Let the Memory Live Again

We all have them. No matter how much you try to escape, run, or hide, they don't go away. Some make us smile, some make us cry, some make us wistful and some just make us wince. No, I am not talking about Mothers, I am talking about memories.

The other day, my Dad brought over a box of books. The Disney series with read along record. Of course, there were more, but the Disney series made me pause--take the needle off the record. I have so many memories of these books. I had no idea my Dad still had them. I am now hoping to find a record player (hey, I still have Thriller on vinyl, back off, it's a good purchase...like you don't have your 8 track tapes...).

The nostalgia that books from my childhood could instantly cause, got me thinking. What other memories do I have that are instantly brought back...just a few from the last few days...

• The Florescent Light over my Kitchen Counter: Tati (my Dad's Father), who would watch tv and have a snack over the counter, with a florescent counter light on. Perhaps he only did this when my brother and I were visiting, so he could watch us in the other room, but I remember it none-the-less.
  
• Waffle Irons: Nana (my Mom's Grandma) used to make the best waffles using an old waffle iron. Coincidentally a waffle iron was one of the first things I asked for when I had my first apartment. I still have the one my Grandma (Nana's daughter) bought me.
• Matilda: a good friend from college and all our fun times together, I wish we still lived down the hall from one another many times each day. There are so many other things that cause me to think of her as well (Friends, Marlboro Lights, The Go-Gos, Dawson Creek, the list goes on and on)

Of course, there are numerous memories that we all have that will instantly bring a smile to our face, make us laugh, or make us pick up the phone (ok, now-a-days text) a good friend. But there are many that will make us sad or make us angry.

• I can't pass a certain rapid station on the West Side without remembering a student I read to in my early 20s. I often wonder where that little 2nd grader is today. I wonder what the me of today would have said to her drunk mother on the rapid had I been there instead of the 22 year old me.
• After a bad break up, it was a few years before I could return to my college without sadness or a sickening memory. Now, this seems ludicrous to me.

It occurs to me as I type this, that memories are both wonderful and dangerous. They are what makes us who we are and what can tear us apart.

IF we let them...This reminds me of a religion lesson in school regarding freewill. Freewill was how good and evil was explained, how we can love a God, who isn't always nice. Plagues anyone? I can let memories cause me to smile or I can let them cause me to cry. The choice is mine. What I chose will determine not only my mood for that minute, hour, day, but how I move forward or how I stay stagnant.

Staying still is boring...I chose to move forward.

Do Your Pearls Ever Get in the Way of Your Corporate Ladder Climb?

While traveling last week for work, I went to dinner with a colleague from our Manhattan office. Over dinner, we spoke about how we ended up in Human Resources, our field, our industry. We both remained very politically correct, after all we aren't friends, just co-workers. HR co-workers at that. After we both had a glass of wine with our dinner, we looked at one another as if thinking I'd like one more, but what if they don't...My colleague, senior to me, asked the waiter for one more glass of wine, and I, of course, was happy to do the same. No one should drink alone (except George Thorogood).

We continued our conversation and after awhile, my colleague said, is it hard, what you do? I was a little confused thinking our jobs are not that different. Being a good HR professional, she read my confusion and said: In front of me, I see a 1950s housewife battling with a take charge corporate climber in a fitted suit. The only similarity is a strand of pearls.

In this corner wearing an A line skirt, lovely pearls, and fitted sweater we have 1950s Janine holding a baked apple pie...In this corner, wait... how does she climb that ladder with those 4 inch heels on...I think her arm is stuck in the strand of pearls...she's not going to make it...no, no wait she's using the strand of pearls as a lasso to pull herself up. Ladies and gentleman, an amazing show of talent! What's that in her hand? An apple pie?

The first thing that struck me regarding this statement is I have described myself in a very similar way--I am very self aware -- even if I sometimes ignore this awareness.

How do I do this? I have asked myself that question numerous times over the last several weeks. I know I did it, but it seemed more streamlined then. Not as difficult. It's like I am out of shape and practice.

You call this dinner? Traffic, traffic, traffic. This is the Office of Weed Control, have you noticed your backyard? What's for breakfast? Tuck in your shirt for school. Can you review the RFP? Check written for field trip, buzz of Blackberry. Picture package picked out. Executive 0ffer letter drafted. Termination, exit interview. Follow up with employee, Blackberry buzz...breathe...and again...

This week I mixed up my son's soccer practice days. Granted they changed these days the same week I was traveling, but I would have never made that mishap before.

I am not as far in organizing the stewardship binders for my son's school as I would like.

I really wish dinners were planned better. This is a huge heartbreak.

I can drink coffee and 5pm and still sleep at night.

I haven"t been on my treadmill for awhile, but it's okay because my caloric intake is low due to lack of time to eat.

Is it hard?

Yes.

I am still adjusting, still trying to earn that platinum medal for pole vaulting in 4 inch heels while baking an apple pie as a child yells mom in the background and someone else says do you have a minute?

Would I change it?

No.

The 1950s Me and the Corporate Climber Me are friends. They have a lot of work to do, that 1970s me is constantly doing something nuts.