If I had the eyes of a sparrow

Practically the first bit of advice about optimism on everyone's list seems to be "find something to be grateful for."
So all right. I thank God, thank God this week is finally over.
While others we know were out on ski trips and cruises for spring break, we greeted each dawn with one new (lard) sandwich after another.
There was one glowing bright spot at week's end, though. Saturday night was the season opener for the Kansas City Wizards.
We've been going to Wizards games for a few years, now. But never with full season tickets. We committed to them last year, saved up and, as luck would have it, finished paying them off just a couple of weeks ago. And no matter what happens, those tickets will be the last things to be pried from our clenched fingers.
So we went last night and it was good--so good--to be back.
To be a Wizards fan right now is to suffer some hardship. We're still watching from a baseball stadium (Community America, where the T Bones play). We don't have the posh digs of the Chiefs fans or the Royals, to be sure. And we had a not-so-great season last year.
But being in a stadium full of people (and it was pretty full last night) who are, just by being there, optimists, was priceless, uplifting. We were all together in one place, unapologetically watching the best game in the world.
Before I get too weepy here, though, I have to admit that part of the appeal is the chance to scream swear words at the top of your lungs. Our "seats" are in the benched section called the Cauldron, many of whose members had been in the parking lot since, oh, 11:30 a.m or so.. (Wizards. Cauldron. Get it?) The kickoff was at 7:30 p.m.
So the Cauldron began in full voice. I always smile, a little, when I hear about the scandal caused by chants at other area games. Should the "chop" be allowed? And what about the KU students and "rip their....heads off?" Oh, Agatha, roll up the good doilies!
Cauldron cheers start with group swearing and individual (the guy behind us with the mini megaphone did some expert vamping). They then progress to profane singing. Bringing your kids to the Cauldron (and I wouldn't recommend it until they're at least 12) means having a talk about "stadium language" vs. "everyday language."
My people, in other words.
When we left, my throat was raw from screaming--along with all my cohorts--vile language at a common enemy. Alas, the Wizards did not win (it was Wizards 2, Toronto 3). But there's always going to be a next time. Maybe that's the lesson.

I'll close with this video of Vera Meyer on glass harmonica, which has nothing to do with anything.

Manifesto

Yesterday was not a good day for me. I woke up exhausted after an endless dream about being trapped by a maniac killer. It was one of those nights when you wake up every 40 minutes or so, look at the clock and think, "2:30?! How can it only be 2:30? I've been dreaming this same dream for hours."
Then I looked at that damn New York Times again and--this is getting to be a recurring theme--I was completely drawn in by a story about laid-off families losing their homes and having to move in six to a motel room to get by. (Here's a link) These were formerly middle class families just like us who lost all income, were foreclosed or evicted and didn't have a good enough credit record to get an apartment. Now they're stuck because the high cost of the motel eats up every cent they have.
It wasn't so much the story, although that was bad enough. It was the picture. A girl about my daughter's age is lying on a motel bed crowded with the family's stuff, staring dejectedly into space. I just couldn't take my eyes off that picture. Even now, I can feel the tears forming behind my eyes when I think about it.
It didn't get any better as the day wore on. Later I was informed of a local blogger who ranted at length about how Mike should be fired from the Star, and how he links to the Star's reportage and cackles with glee at the paper's financial troubles.
And then, in the evening, we had to lend comfort to a family member with a career setback.
So I thought of writing yesterday, but I just didn't have it in me. I didn't have what it takes to put everything at arm's length and be humorous. Announcements are coming, maybe soon, about the layoffs and cutbacks. In the meantime, the whole notion of converting myself to an optimist seems ludicrous, impossible.
Today, though, is another day, and even though I don't feel like it, I am committed to not being a pessimist. So today seems like a good time to return to more serious fare.
Here's a site that gives a five-step approach to my problem. A, name the adversity. B, name the belief about the adversity that troubles you. C, name the consequence. D, dispute the negative belief and think of a more positive one. E, energize yourself with the more positive thought.
So okay.
Adversity--We don't know, but we strongly suspect we may soon be earning far less money than our budget calls for.
Belief--We'll be homeless and our kids will have no future. We'll be stuck at lower pay for years to come as inflation eats it all away. A serious illness will bankrupt us. Our daughter won't go to college. Our hardship will be mocked by obnoxious types who believe we deserve it because we are of inferior stock. Do I really need to go on?
Consequence--Wait. Haven't I just been going on about the consequence? I could add that as a result, the only thing my children will remember about me was that I was permanently depressed and never had any fun.
Dispute--Well, maybe by eliminating our 401k contribution, we'll survive without being tossed into the street. But the threat of inflation, medical bankruptcy, no college all seem real and reasonable enough. And the mocking. It's not hard to find people out there already with the mocking.
Even with the rosier picture (no layoff, pay cut dealt with) the Consequence seems all too possible. I truly could be remembered by my family as always depressed and never any fun because no matter how it all comes out, I'll never feel safe and secure again. And I don't want to be that.
So Energize--I can't think of anything here except that I'll have to try extra hard to not be always depressed. I thought that was the whole point of this little exercise. If I followed the steps, I'd feel better. Instead, it seems to be saying to me: Just try not to be depressed.

This doesn't seem to be helping.
So I'm going to abandon it and just distract myself, which seems always to work best.
Let's see.
Tomorrow begins spring break for my daughter. No more getting up at 6 a.m. for a whole week! I can get behind that thought.
Spring...I saw a forsythia almost in bloom today. It's cold now, but it is supposed to be warming up later in the week. So yay for that. That means our utilities will go down (at least they will if the state doesn't grant the huge rate increase they've asked for). And maybe I'll be able to plant some early garden during the break.
I'm one week closer to having the credit card paid off.
The Wizards season opens in just a week. And the tickets are paid up.
One more row and I will have the afghan done that I've been working since Christmas.
My daughter had a friend over for a couple of days this week while her parents were out of town. That made it necessary for them to practice together. So for one pleasant evening, I got to hear the violin/cello version of some of their orchestra pieces, plus some scales. And really, they can't take that away from me. We own the cello, the piano and the ability to make music, and those bastards whoever they are, who have done this to the economy cannot take that back.
Okay. Yeah, that does make me feel better, tedious though it may be to anyone reading it. And you know what? I do feel energized. In fact I feel energized in an angry sort of way. Who are these people, trading stocks and derivatives, who would take my fun away? Well, they don't get to.
Manifesto: I resolve that no matter what happens, we will not just have fun. We will have more fun. We will not just get by, we will live well. I will become completely and selfishly a fun seeker. And I will apologize to no one about putting our family's happiness first.

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.

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