Happy Living

Dear 2021: A Letter

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 2 Comments

Dear 2021,

Maybe your mama didn’t teach you any better, but, generally speaking, when you know you are spending your very last day here on earth with somebody, you try to make that last day a good one.  

Instead, on your last day, you slipped out the door with our beloved Betty White, just weeks before her 100th birthday, and you put a hard stop to our fun when you left covid, like a flaming bag of dog poo, on our doorstep.  And just like the dog poo prank, it wasn’t funny – although I do imagine that you are lurking behind our shrubbery, laughing hysterically at the mayhem you created until the very end.

What I want to say, 2021, is “Don’t let the screen door hit ya where the good Lord split ya.”  And that makes me think about the screen door at my Aunt Mary Alice’s  house, a house perched high at the top of a steep gravel hill.   According to my memory, that door always swung shut with a whoosh and a clap that would startle you if you weren’t quite ready for it.

And that, 2021, reminds me how you stole my Aunt Mary Alice (also known as Aunt Mary Blueberry) from her family during your winter, knowing that so many who loved her wouldn’t get to say a proper goodbye.  I hate you for that, 2021.  I really do.

But here’s the deal, 2021: Some wonderful things have also happened recently, and it seems unfair to deny you some credit where credit is due.  

For a few challenging years, I was lost at sea, rewriting my dreams on a slate that was washed clean in a storm.  After some tossing and turning in the waves, after patching up my boat and charting a new course, your winds finally pushed my sails to the shore where I belonged.  I landed at a middle school, where kids who are floundering somewhere between the shallows and deeper waters need a boost to keep their heads above the water. Their legs need to grow just a little bit longer before their feet will find firm ground.

This has been both intensely demanding and incredibly rewarding, and I’m grateful for both the work and the growth it provides.

So 2021, you were terrible. And you were awesome.  

And that is something I have learned from you, something that I knew but didn’t REALLY know until you laid it out on a charcuterie board. (I mean, that would be very 2021, wouldn’t it?) 

Your lesson is as clear to me as the gorgeous water in Destin last July:

WE LIVE IN THE MIDDLE, in the tension of the “in between,” in the gray zone where it is possible for two conflicting ideas to be true.  Where there are sparks flying and there is friction.  

2021, you showed us that we live in that shifting space right in the middle of the tug of war.

Somewhere between what is actually true and what we WANT to be true.  

Between loving people and being disappointed by them.  

Between our desire to trust and our instinctual skepticism.  

Between our spirituality and our humanity.  

Between our need for caution and our desire for adventure.  

Between individualism and community.  

Between silence and a soapbox.

Between loyalty and logic.  

Most of the time, this tension is just the whir of a box fan that’s tucked into a corner, a soft buzzing in the background that you notice, and also you don’t.  But 2021, you turned up the fan dial, AND you left the prank on our porches, and when the *#$% hits the fan… well, now THAT level of tension becomes hard to ignore.  

You were a year of grief, and a year of new beginnings, 2021.  You challenged me.  You left me wondering – where do we find a comfortable place to curl up in the tension between celebration and suffering?  Between recovery and grief?  And is it wise or is it naive to feel grateful even in the midst of terrible heartache and loss?

I’m still sorting it out, 2021.  And I’m starting to believe that joy and suffering are not two ends of a continuum but more like two sides of the same coin, always present in the same room.  Maybe they aren’t competing for dominance.  Maybe there is a time and a place for each of them – or even both of them – and maybe we need to accept that they are realities rather than fighting against suffering so, so, so, so hard.

What if experiencing loss and disappointment doesn’t have to ruin the party?  What if experiencing loss and disappointment makes the cake taste just a little bit sweeter?  

So, 2021, you made us ask the hard questions, like how can a year be both terrible and wonderful, both painful and full of joy, both costly and rewarding?  How can one day taste like cough medicine and the next like honey?  Is something wrong with our tastebuds?

You taught us that IT’S COMPLICATED.

And we live in the middle of wishing it were easy and knowing it is hard.  

You were both the guest we were excited to welcome and the visitor who, as Ben Franklin described, was starting to smell like a dead fish.  But even though you were challenging, even though you didn’t erase covid and quarantines the way I had hoped, I am grateful for the new opportunities you revealed to me and my sons, one of whom is preparing to graduate.  I am thankful for a gorgeous beach, for good health, for an abundance of food, for family, for purpose, for Lola (our dog), and for friendships, new and old.  I am thankful for nature and for introspection. I am thankful to have seen people below the surface in 2021, to have seen what pours out of them when the fire is hot and the pot boils over, to know people more fully, even when that is difficult.  I am thankful to have learned more about myself, my thoughts preserved in writing, like frogs in jars of formaldehyde, waiting to be dissected.

So, 2021, good riddance.  

And, also, thank you.  

I loved you, and I hated you.  And  that’s okay.  

I learned that from you, actually.  

That’s just how it is when you live in the middle.

Sincerely,

Mary Ann

Life Lessons from the High Jump Pit

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 2 Comments
Photo by Morris Watkins, Jr.

This post was originally shared on my personal Facebook page in April, early in the high school track and field season. With track seasons moving into regional and state finals, I wanted to share this as a thank you to my son’s track coaches – and as a reminder of the significance of the PR (personal record). Enjoy! ~Mary Ann

Last night, my junior broke his PR (personal record) in the high jump by several inches for a new PR of 6’2”, placing first in his favorite event! It was pretty amazing to watch considering our memories of his first attempts to clear even the lowest bar just a couple of years ago.

As he was jumping, I heard a stranger further down the fence loudly encouraging him. The man called him “Blue Shoes.” He cheered for him and engaged with him between jumps, as you might expect from a family member or friend. As a result, I met Mr. Watkins and his wife, who have a granddaughter on the team, and who shared their photographs of my son’s jump with me today.

It turns out a track meet is a great way to make some new friends.

Last night, the blue sky, the warm sun, the “catching up” conversations among the parents, the encouraging cheers for every single participant, the new friends, the diversity of student athletes… it was like track and field was wrapped up like a gift and tied with a bow.

It was perfect.

Photo from Canva.com

My boys have played a lot of sports, but the atmosphere of a track meet is different, and I could not love it more:

In track, you can participate in several different events. So you can come in first 🏆 and last 😢 on the very same day.

In track, you can decide to try something completely new in the middle of the season – even though you may not be any “good” at it. You are encouraged to try everything – to voluntarily experience the discomfort of something new, to embrace the inevitability of occasional failure when you are adventurous.

In track, people cheer just as loudly for the last person to cross the finish line as they do for the first.

In track, a PR is celebrated. A PR may be only two seconds faster or an inch higher, and even with the PR, you may have come in last. But you beat your own self, kid! So throw some confetti! 🎉

In track, the kids from the other schools congratulate you. They become your friends. You inspire one another. It’s both competitive and friendly.

In track, the athletes are tall or short or thin or muscular or anything else you can imagine. In track and field, there is a place for you. For every “you” who wants to try.

In track, you didn’t have to start expensive training when you were three-years-old to be successful.

In track, you don’t have to conquer someone else to secure a spot for yourself. That fact alone transforms a group dynamic significantly.

Basically, track and field is kind of like the world I want to live in.

The kind of world where personal growth is celebrated and failure is safe and competition is friendly, and everyone experiences some success and everyone is humbled on a regular basis.

The kind of world where a guy who doesn’t know your name calls you “Blue Shoes” to encourage you and then kindly friends your mom on Facebook to send photos and share in your joy.

The kind of world where everyone is aiming for a new personal record.

So, please, please, PLEASE – try to PR in something tomorrow.

Set your own personal record in anything.

Actually, try to PR tomorrow in EVERYTHING you do.

Be just a little nicer. Help just a little more. Listen just a little better. Learn just a little something new. Waste just a little less time doing something that isn’t good for you.

Because small, consistent improvement creates a significant positive change over time. Each little PR matters.

I learned that from track. Just by standing on the outside of the fence, looking in. 😉

To those who spent many beautiful (and some not-so-beautiful) spring evenings at the track coaching teenagers in running, jumping, vaulting, throwing, and LIFE – THANK YOU!

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.

Confucius

After the Darkness of Winter, There Will Always Be the Beauty of Spring

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 4 Comments
Planting bulbs during quarantine, November 2020

Hey, friends! In November of 2020, I shared this on my Still Chasing Fireflies Facebook page, and the words have been on my heart this weekend as I prepare for my second covid vaccine tomorrow. Nature reveals so much to us in its patience and its promises. I hope you enjoy revisiting these words with me!

From November 2020:

With more time at home this fall, I finally remembered to buy spring bulbs.

I intend to buy them every year, but I always forget until spring, when I observe other people’s blooms with regret. So tonight, with Tom Petty’s voice in my ear, I worked my fingers through the cool dirt.

With all of the bulbs dumped together onto the soil, I broke up the thick clumps of earth and carefully worked to hide each delicate bulb from the light. Gently, I nestled each baby flower into it’s own dark pit, buried each one in its own hole, alone.

And I thought to myself, “We just have to make it to spring, little bulbs.”

We just have to hang on until the sun warms the earth, and we emerge from our holes, and life will look normal again. We just need to be patient. We just need to trust that spring will come. We just need to embrace the quiet and store up our energy and expect to grow.

And imagine…. When all of these flowers erupt from their lonely dark places to dance in the sunshine with the other bounty of the earth… And when our doors are finally propped open, welcoming parties of friends and family without worry once again…

Hang on, friends. Use the next few months of dark times to grow more beautiful. It’s painful. It’s tiring. It’s hard to understand.

But nature is full of answers. So choose to bloom.

Spring is coming…

The daffodils are growing! March 2021

Guess what, you guys?!? SPRING IS HERE! We made it! Tomorrow I will get my second vaccine, just as my bulbs are sending gorgeous green shoots up through the soil. Somehow spring has extra special meaning this year.

While it is certainly tempting to ONLY look forward as the blossoms erupt and the front doors swing open, especially since reflecting on the past year elicits AT LEAST a little bit of pain for most of us, these days between vaccines have been an important time of reflection for me. I’ve spent some time reflecting on what the challenges, the losses (from the annoying ones to the truly devastating ones), and the conflicts of the last year revealed about who I am at my very core. I recently and intentionally took some time to revisit all of my blog posts, all of my personal social media posts, all of my comments on my pages from the last year – and I thought about who those words revealed me to be. Where do I see evidence that I have grown in my faith, my knowledge, my generosity, and my love for others? When do I feel confident that I was I assertive at the right time, for the right reasons, and in the right way, and when did I completely miss the mark? When adversity hits us again – and it will – how do I want to react differently?

I learned several years ago that when adversity hits, it evokes intense emotions, and intense emotions strip us of our filters. In that way, adversity shines a light on who we really are, at our core, at that moment in time.

It’s no fun going through hard times. But hard times do have the potential to change who we are, and in a good way. But that change is impossible if we refuse to look in the rearview mirror, at least for a minute.

I hope that you, too, will take a little bit of time to reflect on the past as life begins to look more normal. And I hope you are as excited to see the spring blooms as I am!

Enjoy the sunny blue skies. Enjoy the colorful new life erupting from the earth. And TREASURE the hugs of friends and family as soon as its safe – and I hope for you that is SOON! I have a greater appreciation for smiles and hugs than I ever did before!

HAPPY SPRING!

~Mary Ann

There will always…
be winter…
But there will also always…
be spring. ❤

Yep. Valentine’s Day is For You, Too.💕

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / Leave a comment

Happy Valentine’s Day!!!

This morning I decorated for Valentine’s, as I have since the boys were little chubby-cheeked bundles of energy who generally left me exhausted. Even though I was tired, I would stay up late and cut out hearts to make the morning special.

My oldest will be 17 in a couple of weeks, and he still smiled at the hearts taped all over the kitchen this morning. 💕

Throughout this week, I have enjoyed all the Valentine’s pics and especially the “how we met” challenges that have been shared. Love is such a wonderful thing! 💗 But I also want to give a shout out to the people who won’t get chocolates or roses or whatever special gifts are on the Valentine shelves this weekend. I want to remind you of a few important things that you already know – things that might get buried in your thoughts in February under a heaping pile of conversation hearts.

1. Love is not a finite resource. There is plenty to go around, and it does not end just because a loved one is not close. When someone passes away, their love stays with you, and it still envelopes you. It is with you, even in your pain and your grief.

2. When someone decides they don’t love you anymore, that HURTS REALLY BADLY – but there is no empty “love hole” inside of your heart. You are still loved so abundantly that the space fills right back up. Let yourself feel the fullness of the love around you. Let yourself treasure the love you DO have rather than dwelling on the love you don’t. Your heart is not compartmentalized. Love seeps into all the empty places if you allow it.

3. Our happiness is actually MORE connected to the love we GIVE than to the gifts we receive. Unlike love, time IS a finite resource. Will you be happier waiting for someone to love you or actively loving on other people with that time?

4. You are not “unwhole” if you don’t have someone to buy you flowers today. You are a complete person, and you can buy the flowers for yourself. And I don’t mean “you can buy them for yourself” as in “you are perfectly capable of going to the store.” I mean you can buy a GIFT and GIVE it – with love – to yourself. Treat yourself, think about yourself, and talk to yourself with love – the same way you would treat another person.

And, hey, an added bonus is that when you get to treat yourself, you always get what you want. 🤣 What I wanted last night was a heart-shaped pizza so that I didn’t have to cook dinner. 🍕❤️ And I got it. That is also a long-standing tradition that I share with my kids, and when they move out, I will continue it and share it with someone else. When life changes, you can still continue old traditions, or you can make new ones. It’s up to you!

There is such beauty in loving relationships that have stood the test of time. The effort and love that devoted couples give to overcome obstacles and sustain their marriages is truly heroic. Love is sometimes the hardest of work. This is not, in any way, a condemnation of Valentine’s Day.

But if a forever relationship is what you always wanted and, for whatever reason, your life did not pan out that way, it’s easy to scroll through the heart pics and spiral into a fantasy world where everyone lives in a gated community on a pink-and-red cloud, and you were never given the code.

That’s why it’s important to maintain some perspective. We’ve all watched enough Dateline to know that the perfection captured in a snapshot has probably been filtered or photoshopped, at the least.

Or buried in a hole in the backyard. 😳

Joking aside, the point is that relationships can be wonderful, and they can be terrible. Either way, they aren’t easy. Or perfect. Or the solution to every negative feeling or problem that we face.

I am thankful for Valentine’s Day and a celebration of a feeling (love), a choice (love), and an action (love) that makes the world a better place, starting in our very own homes. I don’t want to be sad today, and I don’t want you to be sad either! Don’t wait to receive love today… give it, instead!

And remember that life is a journey, riddled with unanticipated twists and unexpected turns that no level of planning can control sometimes. I truly cannot wait to see where my path is going, and maybe even whom I will meet, along the way!

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!! 💗💕

**Hey, everyone! Thanks for continuing to hang out with me here on the rare occasion when I have time to write right now! A friend (thanks, Michelle S!) read this post on Facebook (Still Chasing Fireflies on FB) and suggested we think of Valentine’s Day less as a day ONLY for couples and more as Happy Love Day! I think that’s kinda awesome – because I have a lot of love for all of you!**

When Your Year Ends With Hurt and Heartbreak

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 9 Comments

 

Canva - Candle in the Dark

So long, 2019. To be fair, you had some high points. We shared some really exciting moments, and it was fun getting to know you.

Well, mostly it was fun. But sometimes it wasn’t.

I don’t want to sound ungrateful, 2019. I mean, we did make some amazing memories, you and I, and I appreciate those times for sure. Remember the quiet mornings when we sat with a book on the porch swing at the cabin and watched the sun as it rose above the rugged mountain peaks? Wow, 2019. That was incredible. Or the week when our troubles were swept away with each crashing wave that pounded the Carolina shore? I loved that week, 2019. I really did. The boys have grown and matured, and my oldest started driving – which still doesn’t even seem possible. You were with me when I let go of some old things and embraced some new things, when I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a different woman staring back, when I started imagining a future that I hadn’t been able to envision before. You didn’t spare much time for me to write last year, but you helped me rediscover who I am, take some risks, achieve some professional success, and go back to school. You reminded me that the writing will come, that every minute with my high school student is precious, and that every conversation with my middle schooler is more important than anything else I could be doing in that moment.

My heart is overflowing with gratitude for those moments. I’m thankful for the lessons, the wisdom, and the relationships that we cultivated together, 2019.

To be honest, I thought we were friends.

I didn’t realize how needy you were until you orchestrated such an ugly grand exit. It turns out you were kind of a jerk.

In these last two weeks, 2019, you got me thinking about how I want to be remembered. I want my legacy to be so much different than yours. I hope that the last thing I do is to help someone, to encourage them or feed them or share some meaningful, hard-earned advice. You know, something beautiful that my friends will reflect on in my absence – You heard the last thing that she did, right? Of course, she was helping someone! That’s just who she was! I’m not saying that will happen or that I’m deserving; I’m just saying that’s the legacy I would hope for.

That’s why I don’t understand what you were thinking, 2019. You chose a completely different path – and for that you will be remembered.

That’s the thing about tragedy. It is memorable.

Typically at this time of year, I feel inspired to write some profound reflections on the past twelve months and to shower the Internet with my eternal spring of hope for the future. That spring is still flowing, 2019 – surely you have noticed that I ABSOLUTELY REFUSE to allow any day or week or year to drain it – but there are ominous clouds hanging all over my community this week. One hovers right above my sweet friend’s home, and there is no ignoring its shadow. In our joy and celebration, in the glow of the fireworks and sparklers welcoming the promise of 2020, there has been pain. The deep, dark kind of pain that seeps like oil into every hollow space within your heart.

Canva - Cloudy Sky

Listen, 2019, I’ve been around the block a time or two with some of your friends who’ve come and gone before, and I already know that Joy and Suffering coexist with us on this rotating planet. I also know that we often forget that both are with us, without fail, all of the time. When we celebrate, we don’t invite Suffering to the party; if she is excluded, then we can pretend for as long as possible that she doesn’t exist. And when we are suffering, we forget that Joy awaits nearby, clouded by the darkness. She is a loyal friend, patiently waiting until we can see through the thick fog and embrace her once again.

Canva - Sun Rays Through the Tree Leaves and Mist

As you waved goodbye last night, 2019, even though you left our Worthington community peppered with black clouds and sorrow, I know that Joy was with us as we rang in the new year. Some people felt her warm hug as one year gave way to another. But for those who didn’t feel her presence, I hope that they will trust that she is quiet and she is patient and she is kind. I know that when their hearts are ready, when there is a bit of room where some of the sadness has leaked out, she will slip inside and fill each void. You may have delivered my family and friends some heavy blows, 2019, but I trust that our wins will outnumber our losses in the end. The human spirit is strong. God is good. And dark clouds, unless we tether them to us, gradually give way to the light.

But it takes a while.

As I grow older, every year passes quickly, but for some reason, 2019, you especially seem like a blur. I would have sworn that just yesterday I was sitting around a friend’s kitchen table with a small group of wonderful people getting stomped in a trivia game called Smartass. (That really is the name of the game, not just the name we used for my friend’s husband, who we now know is significantly smarter than the rest of us.) But that wasn’t just yesterday. It was New Year’s Eve 2018. Joy had a seat at the table. And so did our friend Jamey Shiffer.

We laughed and played games and stayed up too late. We gushed about how grateful we are for this community, how thankful we feel that our teenagers found such an amazing group of friends, how our kids were the catalyst for us parents finding one another. It’s a joyful, indelible memory of ringing you in, 2019.

So, seriously, how could you? We were so kind to you. We toasted your arrival. We cheered with excitement when you finally showed up at the party – even though you were the guy who didn’t make an appearance until midnight. But this week, right before we could bid you farewell, you stole someone from us.  You took an incredible husband, an exemplary father, and a loving friend from his beautiful wife and his daughters, whom we love so much. You left an empty chair at our New Year’s Eve table. You sucker punched us on your way out the door.

Last night was more somber, but we clinked our glasses to 2020 around the same table, together. There were some laughs and some tears, there was some joy and some pain, there was some sadness and a whole lot of love. There may have been some loud cheering when we heard that you, 2019, are now gone. There was Jamey’s presence and his legacy – so different from yours – the kind of legacy that makes you hug your friends more tightly and love your neighbors more generously and treasure the time with your family more passionately. And there was hope – so much hope that it spilled out of the windows and seeped under the doors. It enveloped the house and hovered over the street and floated like mist all around the neighborhood and beyond.

2020 Pink

Because here is the greatest irony of all, 2019: The rain from your storm clouds is replenishing our spring. You thought that the downpour would drown us, but instead the heavy raindrops from your black clouds are soaking into our dry ground. They are trickling through all the cracks and crevices, and there is a silent transformation percolating beneath the surface. The pain will gradually – very, very slowly – be filtered from the rest until clear, fresh hope and the purest kind of love pour out.  And what was meant to break us will be given a purpose, a purpose and a hope that will nourish our souls.

Until then, we will keep our heads above water.   We will keep one another afloat.

So I welcome you, 2020! My heart is heavy, but I am happy to greet you and to accept your hope and your promise.  I am ready to prepare for the great things that you have in store for the people whom I love so very much.

And if you are sad today, this first day of 2020, remember that Joy is quietly waiting to slip into your heart.  She will be there when you are ready.  You will recognize her, like a friend whom you have dearly missed.

Here’s to happiness and healing in the coming year.

And to the Shiffer family, and to the other families in our community and in my hometown who also experienced tragic loss, we send you all of our love.

Canva - Cloudy Skies

Canva Isaiah

Canva - Time-lapse Photo of Waterfalls

A Message to My Classmates 25 Years After High School

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 11 Comments

There were 273 of us. It was 1994, and there were 273 of us wearing the same caps and gowns, sitting in the same folding chairs on the same green grass under a blue sky in the same beloved football stadium. There were 273 of us with our own unique talents and ambitious dreams, our own secret fears and diverse perceptions of what our high school experience had been. We were an eclectic bunch, divided by interests and abilities and circumstances.

But for a sunny day in June of 1994, we were one.

When a classmate asked me to write something in honor of our 25th class reunion (which is impossible, frankly, because we can’t be old enough for this), I struggled to find the words to share. How do you speak on behalf of 273 people, many of whom you haven’t seen for, well, 25 years? How do you speak on behalf of the ones whom we’ve lost? What do you say to the classmates whom you never personally knew? To the classmates who are bursting with excitement to reconnect this summer? To the classmates who have never considered attending a reunion at all? I hoped that the words would come. So I waited. And they finally did.

Here is what I want to say to you, my classmate from MHS: You aren’t the same person you were in 1994.

I realize this isn’t an earth shattering revelation if you are the slightest bit self-aware, but in a world that teaches us that living equals running at full speed from sun up ‘til sun down, I’m asking you to slow down and reflect for just a minute.  Who were you when you stepped onto that football field twenty-five years ago? And who are you when you look into the mirror today?

I’m going to guess that you are wiser. I’m going to guess that you are much more aware of the world beyond 208 Davis Avenue. I’m going to guess that you are more knowledgeable, more open minded, more compassionate, and maybe even (a little) more mature. You are, in many ways, an entirely different version of yourself.

And that is fascinating. And also really, really cool.

Let me give you an example.

In 1994, I was voted “Most Studious” by my classmates. (Yeah, you voted on that, remember?) Those votes were based on my grades and… well… really, that’s probably all. Maybe my work ethic was noticed by a few people, but mostly my grades sealed the deal. At the time, it was affirming; I mean, I did spend a lot of time studying. But as time has passed and I have occasionally remembered that recognition, it sometimes feels like a sharp stick poking at my insecurities. In 1994, as teenagers escaping the confines of high school, there was an assumption that being “studious” would lead to being “successful.” And success in high school meant something REALLY BIG AND WONDERFULLY EXCITING. Success was glittery and attention grabbing. It was flashing lights. It was prestigious colleges. It was big checks and huge houses. It was power, status, and control, the kinds of things that make other people jealous.

And I’m here to tell you that I’ve achieved exactly none of those things. Not one of them.

To my classmates in 1994, those teenagers sitting in that football stadium, that would probably mean that I am dreadfully unsuccessful.

Except that my idea of what “successful” means has changed dramatically with 25 years of life under my belt. And I’m guessing yours has, as well.

Because you aren’t the same person you were in 1994.

So how has my perspective of success transformed?  If you work hard to provide for your needs and the needs of your family, you are successful, in my book. If you sacrifice your time, energy, and resources to somehow serve others within your community, that is success, for sure. If you are trusted and respected by the people who know you  – that is success! And if you are striving every day to overcome the mistakes that you made in the past and create a better life – you are truly SUCCESSFUL, my friend.

Success doesn’t mean the same thing to me that it did in 1994. Those grades were important, but they weren’t quite as important as I thought they were at the time. (But let’s not tell my kids that I said this until after they graduate, okay? What is said at the 25 year reunion stays at the 25 year reunion…)

When we were in high school and our circumstances seemed overwhelming, our problems often sounded something like this:

• Should I try to meet curfew, drive around a while longer, or see who’s parked at
Burger King?
• What color spray paint would really pop on the rock?
• Who am I asking to Homecoming, and how am I going to pay for the tickets?
• If I get a job, can I still play sports and finish my math homework for Mr. Miller? And if
I can’t, would I rather have money or repeat math class?
• If I can’t balance the equations on Mr. Luthy’s chemistry test tomorrow, will there be
trouble in River City?
• How fast am I going to drive back to school to avoid a tardy after open lunch?
• What’s the recipe for the glue that holds the toilet paper in the chicken wire at float
building?
• Garth Brooks or Nirvana?

But in 2019, life looks a little different for most of us. Some of us faced some seriously tough times in high school; let’s acknowledge that up front. But MOST of us have experienced so much more than we could have possibly imagined since we wore those caps and gowns 25 years ago. There have been spectacular moments. The highs have been higher than we ever dreamed. And the lows… Well, those have been brutal in ways that most of us couldn’t have predicted at 17 or 18 years old.

When you sat in study hall with Ms. Livingston and daydreamed about the future instead of studying, you couldn’t have known if you would meet your soul mate in college or marry your high school sweetheart or decide to live the single life or survive a difficult divorce or elope to Las Vegas. When your mind drifted between CPR drills with Mrs. Meeks or Mr. Burke, you had no idea if you would struggle to start a family or adopt your babies or choose not to have children or raise a bigger family than you ever expected. When your mind wandered during gym with Mr. and Mrs. Pape, you couldn’t have predicted if you would experience the heartbreaking loss of a sibling or a child or a parent or a spouse before our 25th reunion. When you dressed in a sparkly prom dress or a sharp tuxedo, you had no clue if you would move to five different states, commit to a life in the military, open your own business, struggle to pay the bills, change careers after 40, follow your creative passions, travel the world, fight depression or anxiety, care for an ailing parent, watch a newborn enter the world, or hear a frightening diagnosis. You didn’t know if your own kids would wear a Marietta Tigers jersey or if your teenagers would bleed something other than orange and black.

Collectively, so many things have happened to bring us joy, and so many things have happened to bring us pain, and now, after 25 more years of being human, we have so much more in common – we are so much more alike – than we were when we were handed those diplomas in 1994.

When reunions approach, there are some common refrains among people who aren’t quite sure about revisiting the past.

“I don’t keep in touch with anyone from high school anyway.”
“I haven’t accomplished as much as I thought I would by now.”
“High school wasn’t the best time for me. Why would I go back?”
“People will expect me to be something that I’m not.”
“I have a lot of regrets from back then.”
“So much has happened. Those people wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m not the same person that I was in 1994.”

You know… You’re right about the last one.

You aren’t the same person, and neither is anybody else.

The cliques, the ridiculous ways we divided ourselves up to sooth our insecurities, well, that’s so 1994.

In 2019, we are a diverse group of people with a deeper, richer understanding of who we are and what it means to be a human. We are a group of people with something else in common, too: We all searched for our identities in the same halls in the same upside down high school in the same wooded ravine in the same small town that has always taken pride in its roots. We all walked the same brick streets. We all skipped rocks into the same two rivers. And even though we have ended up all over the world, we all share memories of one special place that nourished our angst-ridden teenage souls.

Hail our Alma Mater.

Marietta High.

If you are an MHS classmate (or anyone else) who is visiting the blog for the first time, WELCOME! Please check out old posts, find Still Chasing Fireflies on Facebook, and sign up on this page to receive emails of new posts.  Thank you so much for reconnecting!  HUGE THANKS to Missy Pracht for asking me to write something and to MHS alum Melinda Patterson Crone for sharing her beautiful photograph!

~Mary Ann

Slow Down and Celebrate in 2019!

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Today I want to talk about Kohls. You know – Kohls – the department store that lures you back after Christmas with Kohls cash that expires faster than milk left in a hot car in July. Who knew a quick trip to Kohls on Saturday would make me rethink my new year’s resolutions for 2019?

No, I’m not adding a resolution to spend more time banking that Kohls cash in the new year, although I’m pretty sure I would enjoy that resolution more than sweating profusely with Jillian Michaels or eating more leafy greens and quinoa.

On Saturday, I was enjoying some rare, quiet “mom time,” just minding my own business and scanning the sparse shelves of Christmas leftovers at Kohls in the hopes of finding the deal of the century, when a voice on the loudspeaker interrupted the music. The voice spoke in some kind of secret Kohls code that only Kohls employees understand, so it seemed a little unfair to broadcast the message to us shoppers anyway, like when a parent starts spelling out words to exclude their children from a conversation they are having right in front of them: “You know, I thought we might go to the P-A-R-K or the Z-O-O this afternoon, but now I’m too tired, so that’s not happening.” Just like the kids, you know you’re missing something.

I will be the first to admit that I have NO idea what kind of reward system Kohls has for their employees, and I will also be the first to admit that I returned something during that visit a few days after Christmas  and this Kohls was running like a well-oiled machine. Really, it was impressive. I didn’t understand much of the Kohls jargon in the announcement, but here’s the gist of what I could translate, with the name changed to protect the employee’s identity, and also because I don’t remember her actual name at all: “Congratulations to Kohls associate Angela who met the goal of 10! (Insert some words and numbers I didn’t understand here.) You did some great work at your job today! You are awesome!” And I thought to myself, “Kohls, that is SO NICE! I mean, I don’t understand exactly what Angela did, but giving her recognition is a wonderful thing to do – because we all know that the people who work the hardest and for the lowest pay are often the least recognized in our messed up society. Kudos to Kohls!”

But then, before the voice had even paused to take a breath, it said: “New goal: 15.”

Ugh. Poor Angela.

Basically, Angela was commended for approximately point five seconds. Then she was told that the “great thing” that she just did wasn’t really that great after all. And if she could do that, then she can do MORE. And more and more and more and more. And that great thing she did? Well, that’s old news BECAUSE WE HAVE TO CONSTANTLY TRY TO PROVE THAT WE ARE MORE THAN THE LAST GREAT THING THAT WE DID.

Now, I’m not bashing Kohls here. I love that place, and I have no idea how this announcement fits into their overall employee growth plan, and, as I said, their processes were operating seamlessly that day. I’m just making an observation that I think is worth considering as we move into a new year and spend too much time this week making lists of all of the ways we are not measuring up. Not measuring up to our own extreme standards. Not measuring up to the imaginary bar set by people who put on a good show whenever they are in public. Really, have you EVER felt like you truly measured up to the expectations that you have set, EVER in your entire life?

I’m also not opposed to setting goals; in fact, I’m setting some new goals this week myself. But maybe, just maybe, we need to celebrate what Angela, who just worked her tail off in the retail industry during what had to be the month from H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS, accomplished for more than a freaking hot second. And maybe, just maybe, before you think about all the ways you need to improve, you need to make a list of everything that you did REALLY, REALLY WELL in 2018.

Because here’s the thing – unless you actually sat on your couch eating Doritos and binge watching Netflix FOR THE ENTIRE YEAR, you did some stuff that’s worth applauding. And for every “failure” that is now being converted into a new year’s resolution, there is the TRUTH that you invested that time into something else – something that may have been equally or even MORE important. For example, I can beat myself up because my blog was woefully neglected in 2018, or I can acknowledge that I invested a lot of the time that I could have been writing in being the BEST MOM that I could be throughout that year. Sure, my parenting is probably one mistake after another, but I made a conscious decision to focus more time on my family, and I should not regret that for one stinking minute. In fact, I would like to invite Angela over so that the two of us can actually celebrate what we have ACCOMPLISHED this year before someone else tells us that whatever we’ve done – no matter how many hours I spent advising my high schooler and sitting on uncomfortable bleachers and no matter how many rude customers Angela addressed with a smile – it wasn’t enough.

So here’s to 2019. Sure I’m setting some goals for myself, and maybe you need to set a few, too, because growth can be good. Stretch your mind. Take care of your body. Work on your relationships. Show love to your very own self. Find inner peace. But FIRST take some time to consider what you did really well in 2018, and throw some confetti around or something.

GIVE YOURSELF SOME CREDIT. Maybe that list of what you did WELL will explain why something else fell through the cracks, and maybe you will see that this was perfectly okay. Maybe adding more to your list of expectations in 2019 isn’t going to make YOU the best YOU that you can be. Maybe just trying to be the best at the things you are already doing or even simplifying what you expect from yourself is the first step to improving your life in the coming year.

And Kohls, maybe just ask Angela to keep on doing an excellent job of serving your customers like she did when she reached 10 (whatever that means). Maybe set a goal, and then, oh, I don’t know, let your employees ENJOY THE SATISFACTION OF REACHING IT for more than a single second. Maybe we all need to resolve to spend just a little more time celebrating our accomplishments than logging our “failures,” which maybe weren’t really failures after all.

Happy 2019!

**Hey, friends!  Yeah, I know, the blog has seemed like an orphan as of late.  But mama is back!  Here’s the even better news . . . I HAVE been posting, but those posts have been on Facebook on the Still Chasing Fireflies page.  Some of my essays (like this one) that would have been blog posts before are now on Facebook because posting there is faster, starts more conversation with our Fireflies community, and gets shared more often with others.  If you aren’t following Still Chasing Fireflies on Facebook, please “like” the page so you don’t miss any posts that might speak to you, and more will be posted here on the blog soon!  Thanks, friends!     ~Mary Ann

 

How the Smallest House Taught Me the Biggest Lessons

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 7 Comments

IMG_4274

“I really have to go, Mom.  Like, NOW,” my son said from behind the bathroom door of my parents’ home.

“I’m hurrying!”  I’m sure I snapped at him.  I didn’t want the warm embrace of the shower to end so soon.  And all of the sudden, I was fourteen again, telling my brother to get lost so that I could enjoy just a few moments of peace, all by myself, in the confines of our only bathroom.

I grew up in a small house.

My house was a really small house, especially by today’s standards. Seven rooms, no basement, one floor, and just one bathroom for the four of us to share. I remember when Doug Stone released the country song “Little Houses” in 1994, the fall after I graduated from high school. When he crooned about brushing one another while passing in the hall, he wasn’t kidding. The quarters were tight, and they grew even tighter as we grew bigger.

My friend up the street had a small house, as well, but she had a bedroom in the attic.  That meant that she had stairs.  I dreamt about having stairs.  Someday, I promised myself, I would have a house with stairs.  I don’t remember dreaming of a mansion, but I did fantasize about having a bathroom where I could shower without someone banging on the door.  And if I could have a basement where I could hide from a tornado, that would be okay, too.

Looking back with more wisdom and experience, I understand that our small house on a small street in a small town was just fine.  It was more than fine, actually.  It was always warm and it was always cozy.  It was never too small to welcome a guest who stopped by, and it was just the right size for a small dining room table where a nourishing meal was served every night.  The love in our house was condensed into such a small space that it hung thick in the air.  We breathed it.  We felt it on our skin.

So during a recent visit, as I finished my shower at my parents’ house while my son impatiently waited outside the door, it struck me that, while my own kids have stairs and a second shower and a finished basement, too, all of those things I had wanted as a child, maybe they are actually missing out.  Growing up in a small space shaped the person I am today, so here are a few of the biggest lessons I learned from the smallest house.

1. The world does not revolve around you.

For the most part, my kids don’t have to accommodate other people too much during their normal routine at home.  If they need to use the toilet, we have three.  If they need to shower, we have two.  If they need a sink where they can brush their teeth, we have options.  If they want to watch something on television, we have two comfortable living spaces where they can do just that.  And many kids today are living in homes much bigger and with many more televisions than ours.

Life isn’t like that in a small house.

In a small house, you learn to wait and you learn to hurry.  It doesn’t really matter how much you might enjoy pampering yourself a bit more or how hard your workday has been.  At the end of the day, you have three minutes to get clean, partly because you are just one link in the shower chain and partly because everyone wants some hot water.  Small houses don’t have huge hot water tanks.  Everything about small houses is, well, small.

When you have one bathroom, someone is always beating on the door.  Always.  And while it’s annoying when you are the occupant and someone is knocking, you have also been the person beating on the door – too many times to count.  So you learn to hurry in order to accommodate someone else, even if you do so with loud sighs and eye rolling, in the hopes that they will return the favor later in the week.

When you live in a small house, you never expect to watch what you want on TV, unless you just happen to get home from school before everyone else does, which did happen during middle school and was kind of amazing.  Then you can watch Santa Barbara, a soap opera that you probably shouldn’t be watching anyway, without anyone complaining.  But most of the time, watching TV in a small house is an exercise in compromise.  You learn to watch things like Jeopardy and Animal Planet and old sitcoms that everyone in the family can enjoy.  You also learn the importance of the win/win.  Yes, you are missing the shows that your friends are watching, but you aren’t being forced to watch football or He-Man or something else that your brother would choose, and that, my friends, is a WIN.  You become skilled at negotiations and learn to stand by your word – “You can play video games for one hour if I can watch Beverly Hills 90210 at 8.”  That’s a no brainer.  DEAL.

A college writing professor once asked me if my parents argued in front of me often while I was growing up.  They didn’t.  He explained his observation that students who are skilled in the art of argumentation were often raised in the midst of conflict.  Nope.  Not me.  I grew up in a small house.  I just learned to debate and negotiate so that I could watch what I wanted on TV.

2. Don’t want anyone to know about it? Then don’t do it.

It is very, very hard to have secrets in a small house.

In a small house, your family hears everything.  They observe what you are doing, see what you are watching, and hear what you are listening to.  If your friends come over, no one sends you to the basement and closes the door behind you because there is no basement.  Your bedroom is close to the living spaces in the house, and you may even share a bedroom with a sibling.  People can see into your room every time they walk to the restroom, and your drawers and closet space might even be used to store things that aren’t your own.  People are in your stuff and in your space all of the time.  But it’s okay.  You never get comfortable with privacy because you never have any.

This can keep you out of lots and lots of trouble.

Our kids today believe privacy is their right, and it’s no wonder that they feel this way.  They have their own rooms, their own phones, their own e-mail addresses.  Many have their own bathrooms, their own televisions, and their own gaming systems.  Sure, privacy is nice.  But privacy is also where, in many cases, we make mistakes that have the most serious consequences.  Sure, my friends and I could have gone to other people’s houses to hide from our parents, but that feeling of never having privacy just became a part of who I was.  I imagine that my small house saved me from making at least a few very poor decisions.

3. If you don’t plan ahead, you have no one to blame but yourself (even if you try to blame your brother).

Getting four people ready for anything in a small house requires military-level planning.  It is impossible for everyone to “pull it together” at the last minute when everything that everyone needs is located in one very small place.  The timing of showers has to be coordinated and supplies have to be distributed so that various tasks can be completed wherever a mirror can be found.  Extra time has to be factored in if the ladies are washing their hair or shaving their legs.  And inevitably someone will actually need to use the toilet somewhere along the line, which can completely derail the entire schedule.

In a small house, if you don’t plan ahead, you may be going to school without brushing your teeth.  Or going to work with wet hair.  Or showing up with your friends only to find that your brother’s friends have already claimed the living room.  Or trying to study while everyone else is enjoying dessert with guests and loudly reminiscing at the dinner table.  Or bringing a date over when your family is being completely embarrassing and there is nowhere to escape in the house.

Kids with big houses will never understand the strategic planning that takes place in small homes.

4. Most of what you think you need, you don’t need.

Now that I have a home of my own, I am AMAZED that two teenagers and two adults lived in my parents’ teeny house and never really “felt” how small it was.  I chalk this up to my mother’s skills and wisdom in managing our household.

My mom shopped from a list of what we needed, and I don’t remember ever buying much extra. If she didn’t have an immediate need for something AND know exactly where she could store it, she didn’t buy it. I can remember my mom declining invitations to go shopping, and this baffled me because shopping seemed fun. She said, “If I’m not going to buy anything, then why would I go there?” She didn’t get sucked into “window shopping” because “window shopping” usually becomes “actual shopping.” And I still fall for this ALL. THE. TIME.

I spend impulsively sometimes.  I buy things I don’t need sometimes.  I buy things that I can’t use now but hope to use later sometimes.  I can do this because I have a little extra room to store things, but extra space can encourage excess spending.  Small-house people can’t just buy more things.  They truly understand the difference between a need and a want.  They also know that buying one thing will probably require them to get rid of something else, and that trade-off often isn’t worth it.  The value of the things that they choose to save is very clear, and there is no need for extra gadgets when another simple tool will do the trick.

My mom also kept our house very tidy.  Although she treasures family heirlooms, she has always been able to “clean out” without getting too hung up on emotional connections to objects.  In a small house, there is just no space for clutter.  Everything has a place, and when things are out of place in a small home, you literally have to move them or step over them all the time.  You can’t stuff them in a closet or in the basement or in the “guest room.”  When you live in a small home, you learn to recognize the true value of the things that you have, to buy only what you need, and to respect your space by putting things away.

5. Get over it.

In a big house, people can hide from one another.  They can remain angry or sad or frustrated for a long time without really dealing with the problem at hand.  In a small house, you can’t do that.  You are going to be sitting directly across from the person who hurt your feelings at some point later that day.  There is really no place else for the two of you to go.

You are going to need that person to let you use the bathroom because there is only one.  You are going to eat at the same table because there is only one place to eat.  You are going to watch television together because your bedroom is boring and all of the entertainment is in one room.  You have to have hard conversations or your own life will be miserable.  You have to get over things and move on.

That’s not a bad life skill to learn.

I’m not saying that kids who grow up in big houses won’t learn these life lessons in other ways, but I do wonder if they will learn them the hard way, from people who don’t love them as much when they leave the safe boundaries of home.  And if they don’t learn to be humble, to compromise, to share openly, to manage their time and their space and their money, and to resolve conflicts as a natural part of sharing a home, I wonder how we should be fostering these skills and if a deficiency in them might impact their relationships and experiences in the future.

My mom was never one to listen to the radio much.  She had her Barry Manilow albums that we listened to instead.  But I remember that she loved the lyrics to Doug Stone’s song:

But you know, love grows best in little houses,
With fewer walls to separate,
Where you eat and sleep so close together.
You can’t help but communicate,
Oh, and if we had more room between us, think of all we’d miss.
Love grows best, in houses just like this.

In reality, the most consequential lessons we learn are often from the little things – the close-up, intimate interactions with people that force us to change who we are, decide what we value, and reflect on how we respond to others.  Maybe more walls and more bathrooms and more TVs and more staircases are making our job as parents more difficult, forcing us to be more intentional about promoting certain values and skills.  I don’t know.  But I do know that tonight I will take a long, hot shower with no one banging on the door.  And, because of my childhood, I will appreciate every minute of it.

 

 

Doug Stone. “Little Houses.” Greatest Hits, Vol. 1, Sony Legacy, 1994

The Homework Assignment Your Kids Must Do This Summer

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 2 Comments

Awaiting

**PLEASE NOTE: If you assign an interview during social distancing during the coronavirus threat, please update this assignment so that students complete the interview via PHONE, FACETIME, or SKYPE rather than meeting face-to-face.**

I have been teaching high school English Language Arts for over fourteen years now.  Throughout those years, I have assigned hundreds, maybe even a thousand, homework assignments to bright-eyed students who have stuffed the work into backpacks and recorded due dates in tattered planners.  I never thought to keep an ongoing record of how much work I have assigned over the years.  But I do have a fairly accurate idea of how many students have thanked me for giving them homework in high school.  That number is somewhere around, oh, I don’t know . . . Let’s just say it is a very, VERY low number.

And I get it.  Nobody likes homework, especially when the skills that are being practiced may not always seem relevant to a teenager’s life in the present.  Most sixteen-year-olds, even the most diligent and scholarly, would rather be sleeping, eating, or dating than writing a detailed literary analysis for me, and I understand this.  Plus, I live with my own tween/teen boys, and I am fully aware that we are all smarter as teenagers than we will be at any other point in our lives.

But some assignments are different, and I want to tell you about one of them.  I receive actual thank you notes from my students for assigning this senior citizen interview project.  EVERY.  SINGLE.  TIME.  It is an incredible way for your child to disconnect from technology, practice face-to-face communication skills, and LEARN really important historical information.  It can strengthen family relationships and may even help students retain some academic skills over the summer.  Students of all ages can participate.  I encourage YOU to assign your own children or grandchildren this project over the summer months.

Now that I’ve gotten you really excited about this project, you may be expecting your kids to feel excited about this, too.  Maybe they will cheer and give you warm bear hugs when you tell them that you found this great summer homework idea on a random teacher’s blog on the Internet!  This is not going to happen.  My teacher experience tells me that your kids may make some unhappy grumbling sounds or mumble something indiscernible under their breath or roll their eyes.  Or maybe they will do all three while also shaking their heads as if you are a total disgrace to parents everywhere.  This is a perfectly normal reaction.  Do not surrender!  The “thank you” will come later.  I promise.

You won’t regret this.  Just trust me.  Or trust Adam, one of my amazing students:

Grandma Adam B

Or believe Amarah, another one of my incredible students:

My Grandmother by Amarah

I even completed this project myself after assigning it to my students several years ago.  I interviewed my own grandmother using the original assignment, which led me to continue calling her to ask her more questions that had not been on the list.  Eventually this morphed into a binder that included my grandmother’s answers, my family’s special personal memories, photos, and recipes compiled as a gift for my grandmother for Christmas.  I read through that book this morning while preparing this blog, and it remains one of my favorite gifts and keepsakes ever, especially now that my grandmother has passed.

Dear Grandma

So let’s get this homework assignment started!

Step 1:

Schedule a time for your children to interview a senior citizen.  I encourage my students to choose a family member if possible, but I know that this isn’t possible for everyone.  Interviewing an older friend or neighbor will also be very educational.  Older generations, like great-grandparents, have even more historical details to share, so do not overlook them when choosing someone to interview.

Your children should ask permission to interview this person, meet when it is convenient, and explain that the person is free to share as much or as little as she feels comfortable.  Audio or video recordings are wonderful keepsakes, but only if the senior citizen approves.  This year, a student submitted her interview as an audio recording instead of in writing.  I was going to ask her to transcribe it for me, but before I knew it I had listened to the full twenty-six minutes!  (I had over 100 to grade, so assessing audio recordings was not time efficient.)  Listening to her interact with her grandfather was incredibly engaging.  You could literally hear their admiration for and understanding of one another growing as they talked.

(Note: If your children see their grandparents often, they are likely to say that they already know their grandparents very well.  Ignore this.  I knew my grandmother well, but I did not know that she pole vaulted in high school!  My grandma did that?  NO WAY!  My students ALWAYS say they learned new information, even students who live with their grandparents.  Think about your normal conversations.  We typically don’t dig very deeply into personal details.)

Step 2

Choose questions.  I usually provide a list of questions for my students to pick from based on what they already know about their senior citizen.  For example, asking about how weddings and marriage have changed can spark a very interesting conversation with some interviewees, while that question might be too painful for others.  Help your children choose appropriate questions.  I’m adding extra questions here beyond what I use with my students so that you have plenty to choose from.

Encourage your children to ask follow-up questions or to ask for more explanation.  This is a great conversational skill to learn!

This list has been edited and revised multiple times since 2001, so I don’t recall which questions I created, which ones I added from other sources, and which ones were from the original assignment created by a teacher at A.L. Brown High School in Kannapolis North Carolina where I taught many years ago.

  • When and where were you born?  How did your parents choose your name?
  • What is your definition of a hero?  Who is someone you would consider a hero and why?
  • What major historical events have occurred in your lifetime?  How did they change the world?  How did they affect you personally?
  • What are the advantages of being a senior citizen?  What are the disadvantages?
  • What advice for living a good life would you give today’s teenage generation?  What would you warn me to stay away from?  What would you suggest I spend more time doing?
  • How do you feel about teenagers today?  What do you like and dislike about them as a group?
  • How do you see families changing in today’s society?  How do you feel about that?
  • Tell me about your own parents.  What impressed you about them?  How were they similar to and different from parents today?
  • If you could change one thing about society today, what would it be?  Why?
  • What are a few of the most memorable aspects of your childhood?
  • What was your favorite toy as a child?  Why?
  • Share a holiday memory from your childhood.
  • What kind of entertainment did you enjoy when you were a teenager?
  • What does being an American mean to you?  What is the greatest responsibility of being an American?  What is the greatest privilege?
  • How was your parents’ culture a part of your childhood?  Did you have any special traditions or recipes that were tied to your ancestry?  Did you share these with your children?
  • What are the most significant changes that you have seen in society throughout your lifetime?  Do you consider these changes to be positive or negative?
  • How has your own perspective on life changed since you were a teenager?  Why?
  • What was your wedding like?  How was it different from weddings today?  How long have you been married, and how old were you when you got married?
  • What advice would you give a couple that is just starting their marriage?
  • What advice would you give a teenager who is starting to date?
  • How much have prices changed since you were a teenager?  How much did a gallon of gas cost?  A new house?  A new car? A candy bar?  How much did your first job pay?
  • What is the one rule of life that you live by and that has guided your actions?  Why?
  • What is the best gift that you ever received?  Why is it memorable?
  • Describe any memories of wartime that you have.
  • How did you spend your free time when you were a child?  Do you think kids today are lucky or unlucky to have their own televisions, computers, and cell phones?
  • If you had a chance to do something that you have not yet done in life, what would it be?  Why?
  • How have schools and education changed since you were a child?
  • When you were a kid, who did you look up to?  Why?
  • What is something that you remember disagreeing with your parents about when you were young?  Looking back, who was “right”?
  • Tell me about a funny memory from your childhood.  Tell me about a happy memory.  Tell me about a sad memory.  Tell me about a time you were afraid.  Tell me about a time you felt proud.
  • Finish this sentence.  “Looking back, one thing I wish I had known as a young adult was . . . “
  • What advice do you have for someone facing a really hard time in life?  What has gotten you through your hardest times?
  • Are their any special heirlooms that are being passed down in our family?
  • Do you have a favorite song, book, meal, color, quotation, or religious verse?
  • You know me well.  What are your goals and wishes for my future?

Step 3

Preserve it.  Maybe your child could type the interview and share it with someone else who will appreciate it, if the interviewee doesn’t mind sharing.  Maybe your child could use the interview to write a special letter to the person who was interviewed.  As a teacher, I assign my students to write a reflection essay.  I don’t give them a specific topic because each student walks away from each interview with a different takeaway and a different emotional response.  However, students could be assigned to write about several lessons they learned or ways society has changed or answers that most surprised them.  Some students have also chosen to write beautiful poems inspired by their interviews as part of a creative writing project at the end of the year.

Step 4

Show gratitude.  I require my students to write a thank you note to the person who was interviewed, and I encourage them to share their final essay with that person, as well.  They typically walk away with a deeper appreciation for the person who was interviewed, so they are eager to share their thanks.  They sometimes write me a thank you note, as well!  (No more eye rolls!)

Friends, I am telling you that you will not regret sharing this homework assignment with your kids.  This year, one of my students worked so hard on her reflection essay that she revised it over and over again until she felt in her heart that it truly honored her grandmother.  Multiple students told me that they thought their grandparents really didn’t like teenagers or that they thought teenagers and senior citizens had little in common, but they discovered that their assumptions were completely wrong.  Many had no idea how much adversity the senior citizens they interviewed had overcome.

This assignment always reminds me that English Language Arts is a humanity, and that the humanities are important because they teach us how to be human.  Students have left my classroom as better writers and students have left my classroom as better editors and students have left my classroom with better test scores.  That is all very good.

But if students leave my classroom as better people, then maybe I have truly done the job that I’m supposed to do.

Awaiting

Ten Lessons I Learned When Life Tried to Drown Me – Part 2

/ Still Chasing Fireflies / 1 Comment

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Don’t worry!  If you missed Part 1, you can check it out here.  If you already read that post, thanks for coming back!  I know the anticipation was killing you, especially since I am a day late . . . Here are five more lessons I learned when life tried to drown me in 2017.

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6. You can’t change people.

We’re approaching the end of January, and gym attendance has already dropped dramatically since January 1.  In fact, according to statisticbrain.com, 67% of people who have gym memberships don’t even use them.  If you are still plugging away at your new year’s resolutions, kudos to you!  Statistically, you were probably more likely to have been hit by lightning or killed by a hippo, but you persevered!

Resolutions are tough because it’s hard for us to change what we are accustomed to believing or doing.  Change is not impossible, for sure, but it’s difficult, even when we really WANT a change to take place. Here’s the point: If it is incredibly challenging just to change yourself, then how would you possibly be able to change another person who sees no reason for an adjustment in the first place?

Let me say this (to myself) one more time.  YOU. CAN’T. CHANGE. PEOPLE.  You can love them.  You can encourage them.  You can share your wisdom and experiences.  You can listen.  You can care about them from the very bottom of your heart.  But you can only change yourself.  You can play a supporting role for other people when they decide to change themselves.  And that could be . . . well . . . never.  Changing them is not your responsibility.  Thank goodness.  Because you can’t do it.

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7. Grief is like a cloud.

Grief is like the clouds in the sky.  At first, the clouds are thick and heavy, and very little light slips through.  The days are foggy and dark, and time feels long and slow and kind of blurry.  Fortunately, as the weeks pass by, the clouds break up and the sunbeams win.  Brightness, clarity, and sunshine become normal again.  The clouds become lighter and fluffier, and they blow by gently, and sometimes you don’t even notice them at all.  Some days there is not a single cloud, just a bright blue sky, and those sunny days are more magnificent than they ever were before.

But clouds always return.  They always blow in and out of the sky.  They are smaller and farther between, but they are never really gone.

Sometimes you can feel a storm cloud rolling in before you see it, like older people say they feel the rain in their bones.  Other times, a single dark cloud surprises you.  It shows up out of nowhere in the middle of a clear blue sky.  You are having a picnic or swimming in the pool, playing with your kids or laughing with friends, and you unexpectedly find yourself running for cover.

But the sunny days, after a while, far outnumber those sprinkled with clouds.

There is no timeline for grief, no good way to measure or explain it.  Be patient with friends who have experienced a loss. It’s okay for you to ask them how they are doing, even after time has passed.  You aren’t going to remind them of something that they have forgotten.  Most likely, there is still at least one cloud in their sky, and they might appreciate that you recognize that.

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8. Your value does not depend on your success or your failure.

After several disappointing team losses recently, my son was feeling defeated as an athlete.  I could see it.  He didn’t need a lecture on how to improve his skills or a play-by-play account of the team’s mistakes. He already knew that stuff, and I’m not his coach.   What he needed from mom was encouragement.

We talked about the season and his goals and his improvements.  We talked about some camps and some training he might like.  But his disappointment was heavy, despite his usual resilience.  I wasn’t really sure what else to say.  And then these words spilled out of my mouth, “I know disappointment is hard, but do you know what would make this experience really tragic?”

He raised his eyebrows and looked up from his phone.

“If your value as a person were actually tied to your wins and your losses.”

I don’t really know where that came from, but my first thought was, DANG, THAT was some good parenting!  Yes, I nailed it!  Then my throat tightened just a little bit because the message was also convicting.  Because sometimes I forget that my own value as a human being isn’t tied to what I do for a living or what I have in the bank or who likes me or how many mistakes I’ve made or what I mark off my to-do list each day.

The fact that I am losing my job does not diminish my personal value. Yes, teaching is very important to me, and, yes, I love helping teenagers, and, yes, I am proud of what I have accomplished over the past fourteen years, but my job does not determine my value.

The fact that I am going through a divorce does not diminish my personal value. Yes, it dramatically changes what I imagined for the future, and, yes, it has been a painful experience, and, yes, family is incredibly important to me, but my relationships do not determine my value.

The fact that some people don’t enjoy my writing does not diminish my personal value.  Yes, rejection stings, and, yes, I wish everyone liked me, but what other people think does not determine my value.

Your value, the true measure of who you are, is separate from your parenting, your marriage, your friendships, your job, your hobbies, your paycheck, and your successes. Every one of those things can be stripped away from you, yet you would still BE.

You.  Would.  Still.  Be. 

And if that leaves you wondering where your value actually comes from, maybe it’s time to slow down and reflect on who you truly are and where you put your faith and what that really means.

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9. The opinions of other people matter.  Sometimes.

When I hear my high school students say things like, “I don’t really care what people think,” or “Other people’s opinions don’t matter to me,” or “Nobody is going to tell me what to do,” that can usually be translated into “I am making some very poor life choices right now.” The reality is that I rarely hear those words strung together by students who are experiencing success at school and in life at that moment.

But I specifically remember one girl in my English class who wrote that whenever she makes a decision, she asks herself what her Aunt Diane would do.  Her Aunt Diane’s opinion matters.  She trusts it.  Every person needs an Aunt Diane.

There are people in our lives who play an important role in encouraging us to make the best decisions and in holding us accountable when they see danger lurking around us. Their opinions matter to us, even after they are gone.  (My grandmothers’ voices still play a powerful role in my life.)  But there are a whole lot of other opinions that don’t matter, voices that serve only to distract and discourage us, with no true concern for our well being at all.  There are people who don’t even know us and people who have not earned our trust that complain, criticize, and try to convince us to give up on the good things we are doing.  It’s so important to discern the opinions that matter from the opinions that don’t.

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10. Bravery is not what people think it is.

The bravest people I know do not fit the image of bravery that American culture has created. We like to associate bravery with physical strength and tough words and a lust for adventure,  but brave people are often quiet and humble.  They often suffer and sacrifice in ways that other people don’t even notice.  And bravery doesn’t always sound like we expect.  Saying “I am not perfect” is braver than saying “I don’t make mistakes.”  Saying “I was hurt by what you did” is braver than saying “That didn’t matter to me.”  Saying “I made a mistake” is braver than saying “I don’t see a problem.”  Saying “I can relate to how you feel because this happened to me” is braver than saying “Call if you need me.”  Saying “Actually, life is hard right now” is braver than saying “Everything is fine.”  Bravery can be big and loud, but it can also be quiet and unassuming.  Be sure to notice and appreciate (and maybe even try to experience) both kinds.

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Thanks so much for reading this post, sharing the blog with friends, and weathering the storms of life together!  (We all need a village, right?  Don’t tell me you forgot #1 already!)  Here’s to hoping, but not expecting, to win the lottery in 2018!

*Pictures created using Bitmoji.

Join the conversation!  Which of these ten lessons resonated with you the most?  Comment below or on the Still Chasing Fireflies Facebook page!