Author Archives: sisterintheshadow

My love-hate relationship with technology

I have a love-hate relationship with technology. I absolutely love it when it works when I need it to work and when it performs in the manner that makes my life seamless. I love the allure of the new bright and shiny things that really smart people create with the proposition that the gadgets will make my life easier and more manageable. I love the sleek designs that make the devices slip into my pocket or tote without adding bulk or excessive poundage. I also love shopping for covers and other accessories for the devices more than I love spending my time learning about the science of the devices that awes geniuses and tech savvy people.

Events in my personal and professional life have reminded me that I love technology as an art form and more than a science. There was a reason I changed my major from electrical engineering to English. Today’s post is for those challenged like me and for the smart ones who need advice on how they can better support those like me with technology shortcomings, but are otherwise very bright and capable people. Here is my survival kit for folks like me who are technologically challenged:

· Don’t purchase the first bright and shiny thing that claims to make your world better and brighter.

· Find people who can understand your limitations and are willing to help your understand your options after stop laughing.

· Purchase the device or find someone with the latest shiny thing and purchase their old one. Once my son and I split the cost of an iPod as a cost savings measure. I used it when he was in school and busy with other activities and he used it the rest of the time. We didn’t like all of the same music so we created playlists. We also learned to appreciate music we might not have selected prior to our joint venture.

· Once you make the purchase, take advantage of any inperson tutorials or find online support. Please do this sooner than later or be me with a deadline learning about the science of my new toy under the pressure to make the deadline. I can tell you that I have found lots of online support, but the key is knowing what to put into the search engine to get the information you need. Although that seems obvious and basic, I think I’ve wasted more time searching than I did actually watching self-help videos wand reading articles on my topics. Here’s a tip for the smart ones: Start at the beginning with basic tips for those like me. Whatever you think we ought to know is likely two or three steps ahead of what we actually know so go back to the this is how you turn on your device point and you should be good.

· Find a young one who grew up with technology who is flattered by your innocence. You should also be alright if they help out of pity because you are ignorant. Personally, either reason works for me because I just want the help.

I hope that my short guide to technology for those challenged like me is helpful. I hope it encourages folks to put their pride aside. Admit what you don’t know and ask for help. Writing this post made me giggle because these tips might also apply in relationships with people. For example, it is important to take your time in building relationships. You should learn as much as you can about folks with whom you enter relationships earlier as opposed to later. Successful relationships will mean having the ability to accept instruction or information from others in areas where you are ignorant and the ability laugh at yourself when innocence about new or trending topics is exposed.

Football & Family Memories

Ever been in the middle of something and think of something else completely unrelated? Today, I thought about my brother and my dad while I enjoyed my version of “College Game Day.” My version kept the noise of a game in the background most of the day as some other activity served as my primary focus until Alabama’s game started. Alabama football absorbed my brother’s attention during spring ball and every week they played. I counted on him to update me on the new signees, the depth chart for the upcoming season, and the go. Now, as I watch Alabama play, I think of my brother and I chuckle because I miss him texting me throughout the games and calling me at halftime or after the game to debrief.

My siblings and I grew up watching sports and attending sporting events with daddy. Daddy played baseball in college, but he loved other sports too. After he graduated from college, he spent some time coaching high school basketball, football, and track and field. I enjoyed watching games with daddy in person and on television. Initially, it just meant that we were hanging out together. It was also very likely that I was having fun too because daddy was a funny man and it was often a good time whenever he was around. My thoughts about daddy started, not because he used to be a coach, but because he loved technology.

Daddy loved technology and he loved being the first one to have the latest gadget. I think he loved that moment when he realized that he was first to tell someone about a new gadget. Daddy was an amateur radio operator who loved all things ham radio. He shopped for the latest equipment in catalogs and at ham radio equipment fairs. He anticipated travel to these fairs like my mother looked forward to trips to the mall. He was the only one who enjoyed looking at equipment for an entire weekend. I went along because I had to go. I was too young to stay home alone all weekend. My mother went along because she had become friends with the wives of my dad’s ham radio friends. The women spent their time enjoying each others company. They shopped at the two or three vendor booths that didn’t have radio equipment, but sold other odd items for people like us who were not drawn to radios, radio parts, or radio accessories, or talk about either of those things. I often wondered why mama didn’t take the car keys and disappear from what daddy and his friends called a “ham fest.” It didn’t resemble any festival I ever attended or wanted to attend.

Whenever we watched a game with daddy, he coached from the stands and took time to teach me about whatever we were watching. If we watched on television, he talked to the players and coaches from his special chair. Like our attendance at the events, we were a captive audience for him in the den at our house and he espoused his sports genius on us and anyone else who happened to be present. Daddy was to the coaches what a backseat driver is to the driver behind the wheel of the car. He was sometimes loud and always confident that his opinions and expertise would make the teams more successful. It was entertaining to watch him work to get the attention of the coaches who he believed could benefit from his recommendations. If the coaches wouldn’t stop what they were doing to listen to him, he would work to get the attention of one of the players. I guess the coach in him didn’t stop coaching even when he reportedly hung up his whistle.

Daddy passed about twenty years ago. After he died, my brother and I used to talk about how weird it was to say, “remember when daddy used to say” this or that? We recalled daddy ism’s for the fun times, the frustrating times, and the challenging times. My brother said that his band students had a section in their band notebooks of “Things My Daddy Used To Say.” I wish one of his band students would share that section of the notebook with me now that my brother is gone and I can’t count on him for the quotes. We could only imagine what Daddy would have thought about the progression of computers and cell phones. We were certain that he would have sucked all of the life out his batteries if he could have owned a car with an outlet inside of it. I am sure he would have found a way to have his voice installed on his phone to answer questions and give directions whenever he needed help or used the app for maps.

I started this post intending to write about the “smooth” young quarterback for Alabama who listens to Frankie Beverly and Maze, The Isley Brothers, and Al Green while he cleans his apartment. Alabama football made me think of my family because we watched a lot of games together over the years. I also thought of my father because good music was always a part of any discussion with him. Al Green songs and stories were common as were songs by blues artist like B.B. King and Z.Z. Hill. Daddy would often say, “That’s a ba’ad tune!” I loved it when the “ba’ad tune” was on the radio or playing on his 8-track tape player and he would hold out his hand inviting me to join him on the always ready made dance floor.

Whenever something makes you remember someone or something you love a lot, take the time to enjoy the thoughts. Give yourself permission to digress and be grateful for the special memories.

My son – the explorer and envelope pusher

For the last three weeks, I have enjoyed conversations with friends, coworkers, and strangers with children. We have talked about every thing from bed wetting and child leashes to meal preparation and the reasons children make us laugh. I was reminded that I began blogging in an effort to share anecdotal stories that encourage people who were charged with raising children or supporting anybody raising children. Somewhere along the way, I took a detour and started writing about a plethora of topics. This week I decided to get back to the business of little ones.

When my son was very young, my husband asked me why I kept putting the boy in dangerous situations. My son was the kind of kid who always got himself into some kind of situation. My husband’s observation was correct because my son often ended up in situations that presented a risk of some sort. The situation that inspired my husband’s question happened when we lived in Florida. We had a couch in what we considered our formal living room. I must note that it was not formal in the same way that my mother’s living room was formal. Unlike my mother, I allowed people to actually use my living room and sit on the fancy couch. It was not off limits like the light colored couch my mother had in my childhood living room. Her living room might as well have had an invisible shock fence at each point of entry because she saved that room for special occasions only. We could use that room to practice piano lessons, to host guests, and open Christmas gifts. I remember some family members came to visit and mama made sleeping arrangements for them. It was a given that the youngest person in the house (who was me) had to give up her bed for adult guests. When all of the beds and sofas had been assigned, I needed a place to sleep. I think she would have preferred that I made a pallet on the floor rather than use that couch. That might have been the moment that I decided that my living room would always be a room that folks could use whenever they wanted to use it. When we bought out first living room furniture, I selected a couch with vibrantly colored fabric. I didn’t want our guests to be able to readily determine that my children had free reign in that room like they did all of the other rooms in my house.

My colorful, formal couch sat up against the longest wall in the room and just below a wood framed mirror gifted to me by my mother. As I recall, I left my son alone for a few minutes to go into my room for some reason. He must have been two or three years old because he could walk and he was still drinking from a sippy cup. He used to walk through the house with wide-legged, heavy steps like a giant baby walking over and through a chess board holding pieces carefully placed by two wise strategists. He was what my people called a “big boned” baby who held that sippy cup clutched in the cradle of his bent left arm when he was meddling with stuff with the right hand. Otherwise, the sippy cup cycled regularly from his mouth to some space just in front of him as he walked. As I left my bedroom and walked into the foyer that was between my room and the living room, I saw this big baby balancing himself on the back of that colorful living room sofa with that sippy cup cradled in the bend of his left elbow while he touched the image of his happy, smiling baby face in the mirror. He was standing perfectly in the center of the back panel of the couch which positioned him at the highest point of the sofa. It was cute in a scary kind of way because he was looking in the mirror as if admiring his pearly white baby teeth and entertaining the thought of the immeasurable joy he would have if that little boy in the mirror would jump out and play with him. Was I to scream, “Get down!” or ease into the room to talk him down from the back of the sofa. I opted for easing into the living room prepared to shift from a slow, quiet tiptoe movement to a sprint if he noticed me easing up behind him. I had a feeling that his giggle might steal his balance.

That situation turned out fine, but he continued to challenge the limits of child guarding or child proofing the house. Our Florida house was a two-story house and the kids had rooms upstairs. Because my son was such a busy body, I decided to use safety gates to block the stairwell to keep my son from coming down the steps in the middle of the night. The gate worked for a week or so until I figured out that he knew how to maneuver around or over the gate. I never really figured out how he got beyond the gate or the large pieces of furniture I tried next. One night, his chubby little hand tapped me on the face. I opened my eyes and saw his happy baby face and my heart sank with fear. My expression showed him excitement, but in my head I was asking myself how in the world he was able to get past the safe guards and down a flight of stairs in a dark house to stand in my space all happy about life. Subsequently, I dug out the baby monitors and the jingle bell necklace and devised a new plan. I placed part of the baby monitor on a dresser in his room and I hung the jingle bell necklace on his doorknob. I put the receiver for the baby monitor in my room. Every night, I read books to my kids so I decided that when story time was done I would give good night kisses then close the door to my son’s room. There was no way I could have him on those steps in the dark in the middle of the night trying to deliver the “Mommy, I wake!” message to me again. My strategy worked. Whenever he opened his door, the bell would ring and I would leap from my sleep and scurry to meet him at the top of the steps.

This kid was my second child and he didn’t express his genius in the same ways that his older sister demonstrated her giftedness. Her definitions of activity and exploration generally had expected boundaries that didn’t present risk of physical harm to self, others, or things. The boy, on the other hand, moved through life freely like a kid walking through the candy store as if all of the things in his sight were treats for him to sample. He had no radar for risk levels, etiquette, or boundaries. Therefore, he had no need to establish safety protocols or ask for permission. He woke up every morning excited about whatever might be in his path that day and I woke up every morning worried that I wouldn’t be a step ahead of the curious baby wonder or at least right behind him to save him or the thing or person in his line of engagement.

Both my children were inquisitive kids. Inquisitive children ask a lot of questions and they enjoy and spend their time expanding their minds through exploration. Kids really love to be busy. I kept my kids busy and in turn I didn’t get a lot of rest. I encouraged the families I met over the last few weeks to enjoy the time and the unpredictable nature of life with children. I told them to keep in mind that it is not the job of grown folks to shield children from living life or to force them to live life just like other people are called to live life. They are not robots and they generally learn the limits by failing, falling, or repeated redirection. I advised the parents not to confuse concern for their children with interfering with their children making independent decisions or preventing them from braving new territory. Although it’s challenging, parents must work hard to serve as observers and coaches. Parents, don’t get too serious or scared when the children do normal kid stuff. If you want the kid to play more, don’t lose your mind over grass stains in their pants. Relax! I can say that my son never worried about getting grass stains in his pants. He would say, “My mama can wash them.” If you buy your son a motorized train that he can ride presumably on the heavy duty plastic oval-shaped train track that came in the box with it and you hear him giggling while something is rolling over the tiles in your foyer, don’t lose your mind. Do what I did: Relax and laugh at your child’s ingenuity.

Dream With Your Eyes Wide Open

My journey as a blogger started because I wanted to encourage people who parent. All of my life I have chosen opportunities that connected me with young people without considering the consistent theme each time I made the choice.

A few months ago a good friend and mentor heard me say that my body of work over my lifetime has been in service to young people. She asked, “Has it really?” I responded, “Yes.” My mentor’s question begged a response that was more than a “yes” so I explained. A few weeks later I was thankful that I had a practice run with my mentor because life offered me an opportunity to apply the reflective moment shared with my mentor with a student having difficulty understanding how to use elements of a seemingly imperfect, temporary situation as preparation for the thing you think you would rather be doing with your time. The student’s frustration and confusion was not foreign to me so I shared my journey with the goal of demonstrating how a winding, bumpy path can lead to a really cool space.

When I was very young, I wanted to be a pediatrician so that I could take care of children. Then, life brought me a couple of family members who spent a lot of time in hospitals and I decided that I wanted children to receive excellent health care, but not from me. When I was about ten or eleven, my mother decided that I was a good babysitter so she volunteered me to watch young children so that her friends who were single moms could go take care of things they couldn’t manage with children in tow. Those unpaid babysitting gigs were good, but failed to spark any desire in me to spend the rest of my life with more than a handful of little people in my personal space for eight hours a day. As a fourteen-year-old, I volunteered at a community center one day a week during the summer before I started high school. I escorted children to the movie theatre that offered free movies to children when school was not in session. I loved animated movies so I enjoyed these trips to the cinema as much as they did, but this work reinforced that I enjoyed short stints with larger groups of little people. It was something about having to count heads on a regular basis and hold sticky hands that made me think this might not be the career field for me. As a young adult, I continued to engage in volunteer work involving children and other young adults. Then, I became a parent of two and chose the role of stay-at-home mom. In that role, I worked on not-for-profit boards, in teen ministries, and used my kidkab to provide a safe haven to many children. I demonstrated to my student that my roles and opportunities were all different, but yet the same. The nonverbal cues meant that I needed to be more clear. My passion motivated my performance. My passion motivated me to perform in all sorts of arenas. Even the most unexpected venue can make room for your passion if you are a willing participant.

My message this week is very short and succinct: Let your passion motivate your performance. Things don’t have to be just alike to be relational and relevant. Use even what appears to be the most unrelated experience or frustrating encounter to enhance your ability to work within your passion wheel. This decision will change your perspective and give you strength to survive the challenge of the seemingly unrelated or situation what probably feels like a speed bump slowing your pace to the good thing. Pump your brakes and take in the details of the things around you. Speed bumps exist for a reason. Notice the cool blue color of the sports car on your right. The blue will do what blue does; it will be a calming color. Noticing the blueness will relax your countenance enough for you to notice the children on your left smiling and waving as you drive by them. In your relaxed state, you can be grateful for the speed bumps that made the children felt safe enough to play ball or skate in the street. You might even be thankful for a speed bump giving you opportunity to inhale and replace the stress of “adulting” with the aroma of childhood innocence.

Right now stop reading, close your eyes and breathe.

Breathing deeply will be your key to surviving the things that don’t seem to make sense on your road to your dream destination. Breathing will fuel your mind and your body. Every time you close your eyes and do some deep breathing cruise through a peaceful place and meditate on your passion. See yourself living out your passion so that your body can remember the feeling. Open your eyes, keep breathing, and live out the passion regardless of the speed bumps along the way. Eventually, your passionate performance will take you to a wide, open road where you can enjoy the peace of living out your dreams and passions with your eyes wide open.

Hot Flashes!

A couple of years ago these sporadic waves of heat came over me. Since I was approaching fifty, I wondered if the sudden warming within might be the onset of menopause. Because this heat came so sporadically I had time to forget about one heated experience by the time I had another. I found myself always shocked by these “personal summers.”

Every time I realized I was the only one fanning myself and sweating I would ask, “Is anyone else hot?” Whether I was with the young ones at work or home I received a look of surprise and a reluctant, “No.” Their faces were almost apologetic and curious at the same time. I tried to explain how this warming sensation was different than the heat I felt while standing in the sun. This type of heat originated from a cell deep within my body and warmed up like the coils on an electric stove becoming red enough to boil water. The cell became a red hot coal unleashing fire and heat into and through my shoulders, chest, neck, and head. The simultaneous eruption of salt water from all of my sweat glands has never come at a convenient time. I always found it an unwelcomed disruption. I also wondered whoever called them hot “flashes” must never have had one like mine.

The hotness never resembled anything quick or hurried. The ember that produced the internal heat wave hung around and increased the mercury inside like the heat that lingers over asphalt on a hot day in a southern city. There was no hurried or zippy pace. There was no flash.

Prior to last weekend when I visited a Midwestern city, my experience had been my months would pass between these mid-life change episodes. Last weekend, however, the frequency increased and my family noticed the changes in my behavior as a result of this hot flash madness. Like other disruptive unexplainable moments in my life I found that humor made even hot flashes more tolerable. During my visit, I hung out with family. While we were out having lunch, there arose a heatwave. However, this time it wasn’t me reacting to the surprise attack of a private summer. It was my cousin, Lisa. As she was telling us a story about something she eased her hand inside of her handbag, pulled out some type of lanyard, and hung it around her neck. It took a second before I saw the motorized fan hanging at the end of the strings. Oh my gosh! Did she just pull out a fan? We made eye contact and started to laugh as I struggled to ask the question that had an obvious answer because I could see the fan resting on her chest. She obliged me by answering with a “Girl, yes!” Then, everyone at the table roared with laughter, men included. I said, “Girl, that’s a big fan. Does it have rechargeable batteries?” She laughed more and said, “No,” as she reached into that handbag again. This time she pulled out and held up a pack of double A batteries for all of us to see. At that point, I was laughing so hard my stomach was aching. When the laughter quieted a bit, I asked, “Is that fan color coordinated with your outfit?” The head shakes and chuckles continued. She answered in the affirmative then showed me a picture of her colorful fan stash.

Lisa and I were near the same age and we spent time together during summer breaks as children. It was so cool to see that we still had the same sense of humor and the ability to laugh at ourselves. Her transparency led to more stories about our personal summers. We talked about the blessing of the thermostats in our homes. We laughed about how we could care less what other folks in the house think about our thermostat adjustments when we are overcome by that heat.

I started to tell the group about my challenges at work with finding ways to adapt to the heat when there’s no thermostat. I laughed about the coaching I received from a mentor about layering my clothing so that I can discreetly remove layers in order to cool off, if needed. Lisa shook her head in quick, short movements left to right as she added something like, “Girl, no. Skip layering. I just go sleeveless” (of course accessorized with a colorful motorized fan). The male cousins at the table were shaking their heads and offering guttural deep chuckles as if they were trying to just eat in peace without hearing our testimonials. I knew they were engaged because I heard the chuckles that escaped them despite of their efforts to contain them. I think their interest and entertainment fueled my desire to tell one more story.

The final hot flash testimony related to another work experience. One day the guys from facilities came into my office to tell me that they completed some work on the building that revealed that there was water in the radiator lines for my floor. They seemed pretty happy about this revelation. All I wanted to know was how that impacted me so I asked, “What does that mean?” He proudly announced, “Now, your radiator will work and you will have heat in your office.” As I recall, someone from my staff was in the door with a Cheshire cat grin because they knew about my special relationship with heat. With concern and a sincere impassioned plea, I begged facilities dude not to fix what was broken. He continued to bask in his proud discovery and he assured me that the radiator was fixed and operational. He even asked me to walk close enough to feel the heat from the radiator. I stopped the madness and said, “I appreciate your work, but I am a pre-menopausal woman and I don’t need any more heat. You can turn this off now.” He laughed along with my staffers who gathered to witness my one-woman comedy show. He left and returned early the next day. I said something sarcastic like, “Why did you come back? To make sure your heater was working?” Again, he laughed and responded, “Nope. I have a work order to shut off your radiator.” I gave praise and listened to the giggles in the distance.

My daddy used to say, “Just keep living.” I understand what he meant now. If you keep on living, you may own the testimony of your elders. I remember my mother sweating out her natural having hot flashes and now it’s me trying to iron out my edges after a few personal summers. I am so thankful that I have found friends and family to join me in a light-hearted way to deal with this mid-life challenge. If you have a testimony to share, please do so whether it’s your own story or a funny one you witnessed. I love to laugh and I will be using laughter to get through all of the hot spots I will encounter on this journey.

Desperation: an agent for change

Summer break officially ended last week and I honestly didn’t fell like I had any break at all. Not too long ago, someone jokingly said to me, “I bet you can’t wait for 2017 to be over!” I had never had that thought even though my life, at times, in 2017 has been exhausting. Given the fact that I had never discussed my life or my occasional exhaustion with this person, I had to ask, “What do you mean by that [statement]?” The person went on to recount every challenging moment in my life that they watched me experience so far in 2017. As a parent, wise elders always reminded me that my children were watching me. Apparently, the grown folks around me have been watching me too.

It was interesting to me that the onlooker empathized with my perceived life struggles, but had never approached me during any challenging moment to offer encouragement, advisement, or support. I wondered if the concerned bystander watched with the baited breath of a spectator as the clock expired and their team sat forth and goal with one final chance to score on what would be known as the winning drive. Was the concerned bystander waiting to see if any first responder would appear to save me from being overtaken by this relentless natural wonder that continued to dump unexpected chaos into my life? Had there been some entertainment value for them like the movie goer on the edge of the seat inhaling buttery morsels of popcorn and cheering for the underdog? Had this concerned person just watched me to see if there would be fallout or wreckage from my repeated collisions with the life locomotive seemingly sent to derail me?

As with many of the peripheral influences in my life, I categorized this bystander as one of the shadowy, faceless figures destined to be left in my past. I took from the encounter only what I needed and expressed gratitude for the lesson. Then, I sped away from the pointless, useless chatter about my unexplainable life issues. The pace at which I have learned to leave such chatter in my past erases the negative spirit and the faces of negativity from my brain space. My practice has become to these folks to my “shadowy figure lineup.” Recently, I was talking about my blog topic for this week and the person asked if the concerned bystander was a man or a woman. Before responding, I chuckled (in my head) because I couldn’t remember. It was clear to me that I took the lesson and relegated yet another person who left me hanging in a moment of challenge to my “shadowy figure lineup.” The gender of the person who caused me disappointment, pain, or neglect hasn’t been the criteria for banishment to my imaginary world of shadowy figures. I believe that has been the case because many of life’s lessons are gender neutral so it made good sense to me that my memory was without discrimination. The human shadows have served as lessons upon which to develop personally and professionally with grace, focus, and excellence.

In years like 2017, when life brought me rounds of events that jarred my center and moved me emotionally to simultaneously feel hurt, pain, frustration, disappointment, loneliness, sadness, and grief I must have had something in me that made the concerned bystander wonder how I was still standing. Being overwhelmed by chaos, made me desperate for relief. Desperation for change was a good thing because I couldn’t sit idle waiting for people to notice my state of survival. My concerned bystander proved that people will just sit and watch and do nothing. They won’t ask you if you need help and they don’t always go seek out help for you. 2017 layered some of life’s most challenging issues on my shoulders like I was the based of a pyramid in a circus performance. My head and my body were weary, but my heart and mind were strong and desperate to keep standing upright through this balancing act.

I hope that anyone carrying the weight of a chaotic life will learn, as I did, to ask for help from those who offer. I had to learn to trust people like they have trusted me to help them manage times of challenge. I didn’t trust them to take my place as the base, but asking them to play the role of safety net for me was a great place to start. I decided that I could give them roles of supporting cast members in this production who might do things like to bring me a cool towel to wipe the sweat so that I could see the obstacles more clearly, or to nurture me with water or encouraging words. After my brother’s death, I felt more alone than I had in a while. I was facing a move, a hope of job advancement, a change of family dynamics, and a move. A friend sent a text to ask if I needed anything. At that moment, I struggled to say that I just needed “company.” I needed someone to just sit with me so that I wouldn’t be alone. Give yourself permission to take even small steps to decide how much you can entrust to other folks or things on your way to elevating yourself above and out of the troubled situation.

Wishing that my year would end would do nothing but steal time that I can use to live. How foolish that wish would have been! We live our lives every day with people observing and grading our performances. Don’t hold on to their comments or their scorecards. In your desperation for relief, find comedy. Find new purpose to make the chaos purposeful. Find something or someone to provide a healthy, safe way for you to answer the challenge with calm, peace, and hope. Let what feels like a desperate situation drive you to breathe and put one foot in front of the other until you move your way through the situation.

Cell Phones and Virtual Friendships

Since cell phones and social media became expected mediums of communication, I have engaged in conversations with young people about the importance of regulating cell phone and social media usage. Before the days of “unlimited minutes,” I generally associated the word usage with the number of talk minutes I used. When my kids got old enough for us to talk about usage, we generally talked about the number of text messages they sent and received. This too was before the days of “unlimited texting.” My kids and I also had many talks about the use of data too before the unlimited use plans were introduced. At that time (before unlimited cell phone plans), I didn’t imagined that an app would connect us to communities with potentially unlimited community members.

I have always been the first to say that I am not an expert when it comes to understanding the science of or possibilities available to one using any social media platform. Honestly, I didn’t believe I needed to know all there might be to know because my children understood those things. When my children hadn’t perfected their social media skills, I solicited the assistance or my adult friends obsessed with social media to “friend” and “follow” my kids. However, now I work with college students and I work at my blogging communication business trying to understand social media and the impact social media has had and that it can have on our lives. This curiosity about the benefits of social media became increasingly more important to me. The accepted norm led me to deem it necessary to commit my insights about technology to print. Here’s what I’ve learned:

Most of the young people I know comfortably carry on an in person verbal chat and an electronic messaging chats simultaneously. I can’t do those two things at once without difficulty.
I never hear a millennial say anything like this, “Hey, hold up just a second. Let me return this text.” I do that very thing often.
The millennial folks in my world struggle with separation from their phones and their virtual communities. I tend to be fine without these added voices in my head.
I find myself a little frustrated when the millennial won’t take the time to teach me how to create a post that people will “like.” My trial and error methods, in my opinion, wouldn’t be necessary if the young ones graciously devoted the time to me that I have generously given or would generously give to them if they had a challenge.
Deactivating a social media account, even temporarily, can tell you something about your “friend” circle. I did that. I only told my immediate family and a few coworkers. After about two weeks, only one person has sent a text to ask what happened to my page.

Most of my life, my closest friends knew they could find me by calling my mom’s house. Now, my closest friends have my phone numbers and they know things that are not to be shared on any social media platform. I often tell students to “unfollow” and “unfriend” other people so that the students can separate from the unhealthy relationships and gain control of the messaging they allow to enter their spaces. I have found that some students felt freedom and empowerment by separating from the virtual “friendship.” On the other hand, I have seen students feel what I will liken to separation anxiety. Cell phones, notifications, and the apps that created our expanded friend circles trained our brains to crave the relationships. Some are in need of attention for themselves, to monetize their businesses, and others to keep in touch with friends, old and new. Weirdly, these virtual communities felt as real to me the day I decided to deactivate one of my social media accounts. I didn’t even check it every day or post on it every day, but I somehow felt connected to the page and the people were my “friends” or who “liked” my business page. I began to understand the complicated perplexed looks I got from students when asked to separate from “friends.” I really felt that I was in a predicament. I knew what I needed to do, but I wondered what would happen if I clicked the button that closed the virtual door in the faces of my friends. I want my audience to know that I survived my decision. My decision did not upset the world balance and I didn’t lose any sleep. Although you may have some reservations about taking healthy steps to protect your physical or virtual head space, do it any way and give yourself permission to take a break from the cluttered virtual communities. Believe me, you can get right back to it when you are ready to do so. I may wait to reactivate my page after I hear from a certain number of friends in the old fashion way.

Gearing Up For School

A few weeks ago I went into an office supply store shopping for a small shredder for my house. Of all of the household appliances, I think that my favorite ball coach ranked the shredder at the top of the list just behind the first place vacuum cleaner. Before confessing to him that I dropped the industrial sized shredder on a concrete surface exactly on the motor (two times), I decided to shop for another one. I thought that a smaller shredder might prevent the second and fatal drop of his valued household appliance.

It was late morning on a Sunday when I drove to the store. The weather as a perfect desert hot and dry so I expected folks to be out enjoying the opportunity to literally bake in the sun. Since sun bathing was not my preferred pastime, I looked forward to what I believed would be a quiet shopping trip in a cool, climate-controlled environment.

When I arrived at the store, I thought it odd that there were more cars in the parking lot than there had been at other times I visited this store. I also noticed that navigation through the parking lot was more challenging than usual too. This time, I exercised more caution maneuvering to a vacant space because of all of the children who enjoyed the open spaces like they had found a vast, green, grassy field in which to use their youthful legs to hop, skip, and twirl. Even though I was aware of the cars and the people distracted by their missions, I still didn’t connect their presence to anything in particular.

I walked into the store expecting a greeter to say welcome to the store as I made my way toward the clearance table (because that’s where any expert shopper starts the process). To my surprise, there was no clearance table close to the door and no greeter. All of the folks in red shirts were flitting around with stoic faces closely trailed by shoppers with anxious demeanors. Some of the anxiety stemmed from excitement about the bright and shiny things all around them. Others expressed anxiety because they searched for the one random thing that no store in town seemed to have in stock. Suddenly, I realized that it was time for “Back to School” shopping. My empty nester life had distanced me from all reminders of this important, yet stressful annual event. I had missed all of the commercials, all of the signage, and all of the water cooler chats about kids returning to school.

Instead of pivoting and heading back to my car, I continued into the store and embraced the chaos. I nestled into the wonderful energy of the bright colors and what my father called, “noise-noise.” He was an educator and he used to say, “There was noise and there was noise-noise.” The “noise-noise” referred to that reverberation of busyness and chatter that existed in a healthy, fruitful learning environment. As I wrote those words, I understood why my children and I were never built for the traditional parochial school environment. We needed “noise-noise.”

As I fell deeper into the embrace of children excited about learning, I couldn’t help but be distracted by the bright and shiny things strategically placed near the entrance. Like a child, I allowed myself to be hoodwinked by the cunning mind trick of the seller. I walked aimlessly off to the right side of the store in search of nothing. Over the course of the next hour and a half, I examined the new gadgets and noted the items that transcended decades of school shoppers. I enjoyed listening to the preschool shopper making selections predicated on colors without considering the potential cost of such limited thinking. I only hoped that the simplistic thoughts of those children would not be applied to their lives beyond school supply shopping.

Observations of the pre-teen shopper made me pause. Long gone were the days of school supply shopping lists committed to paper. These young ones had cell phones! It wasn’t until I saw a father-son team searching for some random item like it was “the golden ticket” in the candy bar that I realized these school shoppers were paperless. The son and the father had begun to doubt their memories. When they couldn’t find the prized marker, the son pulled out his cell phone to refresh their memories. The concept of decreasing our footprints and being eco-friendly took on new meaning for me. The electronically recorded school supply list reminded me that it had been a minute since I participated in this “Back to School” ritual.

Although school supply shopping for my grown children looked nothing like this in-store drill, some things remained the same:

Reading, writing, and arithmetic remain fundamental in the learning process.
Enthusiasm for learning and instruction is necessary in the educational environment.
Students come in all ages and must remain students for life.
Intelligence must overcome ignorance.
Stable communities are built on involved and inclusive communities.
Teachers are important leaders and villagers in our communities who need our support.

Whether you have children in the school or not, please don’t miss the opportunity to support schools near you. Invest your time, your dollars, and your prayers in the children who populate your neighborhoods. Educate yourself on the things that challenge our children and our schools. Encourage our children to love learning and dreaming. Empower our children to use their minds to set visions that take them outside the village so that they can be the first to do something really cool. Enlighten the other grown folks around you who are too caught up in their own mess to wake up and help you build supportive villages for our kids.

The Comparison Game

A wise advisor once told me, “You can never win the comparison game.” That message wasn’t news to me, but I needed to hear it at that moment. My favorite football coach has often said a similar thing to me (and the kids): “Just focus on you!” Both advisors admonished me to keep my focus on the things that I can control and not the noise in the periphery. In those moments when the wise ones were speaking, their life coaching sounded like criticism or a lecture. In retrospect, however, they gifted me nuggets of wisdom mandatory in any successful endeavor.

When my book was published, folks posted comments online. I received congratulatory and celebratory type messages. I also received comments from folks applauding my transparency and concern for building supportive villages. After receiving and reading so many positive comments, I allowed one negative statement to hurt my feelings and make me personally aware of the voice of the cowardice personalities motivated by the anonymity of the online forum. That faceless, nameless individual described my stories as “common.” Why was it that the negativity rang louder than the positivity?

“Common,” you say? Clearly, that individual compared me to something. I had no idea if my commonality rating was based on their own life experiences or if that person was just a hater who hated some part of their own life. I was thankful for my wise advisors who redirected my attention to my calling and my voice. Mama used to say, “Everything ain’t for everybody.” So, I guess my voice was never intended for “the common individual.” Soon I expressed gratitude to “the common individual” for the book sale and the life lesson.

That experience taught me to keep my mind set on the development of my gifts and my voice in order to fulfill my purpose. I learned to use the word “common” to inspire more excellence and greatness from myself. There was nothing “common” about a grown person telling personal stories with candor and humor for the purpose of enriching in the lives of others. It was not “common” for a grown up to openly discuss her flaws, mistakes, hurts, and fears publically with the hope of helping someone else heal a scar.

The only way to “win” the comparison game is to focus on yourself. “Winning” the comparison game mandates an ownership of your strengths and your unique challenges. I “win” every time I deflect the “common” types and use my “common” self to encourage, empower, and enlighten. It is important to be mindful of the haters in your blind spot because they cruise along with the potential to impede your progress. Don’t let the “common” hater slow you down; accelerate and leave them where they belong – in your past.

My hope is that my audience will find advisors who will help them identify when the comparison game is a being played. I want my audience to avoid this deceptive game that comes in the form of comparison to others, comparisons introduced by others, or personal comparisons to a past better self or that imagined perfect self. “Winning” requires presence in the moment with full capacity over the actual you. I encourage my audience to acknowledge the existence of the comparison then flip the negative rhetoric into positive acts of change for yourself and others in your community.

Customer Service, Part 2

I did not plan to write about customer service again this week, but as life would have it recent experiences provided cause for another discussion on this subject. By the end of the week, the tactics and intentional shifty business practices of the apartment and cell phone industries left me shaking my head. I reflected on the meaning of homeownership and the necessity of cell phones today. I will share my thoughts on each of them one at a time.

Historically, home ownership represented stability and success. However, for any number of reasons, leasing has been a better choice for many. For most folks, the rental option meant freedom of responsibility from landscaping, property maintenance, and general repairs in and around the property. At least in my area, additional protections provided by cameras, gates, and on-site staff have attracted tenants and supported the higher asking prices by landlords. In exchange for rental payments, landlords have promised high standards of professionalism and concern for tenants. It has been my experience that landlords often expect perfection on the part of the tenant with contract demands for excellent care of their properties and timely rental payments, with no exceptions. Unfortunately for tenants, landlords sometimes fail in the area of considering fact scenarios form the perspective of their tenants. I wondered if these failures were due to lack of concern by the landlords, lack of knowledge about the subject matter on the part of the landlords or their agents, laziness and inefficiency, or if the goal of increasing their earning potential necessitated taking advantage of their customers.

One of my friends and I shared apartment failure stories mid week. I told her my best tale that involved a broken air conditioning unit during the middle of summer and being told that living in a hot box was not an emergency after six in the evening. The apartment representatives also told me that there was nobody to call for repairs over the weekend unless it was a water leak. Really?! One would expect that the next thing out of their mouths would be “Let us make this better by discounting your rent or paying for a more comfortable place for you to stay until we can get the unit repaired.” Well, that didn’t happen. It took a few calls and a letter to get a portable, temporary unit to cool off my space.

My mother used to say, “If you put your problems on a clothesline with everyone else’s, you will go back and get your own.” Mama was right. When I spoke to my friend, she shared that representatives at her complex received a FedEx package on behalf of her husband. There was proof of delivery from FedEx, yet no apartment representative could find the package which contained a check. About two months later, she learned that someone from the complex attempted to deposit the check into the complex account without the knowledge or permission of her or her husband. She had officially told a more shocking story than my story. I told her that she won and we both laughed.

Before I could get too engaged in writing about the crazy apartment complex situations, I had an online chat with an AT&T agent. She was fabulous and I told her so. I also completed the end of session online survey because I wanted to inform the company about my experience. The truth was that the availability of the online chat opportunity made connecting with the company easier and more convenient. I loved that I could ask questions without being asked to purchase other great deals. The problem came when I asked her to explain the mobile insurance package on one line and the insurance on another line. We have four lines on the account. I was told that the multi package insurance plan allowed for coverage of a maximum of three devices. Therefore, in order to cover the fourth device I had to have a separate insurance plan. It was confusing that the company didn’t offer a multi pack insurance plan for the family plan that included all four of our lines. Since my inquiries were designed to reduce my monthly bill, the nice agent offered to change our insurance plan by attaching an insurance premium to each line instead of me paying for the two insurance plans. I watched the computer screen anxiously waiting to see how much my monthly bill would decrease if she initiated this change to my account. After all of her computations, she typed that she could save me $5.00. Huh? Speechless was all I had at that moment so I thought “Let me move on to discuss how I might save money on a change to the family plan.” I was offered two other options. If I selected the less expensive plan, my data speed would be reduced and my savings minimal. It seems that the invention of the bundle plans gave more benefits at a price just below the cost of the a la carte menu selections. Like the housing situations, the company felt cold and heartless. I understood at that moment that the profitable business motive took precedence over the family concerned about a household budget and saving.

When consumers have these sorts of experiences, the warm and fuzzy feeling vanishes and the company becomes a cold, stoic establishment lacking compassion and flexibility. At that moment, it doesn’t matter how inclusive, how diverse, or how happy their advertising might have been. Instead of making the company look like and feel like the folks in their pamphlets, online images, and commercials, the company look fake and phony and the customer feels deceived. Companies ought to train their agents and empower their agents to deviate from their scripts. As much as I prefer human conversations and interactions, the mechanical processing of the important needs of consumers aggravates me. I encourage my audience to shop and compare because that is what I will be doing. Finally, I encourage my audience to treat people with respect and empower anyone in your space to use respect, knowledge, and a consideration of the perspective of others in managing any moment of challenge or conflict.