Do Not Pass Go

It's all too easy to be glum about the way things have gone this year. But as it's Friday and the beginning of another beautiful weekend, I'd rather end on a happy note of gratitude.
Yes, that's right. I'm grateful that my prayers, such as they are, are being answered.
Back when another administration had just won it's second term and I was a little less jaded about church, I used to pray. I didn't pray for specific election results, or particular things to pass or fail in Washington. I didn't pray for public officials (or Supreme Court justices) to die. I'd just, once in a while, pray that the true character of elected officials would be revealed and that the people would take note. That left room for me being wrong.
And, as the term went on, my prayer was answered--event after character-revealing event. We had hurricanes and financial meltdowns (not that I'd ever pray for any of these things) and the officials reactions were noted.
I don't pray as often these days, but when I do, it's still the same prayer. And it's been making me nervous lately. Sure, we've had the push for health care reform. But it was beginning to look like the true character of this administration was to hand over everyone's money to the upper crust and trust in the same, sorry old "trickle down" theory that got us into so much trouble in the first place.
So I was heartened this week when the White House demanded 50 percent pay cuts and caps on benefits for the top management running companies that got so much government bailout money.
(Here's a story on Bloomberg.com.)
At last, evidence of a spine. Despite the fact that, just the day before, Goldman Sachs International adviser Brian Griffiths made news for defending the obscene pay packages the financial industry was preparing to shower on it's top earners. Sachs suggested banks make larger charitable contributions (a public relations ploy to salvage their reputations, I suppose.).
And he went on to say:
“It was the failed moral compass of bankers which was primarily responsible for why we had this crisis,” he said. “The question is: what can we do in the culture of institutions to make them behave in a more socially responsible way?” (whole story here)
Failed moral compass? Really?
If you want to see where these guy's moral compasses have been the past decade, check out this depressing chart of Wall Street bonuses versus average annual pay in the Huffington Post.
I've always wondered at the affinity that certain Christian church leaders have for laissez-faire capitalism. Considering that money changers, rich people and hypocrites were often sore points with Jesus, why is unrestrained capitalism the only economy accepted by them?
Capitalism has no moral compass, beyond self interest. Just ask Ayn Rand. The only point of capitalism is to make money, pure and simple. If that means using tax money of the strapped middle class for a second home, or throwing out a worker because his illness costs your company too much, so be it. Moral compasses are for clerics and philosophers.
So Pres. Obama. Keep it up.
Oh, and here's a great screed from Bob Herbert earlier this week in the New York Times.

Thrive

It's Monday. It's rainy. It's cloudy and dark.
Once again.
But I'll resist the temptation to give in to pessimism today, especially after what was one of my darker posts on Friday. Today, instead, I'll allow myself to be inspired by words I heard in President Obama's speech to the National Academy of Sciences this morning.
I know, I know. Being inspired by a politician in office is not the appropriate response for someone with a journalist's background. Instead, our reflex is to doubt, maybe even sneer a little. We cross our arms and sit back, waiting for disappointment.
This is still my first reaction to anything coming out of a politician's mouth, and I know that some of my friends feel that way also. If it helps any, the thought in question isn't so much Obama's as it is Abe Lincoln's.
Obama talked about Lincoln's signing of the act creating the NAS, a time when the outcome of the Civil War was far from certain.
"Lincoln refused to accept that our nation's sole purpose was merely to survive," Obama said. He then went on to list Lincoln's optimistic agenda: land grant colleges and a transcontinental railroad.
"Even in the hardest times and against the toughest odds, we have never given in to pessimism; we have never surrendered our fates to chance; we have endured; we have worked hard; we have sought our new frontiers," Obama said.
That spoke to me today. Because that person who's thought is "merely to survive?" That's been me.
We got the first small paycheck since Mike was cut back last week, and it's...uh...it's.......yeah. It's grim.
There are still adjustments, of course. The lump sum "bridge payment" had so much withheld for taxes that the regular withholding will have to change. But....
So all weekend, I've been losing sleep over the idea of surviving.
How to not merely survive but thrive? That's a tough one. By taking on way more than I have time for? Working around the clock? Possibly. By applying for jobs I'm in no way qualified for? Probably.
But my grandmother and her family survived the Great Depression. I can, too.
Let the fun begin.

Ho Ho Here We Go (Again)

Last week was stressful. Unusually stressful. We dealt with rumors of more work cutbacks, a minor health problem, an unexpectedly high bill to repair the rototiller and of course, the continuing stock market saga. So as the week marched on, we had a decision to make:
Should we return to laughing yoga?
My husband and son had scheduling conflicts. My daughter, though, surprised me. She'd been assuming all along we would go again. And--little did I know--she'd been busy inviting friends.
Going to laughter yoga once out of curiosity is one thing (read account here). Going back is quite another. And going back in the company of two or more teenage girls...well, that puts it in a whole different dimension.
Irene, my daughter, is at the age when it becomes obvious that your parents need to be reined in. They should be told to keep their public actions more tepid, beige and uninteresting, lest they embarrass you.
To that end, we have a long list of things we've been asked not to do in public:
Sing
Whistle
Dance
Gesticulate excessively with the hands
Smile too much
Or generally do anything else deemed too goofy.
Now, I am to believe that I will be doing all those things and more, not only in public but in the company of her girlfriends. What's happening here? Am I being punked? Will I see a secretly-taped video of myself shooting "laughter arrows" later on Facebook?
Since I was a little leery about her motives, we had a talk before going. Just to make things clear. You can't isolate yourselves in your little group, I said. You can't talk to each other. You have to do everything the instructor says.
And I better not see you making fun of anyone else there, either.
But she seemed sincere and, just in case she was, I didn't want to be the harsh cop much more than that.
So off we went, with two of her friends.
The class was essentially the same, but with some changes in the exercises. It wasn't any harder to laugh the second time around. We still got tired and we still felt good afterward. Everyone behaved.
And--surprise, surprise--a laughter yoga class seems custom made for 14-year-old girls. Giggling and acting goofy are things they are well practiced in.
I also was happily surprised that there were no meaningful nods or elbow prods at the expense of others in the room. I guess when everyone is laughing together, it's harder to play the critical observer--another thing that teenage girls are often well practiced at.
Which brings me to the reason I like this yoga. It isn't so much the laughing, or even the goofiness of the exercises. It's the fact that you get to spend 45 minutes in a room full of people and they're all smiling and making eye contact with you the entire time. How many other times a month--or a year, for that matter--can you say that?
You're in a room where no one is casting disapproval. (Well perhaps they are, deep in their minds. But you could never tell from their faces, which are smiling. Anyway, I'm not so sure it's possible to be disapproving when you're laughing and doing crazy things.) For a social phobe like me, that's healing balm.
The person who thought this up, I am told, thinks it could hasten world peace if enough people do it. I don't know about that, but I could see it improving the clique-conscious climate of high schools and the anxiety of work. Who knows, maybe it would help the Pentagon as well.
President Obama, are you listening?

Optimist or Sap?

I'm an eternal optimist. That doesn't mean I'm a sap.

The words above, from President Obama as quoted by Bob Herbert (NY Times) perfectly express my qualms about this whole optimism thing. So perfectly I'm thinking of setting them to music or putting the sentiment in cross stitch. Here's a crafting possibility:


Optimist. Sap. Optimist. Sap. For most of my life, those two words have meant the same thing. (Apologies to my husband, "Mr. Glass half-full." I don't mean you) An optimist gets credit for being forward-thinking, for seeing opportunity ahead and acting on it. A sap gets taken. By the way, you notice a pessimist never gets called "forward-thinking" even if the gloomy prediction turned out to be true.
So. Were we optimists for putting money in the market for college, retirement, etc? Were we optimists when we decided to buy a house? To spend our savings to put kids through college? To stay home with the kids?
Or were we saps?
I like to think we were realistically optimistic when we made all those decisions. The evidence and the news seemed to support us. They felt like the right decisions. If you look at how things were just a few years ago, we seemed overly pessimistic, if anything. We didn't go deep into credit card debt or refinance our house, even though every commercial and piece of junk mail urged us to not be saps by missing out.
(In one commercial that used to be on each weekday morning, an animated "granny" would shake her finger and roll her eyes impatiently at her hapless son, who just couldn't figure out how a new home loan could make his life better. The idea was that his family was suffering, I guess. In fact, most older people I know who've lived through the 30's Depression are horrified at the thought of all that debt.)
More and more, though, I'm feeling like a sap. And we don't have any of the terrible problems that have beset people on the coasts. We weren't ripped off by Madoff, for example. Our house isn't about to be foreclosed.
We avoided debt by scraping along, eating in, getting by with one car in the suburbs while XKE drivers partied it up with imaginary money. And we thought we'd be okay because the tassled-shoe set told us business could police itself. There's the sappy part.
But--whoa--I'm about to get off the optimism track here and venture into a tirade. We don't want that.
The enduring thing about all our troubles, I think, is that it may bring about new definitions of "optimist" and possibly even "sap." For example:
Buying a peanut butter product or a child's toy? You'll be an optimist if you take that risk after first thoroughly checking the company and country of origin. Otherwise, a sap.
Buying a lottery ticket? Optimist.
Buying stock? Sap.
Saving for retirement? Sap. You won't be able to retire.
Saving for a big trip to Europe? Optimist. Global recession has brought about some really cheap fares and weak currencies. If only you keep your job long enough to take advantage.
And...that makes me feel better. We must go to Europe! What a great idea! You think I'm being sarcastic but I'm completely serious. I think I can fit it in the budget after the car's front end, the cat's blood work, the stove, the refrigerator....

Before I close, I wanted to include this interesting poem on optimism by Stephen Dunn, with thanks to Jean Burke. And also, my daughter's rendition of "I Puke Rainbows."

Optimism
by Stephen Dunn

My friend the pessimist thinks I'm optimistic
because I seem to believe in the next good thing.
But I see rueful shadows almost everywhere.
When the sun rises I think of collisions and AK-47s.
It's my mother's fault, who praised and loved me,
sent me into the dreadful world as if
it would tell me a story I'd understand. The fact is
optimism is the enemy of happiness.
I've learned to live for the next good thing
because lifelong friends write good-bye lettres,
because regret follows every timidity.
I'm glad I konw that all great romances are fleshed
with failure. I'll take a day of bitterness and rain
to placate the gods, to get it over with.
My mother told me I could be a great pianist
because I had long fingers. My fingers are small.
It's my mother's fault, every undeserved sweetness.

Be Like Julio

By now you've no doubt seen this guy on your nightly news roundup:

Here he is with Keith Olberman on MSNBC, talking about his moment of glory as one called upon to answer a question from President Obama.
I bring him up because I am scouting about for optimist heroes to pattern myself after. I'm not talking about those sales guys who are always flaunting their expensive cars and gee-gaws to get you to sign up for their seminars. I mean real, common, everyday optimists.
It strikes me that Julio might be one. And I find that disturbing.
This is a guy who jumped up and down and screamed for the chance to ask that one last question at the town hall meeting. Then, when he got the spotlight he waved his hands in the air and babbled on in a kind of ecstasy. As the meeting ended and the crowd got to its feet, you could see him still leaping wildly in the back.
And if you clicked on this video, you heard his thoughts on succeeding.
It's tempting to laugh at this guy and his over-the-top emotions. He is just 19, after all. I know my first reaction was "this guy seems like a cartoon drawing of what an optimist is supposed to be."
Then again. He did get his wish to ask that last question. He did, as a result of the press coverage, get a chance at an internship in media. And people like him. At least I do.
Is he an optimist? Judging by his interviews, yeah, that would be my guess.
Was he successful? At least in the short term, he was.
Could I imitate him?
Not without electroshock therapy.
I was always "the quiet one" in school. I suppose I could try to transform myself into a Julio, but the enormity of the effort would probably kill me. Yet, judging by all the literature that urges you to believe in yourself, keep on pushing, etc., it seems that Julio conforms to many of the principles of positive thinking. Right down to that constant talk about being "blessed."
It's all very depressing. If being an optimist means I have to completely reverse my personality, all hope is lost.
I won't be able to be Julio. But at least I can amuse myself a little. Imagine if, you will, that everyone in that crowd became an optimist a la Julio. When Obama asked for questions, they all waved wildly, crying "Pick me! Pick me!" Befuddled by the ocean of arms and hands, Obama's gaze fell on a person standing quietly to one side, one finger upraised.
"Can you tell us how to be optimists, please?" she asked.

I don't do New Year's resolutions. Well, not usually. The only one in memory is from around 1999 and I remember it primarily because it was successful. Resolved: I will wear more earrings. And it worked! I did wear more earrings. It was such a success that I've been reluctant to try and top it.

I offer this as a way of explaining why a non-believer in resolutions is starting a blog that is, in essence, the account of one big New Year's resolution. It is the story of my attempt to become an optimist.

If I've convinced a few of my friends to check out this blog, they will no doubt be right now guffawing. Because for most of my life I have been the hard-core opposite of an optimist (how nice those two words look together.) In my marriage, I'm known as Ms. Glass Half Empty while my husband is--you guessed it--Mr. Glass Half Full. He's the one taking risks on hopes of a better tomorrow. I'm the one saving money for the coming apocalypse.

This was our MO through the 80s, when we were young and starting jobs and a family, through the 90s, when we were buying our first house and through the early years of this millennium. During all those years, things went pretty well for us. We didn't get too far in debt (well, a little, though) and we managed to put two of our three kids through college. It was a nice balance.

Now, though. Well, I guess most of the people reading this are in about the same place, so I'll spare you the tales of unreplaced chairs in the living room and doctor's checkups skipped. Suffice it to say, the times require more than one optimist per family. It's just too big a job. That's the unselfish reason for my resolution.

The selfish reason is cancer.
I expect to get cancer one day, just as everyone of my generation will. Don't even argue with me here. We've all breathed the air and drank the water, eaten the factory food and walked outside in the sun. We're all getting cancer, like it or not. I have only just reached the age when it becomes not only possible but probable, judging by the number of screenings recommended by health care professionals. And if--when--I get it, research has shown I will not survive because I am not enough of an optimist.

You don't have to believe me. Do your own Google search. Type in the words "effects of optimism on physical health" and see how many studies there are. Just about every time you turn around someone's talking about how a positive attitude is crucial to beating cancer--how someone seemed beyond help but pulled back miraculously because of their unwavering optimism.

So I know right off the bat that I'm doomed. Might as well skip the screenings, because once one of them comes back positive, I am a goner.

Okay then, maybe it's time to do something. Having come from the world of newspapers and music, I don't really know how to make myself into an optimist, but I'm willing to try. In future posts, I'll be trying to find out what an optimist really is and perhaps doing some book reviews. In the meantime, though, here's my very first day:

Jan. 20, 2009.
It seems like as good a day as any to start. As with most New Year's resolutions, I'm late getting started. Then there was the whole "learning how to set up a blog" thing. But the day Barack Obama is sworn in as president seems like a good way to start my life as an optimist.

I started the day by putting on makeup for the first time in months (and earrings!). Though it's still a pain, it felt kind of good. So good start, anyway.
I watched most of the ceremony on television as it happened (being a piano teacher has its advantages). I don't mind admitting that I got choked up a bit at the idea of a black man taking the oath of office where formerly slaves labored. And Aretha's performance was gorgeous. Maybe things will get better.

How's the stock market, BTW? Oh. Damn. Down 332 points.

Here comes Obama for the oath of office. And here--I kid you not--at just the very moment he's being sworn in, the phone rings. It's the garage. Our car repairs will cost $450.

When I had finished weeping, I wondered: How did that guy know? How did he know today is my first day being an optimist? And why, why did he feel the need to offer the first test?

So let's take a whack at it. All right. It will be a serious setback since we've exhausted just about all our savings (remember the recession post 9/11? That was just as my oldest started college. Coincidentally, the state school he attended started increasing tuition by double digits each year right about that time.) But, on the plus side, it will save us gasoline, since the spark plug problem was causing it to use gas inefficiently. Except the current recession has caused a huge decrease in gas prices. We'll be glad for this if gas prices go back up to $4 a gallon. So...Yay high gas prices!
Yay, inflation!

Clearly I have some things to learn about optimism. (And blogging for that matter). More later

....roxie