Basic Vs. Extra

 “Desire, burning desire, is basic to achieving anything beyond the ordinary.”

---Joseph B. Wirthlin

Remember when “beyond the ordinary” was exciting? This has not been an ordinary year. We flew past ordinary back in April, but as it turns out that’s not always a positive accomplishment. Nothing about 2020 has been basic, but in talking about it with some friends, I found that the word “basic” has a different meaning with younger people, and the opposite of it, is “extra.” These are two very distinct conditions and it was eye opening to see what they mean. 

In a nutshell, I learned that basic is a term often applied to people and the clothing and accessories they have. It’s a look, sort of, and somewhat of an attitude as well. It’s also mostly applied to young women, usually by other young women. Yes, mean girl catty drama is still around, in some places. It might have changed since my high school days, but the cool table is still very much a thing, and there are those who would say no basic girl is ever going to sit at it. That’s rubbish of course, but it was fascinating to hear what the concepts of basic and extra involve for some of us.

Basic can mean that someone has a rather generic look. Jeans, sheepskin short boots, long sweaters, and a coffee card that’s always loaded with enough cash to get a pumpkin spiced latte. In the summer it’s jean shorts, sheepskin boots (Ya I don’t get it either), a hair scrunchy and an iced acai tea. The opposite of basic is called being “extra.” Normally, you’d think extra is good, right? It’s about being above and beyond the baseline, so who doesn’t want to shoot for that? Who wouldn’t want to be more than basic? As it turns out, being extra has a downside as well. 

Extra has the connotation of being over the top. Too much, too loud, too big, too…something. Remember a few years ago when wearing an arm load of jingling charm bracelets was a thing? From what I learned, it’s not a good look anymore. Wearing more than one or two bracelets makes you extra. Brand names are an indicator as well. We all know what the trendy brands are in clothing; the right winter parka with the little patch, the designer purse, the plain, white, flat sneakers that must always stay perfectly white. Those are hot items, but if you have all of them on at once? You risk being extra. Therein lies the problem. No one seems to want to be basic, and yet, taken too far, trends can put you into the dreaded extra category. What about in between though? What’s in the middle? Is there a magic zone of just enough extra to keep from being basic?

I have no idea. Which is a trend in itself, especially this year. At my age, and in this time, basic and extra are far too complex to worry about. Not just in a fashion sense; that ship has sailed, if my shirt is clean and my jeans fit, it’s a look that works. Honestly, that’s how it should be at any age, right? Why are these two ends of the spectrum so important? We’re slowly limping to the end of a year that has been way too extra. Too much drama, too many arguments, too much heartache, and not nearly enough compassion, laughter, and understanding. Before this year, we all thought that going to a movie on a Friday night, or having a cookout with friends were all just regular events that were part of our ordinary, basic lives. 

And then it all went away. 

As we come back from that (in a two steps forward one step back kind of way) we can start to see that having a drink with a friend, or seeing a movie in a theater would be the best kind of extra ever. That a pair of winter boots, or the right kind of beverage, are not the indicators some think they are, but are rather just boots and a coffee. What is extra now is getting to see family and friends around a holiday table. Extra is a meal brought to your tableside, not the curbside. Scoring a mega roll package of the good toilet paper is extra. It’s a whole other debate now between being extra or basic. If there is one part of the pandemic that’s a positive, it’s that we’ve all (ok, most of us) come to appreciate some of what we previously thought was just, well, kind of ho-hum. Who cares what kind of boots or jeans you have on, if you get to sit with a friend over meal, you win. We’re almost at the end of this very extra year, but in the meantime, the basics are what I’m betting will carry me through to whatever comes next. Happy almost New Year. 

(YouTube video of the 2012 Ball Drop, it was a good year :) )

Moments, Not Days...

 “We do not remember days, we remember moments.”

---Cesare Pavese

Are we there yet? This column will publish on December 17^th, which is the 352^nd day of 2020. It might feel more like the 4, 352^nd day, but that’s a pandemic for you. The days blend together because so much of our structure is gone. Friday night used to be date night, maybe dinner and a movie; now it’s takeout and Netflix. Thursdays were often “thirsty,” and it was common to meet someone for a beer after work. Now, more than a few of us are drinking alone, and that’s problematic in a lot of ways. For many, Sunday mornings meant church services and brunch. Now it’s another Zoom log on, a little web worship and a bowl of cereal.

For so many this year, the memories might be more about small moments, rather than big days. This pandemic didn’t last just a day, or even a week. It’s still here. It’s not like Pearl Harbor; there is no one date that will live in infamy, but rather several moments over the course of several months, and each person will have a different set of memories of this time. When major world events happen, everyone seems to remember where they were and what they were doing when they heard about it. My father would tell me often about his mother calling him in from a backyard game of kickball on a Sunday afternoon after hearing a bulletin on the radio that the war had begun. My mother remembers getting laundry ready to hang on the line while an emotional and almost speechless Walter Cronkite announced the assassination of the President on live television. I remember being 8 ½ months pregnant, running errands and chasing after an active three-year-old on September 11, 2001 when the first of four planes attacked the United States. 

These were all days that we remember, but the pandemic doesn’t really have a day. It’s been an ongoing event, stretched out over months and months of uncertainty. Much like the virus itself, pinning it down is difficult. Do we use the date the first US case was diagnosed? The date we surpassed 10,000 cases? The date with the highest death toll? Unlike a bombing or an assassination, a pandemic isn’t just one action, on one day, in one place. It’s so much more, and it’s still happening. So much for the “Just watch, after November 3^rd it will just go away” theory, right? We don’t seem to define the passage of time by days anymore, it’s about which step of which phase we are in, and whether we are moving into the next one or falling back to a previous one. It’s like a game of Chutes and Ladders but we’re all losing in very individual ways. Jobs, loved ones, homes, family vacations, and holiday get-togethers have all been lost these past months; that’s a lot of moments and not all of them are ones we will treasure.

As many do at this time of year, I’m thinking back to all that’s happened and while no particular day stands out, there are moments that will stay with me forever, but I have no idea of the dates any of them occurred. There was the time I spent 45 minutes in line outside the supermarket, chatting with a nurse from Salem hospital who was telling me about the shortages of masks, gowns and gloves and how she feared what could happen if cases continued to go up. Another moment happened when I heard a friend had passed away from the virus, and how chilling it was to realize it wasn’t just other people; my people were in danger too. There was the day my daughter learned that her high school track career was over and there would never be another meet, another team dinner or another chance at getting to states. Thankfully, not all of the moments of this past year are awful. I celebrated when friends who had trouble getting home from Italy finally got back safely. When we stepped on the field, safely distanced, for a high school commencement ceremony it seemed the first time that there was a teeny bit of hope for a return to normal. When I sat at a newly-created sidewalk café and had a glass of wine while listening to the ocean waves on the beach across the street it was a small moment of joy after several difficult days of lines and shortages.

It’s been, for the most part, an awful year. Everyone has had their mini-meltdowns, cranky times, and frustrations. For most of us though, if we really think about it, woven in among those times there have been a few small victories, a couple of moments that had us stopping, for just a second, to revel in them. Perhaps the pandemic has shown us that nailing something down to a specific day isn’t the point? If we step away from the calendar, and just reach back in our memory, we may find moments that lifted us up and carried us through dark days. Ive spent more nights than I can remember curled up with my pug Penny, and those moments have carried me through. The pandemic will pass, but these moments will always be here. We shouldn’t ever forget them. 

Small Cheer and Great Welcomes

 “Small cheer and a great welcome makes a merry feast.”

---William Shakespeare

It’s Thanksgiving, but no one is cranking up a chorus of “We gather together…” Gatherings this year will be much smaller. There’s no high school rivalry football game, no Powderpuff game, and probably no honking horns racing around town. Wait, can we still have the honking horns and kids in cars? Please? Windows open, masks on, can we at least have one tradition remain a little bit the same? 

Traditions comfort us because they’re familiar. A tradition is an anchor to our past and a harbinger of hope for the future. We need to know that a holiday with family and friends, or a celebration of faith, or even just a birthday or anniversary party, will be a constant. The problem is that the only constant is change, and while many of us will still have a nice dinner, and maybe see a few loved ones, this year is going to be unlike any other year. 

There is so much that won’t be happening in the same way this year. Families that are used to having 25 people around a table are likely not going to be able to do that. Going “over the river and through the woods” might be more like going over the Internet and through the Zoom. One friend of mine normally cooks for about thirty people on the holiday, and her numbers are down to six. She said it’s been hard to scale back, because she’s just used to picking out the fattest Butterball birdzilla she can find in the grocery store. Her list in the past has included a dozen loaves of stuffing bread, fifteen pounds of potatoes, a vat of gravy that a small child could swim in, and more pies than should be allowed. 

Travel isn’t happening much this year either. The TSA numbers show that at this time last year there were between 2 and 3 million passengers in airports across the country. This year? It’s less than a million. That means that there are more than likely a few of our neighbors that are looking at  empty chairs around the table. It’s not just about the logistics of scaling back grocery trips and meal prep; what’s missing is more than a couple of pies and some extra gravy. 

There’s no way to change it, no way to make this virus just disappear, so we can carry on with serving mass quantities of food and crowding around the kitchen for clean-up duty. This is the hand that’s been dealt this year. Nothing has been traditional, nothing has been the same and there’s no way around it. So, since we cannot change the way this holiday is going to go, what can we do? Here are a few suggestions I’ve heard from friends.

1. Go rogue. Do something you’d never have thought to do because it wasn’t part of your tradition. Ever wanted to have a prime rib roast on Thanksgiving instead of turkey? Do it. Also, I have a great recipe for one, so call me if you want to try it. If your tradition is to go to a game as a family, take a walk on the beach instead. Not enough people for a touch football in the yard? Get out last summer’s cornhole set and start tossing. Is there a more perfect game for social distancing? The boards are supposed to be placed 27 feet apart, front to front. The only real danger is getting beaned in the head with a bag.
2. Give someone else a bit of “small cheer.” Bake the three dozen cupcakes or cookies you would have had on your table and drop them around to the neighbors. A little Tupper full of cookies, with a nice note just might make someone’s day. For the record, I like chocolate chip and snickerdoodles, but I’m not picky and surprise treats are always welcome.
3. Reach out and touch someone. No, not with your gooby snoogery hands, but with that little thing we all carry around or have in the house. You know, a phone? Cousin Edna couldn’t come dinner? Giver her a ring. You miss your grandparents? Well, unless you are trapped under something heavy, or you live off the grid, pick up the phone. It doesn’t have to be FaceTime, or a video chat, or some live streamed event, just hit the digits and tell someone you’re thinking of them. 

Nothing will be the same this year, and that cannot be helped. So, like the song says, “Love the ones you’re with.” 

It’s a business theory, but if something is in very short supply (loved ones nearby) and in very high demand (our traditions) it becomes very valuable. The small cheer we offer each other is that much more precious because it’s so limited. Thanksgiving isn’t cancelled, it’s just downsized, but welcomes can still be great, and the feast will still be merry. Happy Thanksgiving

 to you all. 

Who's The Bigger Fool?

 “The only fool bigger than the person who knows it all is the person who argues with him.”

---Stanislaw Jerzy Lec

Are we there yet? Well, I guess to know that, we'd have to know where "there" is. Recently, that depends on who you talk to, and where they are in relation to where you are. Have I lost anyone yet? No worries, we're all wandering a bit, trying to figure out which way to go. The election is over, so why don't we have a clear path? COVID is still around, but wasn't it supposed to be gone by now? Why is everyone either red-faced and mad as hell, or dancing in the street?

OK, enough questions. These last days before the end of 2020 seem to be dragging along, and that is probably why none of us can agree on anything. It’s like we’ve all been cooped up at the Registry of Motor Vehicles, with ticket stubs clutched in our hands, but the screen never spits out our number. For many, 2020 has been like a hellish game of BINGO, where your card’s on fire, your tablemates are cheating, and the numbers are being called out on a bad PA system that makes it sound like the adults in a Charlie Brown special. Everyone seems to feel like we’re living in a snow globe that someone’s cat keeps randomly knocking off a high shelf.  No one can figure out what to do about it, because we all think that our way is the only way, our truth is the truth, and oh yeah, we’re still wearing masks and lining up for paper towels. It’s a recipe for disaster, and haven’t we had enough of that this year?

Normally I am not one to shrink from any kind of debate. My father used to tell me that given enough time, I could talk a dog off a meat wagon. Lately, though, I can't get my own dog, who is a vegetarian, by the way, to quit pooping in my shoes. She's house trained and everything, but she too seems to have just decided that her way is the only way and anyone who doesn't like it better keep their shoes on a high shelf. I’ve had it with trying to convince anyone of anything. So many of us are just at each other’s throats. I see it in traffic, which seems even worse than the normal Masshole behavior, it happens in the grocery store, or the pharmacy, and it's like we need referees with striped shirts and whistles, just to run a few errands. 

Recently, someone I know was talking about something political, which I don’t need to go into here, and as I was listening and figuring out how to reply and what my arguments would be, I thought, "Um…no, it's so not worth it." So, I nodded and muttered something about how everything is so topsy-turvy now, what can you do, just gotta keep going. Then it hit me. I used the words “topsy-turvy” and made meaningless chit chat. It’s like I had turned into someone’s dotty Aunt Helen, stuck in the corner at the holidays, mumbling into her canned salmon salad. Are those the only choices now? We’re either arguing every point, all the time, or we’re shutting up and wearing beige? 

Here’s where this quote comes in. We all know that a lot of what people are saying and doing right now is, well, ridiculous. We are all at least a little guilty of this, no matter what side of an issue we’re backing. It shouldn't be a surprise; before this year, all it took to make us combative and cranky was a cold Monday morning after a Patriots loss. The pressure cooker atmosphere of a pandemic, however, has kicked it up to a new level. Attitudes, arguments, and bathroom scales (OK, that might just be a me thing) have all reached critical mass, and while I'm no physics expert, something is going to blow if we don't take it down a notch. 

It's not going to be easy for me because I rarely choose to shut up, and beige makes me look like a baked potato with feet, but I’m done. While I might roll my eyes so hard I see my brain, going up on someone who is never going to see it from my point of view is no longer worth it to me. My mental bandwidth is stretched pretty thin, and we're heading into the holidays, which I'm sure won't be stressful at all, right? If you think you know it all, I'm happy for you. Time will tell, but I’m ready to let the clock run out on this year and spend the last of it baking cookies and watching Christmas specials. Cheers to not being a fool, at least for a little while.

These look good, right?

Embrace The Cranky

 “Your wrinkles either show that you’re nasty, cranky, and senile, or that you’re always smiling.”

---Carlos Santana

Gentle readers…or whoever else is looking at this. Please know that I am doing my best, but lately, my fashion choices are not just my cranky pants and my resting “B” face. There's a crown too because if I'm honest, the title of Princess Crankypants is more fitting than just “Nasty woman.” I have the whole outfit, and it includes a badge. 

Alright, it's not actually a badge, it's a pin that someone gave me in college, and it reads, "Do not start with me today; you will lose." Normally, I only wear it once in a while, because, well, it seems rude to always go around with a wicked attitude, but honestly? My attitude is getting worse by the day, and it seems only fair to warn people, you know? I mean, we have warning labels that caution against using a blow dryer in the bathtub and putting people, including children, in washing machines. Honestly, if you are someone that needs to be told this, please, do not come near me. Sorry if that sounds rude, but honestly, if you can’t figure out that a 5-year-old shouldn't be put on the spin cycle, I feckin don't want to know you.  

See what I mean? Lately, it’s not just occasional crankiness. That happens to everyone, right? We all have those days where we are grouchy, mean, and horrible. No problem, it’s human nature, and we can be forgiven for a few bad days. However, one of the things my father taught me was, “Go big, or go home.” Ok, he mostly meant it for all-you-can-eat buffets, the roulette table, whiskey, and pizza, but it seems appropriate for moods as well, at least in recent days. I have a wonderful friend who advises me that no matter what happens, I can always just smile and wave, however, the fingers and hand gestures I use are up to me. She also makes sure to let me know that prison orange is not my color, and that keeps me in check. Thanks, Kristen, you know me so well.  

Seriously, it's just all cranky, all the time. The weather isn't helping; we have the regular Fall rain, cloudy days, colder temps, etc. and it can be a major drag, but honestly even the warmer sunnier days can sometimes find me in a mood. It would be nice to blame the pandemic, to blame the lack of socialization, the tension of politics, and so much else, but no, I have to admit, it's mostly my own fault. Normally, I can take one day at a time, but I saw a meme online that perfectly says it. "One day at a time doesn't work when several days attack you all at once." It’s hard to know how to get out of this mode. What works for shaking off the cranky and manifesting a positive attitude?  

I have no damn idea. Pardon my French. 

I suppose there is some trite saying on a teabag tag or a fortune cookie, but honestly, none of the usual quotes are working for me. Carlos Santana says that my wrinkles are either from smiling or being nasty. Well, it depends on the day, doesn't it? Does anyone walk around all smiles when it's raining, every interaction has been via Zoom, and there's social distancing caution tape over your favorite spot at your favorite pub? No, they don't. And the wrinkles? Oh please, does it matter how I got them? My face looks like an entire flock of crows walked across it, and some of them stomped around because they were probably cranky too. What wrinkles truly show is that you've experienced a lot. Happy or sad, our experience usually shows up on our faces, and, well, it's not all peaches and cream, is it?

So yes, here's to the cranky days; we know they'll come, regardless of the attitude platitudes we all try to believe. Cranky happens; embrace the cranky because it's real. Faking it has never been my way, so today, this week, it's cranky time. Perhaps by the time this is printed, my perspective will shift. I surely hope so, but if not? So be it, a few more wrinkles aren’t the end of the world, right?

Learning From Our Mistakes

 "When our children make mistakes, they are not failures they are learners.”  - Dulce Chalé

Well, if this quote is to be believed, then maybe my children really do know everything? Perhaps, they’re right when they say, “Ya, ya, Mom, I KNOW, ok? Jeeez.” Trust me, the mistakes made by my kids have been learning experiences, but not just for them. Before having children, everyone has a plan. Whether it’s school, potty training, or discipline, there’s a plan. Everyone says it's the hardest job ever, and we nod as if we get it. The realization that we are not even close lands hard, however, and usually comes right around the first time our little darlings screw up. Until that happens, we are all the perfect parents. Trust me though, it will come, and you will learn just how much you don’t know.

It's easy to think you have your act together when your child is toddling around smiling at fifty adoring relatives on Thanksgiving and singing "Baby Shark." No one looks at that idyllic moment and thinks to themselves, "I can't wait until this darling little gift from God is sitting in the principal's office because he went rogue at recess and punched someone  over a game of four square.” Been there, done that.

Norman Rockwell, "Shiner" 1953

It’s not something we plan for, either. You think that being ready for anything means college savings bonds, braces, and banking the cord blood? Oh, no, there is so much more to it. You not only have to provide basic food, shelter, and clothing, you also have to educate them, buy them at least a few of the cool toys, and make sure they are "good kids." No pressure, right?

When you get a call that your high schooler has skipped school to go on a joy ride with a friend, you learn pretty quickly that you are not at all ready. So you rush over to the school because you don't know where your kid is, and neither does the principal. I'm sure the phrase "FML" was bouncing around in his under-developed, teen-aged, pea brain when he sauntered back into school (via the front office door, DOH!) and found me waiting for him. Mom 1, kid 0. It was perhaps not my best parenting moment when I stood in the principal's office ripping my son's head off and asking the guidance counselor for military school brochures. The threat level goes right to bright orange when a mother finds out her child has not only broken the rules but has been caught because he was, quite simply, stupid. It sounds awful, I mean, who calls their own kid stupid, but at least once or twice, they will meet that standard. 

It occurred to me recently, however, that maybe there shouldn't be such a firestorm when a kid screws up. The joyriding high school kid is now a fully grown, gainfully employed, functional adult who is independent, sweet, and still a lover of taking off now and then for an adventure. The last few months have shown me that it’s not easy being a kid. Parenting isn’t the only tough job; growing up is no picnic either, especially now. Our young people have lost so many milestones and opportunities, nothing is what they expected it to be, and they have no way of knowing when or if it will get better. They are struggling, how could they not? If every now and then they drop the ball, as long as they come home safely, is it really so bad?

I'm not talking about dangerous behavior, violence, or other major issues. (In other words, no keggers when the parents are not home!)  I mean the normal, yet distressing moments like a fender bender with the family car, a broken curfew, or an afternoon of hookey at the beach.  Rather than looking at a situation, and figuring out how many days to put a kid on Amish lockdown (no cell phone, internet, video games, or TV), we could maybe let it slide with just a good conversation, a plan for going forward, and some cookies?  

Just ask my kids; it's not normal for me to be this Zen about their screw-ups. I've always been the mom to shoot first and ask questions later, but it's a different world now than it was just a year ago. As parents, caregivers, and adults, we need to find a little grace, a little peace, and maybe a small bit of common ground with our young ones because they need it. So do we. 

Twitter vs. The Dinner Table

"Your opinion is your opinion, your perception is your perception--do not confuse them with 'facts' or 'truth'."  John Moore

A funny quote for a piece that runs in the Op-Ed section, but recently I spent some time on a social media platform that I do not normally use, and it seems that many are confused over the differences between facts and opinions. I finally took the plunge and started using Twitter more, and honestly, it still eludes me, for the most part. It's easy enough to sign up, write a Tweet, and post it, but it's a little more complex trying to figure out replies, follows, and retweets. It's a numbers game, and that's probably where the disconnect lies for me. If your Twitter account has a lot of followers, more people will see what you post. Throw in the right hashtags (those words with the # sign in front of them) and even more people will see it. That's kind of the name of the game on Twitter; you want to get the most amount of people to see what you have to say. Quantity seems to count more than quality, but that's just my opinion, it's not necessarily a fact. See how that works?

The Twitter arena is huge. Worldwide the platform has 330 million users, and 145 million of those are daily users. That's a lot to wade through, so narrowing down exactly what you want to read and talk about can be difficult. I'm following a lot of journalists, but I deliberately chose a wide range of outlets and people to follow. Some would say there are two sides to every story, but I would disagree. There are way more than two sides to every story, and if you only pay attention to the parts of the story that align with your stance, you won't have a complete picture of the issue. I really just cannot fathom not being aware of other points of view, even if some of them make my blood pressure spike. Who wants to live in an echo chamber where no new information is ever considered? Well, it seems plenty of people on Twitter want to do just that. 

My debate skills were not honed online, but rather at home. Growing up, the dinner table at my house was often the scene of some heated discussions. More than once my father would make a point while waving a piece of steak balanced on the tip of his fork around in the air, and getting all red in the face. My mother was the moderator, and when she started clearing the dishes, your time was up. More than once a dinner roll might have been tossed at someone's head, but that was mostly my brother. My father's favorite way to end a debate was to say, "Well, when you can show me proof of that, let me know, until then it's just you spouting off, so sell that nonsense somewhere else." More often than not, the next night would find one of us tossing a newspaper clipping, or a book on my father's plate and saying, "Now what do you have to say?" Truly, it was a better education than any class I ever took.

Twitter is nothing like the dinner table at my house. There's no food, and there's no one to clear up the dishes after a particularly snarky debate. It's also more complex, at least for me. One user could say something, and if another user replies with a different point of view, all Hell breaks loose. Hashtags are flying instead of dinner rolls, and everyone is "atting" each other. That's another part of it. If someone mentions you, they do so with the @ symbol and your "handle" which is your Twitter username. It's sometimes considered aggressive to at someone. Please, many of these users wouldn't have lasted ten minutes at the Kelley dinner table. The names we used had no symbols and were mostly sarcastic. Aggressive, at least when making your point, was required. No harm, no foul was the only rule and it worked for us. 

Perhaps Twitter should be more like the dinner table? Whoever is making the meal, decides what gets served up. Whatever winds up on the plate can be taken or left, and often requires a grain or two of salt. If it's something you don't like, you don't get to decide it's wrong, it's just not what you like. One person's favorite meal is another person's cereal night. Yes, that is an oversimplification, but don't we all need things to be just a little simpler right now, and not quite so chaotic? For now, I will probably stick to just scrolling through my Twitter feed, and not engaging much. I'm still up for a debate, I just prefer to be face-to-face, over something delicious, so at least if I get my butt kicked, there's dessert. Happy Tweeting, and if you want to follow me, that's fine, just don't expect much, I'm still new at it.