Be-Think [Please visit BeThink.org]

Mothers and Daughters; Myth and Meaning ©

Author and Linguist Deborah Tannen recently released a book titled, "You're Wearing That? Understanding Mothers and Daughters In Conversation.” In an interview with journalist, Terrence McNally, Ms. Tannen was asked of the unique relationship between mothers and daughters; the author responded as one might expect. Tannen spoke of what most consider conventional patterns of communication between the two. As I read, I realized, I could not relate.

Year ago I was an avid reader of Ms. Tannen's work; I inhaled her every word. I still think her research is infinitely valid and valuable; however, only for a select few. The few may be the majority; they are just not I. I suspect my own sisters might connect to the conclusions Linguist Tannen offers on the subject of mother daughter interactions. Still, I do not.

Press Secretary Tony Snow Cried. He and I Touched Humanity. ©

This passage is not political in nature. It is about people. When Press Secretary Snow thought of how fragile his own life was, he cried. When a homeless man helped me to recall how lovely life can be when we care, he touched my heart. Tears flowed down my face.
This story is about Tony Snow, a homeless man, humanity, and me. I will begin with Press Secretary Snow. My focus will not be on the unforgivable term, though I too struggle with its usage. Instead, I will discuss what for me, was a more meaningful lesson.

In this day and age of snarky, once known as snide, rude, and crude, it was a delight to witness genuine emotion.

April 15, The Anniversary Again ©

It is almost here again, the anniversary of our first meeting. For so many reasons friends and family want me to write of our story. It was such a learning experience for me, oddly enough, even for them. The tale is tantalizing. While it was an interesting and extremely painful evolution, it no longer overwhelms my spirit. I have integrated you into my heart; you are part of me.

As I said to you on our third official date, “When I look at you it is as if, I am looking in the mirror.” Yes, G, you were my mirror image. You were the black to my white. While the foundation was similar, it was reversed. We were not opposites; we merely acted out our hurts very differently.

In retrospect, I am unsure if you still are my mirror. I am certainly not who I used to be. I do not know if I am who I once thought I was. Currently, I am exactly the same as I was when we met. Still, I am totally different.

I Can’t Get No Satisfaction From Stuff, Or Can I? ©

Interestingly, the topic of ownership has been a frequent conversation in my life, recently. I moved and am working to create a home. We all live in dwellings, a house, a condominium, an apartment, a box, or even [the safety of] the streets. However, few feel their house is a home. I admittedly love a tame, gracious, and refined life. I live in my surroundings. I relate to each entity within my environment and because of this, the ambiance within the framework of my abode is important to me. Some see my work to secure serenity as a waste of time and money. I see it as survival; I am creating a world in which I can thrive.