Tag: decisions

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Madame Alexander…damn…I mean, Madam Secretary

I’ve recently become addicted to the CBS TV series “Madam Secretary” with Téa Leoni and Tim Daly.

It’s another insider-White House series, this time with Téa as the unconventional Secretary of State called to duty when the man previously holding that position goes down in a plane accident (well, no accident, but you have to watch for details about that…). She’s a former CIA operative whose then-boss is now, well, President (played by Keith Carradine).

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Téa Leoni, Tim Daly. Photos courtesy CBS-TV.

Husband Tim Daly is a world-reknowned religious and ethics scholar, and the two get plenty of play in international intrigue. Some of it’s a bit too intense for my liking — modern audiences seem to crave more of something I find distasteful — but a lot of it is very real human emotion, played with a good dollop of humor. You get the feeling the Secretary of State is just one of us. Until you look at her day.

(If you’re wondering about the title to my piece, I had to get it out front: I keep slipping up and calling the show “Madam[e] Alexander” like the damn dolls. Okay, lovely dolls, but they have nothing to do with this show in any way, shape or form. I’m hoping to break myself of this habit by placing it right out there.)

An ordinary day for Secretary of State….like the first episode of Season Two, which just finished.  (The season, that is. The first episode aired months ago.) Somehow, despite the fact that in a bizarre turn of events Secretary of State Elizabeth McCord has become acting President for a brief time, you relate to her. At least I did. In part, because, you see, poor Bess was being called upon to perform modified lyrics to a Billy Joel song at a state dinner. Yes, SING. Like me, she’s tone deaf. Unlike me, her chief of staff is (Broadway legend) Bebe Neuwirth, so she was saved.

The show is generally much heavier than that, so don’t look for anything so lightweight on a weekly basis.

bigstock--121875197 [Converted a]But here, at last, is my point. Secretary of State is a serious position. So is White House Chief of Staff.  There are plenty more such jobs, with consequences both glorious and catastrophic. And while there is no one person capable of making the perfect decision every single time for any given role, there are those far more qualified than others, more likely to consistently make strong decisions. Like any job, there is value in having experience, connections and wisdom from previous choices.

Some of those jobs, such as Chief of Staff, are appointed, and others, such as Secretary of State, are nominated by the President and confirmed by the Senate. The meaning of the process of “advise and consent” that the Senate takes on in the confirmation process varies from scholar to scholar, but in practical terms it amounts to this: the President has the greater power in choosing who will fill those positions.

And the people he or she chooses shape this country in ways big and small, change lives and bring opportunity — or take it — from others who can make a difference.

In other words, our choice of President is critical.

It’s not a favorite year for many for presidential candidates. Lately I’ve been hearing words that strike greater fear in me than anything else, “I think I’ll just stay home on Election Day.”

vote-election-day-vector-illustration_GyWJDRd_ [Converted]Don’t let this election be decided by those who don’t — or won’t — vote. If you stay home, you’re part of a movement guaranteeing the wrong man will win. It’s no longer the same party politics.

Watch Madam Secretary for a taste of the decisions our leaders will have to make. Dramatized? No doubt. Real? In enough ways that matter, yes, it is.

 

Image Credits: (Scenes from “Madam Secretary”): CBS-TV (fair use); (Building) retroclipart — Bigstock; (Vote Sign) GraphicStock.com

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Every Word, Every Drop

Once I was grocery shopping with my friend Pam and her then four-year-old daughter Macy, who was nearly jumping out of the shopping cart seat in excitement at every turn.

“Ooooo!” she’d say, “I want THAT!” Another few steps, “And that! and that!” In vain, Pam tried telling her they didn’t have the money to buy all those things. I decided to step in.

“You know Macy, there are lots of things I’d like to have, too,” I began. “I’d really like a new dress, and some shoes to go with it. Maybe some earrings. But I can’t afford it right now, so I just put it on a list for someday.”

“But I want THAT!” Macy insisted.

Pam sighed. “There are lots of things I want, too, and things Daddy would like,” she said, “but we can’t have everything we want.”

“I’d really like some new makeup,” I went on, maybe pushing it a little. “And a new car. Wow, I’d really like a new car. One with air conditioning.”

Macy was looking skeptical.  With her eyes narrowed, she put her hands on her hips and stared at us. “What you two need,” she said sternly, “is a piggybank.”

Piggy bank manager

We burst out laughing. Macy didn’t get anything she wanted that day, but she was the star of evening as we told the story again and again.

Since that time I’ve thought of that shopping trip and realized something rather important: Macy knew about saving money. As frustrated as Pam may have been with her daughter’s demands, when push came to shove, the kid had the answer. Mom was doing something right.

I wonder how many times parents get fed up with their children’s words and actions and wonder if they’re doing any good at all. They see other kids in the neighborhood seemingly doing so much better, maybe, or their nieces and nephews are the family stars. Is anything getting through?

It’s getting through. It’s all getting through. It may seem futile at the moment, but the words — and actions — are sinking in.

When I was about five, my parents decided to teach me a little about money. I’d been getting an allowance, a small amount, all in pennies.  They brought me to the kitchen table, where there was a pile of pennies on one side, and a dollar bill on the other.

I was told there were 100 pennies, which were worth the same as the dollar bill. I could have either the 100 pennies or the dollar bill, but it was important I understood they were worth the same.

No problem. Got it. Give me the dollar bill. I’d never had currency before.

My parents were certain that in my fascination with that dollar bill, I’d missed the lesson. I hadn’t. I’d grasped it quite quickly, in fact.

You never know what’s going on your child’s mind, but they’re hearing every word. That’s a comfort and a warning, I guess.

You can’t be there to make decisions for them, and they’ll make some mistakes, regardless of all your good words. But you’re laying a foundation and they’ll be building the house, so make it a good foundation.

Because it never stops making a difference. You never stop making a difference.

Photo Credits: (Piggy Bank Manager) © BCFC — Bigstock; (Two Girls) © zagorodnaya — Fotolia

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I Made Up My Mind … but Forgot What I Decided

Ah, life. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another.

AdobeStock_100009763 [Converted] c geosapI finally figured out what I was going to do with the next ten years, and what do you know, a few other people had some input into those ideas…people whose input matters. So the figuring is starting all over again.

But these are people who love me, so not to worry, right?

Yes, I’ve figured out a few things. Life is going to get you, one way or the other. You’re going to have good times, bad times and a lot of everyday, ordinary times.

You’re going to learn and grow (or not). You’ll think you’ve made it, only to find the rug pulled out from underneath you. You’ll think all is lost, only to have it given back to you again.

Those you think are for you will betray you and those you think could not care less about you will save your life.

It’s not all that mixed up, to be sure, or unexpected. But I made up my mind.. and forgot what I decided. And realized, it’s all a process leading to a destination we can’t imagine.

So here I go again.

Image Credit: (Cat) © geosap — Fotolia

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Fear, the Future and Moving Forward

When I was just under two years old, I feared nothing. Okay, not true. The only way I’d go down the slide was on my tummy, feet first, so apparently my fear of heights started early. But feeding ducks? Couldn’t get me to do that today (what if they bit me?) but as a toddler, if Grandpa told me it was okay, I was a trusting soul.

 

Admittedly, it took me a little bit to get into it, but once I did, I was all in.

Not too many people I trust that implicitly any more, I’m afraid. I’ve learned there’s value in counsel from many, and accepting the advice of one person in a life-changing situation, no matter how adamant they may be that they are right, is rarely the wise thing to do.

It takes me time to process things. Sometimes someone will make a suggestion and I’ll dismiss it out of hand. If they push it, I’ll push back, and get angry, defensive. I need time to think it through. Later I may come back and say, “hey, what about…?” and make the same suggestion they did only days before, frustrating the bejeebers out of them.

Other times I know I’m right, and I’ll push back, and that, too, will irritate my friends, who don’t see the difference. Not long ago I had a friend who, in all sincerity, thought I was taking a situation “too seriously” and not looking at things “the way they really are.”

I was living the situation; he wasn’t. I knew just how serious it was. He was frustrated because of my perceived attitude; I was equally perturbed by his stubborn refusal to accept my experience as valuable in evaluating the situation.

me graduation
Me at my college graduation — finally, at the age of 30

I struggle, daily, with important decisions. I seek advice from friends and family, and I look at past decisions, I write blog posts (some published, some not) about what I would or would not like to see happen.

There are aspects of my life I want changed now and things I want to change in the future. I lie awake at night thinking about what I need to do to protect my future, and worrying some things will never change if I don’t take baby steps.

Some days I take the baby steps, then I forget to do so again for months at a time, losing any momentum I may have gained.

Moving forward is an ever-challenging, often exasperating, sometimes exhausting, yet ultimately exhilarating practice. It can happen slowly, then suddenly speed up and leave you spinning.

I never want to stop moving forward, growing and achieving personal freedom as a result. For me, it requires re-evaluation every so often, and I’m doing that now.

And looking forward to the next chapter.

 

 

 

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Feeling Grown-Up Ain’t What It Used To Be

I’m feeling like a grown-up today, and I don’t like it.

My mom had hip surgery last week, and I went to stay with her during her recovery. That’s a much shorter period of time these days, in part, thankfully, because of advancements in procedure. The surgery went beautifully, and she’s experienced only a moderate amount of pain.

christmas c 1965
Not sure what was going on here, but it was clearly important.

Until now, the day after I had to leave. Actually,  I didn’t have to leave, I planned to stay a day or two (or three) longer. But the weather was worsening, Mom was worried, and  she insisted I leave. So I did.

She also confessed that as long as I was there, she’d depend on me, and she couldn’t do that any longer. So I made the long drive home, normally one I somewhat enjoy, feeling guilty, even knowing I did what she wanted.

Or said she wanted.

It leaves me to muddle through from my home 700 miles away. She’s my mom, and I could never do enough for her. Yet I’m being called on to be responsible for at least part of her care, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’m muddling with the help of others, but putting those pieces together weighs on me. Do I move to be closer to her? It’s what she wants, but is it what I want? Is what I want important here? Would I regret not moving after she’s gone? I have to make adult decisions and it’s hard.

Me & Mom Jan 2004 cropped
About ten years ago, on my birthday

Should I have insisted I stay longer? At what point, as the daughter, do I call the shots? Aside from this surgery, my mom is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She’s proven that, time and again.

What decisions lay ahead? Will she be able to live on her own until she dies? Family history says yes, but that isn’t a true predictor of her situation.

How could I move her out of her home? I couldn’t.

I’m feeling like an adult, and I don’t like it.