Management—in Your DNA?

There are several categories of managers—and I speak from experience. I’ve had all of these “leaders.”

First, there is the tyrant. The manager who thinks that a 70-hour week is normal; you should be available 24/7; and the purpose of the employee is to make sure the company has a profit—so the owner has a better bank account. I literally once had one of these say there would be performance reviews but no raises. In fact, the belief was that no employee should ever ask for a raise; it meant they were incompetent. Of course, all good ideas must come only from management because serfs should never think, and if an idea you had wasn’t liked you were publicly branded an idiot. The people who were promoted were usually those who learned to play the game just as the manager did, perpetuating the bad management ideal. I’ve also heard of managers who deliberately bury any idea from an employee that might be better than their own. Or conveniently lose the paperwork trail that showed who really solved the problem (although in the e-mail era, that’s a lot harder to do).

Then there is the good manager. The one who recognized that if they encourage their employees, and don’t belittle them, both sides look good and everyone moves up the chain of command. These are also the managers who actually listen when their employees talk, and are not afraid to let said employee have the credit for a good idea (then again, the employee also needs to take blame when a good idea goes bad). These managers hear what their people say, and are not interested in running them into the ground. There is an awareness that burnout is not really the goal for anything.

Who Did They Know?

And there is the manager who, when you look at them, you just say “How did that person get here?” Yes, they are good at what they do, but people skills are slim—to none—and said managers don’t really have a grip on what is happening in their department. Planning is not their forte. And this is the manager I really want to talk about. Some people are very good at their jobs. They should be rewarded accordingly. But some people really should not be promoted to management. They know how to do the basic job, but putting them in charge of others is not a good idea. For example, there is someone who does his/her job exceptionally well, especially when left on their own or put in charge of a very specific project, but when people are assigned to report to them, immediately assumes that everyone else is stupid, and they have to pick apart their work. The tiniest issues, ones that are easily fixed if necessary, are cause for nasty comments and denigration of someone’s abilities—and ultimately, the work product slows down. Unfortunately, people in other departments that will do the next part of the work start to notice the problem, and just go around the manager to get things done. It’s not hard to do.  Over time, upper management hopefully will notice the problem, and act. In this case, new bosses were brought in above the existing supervisors, and while titles were kept, people reporting to the bad manager were reassigned. Unfortunately, if a bad manager doesn’t start to figure out the problems, or react to what’s happening, they’ll be out of a job—at which point I can only hope they have learned the error of their ways.

They’re not bad people; unlike the other manager, they aren’t nasty. If anything, they are very positive with their employees. But, sometimes, as a friend of mine put it, management is not in their DNA. They have no idea of the work flow for the office. They don’t know if they’ll need extra help—or, they hire people to come in during “busy” periods and then discover it won’t be busy, leaving the extra help out in the cold. If, like me, you freelance, that can mean a direct impact on your income because the work you thought you had is gone, and there’s no time to replace it. Managers like this should really be valued for their skill sets in the work that has to be done, perhaps as “senior” level employees, or used to train others (provided they don’t regard everyone else as stupid), but unless they can be trained to better manage people, they should be in supervisory roles. It just doesn’t fit for them, and ultimately, no one else is hurt.

The Unnoticed Manager

I like to think that when I was in management I was one of the better ones. My people didn't know that I was the person taking the flak from above until after I left. And for the most part, so long as jobs were done correctly I didn't have to get in their faces about it Of course, that also leads to people believing that you're not managing at all. The world is far more used to the nasty types than the good ones. It's something I've learned to live with.

Sorry, No Animals Here

I’m not an animal lover. No dogs; no cats; not even birds. Sorry, it is what it is. I’m not into anything that flies around and might drop unmentionable items on my head. I’m extremely allergic to cats—we won’t get into how bad things got when my husband was playing with a friend’s cat and I was sitting on the other side of him. It was four days to full recovery. As for dogs, I understand that when I was three and wanted to play with a dog, it stood up and put its front paws on my shoulders and probably licked my face. I was totally traumatized. I get really tense when there are dogs around but I have improved—trust me; and you can confirm it with both my daughters who have dogs, and my mother, who is in shock that I don’t run screaming from them.

Away From Me

Having said that, I don’t wish ill for any animals either. I just wish them elsewhere. I admire people who are into animals, and think most of them do a good job with their pets—including their fish. My problem is with people who believe that if I don’t like animals, I’m a terrible person, who must have evil in her heart. Yes, you know who I mean. I know several of those people, and find that I prefer not to be with them. Somehow I attract people who believe they can change my views—regardless of my opinion.

Where should I start? How about the young woman related to my husband who thought the best idea would be to plop a dog into my lap repeatedly so that I would learn to love him? Aside from the fact that I’m old enough to be her mother—my kids are older than her actually; she owed me some respect at least—what gives her the right to decide this for me? How about the young man who told me I really had to learn to love dogs because not loving them was just wrong. Never mind the fact that he doesn’t own any animals himself, although he does babysit dogs owned by some of his family members when necessary. I respect the fact that he feels he’s not home enough to adequately own another being, but he needs to learn to respect my views. I get that a lot.

My children both own dogs—from the same litter. No, they didn’t get shelter dogs but that was after a lot of research and soul-searching on their part. They know I’m not into animals, so when they come to my home, the dogs have been taught to stay away from “mom.” In fact, one day the water bowl was empty—yes, I even provide food and water for the dogs; I just don’t go near them—and when I went to refill it, one of the dogs sat down 6 feet away from me and waited until I was done and walked away before coming for a drink. My mother was hysterically laughing watching it. I call the dogs well trained and appreciate that their owners have done that for me.

I'm the People Person

So, why should I be told that I have to love animals? Some people I know who adore their pets won’t cross the street to help someone who needs help. Do only animals deserve help and love? Are all people no good, or just those who don’t like dogs/cats/insert name of whatever you have? If someone is drowning do you save their pets first and hope they can hold on until you can get back to them?

Sorry, but I’ll go for the person before the animal. You can hate me for it but remember…I’ll support your right to make your choices. Please don’t get crazy over mine.

Freelance Life

I am a freelance editor by trade. I’ve had staff positions, which definitely had some benefits I don’t have now, but I choose to freelance because it suits what is currently happening in my life. Having said that, I do mostly medical editing, which can be depressing because of the therapeutic areas I’ve worked in (reading material on trials of cancer drugs is particularly upsetting). Any work related to pediatric issues really bothers me, but I keep telling myself that at least cures are being worked on, and the best way to move them forward is to help them get things right when drugs are submitted.

The Pluses

Then again, there are some benefits to the freelance life. I recently read a posting on why people should have four-day workweeks. A lot of it made a great deal of sense but I have a few other ideas. First, my view of freelancing as a “have laptop, can work anywhere” idea. And I have. I once found work waiting for me when I got off a plane to visit my children and e-mailed back that I could get it to them by first thing in the morning since there was a time difference and I was going to work on it after I started the visit. I had dinner with the kids, hung out, and then did the work in my hotel room. Last October I spent time with my daughter and her husband after my granddaughter was born. My clients knew I was out of town but I never missed a deadline. I just got up early, got dressed, and worked until I got to take care of the baby, at which time almost all of the technology was put away. In the evening, when they had friends over to see the baby, I’d disappear and finish up anything that hadn’t been done earlier. Clients found the work waiting in their Inboxes when they came in since everyone was on a later time zone east of where I was.

Plus, with freelance I can pick and choose what I work on. If I don’t like a client, and have other work to fill in (always a big “if”), I can say no. As a staff editor, I had to deal with the accounts I was assigned to, and sometimes the teams weren’t all that nice.

And if I know I’ll need to take a couple of days—or even just hours--off, I just build them into my calendar. That means I have the flexibility to set my own schedule. I can now make a lunch date, and keep it.

The Minuses

But what’s the problem with freelance? It’s freelance. I spend a lot of time hoping work will come in. Clients call and ask me to hold time and then the work doesn’t appear—lately, I tell them I’ll put them on the calendar but if it’s not there when they say it will be, someone else immediately gets the slot. The fact that their client is three days—and sometimes three weeks--late getting back to them cannot be my problem. Like everyone else, I still have to pay my bills and put food on my table. And speaking of food, according to that posting, freelancers eat better. I’m not so sure of that. Sure, I’m not wandering past free food in a company kitchen, but my own kitchen is just downstairs and not everything in my house represents a perfect diet. I’m just as drawn by a piece of chocolate as anyone else I know, but I frequently do make an effort not to have it in the house.

Collections

Then there’s the issue of being paid. I do the job, I send the bill—or in a couple of cases I can submit the time digitally and their system has me on file so I can be paid on a regular schedule, which is not the norm—and then I wait. All of my bills very clearly give the client 30 days. It seems math, and how many days are in a month, is not that strong an area for a lot of people. Thirty days turn into 45 days—at which point I rebill—or into 60 days. I know one firm that has a policy of not paying people for 10 weeks, at a minimum. They won’t say that up front, but that’s what they do. Or, I’ve had the answer “We’ll pay you when the client pays us.” My answer, “When did you bill the client?” It turns out they haven’t done that yet. If you can meet payroll you can meet my bills. Don’t complain then when you can’t get freelancers to work for your firm. There is a network and word gets out on who the worst payers are. I really hate the nagging.

And then there’s the issue of finding work to begin with. I have a writer friend who will mention me to everyone who hires her—she’s also a freelancer. The thing is, most people don’t believe they need editors. Aside from the style issues, which in medical editing really do count, spell-check on your computer isn’t that reliable. Sentence structure does count though. And even if the job you have is only going to be seen by the sales reps, the material should make sense, and be spelled correctly. If there is no sense, the reps will get it wrong—and the FDA really doesn’t like that—and sound like they don’t know what they’re talking about.

Think about it. Your high school English teacher actually was right when he or she insisted that you make complete paragraphs. Writing well-formed sentences makes you sound like you know something even if you don’t.

Call me; I know where the commas go.

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” is. 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 stuff that either no  longer fits or is so totally out of date they wouldn’t be caught dead in it. Some things went to Denver; the rest went to the donation box. But I still have accessories and books. Many, many books.

My daughters are both readers. The older one has actually winnowed the book inventory here 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. Still, 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.

The latest purge of "stuff" started yesterday. 

Friend as Therapist         

Are you the class listener? The kid who didn’t talk a lot but sat and listened to everyone expound on school subjects, hair, who was dating whom? Maybe you were the person in the background doing a lot of the basic work so others could swoop in for the big picture? Now that you’re all grown up, are you the person people talk to—because you already know how to listen? I am.

There are talkers, and there are listeners. I’m in the second group. I also know how to keep my mouth shut, as in I try not to offer a lot of advice, and I don’t tell others about you, unless you want me to. This makes me an ex-officio therapist for some people. I’m still deciding whether that’s good or bad.

I like when people tell me things, thinking that they can trust me with what they are going through—and they can. I’m not sure I’m all that good with advice when it’s asked for, but I think a lot of people just want someone to listen. They know what they need to do to resolve a situation, but talking to yourself isn’t the same as telling another person. That makes it more real—and puts the talker into the position of doing something about it. After all, how many times can you tell the same story, have the same solution, and then do nothing about it? (Don’t try to answer that; we all know it can happen repeatedly.)

So, how do I handle the therapy issue? First, I try not to be looking at the person. I love the speaker phone because while I’m listening, I’m multi-tasking. For example, in a 20-minute rant from the phone, I can write an entire blog. Or I can get dressed—some calls are early in the morning. Or how about doing some cleaning, paying the bills—yes, a few of those still go by handwritten check left in an envelope in the mail box.

And how does the other person feel? Usually, better. They’ve had a chance to complain, whether about the same thing for the 12^th time or something new. They go off feeling better, and with some fresh views that they have figured out themselves on how to solve their problems—whether it’s the umpteenth rendition of that advice or something totally new. And more positive reinforcement for their actions, even if the “therapist” doesn’t agree.

Next patient!!

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.