Sunday, August 7, 2011

For My Sunshine

Your picture fell from the wall and shattered today.  It was the one that you brought back from Las Vegas.  The sketch drawing of you that I always thought looked more like Amber than you except that the artist somehow captured your light.  No one has a light like that.  He saw it and drew it and because of that and the fact that you seemed rather fond of it, I framed it and consider it one of my Precious Things.

Maria broke it.  She was cleaning the bathroom door, trying to be extra vigilent and thorough and when she pushed the door it hit the picture.  She tried to catch it but couldn't and she was so sad and scared that Juana had to be the one to tell me.  I assessed the damage and assured them both not to worry.  I would fix it.  I can fix it.

See that's the risk.  I am trusting someone with my most prized possessions.  I am trusting someone who can't possibly know that that rock with the googly eyes, or that weird purple frog or that clock that doesn't run are what are really meaningful in my world.  Even with them taking tremendous care something could go wrong, something could get broken.  I can't wrap up everything I love in tons of bubble wrap to keep it safe because then I wouldn't get to enjoy it.  So I go ahead and take the risk and sometimes stuff gets broken.  It happens.  It's life.

But the joy I get from taking that risk is so immense and irreplaceable it's worth it.  While they clean my house so perfectly top to bottom, I am playing with Dia.  I don't have to sacrifice that precious time on the weekend to tend to what ultimately has to be done.  Today I took her to swim class, enjoyed a yoga class afterwards, packed a picnic and had lunch under a tree in the park.  We flew a homemade kite, she tackled me over and over and finally, exhausted, we laid back laughing and looking at the blue sky through the trees.  It was perfect.  It was joy.  It's life.

Only through my beautiful gift of Juana and Maria do I get this luxury.  Because of them and Mom for providing them to me, I get to love, to smile, to laugh, to be happy a little bit more.  That is worth risking things getting broken.

Today as I looked on your beautiful, smiling face through shattered glass I mentally went through the steps of how to fix it.  The frame is in tact so I'll just find a similar one and borrow the glass out of it.  I'm sure it won't cost too much, though it may take me a while to find the right size.  Soon enough, though, I'll have it all whole and perfect again and back up on the wall where it belongs.

Years ago, I took a risk that I knew pretty early on was an ill chosen one.  This was a case of trusting someone with my heart, my vulnerabilities and my care.  I thought it was love, but there was little joy and what happiness I did feel was more of a contrast to the awful than anything good on its own basis.  Pictures were broken then too, but that time they were ones I couldn't fix.  My most precious things were burned or ripped to shreds and no amount of effort was going to get those back.  They were gone forever and I was left devastated. My heart was left abandoned and denied as well.  I'd trusted him with that precious thing too.  After that I was angry and hurt, but mostly scared and I wished for a ton of bubble wrap to hide my broken heart in until it healed.  I didn't have any though, so I just pushed on.

And life?  Life kept going.  So I kept going.  And eventually all was well.  Lessons were learned and I am better for them.

So, as it goes with lessons mothers learn, I want you to listen to this one:  Follow your joy.  If the joy just isn't there or if your moments of happiness are truly just the absence of pain, something irreparable will get broken.  Do not risk it.  But I think you know that one.

The lesson you might not yet know is this:  If there is joy - if you are genuinely happy - then even if something gets broken it was worth it.  You might feel shattered for a time, but your frame is strong and that incredibly blinding light you have can only dim for a minute or two.  You will get a new glass even though it may take a while to find the right one.  Soon enough you'll be all whole and perfect again and back up where you belong.


And if all else fails?  Well, I know where to get a ton of bubble wrap.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Well Played, Matt Damon

I've always loved Matt Damon.  He's a dream boat and he's wicked smart and he seems so damn nice and down to earth.  I want him to be my friend and come over for Sunday dinner every week he's in Los Angeles. 

When I saw his speech from the Save the Teachers Rally, my admiration grew even more so.  He spoke my very thoughts and concerns for Dia now going into school this fall.  If I could have said it better I would, but since Mr. Damon was so eloquent I will simply let him do what he does (with thanks).


“I flew overnight from Vancouver to be with you today. I landed in New York a few hours ago and caught a flight down here because I needed to tell you all in person that I think you’re awesome.

I was raised by a teacher. My mother is a professor of early childhood education. And from the time I went to kindergarten through my senior year in high school, I went to public schools. I wouldn’t trade that education and experience for anything.

I had incredible teachers. As I look at my life today, the things I value most about myself — my imagination, my love of acting, my passion for writing, my love of learning, my curiosity — all come from how I was parented and taught.

And none of these qualities that I’ve just mentioned — none of these qualities that I prize so deeply, that have brought me so much joy, that have brought me so much professional success — none of these qualities that make me who I am … can be tested.

I said before that I had incredible teachers. And that’s true. But it’s more than that. My teachers were EMPOWERED to teach me. Their time wasn’t taken up with a bunch of test prep — this silly drill and kill nonsense that any serious person knows doesn’t promote real learning. No, my teachers were free to approach me and every other kid in that classroom like an individual puzzle. They took so much care in figuring out who we were and how to best make the lessons resonate with each of us. They were empowered to unlock our potential. They were allowed to be teachers.

Now don’t get me wrong. I did have a brush with standardized tests at one point. I remember because my mom went to the principal’s office and said, ‘My kid ain’t taking that. It’s stupid, it won’t tell you anything and it’ll just make him nervous.’ That was in the ’70s when you could talk like that.

I shudder to think that these tests are being used today to control where funding goes.

I don’t know where I would be today if my teachers’ job security was based on how I performed on some standardized test. If their very survival as teachers was based on whether I actually fell in love with the process of learning but rather if I could fill in the right bubble on a test. If they had to spend most of their time desperately drilling us and less time encouraging creativity and original ideas; less time knowing who we were, seeing our strengths and helping us realize our talents.

I honestly don’t know where I’d be today if that was the type of education I had. I sure as hell wouldn’t be here. I do know that.

This has been a horrible decade for teachers. I can’t imagine how demoralized you must feel. But I came here today to deliver an important message to you: As I get older, I appreciate more and more the teachers that I had growing up. And I’m not alone. There are millions of people just like me.

So the next time you’re feeling down, or exhausted, or unappreciated, or at the end of your rope; the next time you turn on the TV and see yourself called “overpaid;” the next time you encounter some simple-minded, punitive policy that’s been driven into your life by some corporate reformer who has literally never taught anyone anything. … Please know that there are millions of us behind you. You have an army of regular people standing right behind you, and our appreciation for what you do is so deeply felt. We love you, we thank you and we will always have your back.”