My daughter, Sawyer, thought her decision was made. However, she had agonized over it for some time. She's gone to the same camp every summer for all but one since she was five-years-old, and was a counselor (for the first time) last summer, but decided to skip this year. Her logic? She knew that going away to college for her freshman year meant she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her high school friends before saying goodbye, not to mention having to get ready and pack for college.
All sounds good, yes? Until one of the camp directors got in touch with her, hoping to change her mind. It seems they have plenty of campers (many Sawyer has watched grow up over the years) but not enough counselors. So, the dilemma began … all over again.
She loves camp and not only because it's fun. For her, it's been a strong emotional experience, a second family, and a community where she has always felt the bonds of love and the power of relationships. But she recognized that this is a summer of transition – moving away from her core group of high school friends that may or may not remain in her life, and moving away from home. In other words, leaving behind one part of her life and beginning the next chapter. Now what?
Well, in our family, when faced with a difficult decision, it usually means talking about it. But this was a delicate situation as she had already talked to me about all the pros and cons, not to mention the tug-of-war between her heart and her head. I knew that she needed a sounding board and support more than anything else. So, I decided … to get my hair done,
As Sawyer wielded her flat iron magic on my hair, we casually talked about her dilemma. I mostly listened, allowing her to talk about whatever she wanted so that she could hear the words out loud, not just in her head. Occasionally, I'd ask a "curiosity" question – not to get an answer, but to generate food-for-thought. At the end, I didn't ask if she had made a decision, but I told her that whatever decision she ultimately made, I knew it was the right one. And that my hair looked great.
I've gone most of my life thinking that everything had a right or wrong answer. And that conversations about serious things require serious conversations. But Sawyer made me realize that conversations about serious things need effective communication, but they don't have to take place in a serious setting.
And what did Black say when I told her about my "awakening"? I won't bore you with all her "analysis" about it being easier to talk with people when it's a casual conversation, and you don't have direct eye-to-eye contact, but she couldn't help but point out,
Well, I guess that explains why so many people share so much with their hairstylists.
I Love Lucy. For many of us, myself included, those three words bring back memories of favorite episodes of the “I Love Lucy” show. And, although I would be hard-pressed to pick my favorites, some may reminisce that the show, which ran from 1951 – 1957, was from a simpler time and is dated. I would argue that the comic timing, the gags, and the chemistry of the characters have stood the test of time.
Maybe it is because they took frustrating situations in everyday life and then pushed them to the extreme – and made them hilarious along the way. For example, your young child wants a superhero at their birthday party. Reasonable. But for Lucy, after unsuccessfully trying to book Superman (Chris Reeves), she dons the costume in “Lucy and Superman.” A classic.
I will not get into the scientific reasoning why people love watching reruns, but they do. And, it may explain why “I Love Lucy” has been on air for 70 years. (Note: I watched them as reruns, not when originally released.) However, the concept of reruns was, to a great extent, invented by "I Love Lucy" (technically, Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz) when they negotiated with CBS for the right to own their filmed episodes. (Back then, networks would air shows only once, and when they took breaks from filming, would air a different show – not reruns.) It was a brilliant business decision because it was not long before the real Lucy (Lucille Ball) became pregnant and wanted to ease her production schedule, so the network reran shows, paying the couple (via their production company, Desilu Studios) for the rebroadcast rights. And, they created a second-run syndication market along the way.
Even her pregnancy was groundbreaking, as Lucille Ball was the first woman to appear pregnant on one of the three major television networks (although the show never used the deemed-vulgar word “pregnant,” she was “expecting” or Ricky’s version, “spectin”). “I Love Lucy” was also a first in portraying mixed couples when Lucille Ball, already a star at the time, wanted her real-life husband, a Cuban bandleader, to play her on-screen spouse. Oh my, an all-American redhead married to a Latino man! But, America loved them. And, it seemed that Lucille Ball and her character were interchangeable.
But were they? Lucy Ricardo was constantly trying to break out of the role of a wife who stayed in the kitchen. And dreamed and schemed to break into show business. Often convincing her best friend, Ethel Mertz (I always thought it interesting that Fred and Ethel never had children, and accepted it although I did wonder “why”), to be her partner-in-crime. I felt they were always trying, using comedy as their messaging medium, to say there was more to being a woman than the traditional roles of wife and mother.
Clearly, Lucille Ball was much more than an actress and comedian; she was a trailblazing producer and very shrewd in business. She became one of the first women to own her own TV production company when she bought out Desi’s share of Desilu Studios several years after their divorce. And, besides producing TV classics such as "The Untouchables" and "Mission: Impossible," she was brilliant (and brave) enough to get behind the original Star Trek TV series,
I love Lucy, and the years of laughter and enjoyment. But, I admire Lucille Ball, a true badass back when the censors would never have allowed that word on air.
It may seem odd to talk about footprints in the snow when most of us are experiencing record heat. But, as we all go through our busy days, it is easy to overlook how the steps we take in life, whether intentional or unplanned, good or bad, lead us to where we are today. And, while it is easy to focus on the past, the future is an untrodden path, waiting for our next step …
Back in 2004, I met an older couple participating in a Ferrari rally, and after a deep conversation over a long lunch, they became dear friends. It was an event that would change my life in many ways, and several months later, shortly after my husband “surprised” me with a divorce, the husband sent me an email that so moved me that I put it in my “Blue Book”. (A Circa planner with a blue leather cover, hence the name, that includes not only my calendars but also a section with a few things I re-read on a regular basis.)
Last month, he passed away. I always made a point of letting them know that “Footprints” had become an important part of my life. They are words to live by. And, in honor of my dear friend, who is loved and missed, I want to share that email. With no edits … as we do not get to edit our lives …
In the spring of 1972 Sue and I had been married for 18 months and we were dissatisfied with our existence. After some serious soul searching we decided to make a radical change in our lives. Both of us had read a book by the author Louis Bromfield that rhapsodized about the joys of farm life. We were young and adventurous, and we did not realize that Mr. Bromfield was independently wealthy, he was in fact a famous Hollywood screenwriter and not even remotely dependent on farming for a living.
We sold all of the extras that we had accumulated such as our house, my AA Fuel Dragster, Dragster Trailer, and miscellaneous spare engine and associated parts, cashed in my life insurance and moved to a small farm in North Central Missouri twelve miles South of the community of Marshall. We had chosen that latitude carefully reasoning that the land around us needed to change as much as possible during the year if we were going to stay in one place all the time. Marshall, Missouri has four distinct and nearly equal seasons with a long Spring and Fall, a real contrast to the monotony of Houston, Texas. The first year of our Missouri residence we saw the temperature swing one hundred and thirty four degrees, from a high in late July of 106º to a low in January of 1973 of 28º below zero. The land changed around us indeed.
One of my real surprises was learning how much I liked cold weather. I had never really lived anywhere where it snowed very often. I was delighted when we had snows during the night that formed ice crystals in the surface so that when the sun came up in the morning the snow sparkled as if there there was a diamond studded white blanket draped across the fields.
One morning in that first winter I left the house early while I was waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. It had snowed about six inches during the night but dawn broke on a cloudless sky with the blue that only a cold clear morning sky has. I wandered with the rising sun at my back to the top of the closest ridge. When I reached the crest I could see before me a gently undulating pristine white scene with only the sounds of the early morning birds to keep me company. It was a glorious day.
After a few moments I turned to leave and there in the otherwise unbroken white lay a path of solitary footprints. Dumbstruck I realized that I was looking at a metaphor for my life, that each step that I had ever taken led precisely to where I was standing. I turned back around and looked at the future, unmarked waiting for my next footprint and I had an epiphany. If I wanted the footprints of the future to go in a certain direction, or to have a particular shape then it was up to me to make each individual step count. The footprints of the future would leave a history of my choices. That morning in the snow my life changed and I started the footprints that surely lead to where I am standing now.
In time I came to understand that each footprint was necessary to help me reach this moving destination, each misstep, each stumble, each mistake and fall, each heartache and all the joys have made me into the man I am today.
I don't regret a single one.
Drive carefully my friend, the future is before you, the footprints of the past cannot be changed.
To say that this summer has been hot is an understatement, but summer has always been a season to enjoy longer days, the slower pace, and summer eating. And just because we’re being bombarded with pumpkin-flavored everything, indicating Fall’s just around the corner, it doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy the summer way of life.
When the summer started, Red struggled to balance the feeling that she should be getting more done with the “extra hours” vs. wanting to enjoy more leisure time. Of course, Black couldn’t resist pointing out,
There are 24 hours in a day, regardless of season. The extra daylight makes you feel like you have more hours. Regardless, summer is a great time to rethink how you spend those “extra” hours.
So, even though the calendar may indicate we only have a few weeks left of summer, it’s not too late to think about summer hours … and how you can adjust your mindset. Which can last, well, forever.
To read our full conversation, which includes Black suggestion of possibly doing a cookbook (was she serious or merely being her typical sarcastic self?), click here.