will be the child who "gets it". We hope our child is the child who will stand up.

"Wait for meeee...."

It's not so simple for our children, especially as they live their lives outside of our direct control, outside of our sphere of influence. Instead of our approval, they seek the approval of their friends. They seek the acceptance of the "crowd". They seek to be part of the pack. They fear the pack turning on them should they be the ones to stand up, should they be the one who hears the wail, who feels the wail.

"Wait for meeeee....."

We wonder when our children will feel their own power. We wonder when "pack" approval will no longer matter, we pray that that day comes sooner rather than later. Sadly, we know in our hearts that it will never come for some. We hope with all our might that the "some" is actually "some other kid". We hope that we are the example not the lesson. We continue to hope. As we listen the the explanations, the excuses, we continue to hope that our child won't be the child who is responsible for the wail.

"Wait for meeeee..."

For those who's child is the wailer we fervently hope that they discover their power as well. We hope that they learn how to stand up, we hope that they learn to shout....

"Don't wait for meeee..."

The One About High School...

We all have memories of high school. Some great, some not so great. Some of you were the "popular" or the "cool" kids, others were the "freaks" "geeks" and "jocks". Many of you often felt that you didn't fit in, maybe there are even some of you out there that "ruled the school".

Up until today, I never gave much thought to my high school experience. I always thought that there were probably only three remarkable things that went on during those years. The first was that I was expelled from the hoity-toity all girls Catholic high school that Momma Nyt always wanted me to attend. (Surprised!? Anyone!???? I didn't think so..) The second was that I spent almost my entire junior and senior year (and three years afterward) dating a guy who was already out of school. (this will be important later) and third was I discovered theater.

So many people relate high school to the experiences. Football games, homecomings, proms..there's the stuff you got away with, and the stuff you didn't. I missed a lot of the regular stuff (see reason number two) and I got away with and was caught for a fair amount of stuff. None of that is what has me thinking today. Today, I'm thinking about the people....and about the mark they left on my life.

After expulsion from Sister Mary's Boot Camp for Young Women, I landed at the local public high school. I arrived in the middle of my sophmore year. And I was most definitely "the new kid". My family had recently made the exodus from the city to the wide open suburbs, and everything was brand new and scary...

First on the list of people who left their mark was J. J. was the wiry, Irish ,working class kid, with what would probably called ADHD today. He was the Biology partner I was assigned to. The partner that no one else really wanted. I remember the teacher, scanning my grades from St.Mary's Boot Camp and announcing in front of the whole class.."Congratulations J. with her as your partner, you now have a hope of passing the class." I made sure he passed. He taught me to just sit still and listen. He taught me to "hear" though the static. I remain forever grateful. I might have missed many things in my life if I hadn't learned the lessons that J. had to teach me.

Next up came E. and T. They saw me standing there, on my first day, in the cafeteria and offered me a seat at their table. We dined together for the rest of the year and most of the following year. I remember being so grateful for that first offer. They taught me to always extend a hand. Always try. And to this day, I always do....

M. and I had a friendship that developed without fanfare. It's as though one day she was just some kid in class with me, and the next we were inseperable. She was beautiful, boheme, brilliant and unconcerned with the conventional wisdom. She taught me that being different was a good thing. Being brilliant was better. She encouraged the curiousity in me that I still have today. Sometime during junior year, M. became involved with S. He was dark, brooding, along with brilliant and sensitive. He hated me upon first meeting...overtime M, S, and I became something like the three musketeers. He taught me that opposites really can become friends. He taught me to appreciate the differences, perhaps even to embrace them.

Lastly, there was T2. Unconventional looking, unconventional thinking, smart, funny, and artistic as hell. She taught me about standing up. And how to really appreciate a good laugh. And that there's no sin in following your bliss...no matter what anyone says...

All of this comes to mind today because today, I found out that one of these people who so shaped my life is no longer with us. Someone who left their mark on me has been gone for close to ten years now. And I never knew......and I never got to tell them just how much I learned in such a short amount of time. Part of me thinks its normal...to lose track of people after such a long time.....part of me believes that it's natural....

But then there's another part of me. It's the part of me that mourns a death I never knew, and cries tears for a soul that I never should have let slip away from my own life. And the other part of me, the part of me that knows I could have done better..

Good-bye my friend.....I hope you know....and I hope we meet again....

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The One Where I Toss P.C. Aside (again)

Well, then, here we are, together again. And yes, I'm still composing the China posts, but today I thought I'd chat about the latest adventures in the House of Nyt. It's been several weeks of the krazee around here, but we've managed to have a little bit of fun as well.


First off, Himself's other eye turned out to be defective. We discovered this while at a consultation on repairing the first defective eye that was repaired (sort of correctly) in March. Three doctors, two hospitals, and roughly eight hours later we had a fourth doctor and an appointment for the next day. Ever try to amuse a 2 and 1/2 year old with nothing more than a dress-up monkey and a pair of shiny shoes? Yeah, I rock. Actually, the Eggroll rocks, she really sailed through that day with nary a problem. Over the next 7 days, we travelled to the doc's office 5 times, for gas bubbles and check-ups. We survived the worst of it (himself is a LOUSY patient) and hopefully this coming Monday will be the last of the appointments for a while.

Now for one of the politically incorrect portions of the program. Why the hell are all the good doctors in areas of this city where the poorest folks are? Can someone please explain to me why I must ( yes, must) travel a minimum of 30 miles one way to see a teaching doctor in any specialty? Why are there no quality doctors here? We live in a middle to upper class suburb, we pay exorbitant taxes, and yet our community hospital is good for nothing more than stitches. And why are all the liberal blow hards whining about health care? I walked the halls of these hospitals, I sat it waiting rooms, and I can pretty much guarantee that we were the only folks there who weren't on Medicare or Medicaid. What gives? And why are so many doctors saying they can't make any money?? Hello!! Life is simple fellas, go where the money is.....

More incorrectness....the Eggroll is fascinated with people of color. I can't fault her for it, she's probably never seen them before she came to this country. She's only been here a couple of months folks.... Anywhooo... standing outside one of the jillion hospitals I visited, I struck up a conversation with an older lady who had a small child with her. The Eggroll kept poking at the small child, and I couldn't figure out why. Then, the following week at pre-school (she's enrolled in a pretty diverse place), she tried to wash the black off the teacher. Now, actually, to me, that's pretty damn funny. She's tried to wash the scar off my hand innumerable times. However, other folks don't find it so funny and I'm stuck explaining that she's only been here several months and has never really seen people of color before. It annoys me that people just can't take any action for what it is. It must mean something else. Or that everything must be explained... Like the lady we walked past who Eggroll was staring at, and the woman felt it necessary not to say hello, but to announce to my 2 and 1/2 year old "I'm African American" literally, no greeting, nothing. Seriously? And what's with that anyway.... is it a nationality, is it a race, what?? Is everyone of color African American, or are they Kenyan African American? or Ghanaian African American? What's up with that?? Why does it matter? I don't saunter up to every person who's different from me and announce that I'm Nyt and I'm Caucasian Irish American and this is my husband Himself, who is Caucasian German American, and this is our Eggroll whose Asian Chinese American......although, maybe I should....

We did manage to have a lovely day at the zoo during all this hoopla. You've just got to love the zoo in the middle of the week. Not crowded at all..

I love a good merry-go round. I'm glad she does too.....Props to Himself for making this shot work. He never uses my camera and of course, he's rocking the busted eye. I told him to hold the camera up and hold the button down. LOL! And wouldn't you know, he got a shot worth keeping....


Butterflies with Himself.

And then, there was the Sandwich Fair. The last fair of the season. We really had a good time. I'm not a big "country" girl...something about nature getting all over my shoes, but it really is fun to see all the tractors and animals. The Eggroll had a blast as well. I was so excited that she decided that the backpack was a good thing. (we toted that damn thing all over China and she HATED it) She hung out in it whenever there wasn't something that she wanted to see, it really is sooooo much easier in crowds. Himself wore it for a while and then it was my turn for the rest of the night. It didn't feel like much when I was wearing it but OMG! the next day my legs hurt, my abs hurt.. I must be in really bad shape, I have purses heavier than that. I guess because it forces you to stand aligned... you get a bit more exercise than what you think...
One thing I did notice, traipsing around in the wilds of farm town. People have some pretty strong feelings about blended families. And often times, it's written all over their faces. Some were happy, but there were some that had disapproval written all over them. No one said anything, as X and I (we went with our friends X and Y) were walking one particular path, I asked her.... do you feel it... she did... That's precisely when the Eggroll threw her hands up in the air and yelled "Ta Daa". It really doesn't get any better than that.....


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Friendship is Friendship, But Accounts Must be Kept

Ah, friends and money! The stuff that nightmares are made of. It seems that no matter how hard you try, the "friends and money" thing always pops up. Let's review, shall we?

Our attitude towards money is simple... "Sometimes ya got, and sometimes ya don't" We're luckier than a lot of people, we "got" more often than we "don't". We live in a nice home in a nice area, we have one "nice" vehicle and one "all-purpose" vehicle, we travel when we can and we give what we're able. We try to be honest with money. While our finances aren't dinner table fodder, if you ask, we will more than likely answer your question (broadly, rather than specifically). Money is such a large issue in so many peoples lives, I (we) believe that honesty and forthrightness on the subject is a way to leave it in the background. Acknowledge the subject and move on. When it comes right down to it, having a few bucks is nice, but the universe is really not impressed. The universe is more interested in you, not your wallet, and, no matter what you have, someone out there has 10 times more (unless you're Bill Gates....). So, it's not hard to imagine that when the "money demon" arises from the depths of hell, we're a little surprised...

It all started several years ago, slowly, at first. Our friends (let's call them X and Y shall we?) went on an inexpensive vacation with us. They were slow to pay their share of the cabin we all shared. Eight months later (I said they were slow) I asked Himself to broach the subject with Y. Perhaps they needed our help, and I'd hate for us to be those people that stick their head in the sand when things get tough. Y was apologetic with Himself, however, X called me later on to inform me that all Y did was yell at her when all she'd done was forgotten to write a check. Oops!

Then there were the tickets to a fairly expensive show. We asked them, before we ordered the tickets, whether they wanted to go, and told them the price. They accepted, enjoyed the show, and took three months to pay for the tickets. I said nothing during the three months, X is seriously sensitive, and there was no way I was going to be responsible for another X versus Y conundrum.

Vacation cabin this past fall?? They paid their share of the cabin before we left. But, then there was the "supply" run. You know, that trip for groceries, lunch goodies, snacks and the like? Um? Yeah....they paid for the mustard. And we will not even discuss the living situation. Suffice it to say we've booked separate cabins for our next adventure.

Our most recent issue? Hard to find tickets for a popular comedian. Not expensive, really, just seriously hard to come by. I score the tickets, five of them, Himself, myself, X, Y, and their friend Z. Everyone is pleased. The comedy club has a minimum (most of them around here do) so cocktails and snacks are ordered by all. The bill arrives toward the end of the show, X takes it, puts in some money, and hands the bill to me. I check the total, count whats in the folder and I tell Himself a flat dollar amount to put in. I was hoping Himself wouldn't look, because some serious shortage had taken place. Suffice it to say, we paid for half the bill and all of the tip. And, he looked. As soon as the house lights went up, Himself wished everyone a Merry Xmas and excused himself to go get the car, leaving me alone....with our friends.....and the giant gorilla in the room. Gah! Z ponies up his ticket money on the spot. X looks at me and says "Well, if you need it I can give you the cash now, or I'll just write you a check after the holidays" Now just what am I supposed to say to that? If I say I want the cash, I'll feel like I'm taking their last dime. If I agree to the check thing, I'm just giving the gorilla a banana. I go with the banana. The devil you know rather than the devil you don't.

So here we are. Himself is mad, I'm sad, and we are kind of avoiding our otherwise wonderful friends. Oh, and did I mention I'm also sitting on more tickets, for another expensive show, which Y told us to get? Yeah, there's that....

I have to admit, I have no clue how to solve this, or even how to broach the subject. The feeling that one is being taken advantage of is a hard feeling to shake. We try to look at it from different angles, try and talk ourselves into believing that we are better people for being generous, but it's forced generosity and no matter how we look at it, we resent it. Then there's the sadness that comes from realizing that your friendship is not all that you believed it was. (or is it?) Then there's the whole guilt thing, because, really, we should be better people... I don't like to tally up anything, but there is a balance that exists among friends, and the older I get the more I'm convinced that it needs to be maintained. The big questions is, how do you fix what's out of balance????