Archive of ‘Life Without A Manual’ category

Fly Like An Eagle

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, meaning many ideas can come from a single shot. So, I thought I’d give it a try.

This family photo was taken at Andrew’s Eagle Scout ceremony a few weeks ago.

When Andrew was in the second grade, he told us he wanted to join cub scouts. He attended a school assembly and learned several friends were already part of the den. I admit that my first thought was – how will I squeeze scouts into our already packed schedule? Between piano lessons, swim practice, soccer games, homework, and Hebrew school – and working full-time – I didn’t think I’d be able to take on one more thing.

Enter my husband, Scott, who agreed to take care of everything that involved scouts. He was interested in volunteering and understood the value scouting could bring Andrew. For the next ten years, scouts became a father-son activity that they both benefited from immensely. While Andrew learned about going camping, tying knots, and building cars for the Pinewood Derby, Scott attended den meetings, volunteer training programs, and numerous camping trips. Boy scout camp was challenging for us because it was the same week overnight camp started. Not wanting him to miss out on earning several badges at a time, Scott arranged for Andrew to attend both.

At the end of elementary school, some kids decided to give up scouting for other activities – but Andrew doubled down on his commitment. So much so that he made a pact with one of his best friends – also named Andrew – to see scouting through to Eagle. The two of them have been working side-by-side ever since. The boys didn’t realize it at the time, but their pact brought our families closer, and we took great joy in celebrating both of them that day.

During the ceremony, I received the mother’s pin in recognition for supporting Andrew in reaching this milestone. While Scott was the designated parent for scouts, I was cheering him on the whole way. I drove him to meetings and activities, volunteered for his Eagle Scout project (where he planted 120 trees at a local park), and washed his smelly and dirty clothes after long camping trips. (I knew my knack for doing laundry would earn me a medal someday).

At the Eagle Scout ceremony, it was wonderful to have all four grandparents, extended family, and friends in attendance. Our daughter, Jenna, took a break from studying for finals and came up from Maryland – where she is living for the summer. She wouldn’t have missed this moment for the world. Like his bar mitzvah five years ago, this is quite an accomplishment and a moment to celebrate with the ones you love.

And last but certainly not least, I want to talk about Andrew. As many of you know, Andrew is also a high school swimmer. He started his swimming career around the same time as scouts. When he joined the team, he noticed that a few kids sported mohawk haircuts for the season. He asked if he could have one too. This is how that conversation went down.

“Mom, I want to get a mohawk.”

“A mohawk?! Seriously, Andrew?

“Please! I want one so badly.”

“You realize that you are also attending summer camp and might be the only kid with a mohawk.” To which he said the following:

“Mom, I’m a leader, not a follower.”

Oy! How could I say no to those seven memorable words? One could argue that he was following the other swimmers. But I say that he leaned into his team spirit and self-confidence. These leadership qualities swayed me to make the trip to Great Clips the next day.

If you have read this far, please allow me one more story about Andrew.

Besides joining the swim team and scouting in the second grade, Andrew simultaneously began speech therapy. You wouldn’t know it if you talk to him now, but back then, he had a significant word retrieval problem. He knew what he wanted to say, but his brain couldn’t find the words fast enough. He would often look up at the sky in frustration hoping the right words would fall from it. This made it quite difficult for him to express himself in the classroom and at home. For two years, he learned certain cues, broadened his vocabulary, practiced making eye contact, and embraced other strategies to help him speak his mind. At the end of elementary school, he received the class Citizenship Award and landed the lead in the school play.

Scouting provided him with a safe space to use his voice for the greater good. For his Eagle Scout project, he worked closely with the Parks and Rec department on the project, enlisted many volunteers, gave instructions, and continued to establish himself as a leader.

Recently, I learned that the highest award in Boy Scouts was originally called a Wolf Scout. This changed to Eagle Scout in 1911 with the redesign of the medal. As a marketing professional, I think this was a brilliant move on their part. To me, a wolf stays in the shadows, while an eagle soars. As Andrew graduates high school next week and starts Drexel University in the fall, my heart – along with the eagle – soars with pride. While he is leaving the nest soon, we are sending him out into the world as a strong leader, a thoughtful person, and a true mensch.

Fly like an eagle, Andrew. We love you!

A Blood Pressure Check

Every few months, I go to the doctor to check my blood pressure. While the appointment is not invasive, I still dread it. So many things can affect my blood pressure on any given day. It can be triggered when I have a lot to do and there is a long wait at the doctor’s office. Or maybe I was late for the appointment due to traffic or something beyond my control. And sometimes, I’m just having a bad day.

One time, my doctor came into the exam room and thought he would make idle chit-chat with me by talking about the Trump administration.

“What do you think about Trump’s response to the pandemic?”

I told him I would be more than happy to offer my thoughts on the matter AFTER he took my blood pressure. He thought that was valid.

Yesterday, I went to the doctor for another blood pressure check. Two medical assistants came in, took my vitals, and asked me what I thought would be some routine questions: Do you still take this medicine? Have you had your mammogram yet this year? Stuff like that.

This time was different.

“Have you been depressed over the last two weeks?”

“Yes,” I chuckled, thinking about how overwhelmed I have been at work and this feeling that I have been disappointing people left and right. I also thought about being a card-carrying member of the sandwich generation and the concerns that come with it. I also have a constant playlist running through my brain of things I need to do today, this week, and this month. The weight of it all can be pretty depressing.

The women looked at each other alarmingly. They weren’t expecting this response. The taller assistant looked at me and asked a follow-up question.

“Are you thinking of hurting yourself?”

“God, no!” I shrieked. “I take Zoloft.” (By the way, this information is already on my medication list).

“Oh, okay! So, your depression is ‘managed.’ “

Yes, it’s managed – thank G-d – but that’s not what she asked me. We moved on from there to a series of much less-complicated questions, but her first question lingered. I considered the emotional rollercoaster I’ve been on recently. My work/life balance has been nonexistent. Over the last few weeks, I’ve been trying to catch up at work after a major fundraiser while simultaneously launching our new brand. This means working 10-12 hour days just to feel somewhat accomplished. I’d force myself to turn off my computer at night and promptly fall asleep on the couch. There have been plenty of mornings lately when I woke up at 4:30 am and couldn’t fall back to sleep.

Yes, my depression is under control, but sometimes when my life feels out of control, I get depressed. Am I unable to get out of bed? No. Do I enjoy my life and all of the incredible milestones taking place? Yes. Do I feel exhausted, frustrated, and unproductive? At times. But thankfully, it’s managed.

As for my blood pressure, of course, it spiked. Did it spike because of that question? Who knows. See you in a month, doc.

Writing for My Life

Last night, I had the honor of meeting Pulitzer-Prize-winning journalist and best-selling author Anna Quindlen.

Okay, when I say I “met” her, I sat in the audience and heard her speak about her new book, “Write For Your Life,” asked her a question about writing my memoir, and stood in line for her to sign my book. I spoke to her for no more than a minute, and yet her words have changed me as a writer.

For instance, why write? Yes, I have a personal connection to Parkinson’s Disease and often feel I was put on this Earth to raise awareness and tell that story. However, it isn’t the only reason. I also write to be known. That doesn’t mean I long to be famous or win awards, far from it. I hope someday my 50-year-old grandchild (f I should be so lucky to have one) discovers my blog, reads my stories, soaks in my words, resonates with them on a personal level, and ultimately knows me as a person. And then, my writing becomes my legacy long after I’m gone.

Another gem from last night was during the Q&A when someone asked Ms. Quindlen what advice she has for aspiring writers. I love when people ask this of other authors. The answers always vary and are often either practical, inspiring, or esoteric. Quindlen did not disappoint.

“Put your butt in the chair,” she said. It is the only way to be a prolific writer. She said to write when you are in the mood and when you aren’t. Write when you feel you have nothing to talk about. And write the minute something strikes you because if you don’t, you run the risk of forgetting about it.

She is so right. Sitting down to write can be a challenge for me. It isn’t that I don’t have something to say. (I always have something to say. 🙂 ) It’s the real-world distractions like housework and errands that keep me from my passion. I also have a day job that I love, but where I constantly write, leaving little creative juices left for writing my memoir. All of this is why this blog too often winds up at the bottom of my to-do list.

So, I’ve taken a few actions to remedy this problem. This week, I signed up for HippoCamp, a small writer’s conference in Lancaster, PA, specifically for creative non-fiction writers. This is an important distinction because so many events focus on fiction writing, with only a handful of workshops dedicated to personal essays, biographies, and memoirs. At HippoCamp, I’ll learn to fact-check my family story, use my five senses to bring back long-lost memories, and how to infuse my weird sense of humor into complex topics. The writers who attend this conference are supportive, brilliant, inspiring, and, like me, they want their stories to be known.

I’m also putting my butt in the chair. This requires a drastic change to my morning routine. No more sitting on the couch for an hour and scrolling through Facebook. I waste precious time there. Mornings are the best time for me to write. So, I will set my alarm and stop hitting the snooze button. When I wake up, I will drink coffee, do the Wordle, and write. Because this book isn’t going to write itself, and this blog will soon be forgotten if I don’t give it some love and post more often.

Most importantly, I will never be truly known, and that yet-to-exist grandchild will never read these stories until I sit down to write them.

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