All kinds of people come into my mom's shop, On-The-Block Auction, where I work on Wednesdays. They want to know if my mom can sell their stuff on eBay and get them some cash: young people, old people, having-a-midlife-crisis people. Poor people scraping together a few bucks to pay bills or buy food, lots of people who have lost their jobs and are selling their treasures, and uber wealthy people who have closets or houses full of thousand-dollar luggage and handbags they've used three times. People of all colors and ethnicities, and people from other countries who have made their homes here. Hustlers and honest folk, and you never can tell who's who at first glance.
The cameo appearances these people make in my life can be enervating, amusing, invigorating, or haunting. I learn so much about them in the few minutes that our lives intersect. Sometimes they pour their hearts out as soon as they walk in; sometimes all it takes is a genuine, "How ya doin'?" and the words just come tumbling out. My mom often cries. She's got a big heart. "They all get to me," she says in response to my comment about her feeling sorry for someone in particular.
Yesterday a beautiful, tall man about my age walks in with two boxes of comic books that he and his dad collected over many years. He's selling everything that doesn't fit in a suitcase and moving to New York to start a new life. "What's in New York?" I ask, making conversation while I look up his comics, trying to get him to flash his lovely smile. "I'm going to do music there." "Cool," I say, "I bet that's freeing." "I feel free," he says. But he doesn't smile. He's still getting used to it, the free feeling. I'm a little jealous, but mostly just happy for him.
An older, short, stout lady comes in and asks about her collection of ugly porcelain birds that her son's wife's parents gave her. She hates them and is ready to sell them for some cash because she just lost her job as a hiring assistant at Macy's. "I'm 72. Who's going to hire me to do anything?" We commiserate about lost jobs and discrimination in hiring. I tell her to look into working for nonprofits and give her a lead on a job board. I'm sad for her, but I don't think about it for very long. My empathy for those who have lost their jobs is great, but I have to put a stopper on the sadness, or it would be endless.
While I'm helping someone else, a very petite young man comes in to pick up his check. He's been in before. I smile at him and greet him, and he gives me a big happy look. He always seems to be in a fabulous mood when he comes in, all chatty and smiles. But he's got a little problem. He calls the shop too much, sometimes five times in five minutes. That's when I shut the ringers off. OCD, I think. "Is he worth it?" I ask my mom. He brings in piles of new designer clothes that he's never worn, so yes. "You've got to find out what he does for a living," I say, being nosy. She gets the story: laid off from his job as an accountant at Denver Public Schools. How did he afford $1,000 jackets? "Family money," we agree.
Eddie the hustler comes in to pick up his check, and he talks to mom for quite a while about a pair of Leica binoculars he's brought in that could sell for $500. His little brother is tagging along, learning the business. "What other options do we give those kids?" mom asks after they leave. "Hustling is much better than dealing drugs," I say. She nods her head in agreement, and we let the moment pass.
I finish the photographs of 17 more batches of vintage paper dolls that a guy brought in a few weeks ago. His mom died, and he brought in her lifetime collection of stuff to sell. It holds absolutely no sentimental value for him and wants it o-u-t of the house.
A day at the shop. We are sad and happy, open and guarded, forgiving and judgmental. We must be careful with our hearts and theirs.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Trying to Be Zen
My friend Emily suggested that I don't have to be thoughtful and profound every time I write in my blog, that it's really more about letting people see a little slice of your life. So I thought I'd write about a typical day, because this is like no other time in my life. I have no office to go to, so I've made myself as much of a routine as possible:
Get up. Brush my teeth. Put on my most comfortable but still acceptable for being seen outside clothes (hmmm... are jammie pants OK?). Feed the dog. Make coffee. Take the dog out. I'm not really thinking about a whole lot at this point, as you know if you've ever seen me before 9:00 in the morning. I was up until 1:00 AM last night catching up on emails and doing some work. I am not a morning person. I have tried. It doesn't work. I am flying high long after most of you go to bed, so try not to judge.
Power up the computer, which I have now set up to automatically start Firefox and Pandora. Only the music I like starts playing: jazz (real jazz, not the smooth, Kenny G kind), classical, blues, a little Jimi Hendrix. Nice. Now, pick a beautiful mug. Pour coffee. Sip coffee. Aaaaaaaaahhhh. Starting to feel awake. Tomas settles into his place with me on my office chair. He has no shame.
Check emails to see if anything urgent needs to be attended to. Good, no craziness this morning. Take my time slogging through morning emails. You know, the ones everyone sent two hours ago. I hope they weren't expecting a response before now. Take the dog out.
If it's Wednesday, I start thinking about packing my lunch and the dog's accoutrement to take to work at my mom's shop. On other days, I might have a morning appointment or teleconference to prepare for, but generally not before 10:00. Learned that lesson the hard way.
Make calls or send emails to stay in touch with my network or generate leads for new business. Write correspondence. Do research for interviews or networking meetings. I'm in the groove now, and I'm thinking about how much work I can get done today and what my priorities are.
Lindsey might come over so we can walk together. Throw the dog's Dino Cuz ball a few hundred times to try and keep his mind occupied (aforementioned walk most definitely does NOT wear him out, no matter how far we go). Take him out. Shower. Spend the afternoon doing project work for clients. Make notes about the follow-up I need to do from phone calls or meetings from yesterday or this morning.
Take time out to deal with emails, teleconferences, and phone calls for Smart-Girl, my volunteer gig. Plan my next outing with Consuelo, my mentee--my other volunteer gig.
Take the dog out. Fix dinner, usually something simple and healthy involving meat and a green vegetable. Look forward to spending a little decompression time with my sweetie. In the evening, run errands, or once in a while watch a movie (no TV for over a year now). Gary takes over the dog duties for the evening. Settle in for another few hours of work. Tomas gets comfortable on Gary's chair. Did I mention that he has no shame?
Think about who I can call for a favor so that I've got an edge against the other hundred qualified candidates who applied for that job. Figure out how I can generate new business. Apply for jobs. Process evening emails. Plan ways to improve the class I teach at DU. Bid G goodnight when he goes to bed at about 11:00. At 12:30 or 1:00, take take the dog out, read for a half hour, and hit the hay.
On the weekends, throw in a few hours of working in the garden, listing jewelry on Etsy, making jewelry if I can squeeze it in, chores, once in a while dinner with friends, and errands.
Minimize the negative thoughts, worry, and fear. Meditate on how much I love my friends and family, and how beautiful the world is. Listen to the birds. Watch my garden grow. Admire how the light changes as the day wears on.
This is my life. It's both more simple and more chaotic than ever before. I choose to be happy.
Get up. Brush my teeth. Put on my most comfortable but still acceptable for being seen outside clothes (hmmm... are jammie pants OK?). Feed the dog. Make coffee. Take the dog out. I'm not really thinking about a whole lot at this point, as you know if you've ever seen me before 9:00 in the morning. I was up until 1:00 AM last night catching up on emails and doing some work. I am not a morning person. I have tried. It doesn't work. I am flying high long after most of you go to bed, so try not to judge.
Power up the computer, which I have now set up to automatically start Firefox and Pandora. Only the music I like starts playing: jazz (real jazz, not the smooth, Kenny G kind), classical, blues, a little Jimi Hendrix. Nice. Now, pick a beautiful mug. Pour coffee. Sip coffee. Aaaaaaaaahhhh. Starting to feel awake. Tomas settles into his place with me on my office chair. He has no shame.
Check emails to see if anything urgent needs to be attended to. Good, no craziness this morning. Take my time slogging through morning emails. You know, the ones everyone sent two hours ago. I hope they weren't expecting a response before now. Take the dog out.
If it's Wednesday, I start thinking about packing my lunch and the dog's accoutrement to take to work at my mom's shop. On other days, I might have a morning appointment or teleconference to prepare for, but generally not before 10:00. Learned that lesson the hard way.
Make calls or send emails to stay in touch with my network or generate leads for new business. Write correspondence. Do research for interviews or networking meetings. I'm in the groove now, and I'm thinking about how much work I can get done today and what my priorities are.
Lindsey might come over so we can walk together. Throw the dog's Dino Cuz ball a few hundred times to try and keep his mind occupied (aforementioned walk most definitely does NOT wear him out, no matter how far we go). Take him out. Shower. Spend the afternoon doing project work for clients. Make notes about the follow-up I need to do from phone calls or meetings from yesterday or this morning.
Take time out to deal with emails, teleconferences, and phone calls for Smart-Girl, my volunteer gig. Plan my next outing with Consuelo, my mentee--my other volunteer gig.
Take the dog out. Fix dinner, usually something simple and healthy involving meat and a green vegetable. Look forward to spending a little decompression time with my sweetie. In the evening, run errands, or once in a while watch a movie (no TV for over a year now). Gary takes over the dog duties for the evening. Settle in for another few hours of work. Tomas gets comfortable on Gary's chair. Did I mention that he has no shame?
Think about who I can call for a favor so that I've got an edge against the other hundred qualified candidates who applied for that job. Figure out how I can generate new business. Apply for jobs. Process evening emails. Plan ways to improve the class I teach at DU. Bid G goodnight when he goes to bed at about 11:00. At 12:30 or 1:00, take take the dog out, read for a half hour, and hit the hay.
On the weekends, throw in a few hours of working in the garden, listing jewelry on Etsy, making jewelry if I can squeeze it in, chores, once in a while dinner with friends, and errands.
Minimize the negative thoughts, worry, and fear. Meditate on how much I love my friends and family, and how beautiful the world is. Listen to the birds. Watch my garden grow. Admire how the light changes as the day wears on.
This is my life. It's both more simple and more chaotic than ever before. I choose to be happy.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Ode to Lindsey
Your infectious, funny chortle
As a baby in the back seat
Was one of the many joys
You gifted to me as a tiny treat.
As you grew older and wiser,
And your little hand grew bigger in mine,
I sometimes had quick twinges—
The baby that you were was gone in no time.
But now that you’re a big frog
All sassy and grown,
It’s a joy to watch you learn
As you make your life your own.
Should you feel lost,
All you need to know
Is that you’re surrounded by love
And you’re perfect, smart, and beautiful, so go!
As a baby in the back seat
Was one of the many joys
You gifted to me as a tiny treat.
As you grew older and wiser,
And your little hand grew bigger in mine,
I sometimes had quick twinges—
The baby that you were was gone in no time.
But now that you’re a big frog
All sassy and grown,
It’s a joy to watch you learn
As you make your life your own.
Should you feel lost,
All you need to know
Is that you’re surrounded by love
And you’re perfect, smart, and beautiful, so go!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
More People You Meet in Your Neighborhood
I walk my little dog quite a bit because he's still a puppy and still being housetrained. We see quite a bit on our walks, Tomas and I, and the weekends are especially busy in my neighborhood. This weekend we ran across a couple of children I haven't seen before: a little boy of about five riding a Big Wheel (if they still make those) and a girl of about seven riding a scooter, the kind you have to push with your own oomph.
I walk by the little girl, who is riding her scooter back up a long stretch of a dead-end street where there is hardly traffic. She's within about half a block of home. I call "Hi!" cheerily as she approaches me. No response. She rolls past me, not making eye contact, moving toward her little brother, who is watching and waiting for her. I frown and roll my eyes behind my sunglasses. When I was a child, it was considered unutterably rude not to respond to and interact with people who addressed you in public.
Has human nature or parenting changed so much in thirty short years that children must be taught to be mortally afraid of strangers? To ignore them and even stick out their tongues as they cling to a parent's legs? I wonder how this training will affect the children's emotional intelligence, which is supposedly THE most important quality for success. I wonder how these kids will change the fabric of our society.
On the way back to the house, a gentleman in his 70s rolls his car up to the curb to chat me up about how he and his wife have a little girl Chihuahua that walks them, instead of the other way around. I laugh, and we talk about how funny it is that little dogs have so much personality. I am grateful for the human interaction. "You have a wonderful day!" he says as he pulls away. "You too!" I shout after him, smiling, feeling good and right about the world once again.
I walk by the little girl, who is riding her scooter back up a long stretch of a dead-end street where there is hardly traffic. She's within about half a block of home. I call "Hi!" cheerily as she approaches me. No response. She rolls past me, not making eye contact, moving toward her little brother, who is watching and waiting for her. I frown and roll my eyes behind my sunglasses. When I was a child, it was considered unutterably rude not to respond to and interact with people who addressed you in public.
Has human nature or parenting changed so much in thirty short years that children must be taught to be mortally afraid of strangers? To ignore them and even stick out their tongues as they cling to a parent's legs? I wonder how this training will affect the children's emotional intelligence, which is supposedly THE most important quality for success. I wonder how these kids will change the fabric of our society.
On the way back to the house, a gentleman in his 70s rolls his car up to the curb to chat me up about how he and his wife have a little girl Chihuahua that walks them, instead of the other way around. I laugh, and we talk about how funny it is that little dogs have so much personality. I am grateful for the human interaction. "You have a wonderful day!" he says as he pulls away. "You too!" I shout after him, smiling, feeling good and right about the world once again.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Conspicuous Consumption
Along with the rest of the world, I've been rethinking how I spend money. At first it rankled, having to cut back and cut down. But in combination with the lessons I've learned (and continue to learn) about privilege, the "reducing, reusing, and recycling" is now something I'm proud of.
I'm refinancing the house and shopping insurance coverage. Gary does the grocery shopping more often because when he goes, nothing comes home that isn't on the list (this is an excellent use of his single-minded focus). Rather than making me feel put out, I now like leftovers because I used all the vegetables before they went bad AND I don't have to cook again. Rather than spending $50 on new plastic organizers, I found a perfectly serviceable wood alternative at the thrift store for $3. I think long and hard about buying anything if it's something I like to make myself and can do in a reasonable amount of time.
This is a sea change for Gary and me. We were conspicuous consumers (and still are relative to most of the world's population). I hope these lessons stick when things look up financially. But I feel it in my heart as well as think it, so I'm pretty sure they will.
I'm refinancing the house and shopping insurance coverage. Gary does the grocery shopping more often because when he goes, nothing comes home that isn't on the list (this is an excellent use of his single-minded focus). Rather than making me feel put out, I now like leftovers because I used all the vegetables before they went bad AND I don't have to cook again. Rather than spending $50 on new plastic organizers, I found a perfectly serviceable wood alternative at the thrift store for $3. I think long and hard about buying anything if it's something I like to make myself and can do in a reasonable amount of time.
This is a sea change for Gary and me. We were conspicuous consumers (and still are relative to most of the world's population). I hope these lessons stick when things look up financially. But I feel it in my heart as well as think it, so I'm pretty sure they will.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Ask and Ye Shall Receive
As my partner and I plot how to earn enough income to stay afloat, we've learned to tap into our network in new ways. I asked my cousin, who's a pretty big wig at a university here in town, to give me some advice about getting new teaching gigs. I'm awfully excited about the nonprofit financial management and intro to fundraising class I teach at DU, and I wanted to figure out how to approach others in the college and university system in a way that would at least get me in the door.
In the nicest way, he said that it was pretty much a fool's errand to go chasing after new teaching gigs. The curriculum is already jampacked, my class would have to be an elective and they wouldn't be likely to add it, etc. Being the pragmatist that I am, I moved on to other things--no sense in wasting energy where the payoff will be small or nonexistent.
At a Women'sVision Foundation event last week, I ran into someone who is working on her Master's thesis at the Women's College at DU. We chatted for a few minutes, I asked a couple of pointed questions, and she recommended that I contact the Women's College to see if they might be interested in my topic areas. The next day, I figured what the heck, what would it would cost me other than a few minutes of time? I emailed the dean, and within an hour I had a response from one of their reps, who scheduled a meeting to talk with me.
The moral of this story? I need to follow my own advice--the advice I give other women: If you don't ask, you don't get.
In the nicest way, he said that it was pretty much a fool's errand to go chasing after new teaching gigs. The curriculum is already jampacked, my class would have to be an elective and they wouldn't be likely to add it, etc. Being the pragmatist that I am, I moved on to other things--no sense in wasting energy where the payoff will be small or nonexistent.
At a Women'sVision Foundation event last week, I ran into someone who is working on her Master's thesis at the Women's College at DU. We chatted for a few minutes, I asked a couple of pointed questions, and she recommended that I contact the Women's College to see if they might be interested in my topic areas. The next day, I figured what the heck, what would it would cost me other than a few minutes of time? I emailed the dean, and within an hour I had a response from one of their reps, who scheduled a meeting to talk with me.
The moral of this story? I need to follow my own advice--the advice I give other women: If you don't ask, you don't get.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
I Left My Heart in Aurora
I got "the call" about the perfect job on Friday. I can almost recite it by heart. The words vary little; the tone varies not at all. There's some small talk, during which time my heart is sinking because I know the drill, then it goes something like this: "We were so impressed by your qualifications, and you were a close second, but we chose someone who was a closer match."
Though I am a bit hardened to the whole process, I have to admit that I cried about this one. It was the right environment, a match for core values, and in perfect alignment with my skill set. I sent three excellent letters of reference, unsolicited, that said I'd be great in the job. I explained how I would fit in and do excellent work. I showed my genuine enthusiasm for the job, the boss, and the company over and over. And still it wasn't enough.
There are hundreds of applicants for most jobs, and dozens of them are a really good fit--this I know from talking to colleagues who consult in the hiring process and from the many times I've been told same by the hiring manager/committee. But I think what was so disillusioning about this particular "no" was that the person who did the hiring explained that the process took so long because they got so many good candidates due to unemployment being so high and the economy being so bad.
Whoa, whoa, whoa--wait a minute! What about the people who genuinely WANT to work there? Who think they'd make an amazing difference? Who would be thrilled to come to work every day because it's such a great fit for skills and values? Who would spend the commute time to Aurora plotting ways to make the organization even more fantastic? Surely I wasn't the only one. I hope the one who got the job is in the latter camp.
Though I am a bit hardened to the whole process, I have to admit that I cried about this one. It was the right environment, a match for core values, and in perfect alignment with my skill set. I sent three excellent letters of reference, unsolicited, that said I'd be great in the job. I explained how I would fit in and do excellent work. I showed my genuine enthusiasm for the job, the boss, and the company over and over. And still it wasn't enough.
There are hundreds of applicants for most jobs, and dozens of them are a really good fit--this I know from talking to colleagues who consult in the hiring process and from the many times I've been told same by the hiring manager/committee. But I think what was so disillusioning about this particular "no" was that the person who did the hiring explained that the process took so long because they got so many good candidates due to unemployment being so high and the economy being so bad.
Whoa, whoa, whoa--wait a minute! What about the people who genuinely WANT to work there? Who think they'd make an amazing difference? Who would be thrilled to come to work every day because it's such a great fit for skills and values? Who would spend the commute time to Aurora plotting ways to make the organization even more fantastic? Surely I wasn't the only one. I hope the one who got the job is in the latter camp.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
In Honor of Valentine's Day
"By day the blue will pale down into white where it touches the white of the land, after sunset it has a new circumference--orange, melting upwards into tenderest purple."
-E.M. Forster, A Passage to India
My heart beats faster when I read that sentence. But it wasn't always so. My personality style is ESTJ, which means my natural tendency is to think first and feel later, and to think about facts first and people second. But the stars aligned a few years ago and brought two women into my life who changed me forever: Elizabeth, who shared her art and her big heart with me, and Linda, who was forever asking me crazy-making questions like, "Do you think that will get you what you want?"
I dedicate this quote to you, because I don't know if I could have recognized the beauty in it without you. Though we don't work together anymore and see each other not nearly as often as I would like, you are in my thoughts and in my heart. Love to you and every one of my dear valentines...
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Vibrant Voluntarism
I try to become more conscious of my life every day. For example, normally I just consume books and movies, but now I've been asking myself what lessons I learned from the movie or why I liked or disliked the book. As I told my friend Amy today, it's sort of like having a book club in your head.
I've been applying those same ideas to other areas of my life as well. I'm trying to figure out and articulate why I love Smart-Girl so much, because it's been such a great experience and I'd like to apply the same principles to other nonprofits.
First, I believe in the mission. We educate pre-adolescent girls in a fun and nonthreatening way and give them the life skills they'll need to become confident, capable, and self-reliant women. It just doesn't get closer to my heart than that.
Second, the members of the board of directors are smart, fun, and dedicated. At the board meeting last night, we were talking about how we could get through our meetings more quickly if we had a different kind of meeting, where we didn't laugh, followed Robert's Rules of Order, and were cut and dried. And someone says, "Ooooooh, let's not do THAT," and that was the end of the discussion. We like a little bit of bonding and fooling-around time, just like we provide for the girls in the program. Fun is one my core values, as anyone who knows me well will tell you. I like to laugh.
Third, my skill set and I are valued, and I know it because I'm thanked routinely in a meaningful way. Also, I like the work I do for the organization because it's a fit for me. I was elected as the treasurer starting January 1. Woohoo!
Last, I love this gig because we are not perfect and we know it. We do great things for the girls, and we're improving all the time. This aspect of the organization appeals to my core value of continuous improvement in a big way.
OK, so I like the work, I feel valued, I have fun, and I believe I make a difference to the organization and the girls we serve. What are the lessons I can apply to other organizations?
1) Make sure the volunteers are closely allied with the mission. I teach this in my class, and everyone involved with volunteer management will tell you it's essential.
2) Carefully match the work volunteers do with their skills and areas of interest. Envelope stuffing is really only appropriate for a few volunteers. Don't we all look for meaning in our work?
3) If you look for volunteers with the same core values as the organization, they'll stay longer and be more productive during their service.
I've been applying those same ideas to other areas of my life as well. I'm trying to figure out and articulate why I love Smart-Girl so much, because it's been such a great experience and I'd like to apply the same principles to other nonprofits.
First, I believe in the mission. We educate pre-adolescent girls in a fun and nonthreatening way and give them the life skills they'll need to become confident, capable, and self-reliant women. It just doesn't get closer to my heart than that.
Second, the members of the board of directors are smart, fun, and dedicated. At the board meeting last night, we were talking about how we could get through our meetings more quickly if we had a different kind of meeting, where we didn't laugh, followed Robert's Rules of Order, and were cut and dried. And someone says, "Ooooooh, let's not do THAT," and that was the end of the discussion. We like a little bit of bonding and fooling-around time, just like we provide for the girls in the program. Fun is one my core values, as anyone who knows me well will tell you. I like to laugh.
Third, my skill set and I are valued, and I know it because I'm thanked routinely in a meaningful way. Also, I like the work I do for the organization because it's a fit for me. I was elected as the treasurer starting January 1. Woohoo!
Last, I love this gig because we are not perfect and we know it. We do great things for the girls, and we're improving all the time. This aspect of the organization appeals to my core value of continuous improvement in a big way.
OK, so I like the work, I feel valued, I have fun, and I believe I make a difference to the organization and the girls we serve. What are the lessons I can apply to other organizations?
1) Make sure the volunteers are closely allied with the mission. I teach this in my class, and everyone involved with volunteer management will tell you it's essential.
2) Carefully match the work volunteers do with their skills and areas of interest. Envelope stuffing is really only appropriate for a few volunteers. Don't we all look for meaning in our work?
3) If you look for volunteers with the same core values as the organization, they'll stay longer and be more productive during their service.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Doggie Lovin'
Two years after my Rachel died, another furry friend found us and became part of our family. As I write this, the little brown Chihuahua we named Tomas (pronounced toh-MAHS) sleeps at my feet curled up in a ball.
We grieved terribly when we lost Rachel, and we still feel her presence in so many ways. I could never bring myself to take her photo off of my desk. Just a few days ago, I found some of her fur stuck on the underside of a chair in the basement. We hear her voice when the wind blows through the chimes in the garden, one of her favorite places to be. It was only in the last few months that I could talk about her without crying and feeling the lump in my throat (though I feel it now).
The people who understood my grief best just let me co-exist with it and never pushed me for an answer about when I was going to get another dog. Each one is simply irreplaceable, so it's kind of like asking when you're going to get another husband or parent. As if getting a new one would erase the pain and sadness anyway. The most comforting message of all, the one that stuck with me and gave me hope was this: "Another dog will find you when it's time."
And there he is--Tomas, the little Chihuahua. I'd forgotten what joy a dog brings to your life: gazing into your eyes, the excited wagging of the tail when you come into the room, snoring when sleeping peacefully, playing fetch and learning all the tricks you can teach him, snuggling with you on the couch. I'm happy to wake up to him in the morning and happy to come home to him when I've been away. He's a loving friend and constant companion. He is a joy to me.
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