That's just what we do...

Once my mom was making dinner to take to someone.  Again (insert teenage eyeroll here).  I think I started making the initial squeaks and squawks about "why do they get that?  Can't we just keep it for ourselves? Why..." Or maybe I was a little more tactful and expressed my concern about my mom's busy schedule and did she really have time for this? But I remember she put down her spatula, looked at me and said kindly/firmly "Annie, this is just what we do."

I tucked that one away and have pulled it out now and then.  Who's we?  Women? Mothers? People? Neighbors? Humanity?  And how do we know what to do and what's enough? Make bread?  Have lunch together? Donate an organ? Give spare change?

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You probably already know I'm a fan of writer Kelly Corrigan.  I subscribe to her blog and received a link to a new video today, which led me to another one.  Both (one funny, one poignant) are lovely reminders of just what we (friends/sisters/spouses/fathers.  But, I daresay, especially mothers) do.

I secretly hope we will be friends someday.

Happy Friday!  {I'm heading outside to appreciate our 70 degree weather!}

Maddy in China today: According to the itinerary, she visited the Olympic Park and Bird's Nest and Water Cube.

Attended a dinner with (luckies!) a kung fu demonstration.

For your reading pleasure...

Just passing along some favorite writing I've discovered lately around the internet. 

Oh, the delight of words well spent!

Hula Seventy's lovely written snapshot of her plane flight. Are you a stander or a sitter? {I can't seem to link to her post directly, so scroll down to "flight 749"}

Having had my share of "feedback opportunities" lately, I can so relate to Mental Tesserae's post on frescos, failures, and feedback.

I love Stephanie Kallos's writing (I'm reading her newest, Sing Them Home right now.  When I was starting Letters to a Parent, she was gracious enough to write a post in the midst of wrapping up the editing process for that novel.  Also, it was Stevie who inspired my How to Find Me post. See? I love her.) Her website includes several essays, including the lovely Things Dorie Taught Me, dedicated to her mother.

Finally, have you seen 1001 rules for my unborn son?  Clever and true, with rules both practical (don't use a chisel for anything but its intended purpose; and don't make a scene; and keep it short, lose the notes, and thank your dad) to life enhancing (jazz is for dancing; and be subtle, she sees you).  

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Have a great weekend!

{I'm looking forward to going to see Two Men of Florence tonight}

{tomorrow we have a miraculously free Saturday! Local road trip, maybe?!)

photo via trio of love songs

Elsewhere

...my Playing Big post has seen the light of day elsewhere as a guest post at Segullah.  Thanks, Michelle, for playing matchmaker :).  I've enjoyed reading the insights and conversation it generated, which has made me think about it in a new light.  And, turns out, the quote wasn't by Nelson Mandela after all!

...speaking of elsewhere, I just posted a new entry at Letters to a Parent.  I have loved reading Brene's wisdom on her blog and she graciously accepted the invitation to share her thoughts at Letters.  Keep 'em coming, please!

...my mind is also elsewhere today as I try to prepare for teaching next week.  I'm stuck on the preparations for the third session, which is on Death and Dying (certainly a part of lifespan development, after all).    I have the lecture part down but would love to include some movie clips or book passages to highlight the theories and encourage discussion.  Any suggestions?  I did find a couple of poignant, topical audio clips from StoryCorps: here and here. 

...my kids are also elsewhere as everyone is back in school today.  Doesn't it feel like a fresh start?  I haven't yet made official resolutions but I'm liking 2009 already, even though we're in our shy, get-to-know-you phase.

photo "elsewhere" via flickr

Leaving letters

Today I was talking with a friend. She mentioned that when she was growing up she loved finding little notes to her from her stepmother, J--in her lunch box, in a box of cereal, inside her backpack. J worked full time as a professor and this was one way of connecting with her kids when she couldn't be there. For my friend, the lasting memory was that moment of glee, in finding something unexpected from someone who so completely loved her and told her so often.

Recently J received a cancer diagnosis, a blow to their family world. My friend has decided (in addition to giving support with rides and visits and food) to sneak into J's house and leave notes in her cereal box, makeup case, purse. To give her that moment of glee in finding something unexpected from someone who so completely loves her. Full circle, now.

It reminded me of an article I chanced upon in Esopus magazine about a dad who wrote daily letters to his two children. According to the Esopus 10 website, "exhibition designer Robert Guest has been getting up at dawn every school day for the past 15 years to write a note to each of his two children, Joanna and Theo. Included in Esopus 10 is a sampling of the thousands of letters written by Guest and collected by his wife, Gloria, from lunchboxes and laundry piles." Here's the text from one of them (above left):

"The world Joanna--you can't imagine how beautiful it really is. Think of the different places--tropical islands, snow-capped mountains, deserts of sand, miles and miles of green fields. It's awesome! Think of the kinds of weather--bitter cold - blinding sun - stormy wind and rain - cool breezes - warm winds. It's awesome! Think of the people in the world --black & brown, yellow and red, and white - old, young and babies of each. It's awesome! And just think. You get to be here in the middle of it all. So what do you do? You smile, you say "thanks" and you live! Love, Dad"

Every once in a while, I come across an idea that makes me wish I could go back and start parenting all over again. Looking through a couple of these letters, this is one of those ideas (click on the above photo to get a closer look). What I love about these is that they aren't just about his love for the children (which of course is important) but it's also about sharing his thoughts and perspectives about the world and life.

Luckily, it's not too late to write something, even if it's not the fantastic, letter-a-day idea. Maybe starting with notes or drawings on napkins. Or a yearly letter. Or a shared notebook to exchange thoughts we might not be able to say face-to-face. Or a post-it.

Here's what I believe: Writing it down has power and longevity, more than the earnest lectures on responsibility or the new shiny birthday bike. Those tucked messages to our kids eventually nestle in pockets and fists and musty shoeboxes carried from home to apartment and home again to be pulled out and remembered. Or at least that's what I do with mine.

p.s. This is cross-posted at Letters to a Parent today (but I wrote it last week when I didn't have writer's block).  I haven't pitched/fished for essay submissions to Letters to a Parent for a while so here goes:  Please consider sharing your encouragement or a lesson learned or a belief about parenting on this project, a collection of letters and essays by parents and for parents about the joys and challenges of raising kids.  I'd love to hear from you!

Fan letter

I read the book Broken for You {by Stephanie Kallos) a few years ago and was enchanted by the story and the characters. Intrigued, I looked up Kallos, found her website, and was equally enchanted by her bio, written as "Directions to Where I Am." In fact, I accepted her invitation and wrote one of my own.

Then I had a quandary. I wanted to post my bio but I wanted to give her credit for the idea. Years of both hearing and giving the Don't Plagiarize speech had made me a little nervous about ripping off someone else's idea. Covering my bases, when I posted the entry I (1) credited her with the idea and, just to be sure, I (2) e-mailed her the link, along with my admiration and thanks. That way, if the Plagiarism Keystone Cops showed up at the door I could say I had done everything I could to make sure it was okay.

She sent a generous and encouraging reply. We corresponded a bit. She is lovely and down-to-earth in addition to being a terrific novelist.

To top it all off, she enthusiastically agreed to write for the Letters project despite the fact that she has just barely wrapped up the finishing edits on her next book. (I can only imagine that, after finishing a novel, the last thing you want to do is write something right away. Kind of like running a marathon and then having someone challenge you to run back home, I'd guess.) Her letter features chocolate, music practicing, dealing with "it's not fair!", and her epiphany about helping her sons handle difficult moments. I won't hear (or respond to) "it's not fair" the same way again. Many thanks SK!