Perfect Love: Arriving in April

by Chris Brady

Perfect love sometimes does not come until the first grandchild.
                                                                                                    ~Welsh Proverb
 

The reality of becoming a grandmother has been percolating in my mind since learning my daughter-in-law was expecting. And now it is even more real as we know the baby is a girl. I have six months to study up on grand-parenting. 

And I can't help but wonder, what kind of grandmother will I be.

I have great role models: my mom and my mother-in-law come easily to mind.  Each in her own way forged strong bonds with my son, spending a lot of quality time with him. My mom was the first phone call when school would phone me that he was sick and I was stuck at work. And my mother-in-law would take him for spring break in Florida and a summer week in North Carolina. He hit the mother-lode in grandmothers.

A granddaughter seems like such a gift to me as a mother of a son. I recall my own

Nannie and me circa 1960.

experience as a granddaughter, and memories of my maternal grandmother “Nannie” still make me smile.

She wasn’t a cool grandmother in the modern sense, and I can’t say that she imparted any great wisdom that guided my decisions (more likely I wasn’t paying attention). But I remember her presence throughout my life, and I treasure the things we did together, just her and me.

I used to stay overnight with her a few days a week when I was in high school. She was about 85 at the time, living with my aunt, who was often away. We would walk to the Acme, which was about a half mile away, to shop for dinner. This involved crossing the six lanes of the Roosevelt Boulevard with no traffic light. When I would hesitate at the sight of oncoming traffic she would jog into the street in her black old lady shoes fearless of the danger, pulling me along for the run.

 “They wouldn't dare hit an old lady,” she proclaimed. And three lanes of cars would stop for us, with not a beep out of them.  

I won't be running in traffic with my new granddaughter, but I hope we share some adventures together so that she can smile about our time together after I'm gone.
 
Arriving in April 2015, she has no idea how much love awaits her.

Share your grandmother stories so that I learn from the pros.

There's No Place Like Home; Wherever that Is

by Chris Brady

Recent events have me pondering where I want to live when I grow down. I’ve loved my

Home for 30+ years, but maybe not for 40.

house since 1987, but I am so ready to punt yard work and cleaning 2-1/2 baths.

But where to next, I wonder?

My husband and I were thinking of selling and having no property.  We could be caretakers of fabulous second homes of the rich, like a Jackson Hole ranch or a Malibu beach house. 

A newsletter called “The Caretaker’s Gazette” lists these opportunities. It’s such fun reading about the homes, the exotic locales and the requirements. (That's the part that's not fun.)  I realized I would be trading my 2-1/2 baths to clean their 6 baths and horse stalls for the honor of having a free room with a view.

I think I’ll pass.

We wouldn’t want to move to a Florida/Arizona/North Carolina type of retirement community. My loved ones are mostly in PA, and living near family will always be at the top of my list.

And forget about a 55-plus community; I see those ads and shudder at the thought of living with people my own age in a sterile gated enclave.  “Who are they keeping out,” I wonder.

People like me, I surmise.

My favorite idea is to downsize to an apartment in Center City Philly.  It will be close to family, with everything I need in walking distance. I'll volunteer at museums and theaters for cheap and easy access to arts and culture. I'll have shopping and restaurants and people of all stripes and ages just outside my door. 

In my work exit strategy, I have about five years to plan for it, with a lot of stuff to move out.    

Anybody want a player piano and 200 rolls real cheap?

Have you made the move from your home to a new life somewhere? 

Are you thinking about one more move before the Big Chill?

Share your advice and experiences.

Enjoy my favorite song about house and home.  

Bells Will Be Ringing: Advice to Make Love Last

Chelsey and Blake: perfect together. 

I am posting this two days before my son’s wedding. How did I make the time? I’m the mother of the groom; I’ve been informed but not immersed in the thousands of details that go into planning a big wedding. ("Show up and wear beige” is the MOG mantra.)  It’s all fun from here (Please God).

My favorite wedding planning moments have been practicing our mother son dance.  We have not danced much over the years; he was a wall hanger at family weddings where we would have had the chance. But he is marrying a dancing queen, so I think (really hope) he is in for a future of dancing. It’s such fun, and an easy way to make her happy.

We’ve had two practice sessions with an instructor, and I’ve learned a few new steps. Now if I can remember to follow, keep my arms where they need to be, forget the steps and enjoy the moment. It’s been such fun for me that I’m starting a new tradition, dancing together on my birthday and his and any celebration in between.

 How do you make love last?

I wanted to use this post to give the young lovers words of advice on how to keep your marriage as fresh and exciting 30 years from now as it is on your wedding day. Sustaining that passion takes work and intention. Then I found this little pamphlet I have saved in my desk for about 10 years. I realized that Dale Carnegie’s principles from How to Win Friends and Influence People could be the recipe for a happy marriage.

·       Don’t criticize, condemn or complain.
·       Give honest, sincere appreciation.
·       Arouse in the other person an eager want.
·       Smile.
·       Be a good listener. Encourage others to talk about themselves.
·       Talk in terms of the other person’s interests.
·       Make the other person feel important – and do it sincerely.
·       If you are wrong, admit it quickly and emphatically.
·       Try honestly to see from the other person’s point of view
·       Decide just how much anxiety a thing may be worth and refuse to give it more.
·       Cooperate with the inevitable.
·       Don’t worry about the past.

And I’m adding one more …
·       Keep dancing -- at weddings, parties, at home before and after dinner, always …

Trust me on this. Your mother knows.

Join me in toasting the happy couple, and share your best advice on how to make love last.

 

Following Facebook...What's Not to Like?

Recent (and not so recent) photos on my timeline

Chris Brady

I checked my Facebook page this morning for the first time in three days and was struck by the life going on while I was away:

• A former co-worker was married this week on a beach in the Keys.  (Like, Comment)
• A friend got away from it all in Jamaica.  (Like, Jealous)
• A friend achieved a significant honor as a public speaker.  (Like, Comment)
• A friend is turning 60 and has launched a new business.  (Like, Comment)
• A friend who lives at the Jersey shore is enjoying winter on a Florida beach. (Like, Jealous)
• A friend is at Phillies Spring training. (Like)
• A former co-worker’s 19-year old sister has died.  (Condolences Comment)

Before Facebook, many of these events would have occurred outside of my sphere of awareness.  (Most notably the former co-workers’ life events.) 

I’m guessing it’s the same for you.

I have family members and friends who claim they have never been on Facebook (and  infer that they never will).  They prefer real vs. virtual communications.

I agree that face-to-face and ear-to-ear communications are superior experiences, but I can’t deny the pleasure of Facebook. It’s reality TV, but with people I know or have known.

I’m not exactly a Facebook stalker (someone who reads but never posts) but I admit that I am not sharing as much as most of the people I follow. It’s not that my life is less interesting from the people I’m following; I just don’t take the time to photograph and share. 

But I am so glad that my family and friends are generous with their moments. I smile almost every time I open up my page.  

And today, I was saddened too.  

But happy or sad, I felt a connection to others.  

And what's not to like about that?

Are you a Facebook fan or a Refusenik?

How often do you post on Facebook? 

What kind of posts do you like/ not like?

Thoughts On Being an Intangible Asset

Chris Brady

My company is moving to a new office building this week, a better location for me, at 15 miles closer to home. My co-workers and I spent the last weeks weeding our offices and cubicles of the non-essential items we have accumulated over the years and packing moving crates with the items that we tell ourselves still matter.

Huge trash bins have been rolling in an out for more than a month taking the paper trash away, and Iron Mountain is making a killing on the paper we are storing until it meets its seven-year expiration.  (Note to self: if Iron Mountain is a public company:  Buy.)

I’ve been fascinated by what has ended up for grabs in the break rooms: an archeological dig of business practice past. It’s clear to me that people in my company have had a hard time giving up on paper as a medium, but this move is nudging them toward the cloud.

Dozens of plastic paper trays are going unclaimed. These used to hold mail or served as a parking lot for folders. Does anybody get mail that matters anymore?  Ninety-five percent of my mail is marketing, and I typically toss it, scanned and barely read in the trash bin in the mail room.  (Sorry marketers, I do the same with e-mail too.)

I saw adding machines with paper and wondered where these had been hiding for the last 50 years since the TI calculator emerged. I stopped myself from claiming an electric typewriter from the pile. It was pure nostalgia, but I knew it would end up in a garage sale at my house, so I just said no. 

Binders in all thicknesses littered the supply rooms, making me believe that these either reproduce when we’re not looking, or that someone had binder salesman for a brother-in-law. When was the last time you thought a binder was a good idea for sharing or retaining information? And do you ever open that binder after you store it on a shelf? I don’t think so. But the romantics packed them into crates to take up shelf space at $x. a square foot in the new site.

As all of this was happening, IT installed Office 365 on my PC. This is Microsoft’s cloud based software, and it means that I won’t need to store stuff on my hard drive; it will be out there in the cloud, accessible from my phone and any computer. I think about the media I have used in my career, from paper, to 5-inch floppy and then 3-inch discs, CD/DVDs, thumb drives, and now the cloud.  What’s next, I wonder, telekinesis? It seems like everything that was once touchable is now just bits of data flying around in a netherworld.

My own work has evolved that way too. As a writer/editor, the brochures, newsletters and advertisements that once were my bread and butter have all become web-based, real-time, with expiration dates. Give me a broadband connection and I can work anywhere. I relate my work to that line on the balance sheet called "intangible assets." But I accept that physical space has value too, for collaboration, for symbolism, and most importantly, for storing binders.

On Monday, I’ll set up my new workspace. I took home ten-year's worth of personal items that had decorated my old office before this move: about a dozen plants and photos, a 10-year collection of tchotchkes and business books. I'm promising myself that I will go low key at this new location: one plant for my health, a few photos of the loves of my life, and my well-thumbed copy of Strunk and White's Elements of Style.  All easily packed when I reach my sell-by date.

What do you like about the present world of work?  What do you miss from days past?

 

Travel Dreams: What's on Your Top 10 List?

Looks like more fun than a week at the office, doesn't it?

Chris Brady

I am a week away from a winter vacation as I post this and I feel like a child waiting for Santa.  I’ve memorized the itinerary for our expedition (not a cruise) to Panama and Costa Rica -- and I’m imagining the flora and fauna we'll see in the rain forests and ocean, the engineering wonder of the canal, starry nights at sea, interesting people, and best of all 10 days of discovery.

We booked this trip a year ago – a record in terms of advance planning.  It was an act of faith in some ways.  My husband is 82 and in stable but not terrific health. He was totally game, but I wondered if he would have the stamina to enjoy excursions like rain forest walks (probably) and horseback riding and snorkeling (unlikely). The brochure promised all levels of activity, so he we are, almost packed and excited to go.

We have experienced great and not so great travel, but nothing so bad that I would ever decide to stay put at home. As I consider retirement, I hope that my nest egg will fund at least one good trip a year. I figure I have at least another 20 trips before the physical limitations force me to sit on the beach. So I may not leave a big estate for my descendants, but what a collection of refrigerator magnets!

Where to go next year?  Here are 10 places I think about:

Galapagos
Patagonia
Barcelona
Tuscany
Paris
Rhine River Cruise
Thailand
Australia and New Zealand
Scotland
South Africa

Do you have a holiday planned for 2014?  Share your favorite travel spots.

All I Want for Christmas

Chris Brady

It’s Christmas, a wonderful time of year, and the airwaves are full of the seduction of gifting.

My family is unusual when it comes to gifts; my husband and I made a deal to give it up early in our relationship. Our first Christmas together when I was a size 8, he shopped for me at Lane Bryant and the tent (I mean the sweater) was about five sizes too big. I saw many returns in our future, so I gave him a lifetime pass on shopping.

My siblings and I came to this same conclusion some 20 years ago when we realized that our kids had too much stuff. We stopped the cross-family gifting and made our tradition a low-key post-Christmas hangout with hoagies and pizza at the best party house in our family.  I still shop for my son and his love and my Mom -- but that’s really it for me. (Are you jealous?)

I’m not a complete Scrooge about giving. I spent Black Friday writing checks to a dozen or so charities that make a difference in my life. My company matches my giving up to $2000 annually so I take advantage of that benefit to support causes that matter to me.  I’m glad I can support people who are doing good work in the world: my college (Temple U) and high school (Little Flower CHS), public radio, the local library, animal shelters, nature and environmental charities, and social causes that inspire me.

I feel blessed that I have all the gifts I need: a loving husband and family, good friends, and a place to call home.  

I hope your Christmas dreams come true.

Despite my anti-consumer philosophy, this West Jet Miracle video made me smile. 

What's your Christmas gift tradition?

You Can Lead a Horticulture....

Chris Brady

... But you can't make her think. 

We all know that Dorothy Parker wasn't talking about plants, she was teasing us with word play, but as a plant nerd, I have always loved that line. This post isn't about easy women or women writers -- it's about my life with plants. 

As I've started to minimize the stuff in my house to prepare for the eventual downsizing some five or so years from now, there's one category that keeps growing: my tropical plant collection.There are more than 55 at the moment -- in a not very big 7-room house.

I rarely buy new plants anymore; it’s mostly that I am sustaining and propagating them. I've lived with some of these plants for more than 30 years, and several are shopping mall BIG.  It’s looking like a jungle in the "Winter Garden, " a four-seasons room we built on the garage roof in 2001 to create a light filled sanctuary for ourselves (and the plants). The plants move closer to my couch every year. I imagine myself in a New Yorker comic, an old lady being swallowed up by greenery.

Saturday morning in the winter garden

Tropical plants are therapy for me. Watering them takes about an hour every weekend. They have been a constant in my life, undemanding for the most part, a welcoming and peaceful presence.

My oldest is a tree philodendron I call Betty, from my mother-in-law’s Scranton house. I recall seeing this plant as early as 1974, and it was big then. I adopted her sometime in the 80s when Betty was moving to Florida. My plant book warns that these kids need space, and Betty is living up to that reputation at six feet high and equally wide.  Like her namesake, she is indomitable.

A 7-foot tall Norfolk Island pine I call Sven started out as a six-inch mini Christmas tree from Ikea some 20 years ago. It still has three feet before it hits the glass ceiling, which will probably take another 15 years, so I’m safe for now.

Aunt Ann

“Aunt Ann” is a rescue from my favorite aunt’s house, a Sansievieria that is so prolific in throwing off shoots that I have re-potted and given them to a least a dozen people by now. It’s an ugly little plant, a tough broad just like she was. I can see it sitting in her basement window with my childhood eyes and I will take this one wherever life takes me. I’m pretty sure I caught the plant bug from Aunt Ann.

“Tootsie” is a Dieffenbachia that I rescued from my sister-in-law’s condo after her death. It amuses me that this was the only plant in her house, nicknamed “dumb cane” because it numbs your tongue if you eat it. Tootsie was never at a loss for words. 

I could go on with the stories of my heritage plants, but I’ll stop at four. Not every plant has a story – at least not yet. Someday, I will move to smaller space and give away my collection – perhaps to my son, nieces and nephews, grandchildren or others who have an interest and space and thirty years to keep them until the next caretaker. 

I hope that they’ll enjoy the peace and oxygen that plants give us and maybe as I do, they’ll remember the person who nurtured it for the first few decades. If you are a plant nerd like me, read the latest work by Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat, Pray, Love) called The Signature of All Things. I learned so much about botany from hanging out with this book for a week. Great characters too. 

Do you have plants that have traveled with you from college dorm to apartment to house one and house 2?  What’s your story?

Counting on Affordable Care to Afford Early Retirement

Chris Brady

As I watched Congress teeter over the fiscal cliff this week, I wondered about my own financial future. Retirement is starting to creep into my worldview as a I fantasize about how I would spend my days without 2-hour commutes, spreadsheets and the drama of the corporate world.

I was counting on the Affordable Care Act as a way to accelerate my exit from the daily grind, softening the financial blow on health care coverage between now and Medicare.  And now, the Tea Party is set on killing the legislation. 

I have been surprised that people are against universal health care coverage. While the ACA has a lot of flaws because of the compromises it took to get passed, it was a start at something good. We'll fix the bugs over time and make it better.

And yes, we will pay higher taxes, and young, healthy people who are living without health coverage will have to start paying for it. It's much bigger than that, I know. But let’s be honest: everyone is an accident waiting to happen. We need a big pool of people to keep costs down. That's how the ACA will succeed.

A writer I know and her self-employed husband are paying $30,000 a year in health care coverage and expenses. Both have pre-existing conditions that aren’t covered.  She’s been one of those people jamming the website and the phone lines of the ACA since October 1, trying to replace her highway robbery coverage with a plan that actually covers their pre-existing conditions.

These two have professional salaries so that $30K hurts (a lot) but they're not starving. Think about working class people with families who don’t have employer coverage. It’s no wonder they can’t afford health care coverage.  But they are showing up in the ER. And as a society, we’re paying for it.

I'm lucky; I have had employer-paid coverage since my first part-time union job in 1972. Like most people today, I share in the cost of my employer coverage through premiums, deductibles and co-pays, but it's less than my cable bill. On my own, I’ll need  almost a mortgage payment to pay for healthcare coverage before I get to Medicare. That’s why I’m rooting for the ACA.                                                              

I am typing this post without the use of my left thumb, which I carelessly cut along with a wedge of cabbage in a soup-making binge on Sunday. It was a serious enough to seek help, and with stitches, tetanus shot, antibiotic, and urgent care center visit I will pay $300 out of pocket. This is the cost of care with insurance. 

Health care is expensive.  Everyone is a slip of a knife away from an urgent care visit, and a toss of the dice away from a catastrophic illness or a chronic conditions like asthma. And we are all at risk of losing our jobs and our health coverage.

The government shutdown and the debt ceiling drama are over – at least for a few more months. I’ll try not to look at my 401k during this economic roller coaster ride.  And hope that the ACA website is working by 2015. 

And I’ll skip the Martini when I’m chopping vegetables.

What are you thinking about the Affordable Care Act?  Does it worry you or give you hope?

Do Good Fences Make Good Neighbors?

Before the fence

Chris Brady

Earlier this summer, I decided to enclose my yard with a post and rail fence with garden wire to prevent my dog from wandering into my neighbor's yard.  For years, our backyards had been divided with a natural boundary of trees and shrubs, but my neighbors (to my horror) removed two towering hemlock trees creating a gap that begged to be filled.  I planted smoke bush shrubs, ferns and hosta on my property line, but greenery wouldn’t keep this high energy dog from chasing squirrels, so a minimalist fence seemed like a solution.

The day of the estimate I learned from the fence guy that my neighbors had already ordered a 6-foot stockade fence to divide our yards. I shared my plans with the neighbors hoping that we could maintain the open feeling on our properties, but they preferred the privacy the solid fence would offer.  "Have a nice life," I thought.

Post fence installment, the summer has passed with no interaction with people who have lived 20 feet away from me for more than 25 years. Before fence, we greeted each other in passing, sometimes commenting on weather, news or life, and now, a social blackout.  It’s a very nice fence; the garden seems cozier to me now; but I miss the openness and the connection to others.

I grew up on a NE Philly row house street where you sat on the porch on summer nights and played in the street with dozens of kids every day. In contrast, social life on my street is sterile and isolated. When I moved here in 1987, I envisioned my play life for my son, but it never happened. Kids rarely play outside; people never invite you into their homes; we’re cordial, but we rarely go beyond hellos. We all work and weekends are busy, but I know that it's different in other communities and I wonder what happened here.

I envy friends who have block parties and neighbor relationships.  My sister has had a progressive dinner date a few times a year with her neighbors for decades. A good friend hosts an annual picnic where I have come to know her neighbors better than my own. As a single Mom for my first 10 years here, it would have been nice to have stronger connections. Approaching retirement, I am seriously thinking about finding a more welcoming environment for my golden years.

How do neighborhoods become strong social networks?  Do some strong personalities become the catalyst that brings people together?  Do common ages/ethnicities make it easier to bond?

What’s your neighborhood like?  Do you prefer privacy or a stronger sense of community?  Share your wisdom.

Missed Flight Makes for Sweet Memory

Happy travelers at Big Basin State park.

I’m the December partner in a May-December marriage (he's 82 to my 60) so I do most of the planning and arrangements in our lives, because my brain is firing on more cylinders than his. 

A lapse of consciousness occurred on our vacation that put me in my place.  I had booked our flights many months in advance because I was using frequent flyer miles. I filed the e-ticket away and started making my plans so that each day had a destination and purpose. We were flying to California, leaving on a Friday and coming home on a Friday -- or that’s what I told myself and others as I regaled them with my plans.

The vacation was great. We had a nice weekend with my cousin in Pacific Grove, spent time in Big Sur, visited redwood forests, Sausalito, San Francisco and then back to San Jose for the flight home.  Being a savvy traveler, I went to the hotel lobby the night before our flight home to print boarding passes. Turns out that my flight home had been that very day; I had never re-checked the itinerary to confirm the flight. (And I apparently ignored the email reminder that pinged on my smart phone the day before the flight.)

$1400 later, I had new flights booked. I dragged myself back to the hotel room for a dose of humble pie as I told my husband the bad news. Bernie took it really well, far better than me. No blame, no recrimination, just an acknowledgment that stuff happens. He wouldn’t let it spoil our great vacation and he has never mentioned it again. 

I still don’t know how it happened… why I didn’t check the tickets as I normally do. Why I booked the flight home earlier than my well-laid plans. I continue to beat myself up on the screw up. 

When I think back on this vacation, I'll recall lunch at Nepenthe on Big Sur, the sea lions in Monterey Bay, the redwoods at Big Basin, and the big bus tour in San Francisco, but my worst experience may turn out to be the best memory.  Being forgiven – no strings attached – really is divine.

Have you been forgiven for something you can't forget?  Or were you the one who turned the other cheek?  Share your stories of forgiveness.

Pursuing Other Opportunities: It’s Not Personal...

Chris Brady

We’ve had a lot of lightness of being in the 4 Broads blog lately. Mind if I balance the cheer with a reality rant from the world of work?

A co-worker in my department recently learned that her job was being eliminated in a restructuring. She understands the rationale; she had recommended elements of the new model. However, losing her job was not part of her plan.

It’s the first time in her 20-year career that she is leaving a job involuntarily. She is a competent, experienced, intelligent professional.  She will land a good job somewhere, hopefully better than this one, but it still stings.

Every time this happens, we survivors realize that there is no promise of employment.  All it takes is a bad quarter, a change in strategy, a new leader, or another world economic crisis and more chairs come out of the circle.

In this instance, it’s a new leader -- let’s call him “B” so you can follow the story.  “B” joined our company about three months ago, and he appears to be smart, experienced, and a person of high integrity. He succeeds the former VP -- let’s call her “A”, who resigned after 18 months in her role.  “A” changed the structure 90 days into her term, and her plan resulted in four people losing their jobs because of “fit”. “B’s” new structure is almost identical to the structure “A” replaced.  

For the record, the new structure makes great sense and worked pretty well the last time. I don’t question “B’s” decision. I’ve just noticed that the way you organize things doesn’t really make a difference. All that matters is that you have good (and competent) people and effective management. They will make it work. My friend who is leaving in a month is good people. Her departure will be a loss for us. (Note that she was not escorted out of the building; she has 60 days notice. We’re compassionate in managing professional staff changes to give people a chance to land new employment.)

This scene plays out in business all the time.  Is it any wonder that half of the worldwide workforce admits that they are actively looking for another job? And companies spend time and money on employee engagement surveys to get at the root causes of malaise. (Hello?  We got the memo about loyalty sometime in the 1980s.)

Restructuring, layoffs, salary freezes, financial results, pay for performance: these are the inspirational topics I get to write about half the time in my job. The other half is spent marketing to my co-workers that we have a great company, visionary leaders, good people and our work makes a difference yada, yada, yada.

It’s not the great American novel, but it’s a writing life. Until someone figures out that everything has been written a gazillion times already, and you could have a robot pull up the restructuring memo and change the names, I’m holding on. 

Shoot, I heard recently that newspapers are using robots to write copy now. I can see it now:

We are pleased to welcome C3PO to XCo.  C3, the latest in communications technology, will be publishing employee communications, managing our website, and best of all doesn’t care about wage increases, bonuses, or work-life balance. We regret that Chris Brady has left the company to pursue other opportunities and wish her well.

Help me out here. I’m trying to increase my value proposition for at least another five years. Given the changes in employer/employee commitment, do you read anything in your company’s internal communications that motivates you or strengthens your commitment?

Cousins Lost and Found: How Do You Stay Connected?

My cousin Tommy Robinson, at the cottage of my ancestors. 

Chris Brady

I spent a workweek in Ireland recently. I called my cousin Tommy and his wife Eileen, who live in County Mayo, to let them know I was in the country (about three counties West of their home.)   We agreed to meet near Galway for dinner (a two-hour drive for them). It had been almost two years since our last chat, but we picked up the conversation like it was yesterday.

I found Tommy through a U.S. cousin as I planned my first trip to Ireland in 1998. Like many Irish Americans, I wanted to learn about my family tree. (It's an industry there.) I reconnect when I return to Ireland for business, and we meet for lunch or dinner and sometimes an overnight stay.  It’s been fun for me to get to know them.

My dad's great-grandfather, the first John Robinson.

Our great grandfathers were brothers.  Our families separated when mine immigrated to America, and his stayed in Ireland. Tommy has given me a rich story of my father’s family; he still lives on the land where our great-grandfathers were raised. I have visited the cemetery and the church and the castle of the English lord who owned the land my ancestors farmed.

The two times that I was able to visit his home, he sent out word to the family and six people came to meet me at the local pub. Our families seem really similar in terms of values, marriage, children, education and socio-economic status. It makes me wonder what my life would have been like had I been raised in Ireland.

Tommy is surprised that I don’t see my cousins who live within a few miles of my house as often as I see him. He chided me for not keeping in touch with a distant NJ cousin who visits him in Ireland. She’s a lovely person, but he is the only reason we know each other.  I think about all the other people I've lost touch with.

Feeling Guilty about Loosing Touch

I have so many family members I don’t see anymore. We’re not estranged because of a family feud; our lives just don’t intersect. I have four aunts and two uncles, and 28 first cousins (not counting spouses). They are all good people, and we have fun when we see each other, but three generations have been born since my childhood. We spend our time and attention on siblings, nieces and nephews now, and there’s not a lot of time left over after that.

Welsh cousins reunion -2010

We have occasional family reunions, but too often, our meeting place is at funerals, We trade snippets of our lives, a hug and a kiss, and it’s farewell until next time.

I will be spending time with a favorite cousin in a few weeks. I’ll be in California on vacation, where she lives. She stays with me when she visits Philadelphia. She and her sister are the cousins who have become friends, and interestingly, they live the farthest away. The difference is that we have made an effort to visit each other, and the visits have strengthened the bonds.  

Writing this passage has me thinking about my aunts and uncles; it’s been far too long that I've made a visit, and at their ages (mid-80's) it's up to me to reach out. It will be good to see them again, almost as a way to connect to my late father, who was their oldest brother. I'll give credit to their Irish cousin Tommy Robinson, whose interest in me made me think about the treasure of family members I am missing right at home.  (It’s in writing now; I have to follow through.)

As you have grown older, how have you kept ties with aunts and uncles, cousins and other extended family members? Share your stories.  

Not So Pretty in Pink: Just Say No to Annual Mammograms

For the past 10 years or so on Mother’s Day, I have joined the thousands of people who attend the Susan G. Komen Race for Life in Philadelphia.  I walk in solidarity with my sister-in-law Barb, who fought the disease that many years ago and thank God is cancer free. I enjoy the spectacle and the time we spend together walking through downtown Philly catching up with her my brother John and their kids.

It’s become an enjoyable Mother’s Day tradition for me but not for the cause. While I support cancer charities financially, I don’t register as a runner/walker or contribute to the Komen Foundation. As a PR professional, I admire Komen’s marketing machine. But the pink ribbon advertising campaigns have lost me. (Pink NFL player shoes were my tipping point.)

In the April 28 New York Times Magazine, reporter Peggy Orenstein, who is battling breast cancer (again after her first diagnosis 15 years ago) wrote about the pink PR movement.  (Worth reading, especially if you are a young woman who has never had a mammogram, Stop reading my words and go read this article. It may save you a lot of pain and suffering.)

I was surprised to learn in this article that less than a quarter of the funds Komen has raised over the years went to breast cancer research.  It's not that they aren't spending on the disease, it's more that Komen has decided to promote awareness and early detection of breast cancer through mammography.

Turns out that while this may have been the right idea when they started out so many years ago, it appears that all this screening may not be the answer to beating breast cancer.

For most of my life, doctors recommended women to get a baseline mammogram at age 40 and then return every year as a preventive screening. Now medical research suggests that most women can wait until 50 and every other year is adequate, unless you have a family history or have identified with the breast cancer gene. (This is the accepted protocol in Europe and in other developed countries.)

Over--screening is finding a cysts and other growths that will never become a deadly cancer.  Women are getting unnecessary biopsies, even worse, mastectomies, not to mention the harm from excessive radiation. The number of women who are “saved” by early detection is so small, that it doesn't outweigh the bad medicine.  (Men suffer from a similar finding about too much prostate cancer screening.)

Every year, my doctor writes a script for an annual mammogram. Makes me wonder why they aren't reading the same things I'm reading. My local hospital has been nagging me with reminders since my anniversary date passed in February.  I get it that the hospital has expensive machines to pay off and a staff they want to keep busy. But at what point should health care providers forget about the money they need to run their health care machines and listen to the evidence? 

Medicine is an art as much as a science, but we have a good body of research on this now.  I would love my doctor to give me both sides of the argument and give me the option for a one or two year repeat. I'll sign whatever form he needs to absolve him from a lawsuit.

Even though I am not aligned with the Komen Foundation on this topic, I hope to be on the Parkway this Mother's Day walking with Barb and all those other people who are remembering someone they love who has known breast cancer. You can really feel the love at that event.  

Do conflicting messages about health care make you crazy?  Do you ever dare to tell your doctor that you are not going to have that EKG, mammogram, prostate screening, blood test, etc.? Let us know what you think.

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Mother-in-Law Spring Training Begins

Chris Brady

Last Saturday, my son proposed to his beloved and she said "yes."  

"Yikes," I thought. I am going to be a mother-in-law (MIL)

For the record: I am happy about the woman my son has found to share his life.  She could not be lovelier if I had dreamed her character for a novel. Like that famous movie line, "She makes him want to be a better man."

I think about what lies ahead: the wedding, first house, babies, and all that goes with creating their own family. 

And as the mother of the son, I wonder: how will I fit into their story?

That song from the 60s plays in continuous loop in my head.

The worse person I know.

Mother in law, Mother in law!

Why are MILs portrayed so badly in pop culture? We have such good intentions.

She worries me so

Mother in law, Mother in law!

After two close encounters with my son's future MIL, I think he is blessed. Her Mom is smart, generous and fun. Best of all, she cares for him, and she seems excited about their future.

If she leaves us alone

We could have a happy home

Sent from down below

Mother in law, Mother in law!

I have a wonderful MIL. She was great during the marriage, but more significantly, after my divorce, my MIL was supportive in many ways, large and small. She never took sides or interfered.  Of course she loves her son and was a rock for him.  But she was always there for me, is still there for me. I am thinking fondly of her as I build a relationship with my future daughter.

Every time I open my mouth

Steps in trying to put me out

How could you be so low?

Mother in law, mother in law.

Let's face it Moms: it's hard to keep quiet when you think your kid is heading down a rabbit hole.  But most of the time, he is informing, not asking for permission. I think you have to say what you think (some of the time), agree to disagree, and move on. 

She thinks her advice is a contribution

If she would leave that would be a solution

Don’t come back no more

Mother in law, Mother in law!

My son is the only child of divorced parents. His love will have to navigate two sets of parents and their extended families. It will be complicated, but I think she will be fine because she has a big heart. It's what I love most about her.

I guess I'll use the lyrics of this song as "what not to do" as I build my relationship with them. And enjoy being part of the best times of their life.

Readers:  do you have any good MIL stories? What are the watch outs? What are the joys?   

In case you are too young to know the Ernie K-Doe song (written by Allen Toussaint), enjoy.