The First Time

The first time I heard Janis Joplin, I was in Junior High.  It was the Summer before my 8th grade year and I was at my friend's house.  She had the Pearl album, Me and Bobby McGee was the song she played.  I immediately had to buy the CD too (I am proud to say with 3 exceptions, I own everything released.  One item has never been opened as it is a limited edition).  I had never heard anything like it:  the rawness, you felt it, you knew, even when you you were 13 years old ("I figured it out at 13 years old...")

Over that school year, we drifted apart, her to her own blues and me to my world.  Two junior high friends would go through situations that year that even at 35 I can't fathom.  But my love for Janis and the Blues would only grow. In my early 20s, I would be the only white person and the youngest by generations to attend a tribute to Etta James' (one of Janis' favs) career (at the time, she was still alive, of course). I am not sure she, my friend, even knows (until she reads this) that she was my intro to this world.

Now let me be clear, my dad played Zeppelin, Floyd (my son, who he is with often sang 4 songs off The Wall for me the other day), Neil Young and Skynard.  He played Joe Cocker, Rush, Beatles, and Stones.  And yes, he played Janis.  But it wasn't until my pre-teen years that I heard Janis.

The thing about Janis is that you feel her, you feel the anguish, the talent, the confusion, the love, the pain, the want. I am often struck by the Sublime lyric that says with music, you feel no pain.  You feel it, people take drugs to numb it.  You feel it in your core and if you don't, you are listening to the wrong band/singer at the wrong time.

I am sure I drove many a high school boyfriend crazy with my love of a blues/rock singer, who died years before we were born.  Perhaps, being raised by a hippie dad and a not so hippie mom shaped me to my core.

Both my parents always supported this love, and when you have divorced parents, them agreeing on something isn't the norm.  My mom bought me books, my dad shared Woodstock and 60s and 70s knowledge.  Years later, You Tube would make many things "viewable" to a girl, who would never see a favorite live. I created a binder full of news articles, play bills, press releases, while I am certain there is far more out there than I have, it's my way of following someone who has been dead for over 30 years, but still lives through her art.

I've seen Love Janis, (of course, I own the actual book too) and I've seen A Night with Janis.  When my mom first took me to see Love Janis, I was nervous.  Who was Beth Hart and how would she be Janis?  It wouldn't work, I thought.  This is going to be disappointing.  Beth Hart was Janis, she was amazing.  She went on to have (last I knew) a tortured life of her own, I went on to buy her own actual CD.  By far though, as many Janis shows I have seen (and been nervous for) Mary Bridget Davies was the best Janis.  I forgot she wasn't Janis, I forgot it was a play, and for a few short hours I saw Janis live.

Throughout my 35 years, there have been trials, tribulations, second guesses, mistakes, love, heartbreak, joy, pure bliss.  I have, for the most part, stayed true to myself -- my passions, my beliefs, my respect and love for myself.  A woman, who was never truly able to do this for herself, has helped million of little girls do it for themselves. Janis will rock on in my house, in my heart, in my soul, because I feel it in my core. 

...And Then There Were None

About 4 1/2 years ago, I saw him.  He wasn't like the rest of his siblings.  He didn't look like a American Bull, he looked like a Doberman.  He wasn't running around playing, he was snuggled up tight in a ball.  I wanted to take him home.

My husband and I had talked about another dog.  Although we didn't talk about it often, we knew we probably had another year with our shepherd (his dog and then our dog).  Two years would be asking too much.  We weren't actively seeking to add to our fur family, but we were not against it.

Arlo came home with us 2 weeks later.  Others wanted him, but it was too late---we had claimed him.  He was a stubborn, cute, playful dog.  He was something to look at--beautiful.  Pounds of girth ran at you when he came -- some found it frightening.  He loved kids and he loved people, he just didn't want you to know it.  He was smart like that. 

Lobo passed about 6 months later.  It was sad, hard, and everything you can imagine for all of us.  She had led a good, long life.  We miss her and always will.

We often joked about how Arlo was either extremely smart or extremely dumb.  It's not fair we said, we can't compare him to Lobo.  Sheps are very smart.  The motto "can't stop, too stupid" was coined by a family friend and it stuck.  Of course, Arlo wasn't stupid, he was actually smart about a lot and just not smart enough to care about other things. Or maybe that was smart too?

This morning Arlo, 4 next month, was ill and laying down in an abnormal spot.  He never came to my bed last night.  He always sleeps with me.  Arlo was sick, he didn't look well, he almost looked...well you know...on and off the last 6 months, our until then healthy dog hadd challenge after challenge (that's HR talk for problem after problem).

My husband took Arlo to the ER Vet.  Neither of us knew if he would even make it there.  We didn't know what was wrong, we just knew it wasn't good. Not good at all.

Arlo's liver was slowly shuting down.  His body was shutting down.  There was nothing the vet could do, nothing.  So we did the only thing we could do. We took his suffering away. My husband was with him the entire time, showing him love and care.  I was home with our son, curled on the couch as we both cried and hugged.  Explaining "liver sickness" to a 9 year old and knowing Arlo could not be helped was not what I thought this Saturday would bring.

Gabriel wanted his cousins, we went to my brother's house for a bit.  It was nice to have people, to not think for a bit.

We came home.  There was no dog in the window anxiously awaiting our entrance.  There was no dog to let outside.  No water bowl to check.  No dog to trip over.  No dog to follow me around.  No dog. 

There was no dog.  and then Gabriel summed it up. 

"God is saying, can't stop too stupid."  --Gabriel

Skip the Self Help Section, Just Read This

I remember being curled up on the floor.  Tears streaming causing puddles around me.  I couldn't get up. It's not that I wouldn't, it's that I was incapable.

That was my first real experience of heartbreak.  Forget what I thought that word meant.  Heartbreak.  My son will now tell you that heartless and heartbreak are impossible, your body can't function w/o your heart.  The kid knows so much, but yet he has so much to experience.

The experience, tears, pain, depression, mistakes.  It taught me a lot, it cost me a lot-financially and more importantly not financially. It brought me back to me.  After all, if you don't love and respect yourself, what do you really have?  Who can you love?

There was no snap to it moment.  There was no near death experience.  God and angels did not visit me.  Instead me came back to me.

Me.  Who was I?  I wasn't this person.  I wasn't a person who was incapable of getting up off the hardwood floor.  I wasn't a person who couldn't go to work.  This was not me.

Janine was a strong independent woman, who spoke her mind and stood up for what she believed.  Janine was a powerhouse, who never went down (Do you hear that Brown's receivers?). So why was I not getting up?

I'd love to say it was an easy journey (don't stop believing...)  But it wasn't.  When you misplace yourself, you are not easily found (and you thought Waldo was hard to find).  But finding yourself is vital.

Step 1:  realizing there are things you can control and things you can not.  You just can't.

Step 2:  letting go of what you can't control.  For a type A, anal retentive, control freak, this can be difficult.  But honestly, if I can learn to do this, surely you can.  Don't believe me?  Have you ever had people sit in your passenger seat, disrupt the order of your glove box, and then stare intently at their wrist watch laughingly counting the seconds/minutes until you can no longer take it, pull over, and fix the contents of the glove box, repairing all to size and shape order.  No?  Then you can do this. I did and this example is a true story.  Multiple times over.

Step 3:  remembering there are things out of your control.

Step 4:  Focus on what you can control.  Really focus.  Hard.  Stop reading.  FOCUS.

Step 4a: there are two kinds of people in your life.  Those you love, who love you. Those you love, who don't love you.  Think about the people in your life.  Where do they fall?  Who can you rely on if your electric is shut off?  Flat tire?  Psycho friend attack?  Hard night with the kids?  Tough day at work?

Step 4b.  Severe ties with those who fall into "do not love you" category.  Don't think more, don't think it will change.  History repeats itself.  Love YOU. 

Step 5: Think about why you keep those who don't care about you in your life.  This can be hard.  You may not want to face it, but you will be stronger, better, and  happier if you do.

Step 6: Release those who are unhealthy, non-supportive, and uncaring from your life. Let go.

Step 6a: Seriously.  Why haven't you yet?  In the words of Janet Jackson, Ms. Jackson, if you're nasty, what have they done for you lately? (this is not to say life is about you, but you have to be about you).

Step 6b:  Mourn.  Mourn what you hoped for, mourn the loss of the unworthy.  But for the love of you, stand up.  Get up.  Walk. 

Step 6c:  Don't mourn too long.  Focus on YOU.

Step 7:  Establish your ideals.  Think long.  Think hard.  Who are you?

Step 8: What are your passions?  Focus on your passions.  They are your heart.  You can't survive without a heart (maybe the kids knows more than I think at times).

Now you know why dance counts 5, 6, 7, 8.  8 is where it all begins.

Dance.  Like no one is watching.

That I May Grow in Courage, Graciousness and Peace

I attended Mount Union College (kna University of Mount Union) where even if a person was not in your major, didn't live in your dorm, or wasn't your neighbor's friend's cousin, you probably knew them. My high school was larger at the time.

My two close friends and I went through Recruitment after the Christmas break. At the time, that was the earliest a freshman could participate.  We ended up in different sororities and yes, we stayed friends: the poster children for Greek life, people joked. At the time, I didn't really understand what sisterhood was going to mean, how deep the bond would be, how this membership would tie me to great women all over the world, how this membership would shape the woman I would become.

Home from school one Christmas, I was doing what most early 20s girls were doing, hitting the mall to spend my hard earned money.  I had a white ball cap on displaying yellow Alpha Xi Delta letters. I noticed an elderly woman get up using her walker.  I think it was her struggle and the look of worry on her younger companions face that caught my attention.  She was walking towards me, I stepped to the side not wanting to block her path.  She stopped, turned to me, extended her arm and gave me the AZD hand shake.  She had gotten up to give me the handshake.  She saw our letters.  It was at that moment that "membership for life" had meaning. 

Throughout the next 4 years, Alpha Xi Delta became a part of my life, a part of me, through both joy and sorrow, Alpha Xi Delta had something to give, I had something to gain. I didn't always see the "something to gain".  Like many of life's lessons, you don't realize you learned something until later.

During a Greek Conference,  I had a conversation with the Greek Adviser regarding a change I thought would be best for our process.  I knew it would not be popular.  She cited " that we may grow in courage" and I knew I needed to move forward. Years later, I would run across the following quote from Eleanor Roosevelt:  "When you have decided what you believe, what you feel must be done, have the courage to stand alone and be counted."  I continue to grow in courage, recently being the only dissent in a managers' meeting.

During college, I was upset, tearful when something I expected to happen did not. It was a huge blow...to my ego... not to my work as I had thought at the time. I vented to the same Greek Adviser, who had moved on to another position.  Tears streaming down my face, sobs coming from everywhere (and as mentioned in previous blogs I am not a crier).  Again she cited The Symphony of Alpha Xi Delta:  "without bitterness or defeat we may encounter misfortune and with humility meet success."  I held my head high and carried on with my day. Years later, I would find out my boss was passing off my work as her own to Partners and Managing Team of my employer.  Believe me I wanted to do many things.  I was not in a position to do anything. I held my head high and persevered onward. I do remember hearing some time later that it became apparent to some that the work may not have been completed by my former boss. Apparently, this particular person was unable to answer questions related to the data, process, and plan during a presentation. I guess she never found my FAQ...I'd stop and pick her up if I saw her stranded on the highway in the rain.  Bitter leaves a bad taste in your mouth.  Bitter is bad for the soul.

Since graduation, the words of The Symphony have come to have more meaning.  Life changes, you mature, you start a job, you lose a job, you end up in a career, you change your career path, you get laid off, you fall in love, you have your heartbroken, you have a family, you lose loved ones, friendships grow apart, friendships end. Words become meaningful, their role changes in your life. You stop taking so much for granted. You shake your head at teenagers in the mall. You no longer spend countless hours wondering why he/she didn't just love you, why he/she couldn't just own what they did, how no one else could see it that way, why he/she will never change.  You just accept it and move on, being grateful you know who you are, you hold your values and beliefs in high regard. You own your mistakes, you face your challenges, you develop, you learn, you move on, and you become better.

I have found peace.  

You Are a Big Sister

I don't remember much about my mom being pregnant, and by that I mean I remember none of it.  I vaguely recall putting my hand on a pregnant belly and feeling a baby kick.  I can only assume that was my mother's stomach and my brother's kick. 

I remember going to the hospital and through a window seeing a room full of babies--all wrapped in blankets, all pretty much doing the same thing.  By that I mean nothing. I remember being lifted up to see through the window and I remember being told which one was my brother.  At that moment all those other babies disappeared and it became just him and me. I can't tell you who the adult was that took me to see him and even if it was the same person to pick me up and point him out.  I can only tell  you someone did.  I assume my dad.

And so it began...  A life that would always be about little brother and big sister.

I had to sit in the corner of the gray plaid couch when they brought him home.  I could not hold him if I wasn't' in the corner (the armrest would help keep his head up).  The gray plaid couch was against the wall, the corner was by the kitchen entrance.  Someone brought him in the front door (my parents?) I just waited in the corner of the couch for him to be handed to me. 

Our parents divorced when we were young and as a result (or maybe as intended) I became the little grown up when it came to my brother. I was always looking out for him.  Even the time when I famously fed the newborn baby spaghetti.  He was crying, I figured he was hungry.  I had no idea even as a smart and awesome 4 year old that he couldn't actually eat spaghetti.  Besides, he lived.

I don't remember ever truly fighting as kids (I mean there were those few times our uncles would get us to fight, but that stopped when little brother could over power me and I suspect when my mom found out).

I remember dressing up in our superhero pajamas and "flying" all around the house.  The gray plaid couch was a favorite launching pad. We fought evil together never even breaking a lamp.

I remember when he would write Elvis as his first name on papers during his 2nd grade year. He'd later buy me my first Janis Joplin Christmas ornament.

I remember when his best friend punched me, leaving a scar above my nose (you can still see it) and my brother pounded him. He proudly still tells this story.  In the dating years, he often reminded me of this story. 

I remember when he was leaning on my aunt's car door and it opened and he rolled out.  I remember jumping out and running after him to protect him from cars.  I was fine. He had a broken leg from the fall.  My mom was not so pleased...and by that I mean not at all.

I remember when our home smoke alarm went off (the cause ended up being smoke from the fireplace).  I remember my brother down on the floor by my bed waking me up to get out of the house.  I remember in my sleepiness thinking he should not have risked his life to get me. (I no longer sleep through such things).

I remember when I started proofing his English and term papers and he started checking my math homework.

I remember many a lecture given to him over many decades.  Even so, there have only been 2 times I can remember seriously being angry towards him.

On Saturday, he will get married.  Luckily, she's already like a sister to me.

Congrats: You've Been Shut Off.

I didn't pay the gas bill.   They shut us off; owed amount:  $98.

There was a time long ago that if the gas bill wasn't paid it's because we didn't have the money.  Sometimes it was very close to being shut off before we got it paid.  It was only shut off once, in Winter. Gabriel was 3 months old. I can still describe the exact outfit, location, and words as I cried into the phone, please, I have a baby.  Rotation was key when funds were low: electric one month; gas one month; pay this 5 days late so this isn't shut off.  It was stressful. It made you feel like a horrible failure, it made me cry.

I didn't pay the gas bill.  I forgot.

Earlier this week, I was thinking about my outfit for my brother's wedding, well the accessories to the dress.  Strappy 3 inch heels, black.  I have worn them a million times to different formal affairs.  Yesterday, I went to get them to take to my alteration appointment only to realize I no longer had them.  They had been worn a million times, since high school.  They were probably donated several years back.

I forgot I didn't have them anymore. I will wear another pair. 

I was doing really well with my workout regime until 2 weeks in glasses set me back after 2 weeks of insane schedule. 2+2=4.  I put off scheduling a dress alteration until I couldn't wait any more.  I was afraid the dress would no longer fit.  I don't use a scale, but I guesstimate in the last year I have gained about 7 pounds. I am only 5'1, it all goes to the same two spots.  It might as well be 30 pounds.  I am miserable about it.

Sometimes I rather just sit or work on falling asleep then do anything else.

A few weeks back I showed up an hour early for Gabriel's baseball game.  I had the times mixed up and rushed us out the door for no reason.

I had the correct time on the calendar, I just never thought to look.

At work, I am always saying slow down.  I coach people to do this.  In the midst of being pulled in multiple directions, I try to tell myself to slow down too.  I wake up in the middle of the night and think of 5 things I need to do.

I log on and do them, afraid I won't remember when I am actually awake at a normal time. 

I'm trying to focus more on me, more on my family.  I have come up with multiple time management improvements and multi-tasking goals (two strengths until current job, which seems to take everything to the next level). I have thought of a few goals to do this-personal and professional.  I was feeling really good about it.

...and then our gas was shut off.

I cried.  Not because I didn't have the $98, but because I failed at something so basic.  A huge inconvenience until it's turned on tomorrow, 20 minutes on the phone spent by my husband for a bill that's my responsibility.  Both of us home from crap/stressful days, to something that was completely and totally controllable that instead just caused more stress.

Just one more thing.  It's always just one more thing.

Somehow, I wish that tomorrow I was going to a meaningless job, where I'd only "work" 8 hours, where I'd take an actual lunch, where so many people wouldn't need me at once, where I didn't feel stress and pressure as constants. 

Where I had to decide if I was paying electric or gas, but never forgot either one.

Things You Can Hear at the Zoo and Let's Make It a True Daily Double, Alex.

During my pregnancy, I walked and ran the zoo for exercise. After having Gabriel, I'd pack him up and either stroller or Bjorn him throughout the zoo for hours at a time, up the hills multiple times. I lost my baby weight at the zoo.

I actually wrote in to a magazine after reading a family friendly places article and they posted my comment re: the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo.

If my nieces and nephew have a say in the program at my funeral, it will probably say:

Aunt Janine, she took us to the zoo and did a lot of crafts with us.

Needless to say, we spend a lot of time at the zoo. My almost 9 year old, can give you directions if you are lost and laughs at those walking around with maps. He also yells sissy train at the train riders but that's another story...

I do not know if it's because I am educated, the daughter of educated parents, who actually spent time with me and taught me, always had a love of reading, or just actually have common sense, but the things you can over hear at the zoo can make you worry for the future, want to slap someone in the back of the head ala Gibbs from NCIS, and shake your head.

Here is a sampling:

Child: Mom, what do you call a female lion? Mom: a tiger.
for the record: this would be a lioness.

Mom at Potbelly Seahorses: that must be the male because his belly is so big. The males deliver the babies.
for the record: the males don't deliver the babies, they carry the EGGS in their pouch after the female leaves them there. If one actually reads the sign by the potbelly seahorses, one would know this. Literacy is important...


Adult: wow, seahorses are so small, I always thought they were larger.
for the record: seahorses are only large in fairy tales and the potbelly seahorse is a "larger" seahorse. Yes, this exhibit is my nemesis.
Child: why is Mr. Potato head in with the octopus? Adult: maybe it's a baby octopus.
for the record, it stimulates the animals minds to have thinking toys, zoo staff can also learn more re: the animals based on what they do/don't do, and numerous signs and info provided by the zoo will inform guests of this...oh and octopus are very smart.



and let's not forget Earth Day:

I made the mistake of going to the zoo on Earth Day once.  Many people explained the crowd being due to opening day.  No people, this is not a Tribe game.  The Zoo is open every day of the year EXCEPT Christmas and New Years Day. 

As if this wasn't enough...

A Boy Scout leader informed me that it's a man's duty to camp and put up a tent and us women folk should stay clear.  Really...because I can not only put up a tent in record time, I can make you pitch one too.  Move out of my way idiot.  Before I show you how good I am with a hunting riffle. Please note I don't believe in hunting as sport.  *you are free to your own opinion*.

I am all about freedom of speech, I support people speaking their minds even if I don't agree (heck half my family has political views I don't necessarily agree with)... BUT don't shove propaganda in my child's hand when you think I didn't notice (oh I noticed) especially when it is full of graphic images.

Needless to say, I no longer go to the zoo on "Opening Day".  I save that for sporting seasons.

Welcome Summer!