Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell: Not Really for the Military

A couple of years ago, the military ended its “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” policy. Not an insignificant accomplishment considering how many military leaders stood up to disagree with abolishing it, but a huge victory for those in favor of its demise. Now, it’s generally said that the end of the policy did not cause any big problems among the men and women already serving, and those caught in its teeth can live openly while serving their country.

But there’s another use for “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.” Do you have a college student? You might know what I mean.

In the late ‘90s I sent my older daughter off to college. The economy was different then, and I firmly believed that sending someone away for that part of their education, if financially feasible, was a good idea. She went to a school in upstate New York that I could get to within a few hours from my home in northern New Jersey, and learned to live on her own, handle her own work, and in general, figure out how to get along with a much more diverse population than she knew where she had grown up. To this day, I believe it’s a good idea for a student to go away if the costs can be handled.

But her living far away also made me realize some things. The phone rings at 2 a.m. My first thought is that someone is hurt—or even dead. But no, it’s a boy issue. Do I really want to know? Not really. She has to figure out her social life. Did I even ask? Well, yes, the next afternoon, when I had both eyes open. If she wakes me up for that, I have a right to ask more questions. Notice, I didn’t ask in the first place.  I wanted her to have a good social life, although not at the expense of her grades, but I wasn’t going to ask about it. And I really didn’t want her to tell me too much unless she was heading for trouble.

My children know that I’ve always been there to listen to both the good and the bad. And that I have the right to offer an opinion even if one is not requested. But if I don’t ask about something, and you don’t want to tell me about it, then there’s no harm. At least not for the small stuff. Obviously, if you’re hurt, or sick, you should tell, but I still try not to ask too many questions unless I detect something in the conversation that is bothering one of them. Then, I might poke—or shove—at it a bit. I like to think I know when to back off.

So, I think “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” might have two audiences. I’m all in favor of the military accepting the homosexual population into its ranks. Knowing every little nuance of my daughers’, or anyone else’s, life, is not necessary. If I don’t ask, think carefully before telling me.

And the new rule is: if it’s after midnight, someone really needs to be dead, or very sick, before you call me. Otherwise, the answer you get probably won’t make a lot of sense--or could be something you weren't expecting.

Grief

I wrote most of this a while back but always hesitated in posting it, I’m not sure why. But now things have changed and it’s time.

I lost a friend. Well, perhaps not a close friend, but I had known him for just about 49 years, so I consider calling him a friend more than reasonable.

(I need to digress for a moment. I have had the same best friend for 50 years. We met the first day of the sixth grade and bonded—I was the new girl in town. Then I walked into my Hebrew School class and she was there. It was a match made in heaven on many levels, especially since my parents took Hebrew school very seriously, as did hers, and we were “different” from the other kids, whose parents knew their children needed religious instruction, but weren’t all that into it themselves. We became each other’s rocks there if nowhere else. To this day, I don’t think the people who knew us then would believe we are still close. We each know that if the other needs us we will come immediately. That is rare today.)

But who died? My friend’s older brother. He was 63, and unfortunately, he died alone. But, it appears that he never knew what happened; he just…died. That can only be for the good—for him. He was a nice guy—not only did I know him for a long time, but I actually dated him very briefly after I graduated from high school. I knew quickly that it wouldn’t work out, but that’s not his fault. It happens.

Was he a little set in his ways? Probably. Was he an older bachelor who probably didn’t have a lot of friends, but had buried himself in the historical research he loved and wrote about? Yes. After his father passed away, did he step up and help his sister take care of their mother? Yes. Was he there for his family?  Yes. And they loved him and took turns speaking glowing of him at his funeral. There was laughter in the tears.

My friend is already dealing with so many issues. Her father passed away just over 3 years ago; her mother died 9 weeks after her brother, a victim of Alzheimer’s and never knew that her son predeceased her. My friend’s husband has some health issues. Did she need a call from the state police early in the day to tell her that her brother had been found? Absolutely not. Did she need to deal with planning the funeral her parents would have wanted for him, cleaning up his estate, his home, the final effects of what happened? No. But did she do it? Yes, without question. He was her brother; she loved him. He was the second friend I lost in less than 3 months. He and I were not close. It doesn’t matter; I’ll still miss him.

But now…

My friend has had another tragic loss. This weekend we buried her husband, a brilliant man who in recent years has had significant health issues, although what ultimately took him down may not have been related to them. In the last few years, he has had many issues, but she was always a constant in his life, I think up to the end. And no matter what, and no matter how off he seemed, he always called her when she and I were out. He’d ask when she would come home, answer her questions, and no matter what else, he always said, “Get yourself something nice.” Sometimes she bought, sometimes not, but to me his ALWAYS remembering to say that was a sign of the guy he used to be before health issues got to him.

And going forward…

It is said that only the good die young. These men were radically different in their approaches to life. But both had good lives that they cherished, and both had families and friends who loved them. The world is a lesser place right now with these losses and others that my husband and I have seen in just a couple of years. I can only hope that people think of me as well when I’m gone—preferably not too soon.

I  Have No Facebook Page…Nor Do I Tweet

Facebook has millions of members—or is that billions now? I even know some of them. I don’t have a Facebook page. I don’t feel a great need to post information about myself — this blog notwithstanding — nor do I want to post pictures that can come back to haunt me. And I’ve found that a number of people I know who do have Facebook pages don’t use them. They just felt obligated to have a page – register? – because their friends/acquaintances/children have them. But they never look at their pages, and postings are rare.

The question is really: Why do so many people feel that they have to talk about themselves so much, and comment on their friends’ lives? Is that really a productive use of time? Do we really need to “like” a store just to get coupons we won’t use, or constant notices on sales and specials?

A lot of people feel that we live too much of our lives in the public realm. I grant you that can be fun, provided it has a “fun” purpose. For example, when my older daughter was first engaged, she posted it to Facebook that night. By the next day, according to my younger daughter, 37 comments were posted to her “wall” (can anyone explain what a “wall” is to me; I’ve never figured it out). Apparently, that’s unheard of. I think it was terrific. Everyone was properly enthusiastic, although some of that probably changed when not everyone was invited to the actual wedding. But the mere fact that 37 people made comments was probably wonderful. In fact, by the time I had a chance to call my long-term friend to tell her about the engagement, she already knew. Her daughter had seen it posted and called her screaming the news enthusiastically. I felt cheated because I didn’t have the chance to trumpet the news myself, but I coped.

But returning to the question, why do we need to live online? After all, job seekers are now being warned to clean up their pages because prospective employers are looking to see those pages to make sure that their possible employees know how to behave. It’s something like getting that cute tattoo when you’re 18. Fifteen years later, it’s not so cute, and you’re visiting one of those tattoo removal places to get rid of what might now be an embarrassment. (I hear there’s a chain of tattoo removal sites in the Southwest that’s raking in money cleaning up old embarrassments.)

The Friends You Don't Need

And you can “unfriend” people. I didn’t know that could happen until my daughter asked me about it —and I don’t know why she asked me, since she knows that I have no knowledge of how Facebook works. It seems she had been friended by the new husband of an old friend. Then the “happy” couple got a divorce. Of course I said she could unfriend him. In fact, I questioned why she had ever allowed the connection since she hadn’t liked the husband from the moment she met him — at the wedding. It was a very easy call.

And let’s talk about tweeting. In my youth, that’s what birds did. Now, apparently, it’s important that we tell people what we’re doing all the time. I sometimes read online Twitter feeds. I find some of them fascinating. As an editor, I won’t even go into the spelling issues, although they make me crazy.

The Need to Tweet? 

I do understand the idea of a business being in Twitter. If you have a following, maybe you can enhance their knowledge of what you do. For example, my daughter’s husband owns a renovation company. For a while, they would periodically tweet information on basic home improvements, or what he was working on. It had a small following, they had fun with it. But unless you really spend time working on growing your audience, the benefits are limited.

And why do we need to follow the lives of celebrities? Are all of their lives so much better than ours? Does Lindsay Lohan really do interesting things? Did we need to know that Demi Moore was in a meltdown after Ashton Kutcher left her? And that now she has a new boyfriend, also much younger? Maybe if we spent a little less time following their lives, and a little more time on our lives, things would improve all over.

And that brings me to a last thought: I’m blogging. You might like what I write, but do you want to hear from me all the time? I don’t always have something pithy to say; a lot of my day goes to longer writings, or to other parts of my life, which I’ll probably eventually blog about. Besides, keeping my thoughts to 140 characters could be difficult.

So for now, no Facebook page—unless this blog really takes off and there is a huge demand for my thoughts. I still don’t know what I’d do with it, and I really don’t want a lot of pictures of myself out in cyberspace, but we can revisit this if I’m ever a huge success.

Bucket Lists--At Least One Item, Anyway

I’ve never been one to make lists of things I want to do before I die, or before a certain date. Yes, there’s always something rolling around in the back of my mind if I’m asked what kind of day trip I want to take, or for a place I want to visit. But a formal list? No. Then again, I just did something that makes me think if I had a bucket list, this would have been on it.

We were in Orlando. My husband had a couple of days of business meetings and, packing my laptop, I went along. He went off to his meetings, I took a walk, sat by the pool, completed work that was being sent to me to review. But after the meetings we took a day and half for just fun. That afternoon, we hit Gatorland—an attraction we really love for some reason—and went to the Disney Marketplace just to wander around, and pick up park tickets for the experience I had booked the next day.

And that’s when the fun really kicked in. We got into Epcot at 8 a.m.—have you ever been in a Disney Park when it was, essentially, empty. It’s a bit surreal, and really startling. Also, the parking is really really good. But that’s the least of it.

We took the tour with the Segways—yes, those little two-wheeled transport systems you’ve seen people whizzing through crowds on, or used by security people at malls. Once we had signed our lives away, it was on to training. I think I caught on to driving it in less than 3 minutes; I had found my new thing. Yes, to start, I went a bit slowly, but it was a limited space and the only thing that scared me was possibly running into a wall. We learned the basics, and then how to go up and down hills, how to turn—on a dime if necessary, and how to slalom around cones, which would come in handy when we went out into the park.

Then we were off. First, it was over to breakfast (included). We parked behind the scenes and had our own space. The front end of the park was starting to fill in but no problems. When we left we headed out in a straight line—guide in front, instructor bringing up the rear—and just went through the people, calling out greetings and waving (we were told ahead of time to be friendly as we whizzed past). We went into the International Expo, which was not open to the public that early. As usual, the Disney guide knew the hidden secrets so we all could gather around for the inside scoop.

But to me, the real fun was just zipping along in that line, and having a chance to do something different. We went through all the little pathways on the Segways, including the bridges in the Japanese gardens, and the path that runs around the model trains. While we were there, we got to see people cleaning up the model trains area, and setting it up for the Thanksgiving season. A Segway makes you a lot taller than you usually are, and really alters your view of things.

What was also wonderful was watching the faces of the children—and the adults--as our line rode by. You could see they were envious. We just kept smiling and calling hello as we passed. Plus, even when we were where exhibits weren’t open, the workers setting up for the day would be smiling and waving at us. We rode through exhibits, and even through the shop In Morocco—did you know Morocco was one of the first countries to support us during the Revolution? Their prince came to cut the ribbon when the exhibit opened. And people who knew what they were doing came over to do the tilework. And then the prince gifted the exhibit to Disney.

What Else Is Out There?

I have never really thought about doing things like this. I saw the experience on the site and decided it would be fun. Now, I’m planning to check for this kind of thing—the stuff that’s out of the ordinary and not usually heard about—before I go anywhere. I want to know what fun I’ve been missing.

And now, when we plan weekends away, I’m looking up more Segway tours. Since Orlando, we’ve done Segway tours in DC – imagine zipping down Pennsylvania Avenue in the bike lanes at the start of rush hour, with the Capitol building looming in front of you. Or getting to the Jefferson Memorial in 5 minutes – a place we’ve never gotten over to because the walk was just too long. And in October when we were out there after the birth of our granddaughter, we took the other half of the grandparents and Segway’d Denver. They’re converts to the whole idea. I hear the Chicago tour is amazing—now, if I can just have a reason to go to Chicago.

Zipline anyone?

Far Away—But Still Connected

My children—and now my granddaughter--live in Denver; we live in New Jersey. It’s roughly 1700 miles apart. Why they live in Denver isn’t really the issue (it is, but I’ve learned to live with it). Fortunately, through the miracle of the phone (especially the cellphone) and the Internet, I can be in touch with them frequently. Sometimes probably a little too much.

But the distance doesn’t matter because it’s almost like they’re still here. Or at least, some of their “stuff” remains. I literally just got the clothes in the closets completely cleared out by putting my foot down and demanding when they thought they’d be wearing the garments that either no  longer fit or are so totally out of date they wouldn’t be caught dead in them. Some things went to Denver; the rest went to the donation box--we're very big on donations here, whether it's clothes, or furnishings, or anything else someone else can use, but that's not relevant just now. But I still have accessories and books. Many, many books.

Donation box

My daughters are both readers. The older one has actually winnowed the book inventory down, but they’re still there. The younger one has a completely filled bookcase and can’t decide what to do. I don’t blame her; I don’t like to get rid of books either, but decisions have to be made. 

I’ve been purging “stuff” from the rest of the house for a couple of years—at one point, I had things at the curb for the “whatever” garbage pickups for 6 months in a row. I think the neighbors were expecting a “For Sale” sign on the front lawn at any moment, but we’re still here, and I have more to purge. But a lot is gone.

But what to do with books, and old school “stuff”? It’s a cord that stretches from the new home to the old, and one day it will have to be cut (metaphorically speaking). I’d like the snipping to happen sooner rather than later--as in the next week.

There’s another purge coming.