Writing what you know....

The advice to writers seems to always have been "write what you know" which for some of us who view our lives as relatively unexciting or mundane is definitely demotivating. At least it always seemed that way. Writing what I know means engaging in significant self-reflection which is always an interesting exercise, even if not compelling or particularly spell-binding.

Writing what I know makes me consider the as yet incomplete arc of my life, and the incredibly "charmed" nature of life thus far. I grew up in a three bedroom, one bath home in a working class neighborhood. I believed myself to be "middle class" until I came into full contact with truly middle class individuals...in grad school. My naivete persisted that long. I realized that the college friends I had who I perceived to be well-off, to be members of some more privileged class were, in fact, the middle class I believed myself to be. Not so....

Looking back, realizing that a relatively parochial, inexperienced young man took his pregnant wife 700 miles from friends and family to pursue a degree at less than 1/3 of his previous compensation with no guarantee of housing was a true "leap of faith," or an act that defies credulity, anyway. So comes the "charmed" nature of this missive. I have been incredibly fortunate to have been surrounded by good, caring, and supportive people all of that time. My grad school friends were outside the room at the hospital where I sweat through my shoes waiting for daughter to be born. Literally, my socks and feet had taken on the dye of my shoes from the hours on my feet, and there they were...for me, for Terri, for my new baby...Charmed.

The life of a graduate student is, as most know, hardly a time of plenty. Terri and I looked forward to the "every other Thursday" pay day when we ordered a pizza, bought a six pack of good beer, and lived "large" for the time. Sometimes I think that was a happier, simpler time when our expectations were not so large and we could find contentment in "small, good, things." I was again fortunate to have wonderful and supportive mentors and supervisors. When the university was on break I would pick up extra hours, I worked "full time" when I could and with Terri's salary as a Nurse we lived well, even buying a new car to deal with the heavy winters we would experience. A new car, during a recession that resulted in friends at home dealing with lay-offs and worse. Help finding quality child care on a very limited income. Exotic holiday dinners with South African ex-pats and hardcore vegetarians. Charmed.

It wasn't the "things" we acquired that make me feel that way, it was the journey from my, our roots in blue-collar working class homes to a world where we sometimes felt like aliens. And again, we were embraced and welcomed and learned a new language of sorts, the way to navigate among those who had not lived pay-to-pay, those for whom a second home or cottage was significantly more than a mobile home "camp" in the mountains to visit in hunting season. But again, not things, but learning to appreciate music and art and intellectual pursuits. People who helped to move me in new directions while respecting my past and values. Charmed.

In this time of "memes" and seemingly inescapable messages on Facebook, Twitter, and the like, one that stood out for me was an eCard that said something to the effect that "happiness is realizing your children are good people." As I look at the incredible people our children have become, I realize once again how rich and fortunate my life has been, wealth/things or not. Charmed.

It is hard for me at times to see myself as I am. I am now older than my maternal grandfather with whom I was very close. Pap was always "old" even though he died at only 57. I had a child's perspective and it is still hard for me to imagine myself as "old" as he was. In my mind's eye I am still somewhere in my 20s-30s, still able to run and lift and play hard...the reality is far from that, and yet I realize again how much I have benefited from a life spent, not in hard labor like my grandfather and dad, but in meaningful work I have enjoyed and continue to enjoy. Charmed.

Terri and I have been married over 35 years now. It is not easy, I know there are people who disparage those who view a marriage as work, but the truth of the matter is that it is work. We have persevered through a lot of changes in that time. We have had difficult moments, and moments of joy. We have said things we wished we hadn't, done things we regret, but we've managed to find what is most important and stay the course. It is not a fairy tale, but fairy tales aren't true. We have worked, and loved, and disagreed, and made the best of things when they were difficult. Maybe it's not charmed, but it is pretty good. Caitlin got married a year ago, Thomas recently got engaged. They are seeing friends marry and start families, and sadly Terri and I have both remarked that these are stages, somewhere along the line friends divorce. You have to make choices about relationships (who keeps the friends?) and how to navigate new waters. But they are prepared. Caitlin, Thomas, and Craig are all solid, and I am very proud of them. Charmed.

I have been battling some personal demons as of late, and I keep coming back to "how can someone who is so fortunate focus on the negative forces in his life?" It makes me feel as though I haven't appreciated all the good things that have transpired. It makes me feel as though I am inadequately grateful for my life. My charmed life.

Ruminations on March

For some time now I have tried to hold this thought as a mantra, I fail, daily. Not long ago, in a feeble attempt at being clever I was quite unkind, and I regret it. The hearer did not take it to heart, but I knew that my words had been unkind, and I am sorry.

Recently I had occasion to talk with some friends about my interest in Virtue Ethics. While my formal background is limited to a few undergraduate philosophy courses and a grad class in Ethics of Helping Professions, I have been motivated to educate myself in this area informally. I am old enough to have spent a little time under the Baltimore Catechism and was exposed to the four cardinal and three theological virtues while quite young. As I have grown older, I have come to appreciate the role of kindness as the paramount virtue, at least for me.

I am currently un-churched. Not unusual for an American of my age and education. My last formal affiliation was with an Episcopal parish, obviously I was raised a Roman Catholic, but when I identify with anything at all these days, it is usually Unitarian/Universalism. So what does this have to do with virtue, and in particular kindness?

I have written before of my father, my relationship with my dad was not unlike most men I know, we always loved one another, but I acknowledge that we didn't always like one another. Liking the people we love is often very difficult, and we experienced some of that. Respecting one another took more time. My greatest memories of my father are around his almost unfailing and nearly universal kindness. He regarded everyone with respect. He was as unaware of, and as unimpressed with, wealth or status as anyone I ever saw. As I have moved through life I have tried to emulate that behavior, to be kind, even when it is difficult.

Which brings me back to my issue, I was unkind not because someone had been rude or unseemly to me, but because I wanted to make a joke, a bad one admittedly. Humor at the expense of another is cheap. I want to be better, smarter and kinder than that. My Dad was.

What does any of this have to do with March?

I realized while struggling to sleep a few weeks ago that I was feeling a sense of anxiety, something "bad" coming, and I was unsure what brought on this sense of dread. Then it struck me, March has been an unkind month to me.

My Dad died 6 years ago, March 15, 2009, although the massive coronary that took his life occurred on March 7, his birthday, and the birthday of my son and his namesake, Thomas. Two years ago,my Mother also died in March,at the end of a very difficult struggle with Progressive Supranclear Palsy.  March giveth, and March taketh away.

I have admitted to my "unchurched" status, but I am not closed off to trying to understand "why" certain things happen in life. Sunday Morning on CBS aired a segment on "Godwinks" a few weeks ago, expressing a belief that random coincidences are proof of a higher power "winking" at us, to remind us that he/she is watching. I have had a few of those recently. A beautiful article in the NYT by a woman who lost her mother to PSP, finding a scrap of paper with my father's handwriting in among my school papers, so many seemingly random things that bring me back to considering "why." Why now?

As I approach the coming of Spring, I like to share this bit of wisdom from Kurt Vonnegut:

“Hello babies. Welcome to Earth. It's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It's round and wet and crowded. On the outside, babies, you've got a hundred years here. There's only one rule that I know of, babies-God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

"Inheritance"

Last year I lost my mother to a terrible, debilitating condition known as Progressive Supranuclear Palsy, or PSP for short. In many ways it resembles Parkinson's or Lou Gehrig's disease as Mom slowly lost use of her limbs and required assistance with everything. Toward the end, she could not even swallow. Instead of water, upon which she would choke, she was given nectar, thickened water that she could swallow more easily. It was very difficult to see her like this, but she received excellent care at St. Joseph's Villa in Baden, PA and my sisters, brother and I are very grateful for the love and care she was shown.

As we sold my parent's home and tried to marshal all the resources we could for her care, my Mom often said how disappointed she was that "there's nothing for you kids" to which we would reply, "yes, Mom, we want to put you in a cheap, inferior nursing home so we get the money..." It was never an expectation on any of our parts that an inheritance was coming. The house was...a house. Home is when you are with family. It isn't dependent on a structure, at least for us. Home really is where the heart is for us.

In 2010, I decided to return for my doctorate. As I have written previously, this was "not my first rodeo" and I was determined to finish. I hoped my mother would live to see it, but I knew that was a very long shot. Her illness was progressing according to the diagnosis, and she passed away in Spring during my last class. I had gone to see her in March and encouraged my brother to come home as soon as he could, it seemed that dire, and he did. Bob, Helen, and Marianne were with my Mom when the priest administered last rites. Bob had called me and I was on my way to PA, but I wouldn't get there until the next day.

Her breathing was labored, and she was having a terrible time speaking. Her words came out in a hoarse croak when she could speak. With Bob, Marianne, and Helen standing there, sadly coming to grips with the inevitable, my Mom managed to croak out "There's no inheritance." Here she is, nearing the end, and her sense of humor still enabled her to break the dark mood as though they'd leave when they realized there was no money coming...

My mother did not pass that night. I got to see her that week, and stayed with her until Wednesday. Sadly, she did die that Friday, my sisters were with her at the end.

But that is not the story.

My sister Helen was executrix of my mother's modest estate, and in the course of going through documents Helen found a life insurance policy that had not been cashed. There WAS an inheritance!

I finished my dissertation the summer after my Mom died. I was sorry that she would not see me finish, sorry that she didn't live to see any of her grandchildren marry, but I was relieved that she was no longer trapped in a body that had failed her, her mind was still (obviously) sharp to the end, but the illness robbed her of everything else. I got the phone call that "Dr. Nairn's dissertation has been accepted" in August.

We had finished the paperwork for the insurance company about the same time I finished my degree. And then I realized, the "inheritance" was a little more than I needed to buy my regalia.

Even if she couldn't be there, I had her with me.

The real inheritance is not the money. The real lasting gift of both my parents was a healthy regard for education, a commitment to having a good work ethic, and perhaps most important respect for others.

I miss my Mom and Dad terribly. Especially at times like this when I want to share with them, this Fall when my daughter gets married, the achievements of all my children as they have grown up to be good people with character. That is the inheritance...

Has it really been almost two months since I last wrote? It is a bit hard for me to believe as I spent most of July writing. My dissertation is done, accepted, and I am now the second "Dr. Nairn" in our family. My brother Bob has a PhD from THE Ohio State University and is a full professor at the University of Oklahoma. As one might expect, we are all proud of him.
My journey took longer. A failed attempt in the 80s and 90s to earn an EdD left me bitter and feeling like a failure I can rationalize away all the reasons why it didn't come together. It doesn't matter. I tried. I failed.
This time things were different, I was different, the program was different, and I am pleased and proud to have my DMgt from the University of Maryland University College. I know that the name sounds like it was put together by the committee on committees, or the group to start-up and implement redundancy...but there is a logic behind it. University Colleges are not uncommon in Europe, or even in Canada where the English model is used. It has come to represent a continuing education or adult education unit of a larger institution. In this case, UMUC

was once the evening college of the University of Maryland. After 1947, when the Truman Commission lit a fire under adult and continuing education, the University College became so large it was spun off as its own university. But, that is not my point...

UMUC was engaged in seeing me succeed. 

It is that simple. UMUC's faculty in Community College Policy and Administration want to see students succeed. My advisor took calls in the evening, on weekends, and talked me through some thorny issues as I pursued my degree. She called me on a beautiful New York Saturday afternoon to tell me that "Dr. Nairn" had been approved by his committee. The entire experience has been affirming. As "the fun guys" would say...we are worthy...

Be careful what you wish for...

I have followed the Supreme Court's activity of the past week with just a little interest. Between work and finishing my dissertation I have found little time to get involved with politics or any other great American sports (but, Go Blackhawks!) so my news has come in drips through my dissertating haze.

But with regard to SCOTUS, many of my friends have posted their pleasure with the defeat of the Defense of Marriage Act by the court. I agree with that. Anyone who knows me well knows that I am a bit left of center and marriage equality is something I fully support. However...the court's decision to overturn the Voting Rights Act means that a lot of progress in racial equality could be set back. As hard as it may be for many of us to accept, the Court has shown admirable consistency in making this decision, and the right scores some major points.

My reading of the Court's decisions is that they have embraced a "state's rights" agenda and said that the Federal government has no right to make laws that affect what are properly state's decisions. The states that wish to create restrictions on voting are given free rein to do so, just as New York, Vermont, Massachusetts, and other states embracing marriage equality can do so as well. It potentially has a chilling effect on minority (but soon to be majority?) voters in states where the ballot box, not the marriage altar, is the battleground.

Give conservatives their due. They were smart to give up on DOMA to win on Voter Rights. The alternative would have been to introduce a national marriage equality act which would have no chance of passing.

We got what we wished for. What price have we paid in the long run?

Reflections on a new beginning and an old ritual...

My nephew got married this weekend. He is the first of the "cousins" to marry. My three children and my two nephews are nearly perfectly spaced, 31, 29, 27, 26, 24, and so this was a big event for all of us.

A marriage is always a big event, and I wish him and his new wife the best as they begin a life together. I can't imagine starting out today, although I am sure it is no worse than when I married at 23. We were very young, as they are, and at that age you have a certain optimism and perspective that carries you through some lean times. I did not share with him the story of Terri and me looking forward to the Thursdays when we both got paid because we could splurge on a Del's Pizza from a small place in Essex Junction, VT. A loaded Del's pizza and a six-pack of beer and we were living large. My daughter was an infant, I was in grad school, and we had no....I mean no...money.

The reception was fairly typical for a Western Pennsylvania wedding. Lots of food, plenty of beer and an open bar, home made hot sausage, and the cookie table. Everyone's favorite, the cookie table with a chocolate fountain and lots of strawberries for dipping. The DJ played all the usual wedding songs, "we are family", "celebrate", "the chicken dance", and the Pennsylvania Polka for the bridal dance. The bridal dance is a "pay a buck to dance with the bride" deal which now extends to the groom. I gave them a $20 and told my nephew to invest in dance lessons. He is a terrific young man and I wish them all the best.

The big difference in this event was the wedding itself. They married in a church that still celebrates the Latin Mass. I spent my earliest years with the Latin mass but by second or third grade Vatican II had come in and Latin started its rapid decline into "dead language" territory.

For those unfamiliar with the Latin Mass it is not designed for participation as much as observation. The priest spends most of the service with his back to the congregation. It is heavy on ritual and repetition. The prayer book moves from side to side bathed in sandalwood smoke, the bells ring throughout the consecration of the host, no one but the priest touches the host, there is a small pan placed under the communicant's chin as communion is received so no crumbs of the sacrament touch the floor. The whole service, wedding and mass lasted 1 hour and 40 minutes.

Most of my friends and family know that I am not religiously inclined. The church and I parted ways several years ago, and I am certain that our differences are irreconcilable. That said I realized that my nephew has really committed himself to this church and this young woman, and I have enormous respect for that. There is a richness to the ritual, and an ancient connection through the use of Latin and the non-involvement of the congregants. While it is not a choice I would make, I understand the need for ritual and the comfort that many people find in the church. I struggle with the exclusivity of the congregation. If you were not a practicing catholic, or following catholic doctrine you were NOT to take communion. That was clear. The priest also made much of the woman's role in marriage and the necessity of procreation. He indicated that marriage was under attack.

There was so much I disagree with, but I have to recognize that there is a role for ritual in our lives. Some of us find it in the cup of coffee shared with a friend, with the office celebration of someone's good fortune or anniversary, or, for some the exclusive ritual of an ancient language shared among like minded souls...

something positive

I was originally going to call this "Reasons why Jenn Carney is so awesome" because she threatened to stop reading my posts if I didn't post something happier than musings on head injuries and loss...but I thought twice about such a blatant ploy for readership...sorry, Jenn.

This feels a bit self-congratulatory, and that is not easy for me. I am not good at seeking or accepting compliments, but I want to share how proud I am of my children, young adults though they may be.

July is shaping up to be a good month for my progeny. My son Thomas has found a good job, with benefits and opportunities in his field. He'll be doing project management for a local leasing firm, and I am very happy for him. My youngest, Craig, will soon start a quality engineering position locally. He too will have a good salary, benefits, and chances for growth. Caitlin was recently honored at her workplace as an innovator. She is a creative and innovative person who also does not deal well with praise. She felt she totally fumbled her speech...

It is not about the money, although I am pleased that they all will be reasonably well compensated for their efforts. I am pleased because they are wonderful people, good citizens, and hard workers. Thomas is one of the most ethical people I know. He is a good solid person who others admire and respect, I know I do. Years ago he was honored by his principal for standing up to bullies on behalf of a classmate who has some obvious disabilities. He stood by an injured friend after an unfortunate fight years ago, staying with him at a hospital and getting him treatment, He may have saved his life. I am very proud of him.

Craig has turned many disappointments into opportunities. He has applied for many positions in his major field of criminal justice, but has been able to learn quality work in manufacturing through on the job training and self-discipline. As a student athlete I saw him make decisions that benefited his team at his expense. He can be selfless and honorable. I am very proud of him.

Caitlin is a talented designer and technician. She never seems to give herself credit for the skills she has, and she is surprised when others recognize and praise her for them. She may be most like me, we have similar tastes in music and literature and I love spending time with her. She has established herself professionally, bought a home, and I am very proud of her as well.

I cannot ignore Terri's role in making these wonderful people. She took time away from her career to be with them when Craig was small, she has always made time for their games and concerts and events. She has been a wonderful partner to me and a wonderful Mother to my children.

So what? Why should anyone care about some guy's love letter to his children?

I am not asking you to care. I just want anyone who happens across this to know that I am filled with hope for the future when I look at them, when I examine their choices, when I spend time with their friends and significant others. I know I am biased, I know you can write this off as some random rambling by a middle-aged man who should be reading and writing for his own classes, but I wanted to share this. I had to share this.