Waiting for the New Year Baby

It never ceases to amaze me how this time of year when we are celebrating love and family and blessings that the first thing most people are anxious to determine is how much new stuff they can get to replace the old. New clothes or electronics or jewelry or even friends and employment. Often I'm at a loss when thinking about what to do with all of the old. Old toys. Old furniture. Old books. Even old boyfriends.

When we discard or replace all that is old in our lives we cannot discard some old relationships. Be they frayed or strained or tortuous or just plain unpleasant sometimes one cannot bring a new person in to replace an old. The old lingers like Lindberger and the faint scent of baggage and war wounds serve as a reminder that ex husbands and even ex in laws, if children are involved, never get tossed. They get compartmentalized in a more managable form but never actually leave. Take David Goldman and his son Sean. Is the Brazilian grandma, stepdad or half sister ever going to be replaced? Or will they be put into discrete blocks of time where contact is still necessary but limited?

Waiting for everything anew might be something we look forward to come New Year's eve. But some things and people will forever be old and familiar despite time.

An Angel for the Holidays

Recently a news report came out that New York came in dead last among all states on a "happiness" measure for its residents. Granted the depressed economy and crippling unemployment rate gives folks much less to be happy about this holiday season.

Which made me think about the purpose of Chanuka or Christmas or Kwanza or Ramadan or whatever year end celebration people engage in. The purpose is not to get up at 3am to line up in the dark of night while shivering in jammies waiting to get the limited supply of cheap electronics on sale. Nor is it to stuff one's cheeks silly at office parties or social gathering. Nor should it be about how much to buy or how many lights can be wrapped around a freshly chopped or synthetic tree.

Rather it should be a time to reflect upon how much was gained, lost or squandered during the year past. Friendships gained. Opportunities lost. Good will squandered. We all have had our share of one, if not all of the above. If we focus too much upon one at the expense of the others we lose sight on a true perspective. One single act of despair shouldn't overweigh a year's worth of kindness. Nor should a poor lapse in judgment destroy a lifetime of good deeds.

I chose to evaluate the relative progress of my personal year through the lens of an unexpected act of generousity. Presents from those we expect gifts from are welcome but hardly remarkable. We expect relatives to give to us as we give to them. Its the unexpected kindness that is the hallmark to end a tumultuous year. Today an Angel visited me at work and bestowed unto me a gift of velvet red cheer wrapped in a bow of peppermint candy. Unexpected, certainly a delight and to me a sign that despite the ups and downs of a challenging year, I have much to be thankful for this memorable Christmas.

He's Still Blind and Cant See Me

I always thought it an amusing concept that prospective adoptive pet owners are screened, vetted and investigated within an inch of their lives before granted permission to bring home Fluffy or Spot. Yet the same rigorous standards go virtually out the door when someone signs up to receive a seeing eye dog. These service animals, who spend the remainder of their lives working for their owner, often never have the chance to have their plight and suffering documented partly because they're no longer viewed as pets and partly because their owners lack the capacity to see the depth of mistreatment.
Take for instance the gorgeous black Lab I see frequently on the bus leading his visually impaired owner about. He is yanked, shoved, batted about the face and have his paws cruelly stomped by a can whenever his owner moves about his bus seat and readjusts his weight or belongings. During the short twenty minute ride this snow battered day I saw the poor creature wince but not moan twice as the cane struck his tender nose and the environmentally correct bag of groceries rested on top of hid head. His collar got pulled half a dozen times as owner tried to shove the dog deeper into the well under the seat. Each time a straw paw stuck out it was swept back callously by the sole of a dirty sneaker.

I wonder- would the animal police consider this the abuse of a pet or what a service animal should learn to tolerate? After all, he is fundamentally a sweet Lab meant to be cherished and loved.

Overreaction Kills Santa

The US Postal service announced new safety measures for its Operation Santa program so comprehensive that only 35 stations have decided to participate this year.

Upon receiving a letter from a child the service will shred the envelope, photocopy the letter, redact personal info and then put it out for people to select to fulfill the child's Holiday wish.Admirable and heroic that participating stations are taking precautions to shield children from sexual predators.

Only problem with the procedures is that secular "Santa" won't be able to find the child and give him/her the present. You see all personal info will be redacted. That means address, contact info, and anything likely to identify the child. And since they've shredded the envelope that presumably contains a return address, there goes that info.

In essence, overreaction to the potential breadth of sexual predators has killed Santa for thousands of children who need their wishes realized.

I'm not downplaying the dangers of sexual predators getting a child's personal information but what about the regular person who just wants to do a good deed? Overreaction may have killed Santa but draconian screening measures have killed the Good Samaritan. To get to read and fulfill a child's wish, one needs to wait on line, show 2 proofs of ID and only then will access to letters be granted. I can only imagine how anxious and excited the average New Yorker is at the prospect of waiting on a post office line to fork over ID before being allowed to do nice for a child.

Right.

Maybe this year instead of encouraging children to commit pencil to paper and write Santa they can just send him an email

The truth you didnt like

As children we are taught about the legend of George Washington and the cherry tree. Young George had taken an ax to it and when confronted with the evidence of his actions told his father, "I cannot tell a lie" and professed his guilt.

Yet he and other Founding Fathers thought it prudent to add amendments to the Constitution to give folks the privilege against self incrimination. Faced with daunting evidence of culpability you have a right to keep your mouth shut. George didn't see the need to do this but chose to preserve the option for others. Truth was for others to judge and not for the accused to confess. Telling the truth might make you feel better but certainly is unlikely to set you free.

Is it any wonder then as a society we shun the truth? We expect to be lied to. Children are taught that "little white lies" spare people's feelings; politicians twist and contort the definition of simple words like "is" to escape confessing the obvious and leaders never want to be put in the position of having to disclose the truth if the news is stark.

Which made Governor Paterson's recent confession that the state is broke all the more unexpected. It was like he told the fat lady to stop singing and to go on a diet. We all instinctively knew the state was in poor fiscal shape but nobody wanted to acknowledge it. Like the pink elephant in the room (ok so I'm pushing it with the large analogies) everyone knows he's there but nobody wanted to stare and be rude.

The truth is rude. Its unvarnished and harsh and yes sometimes unpalatable. We have become so sensitive to the idea of sparing feelings that we have spared ourselves the blemishes of honesty. The ugly truth is that our state is on the tip of financial ruin bc we have spent our special interest selves into this current morass. Like the fat lady who's being told to diet, the news is unwelcome and shocking.

Its up to us now to decide what to do with the unflattering truth of our fiscal straits. We can acknowledge the truth and deal with it. Or like the elephant we can pretend the deficit doesn't really exist. Would George have owned up to the current crisis? Or would he have hidden the ax?

Flexible Standards

In life there are always standards to meet, to exceed or to fail at. Employers expect employees to meet minimun work standards. Athletes must exceed general standards in order to achieve excellence. Parents often unflinchingly reject their offspring's paramours as lacking acceptance standards. So how then can we expect all children to meet educational standards under No Child Left Behind when in life, everyone might fail a standard in one way shape or form at some point? Are we really bringing all our kids up to an immutable standard? Or are the standards vulnerable to manipulation?

Case in point- my child attends a middle school that by all visible measures falls short of the standard of excellence set by their elementary school. The current principal is standoffish and lacks warmth, does not engage parents and loathes to divulge simple information like dismissal times for half day sessions. Likewise the teaching staff, while competent, lacks enthusiasm and innovative ideas. The results are apparent by the way the stusents address the teachers, each other and in how they refer to the school and its pedagogy.

Yet if you examine the school's ranking by objective measures of standards, it scores an A. The elementary school, in contrast, earn a B. How, then could two schools receive scores that simply do not truly reflect what they accomplish?

The answer lies in part with flexible standards. Middle schools operate under vastly different criteria than elementary schools. One is concerned with instilling rudimentary skills while the other startsintroducing analytical ones. Concepts are much harder to teach because in part due to their theoretical nature. One can always argue, generally without success, that two plus two will always equal four. Hence a school which may deliver less in spirit and substance, can score so much better than its more vibrant counterpart.

Standards are the bane and the air of human existence. We strive to create them for coherence but render then innnocuous by the way we bend them. Be careful the next time you look at a standard. It may not meaure what you thought it did.

Through These Eyes

For the first time in a long time I decided to change my look and see the world through unembellished eyes. I cracked open my crusty contact lens case, rinsed off the slumbering saucers of gill like vision enhancers and popped them into my eyes. Oh wow what a trip. I say this because I was confronted not only by an instant inability to focus my weary myopic eyes ravaged by age and astigmatism but the sight of my own face. You see prior to this moment of fright I had viewed my countenance through some real cool frames. It seems that nowadays more people chose to wear glasses as an expression of personal style. Hardly a day goes by without me noticing that regular folk and celebrity alike are defining themselves through signature eyewear. Remember Drew Carey? His frames made his career and just as quickly he was threatened with its loss when he tossed the look for Lasik. What would Christian Soriano of Project Runway fame be without his spectacles to complete his style? Lisa Loeb? Sarah Palin?

Why is it that wearing glasses has become more widely acceptable in a society that craves perfection? We have surgery to improve our vision, products to whiten our teeth, bleach our skin and straighten our hair. Yet somehow the banner of imperfect sitting contently across the bridge of our nose is perfectly fine.

I took another good look at myself. There was nothing wrong with my face sans glasses. But there was this feeling that my face was somehow incomplete without its familiar friend who had provided vision and fashion for so long. Without my glasses I felt naked. Slowly I removed the contacts. Perhaps for another occassion. Right now it's best to stick with the familiar. Mascara isn't the only way to light up a face.