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Rocks on the Road and Rocks in Our Heads
Some of life’s toughest lessons are the ones we learn the hard way.
Some of life’s most important lessons are the ones we sometimes never learn at all.
And some of life’s simplest lessons are the ones we often just ignore – like the problem with rocks in the road.
As a bicyclist, I ride an average of at least 10 miles a day. Because of that, I ride over a lot of rocks. For the most part, I don’t even realize the rocks are there. But every once in a while, my tire hits a rock and – due to speed or angle – I get knocked off course and sometimes even knocked down. Getting knocked down hurts, and sometimes the resulting injuries even leave scars.
Because of that, when I do notice a rock, I try to avoid it. And when there are a lot of rocks, I might even change course.
That’s life on my bike.
But I’ve noticed a lot of “rocks on the road” in the rest of my life too.
These rocks are often comments or actions that people believe are completely normal and appropriate. But to the nearby traveler on the road of life, those same words or actions may be slightly offensive or, at worst, hurtful. Sometimes they can also cause people to change course or fall down.
Just the other day, I was having coffee with a colleague who told me that years ago she had come to my office to talk about the possibility of interning with me. When she dropped by for the unscheduled visit, she was told I was in a meeting but that I was just with my intern and could be interrupted.
That one word “just” was enough to make her turn around and walk out the door. She didn’t want to be “just an intern.”
To be honest, I think I might have been the person who told her not to worry, and she changed the story to make me feel better. I don’t remember, but regardless of who said it, the word “just” became a rock in her life’s road.
Fortunately, for my colleague, her change of course is working for her. But she also had the advantage of already having several life successes under her belt. She could handle that rock.
I worry more about people who have so many rocks in their road that they can’t avoid them: people who have been knocked down so many times that they don’t trust that the road ahead gets any easier. Sometimes they’ve fallen so much, they have permanent scars.
Instead of helping clear the road, many of us are busy putting more rocks in their way. Sometimes those rocks are too big to move or go around. 
For the most part, I don’t think we are doing this on purpose. But, at times, I think we are, especially when we make judgments about people whose circumstances we know nothing about. That’s when we become victim of the rocks in our heads.
I’ve noticed a trend of people posting comments online that belittle others who are “on welfare” or “on food stamps” or that make assumptions about people based on appearance. I don’t know which is the bigger rock: those comments or the bitter ones about people with expensive shoes, phones or cars who are receiving some sort of government assistance.
Here’s the deal. I, like most people I know, don’t believe that government assistance should be a permanent way of life. I also don’t believe that government assistance should be used for anything but basic needs. And I don’t believe smart phones and SUV’s are basic needs. I also agree that some people manipulate the system, and that we need to be diligent about stopping such abuse.
However, I also know that most people who receive assistance have fallen on hard times. Some may have previously afforded a lifestyle that included expensive clothes and cars. But then they lost their job or faced another crisis that caused them to deplete all their available resources, including help from friends and family. After that, they were forced to seek public assistance. That expensive car may be all they have left after losing their home, a spouse or a way of life.
Instead of assuming the rocks in their road are their own fault, maybe we should think about how we can pick some up, roll them out of the way or help these individuals navigate a new course.
Doing this follows the simplest life lesson: do unto others as we wish them to do to us. I know if and when I hit tough times, I don’t want to ridiculed and/or blamed.
But this lesson is so simple that a lot of us ignore it when convenient. Or until there’s a rock in our own road. Or until we get the judgmental rocks out of heads.
Unfortunately, sometimes those rocks in our heads are harder to get rid of than the rocks in our roads.
Good Books, Bad Endings, and Why I Never Had a Genuine Relationship with Nancy Drew
Sometimes, finishing a good book feels similar to ending a tragic love affair. From the beginning, I know it’s going to end, but I dive in anyway believing the pleasure between the covers will be worth all the pain of separation later.
My obsession with a really good book is often like being in the throes of a passionate affair: I think about it all the time, I ignore responsibilities so I can spend time with it, and almost every conversation reminds me of it.
That’s not surprising. My relationships with books have often mirrored my relationships with people.
While I have a lot of acquaintances, I’ve found that when I truly need support I generally fall back on the same trusted few people again and again.Similarly, I fall back on the same book or a favorite author when I just want to escape with a good read.
A good read, to me, isn’t an implausible plot that is moved forward with simple sentences and a lot of action. Just as I prefer complex, yet genuine, people, I prefer complex stories that can make me believe the unbelievable.
In other words, content is more important than showmanship, and flawed characters are more interesting than heroes who always say and do the right thing.
That’s probably why, as a girl, I just could never relate to Nancy Drew. As a lifelong mystery lover, I don’t recall having much issue with the plots of her books, but I definitely remember having issues with Nancy herself. She was too one-dimensional, and I could never relate to a girl who had it all: good looks, a boyfriend, a chic wardrobe, and popularity.
As an awkward kid who struggled with getting through each day without too much turmoil, I don’t know what bothered me more – the ease with which she went through life or that her perfection was incredibly boring.
I still don’t do boring or predictable well. And because of that, I’ve been known to play the field with a lot of books. I’ve even developed a reputation for dumping many before I make it past the fifth chapter.
But at least those books didn’t suck me in before it was too late. There is absolutely nothing worse than a book that gets me all excited throughout only to fail to deliver at the very end. I don’t know if the authors just don’t plan well, get bored with the writing process, or have to meet a deadline, but they seem to be meeting their own needs rather than that of their reader.
I’ve been encountering more and more such books lately. They start off with a well-developed plot and characters that capture me completely through most of the pages. But then, they end quickly by tying up all the loose ends in a neat package that leaves me feeling disappointed and unsatisfied.
Such books used to leave me doubting my own judgement. But not anymore. Just as we grow with both our successful and our failed relationships, I’ve come to believe we can also grow with each book we read no matter how it ends.
At least that’s what I’m telling myself as I find myself completely immersed in my latest book. And just as with the start of any relationship, I have high hopes that it will be both satisfying and leave me wanting more.
There’s Going to Be Trouble When You Live in a Bubble
Keeping an eye on politics this week has been as compelling as anything the best Hollywood writers could make up. Mitt Romney, the front-runner for the Republican nomination for President of the United States, actually said that he cares about Americans but that he isn’t concerned about the very poor because they have a safety net.
That’s precisely what he said. In that exact order. What happened next, while predictable, was still extremely entertaining.
Some political pundits latched onto the concept that Romney didn’t care about the poor and (gasp) he didn’t even consider them Americans.
Others suggested that he was supporting the notion that government should help the poor indefinitely without encouraging them improve their situations.
And others, particularly those in the Republican party, despaired that Romney is a bad politician who blunders when he doesn’t have a teleprompter.
I have to agree with the latter. When Romney opens his mouth without a script, his comments seem unsympathetic to the average American. His latest remarks about the poor just add to the growing concern.
The doubts have been building with every questionable statement: his spontaneous offer to bet Rick Perry $10,000 (a very sizable amount of money to the average American); his remark that he is also unemployed (not funny to the millions without a job or a daily income like he has) and his insensitive language about liking to fire people. All of these feed into the perception that Romney has no clue about the daily struggles many Americans face.
And there may be something to that. He has, after all, lived in a bubble his entire life.
He grew up in a bubble and doesn’t appear to have left it. That bubble has protected him from worrying about which bills he could afford to pay or whether his children would be able to go to college. I’m pretty sure that there’s never been any coupon clipping, layaways or bargain hunting in the Romney bubble.
But apparently the barrier between Romney’s bubble and the rest of the world isn’t impenetrable. Rumblings of discontent about the disparity between the very rich and the rest of the country actually seem to be reaching Romney’s ears. But the layers of film between us are distorting the message, and he just isn’t hearing it correctly.
But Romney’s not alone.
Because of religion, socio-economic status and even our appearances, many of us live in a bubble and generally associate with, relate to and hear the opinions of people who are very similar to us. And while some people step outside of their bubbles, others never do.
The problem with staying in your own bubble is that you generally don’t hear or understand the plight of those outside the bubble. I’ve bumped into a lot of those people as they float through life. It’s not that people who stay in their own bubbles are bad people. Bubbles simply distort how they see things, so their view of the world just isn’t accurate.
But who can blame them? Living in a bubble can be deceptively comfortable.
Unfortunately, people who are floating around in their own bubbles are still part of the real world: a world where poverty is not a moral issue, where people still face discrimination and where money is a driving force in determining who has power.
If you are floating around in a bubble, your hands may never get dirty, your heart may never fully empathize and your head may never understand.
And that’s the problem with Mitt Romney. It’s hard to understand something you’ve never felt or experienced. And it’s even worse if you don’t recognize the fact that you’re living in a bubble.
On the bright side, most everyone likes watching bubbles float away and eventually pop. Even as a child, I found the sight highly entertaining. I’m pretty sure I still do.
No Mitt Romney, It’s Not Envy That’s Making Me Green
I was getting ready for work yesterday morning, when my stomach started churning.
No, it wasn’t morning sickness. At least, not the typical type of morning sickness.
My nausea was the result of listening to Matt Lauer interview Mitt Romney after his decisive win in the New Hampshire Presidential Primary.
Let me restate that.
I was nauseous listening to Mitt Romney respond to Matt Lauer.
Lauer had asked the heir apparent to the Republican throne if it was fair to characterize questions about income inequality and Wall Street greed as “politics of envy.”
Personally, I thought this was a great question, because issues of income inequality are important to me. How politicians understand and care about the less fortunate is just as critical.
Then Mitt Romney opened his mouth.
“I think it’s about envy. I think it’s about class warfare,” Romney said. ” … you’ve opened up a whole new wave of approach in this country which is entirely inconsistent with the concept of ‘one nation under God.'”
Envy? Class Warfare? God? Obviously, Romney’s comments were simple pandering: throwing out key words that his handlers had identified as appealing to potential voters.
Raising the issue of economic inequality has nothing to do with envy. In fact, it’s just the opposite. It reflects compassion and caring for all Americans, not just a few privileged individuals.
All political candidates, regardless of party affiliation, have more dollars flowing into their campaign coffers than make sense for a nation with a struggling economy and where children are going to bed cold and hungry. So I definitely think we should all be asking questions.
Besides, addressing issues of inequality isn’t anything new. I thought it was what this country was all about. Up until the last few years, if America was in a beauty contest, equality would have been her platform.
But there IS something wrong in America. And it’s not just one or two individuals who can be blamed. It’s the system.
Report after report shows that income inequality is growing while at the same time, the amount of money flowing into politics is greatly influencing policy. Those with money are controlling policies, and policies drive how money flows. Most Americans are finding it difficult to break into that exclusive circle. So if you don’t have money, your influence is very limited.
Needless to say, I wasn’t impressed with Romney’s reaction. Then he said something even worse.
“I think it’s fine to talk about those things in quiet rooms and discussions about tax policy and the like,” Romney said. “But the president has made this part of his campaign rally. Everywhere he goes we hear him talking about millionaires and billionaires and executives and Wall Street. It’s a very envy-oriented, attack-oriented approach and I think it’ll fail.”
Forget his comments about Obama. My mind was stuck on the fact that he thought issues of inequality should occur in quiet rooms.
I was dumbstruck. Then I got nauseous.
The issues of unequal distribution of money and the unequal distribution of power shouldn’t be raised during political campaigns? They shouldn’t be the subject of public debate? Did he really say that?
Isn’t that what some people used to think of racism? of women’s rights? about gay rights? About all the critical issues that ultimately helped define, and are still defining America? Does Romney really think those issues should also be discussed in quiet rooms?
With my stomach still rolling, I had to ask myself if he doesn’t want them discussed publicly because the current system suits his need and he sees no need for change. Or does he really just think that people with less money, less education or fewer connections really shouldn’t have an equal voice or opportunity to express their opinions publicly? Or is it both?
With a face green with nausea, not envy, I turned the television off and left for work.
On my agenda for the morning? Giving a presentation on “the Dimensions of Poverty.” The presentation went well. The 50 or so people from various business and social sectors really wanted to talk about the issue. And the room wasn’t even close to quiet.
The Myth of the Same 24 Hours
I admit that I’m generally a sucker for adages, quotes and platitudes. They often make sense, and sometimes they even speak directly to me. Sometimes.
And then there are sayings that get my blood boiling, because they are simply unfair and obviously perpetuated by people trying to make themselves feel good.
“We all have the same 24 hours” is one of those sayings.
O.K., technically, there are only 24 hours in each day, and as far as I know, no one gets rewarded with extra hours for doing good deeds or has hours subtracted for bad behavior. But the SAME 24 hours? It’s not even close.
For people who want to feel self-righteous, the saying works. After all, they’ve achieved “success” with only 24 hours in a day. If others haven’t, then they obviously haven’t used their 24 hours wisely. This logic is similar to the myth that if low-income people just worked harder, they too could be financially secure. Ironically, some of the hardest working people I know are working two jobs and still can’t make ends meet. And when they aren’t working to earn meager paychecks? They are spending time on tasks that middle and upper class people generally don’t.
In other words, when you don’t have a high income, you just have less time.
You have less time because you spend hours in a laundromat rather than throwing your clothes into a washing machine at home.
You have less time because you can’t simply jump in your car when you need to go to the grocery store, to a child’s school program or to work. You depend, and wait, on public transportation.
You have less time because you don’t have social connections with doctors who can “get you right in” as a favor. Instead, you wait just to get an appointment . . . then you wait in the waiting room.
I first became aware of the “24 hour myth” through my own struggles. I spent hours trying to do things myself that friends with bigger paychecks paid someone else to do.
And sadly, because I bought into the myth that not having extra money meant I wasn’t successful enough or working hard enough, I would pretend that I took satisfaction in “doing it myself.”
Then, at some point, I realized that “doing it myself” was the epitome of hard work. It just didn’t equate to having more money in my pocket, a bigger house or a nicer car. But neither did it equate to being a failure. It did increase my understanding the value of time, and how people who can afford to buy it, do.
They buy it by paying babysitters to watch their children. They buy it by paying people to clean their homes. They buy it by eating at restaurants instead of cooking. And sometimes they can even buy time by working for businesses that allow them to go on golf outings or to participate in charitable events to build their network and their resume (while lower-income people are generally required to stay at the work site while on the job.)
I can’t judge whether people who have higher salaries use their time more or less wisely than people with lower incomes any more than I can judge whether they work harder. Like everything else, individual behaviors run the spectrum. But I do know people with more money have more discretionary time to spend on working more or playing more. And just like discretionary money, it can be wasted or well spent.
As Carl Sandburg said, “Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.”
And that is saying I CAN definitely buy into.
The Addams Family Has Nothing On My Family
One of the stories that gets told and re-told every time my family is together is how I was switched at birth.
Truth be told, the story really isn’t all that interesting. I never actually got sent home with the wrong family. There were only two babies born in the rural Montana hospital that day, and I was over eight pounds while the other baby girl was much smaller. So in reality, there was never any significant confusion. The hospital was just so small and births were so infrequent that wristbands weren’t used. As a result, my parents were handed the wrong baby when they were getting ready to leave.
But even though the circumstances weren’t all that dramatic, there were times growing up when I was convinced that I was living with the wrong family. I was sure my dad made a mistake when he told hospital staff that they had given him the wrong baby. At least, I really, really wished this, and I fantasized that someday my real family, the ranchers in Montana, would come rescue me from my plight.
Putting aside the obvious family resemblances, I was convinced that there was no way I could actually be related to the people I was being forced to live with. They were just too weird, and even worse, they were making me weird. I knew this because I spent a lot of time comparing our family to other families.
There was simply no doubt. We were abnormal: my parents didn’t care about the things other parents cared about; they had different expectations and priorities for my brother and me; they didn’t listen to popular music; they rarely watched any television other than PBS; they didn’t care about pop culture and they would express opinions that were outside the norm of suburbia. Even the food we ate was weird.
There were times when the hopelessness of my situation got so bad that I would secretly watch an episode of the Addams Family
just because it made me feel a little bit better. But only a little bit, because I knew the Addams Family was fictional, while my family was real. Besides, my mother never approved of such frivolous shows.
But, like so many other situations in life, I grew up and got some perspective.
I’m not saying I completely overcame my compulsive need to compare myself to others and to worry that I was a bit off kilter (I always have been and always will be), but I did realize that there really is no such thing as normal. Most people spend a lot of time and energy putting up appearances rather than truly engaging in the world. I was raised in a family that just didn’t worry about what other people thought and lived accordingly. Because of that, it took me a long time to figure out how much other people were trying to cover up.
I’ll never forget an incident that occurred when my children were small. They had been invited to a birthday party at the home of someone who I thought had it all together. Not only did she have a career, but she was always talking about the amazing meals she cooked, how she was decorating her home and how her children were exceeding at a variety of activities. At that point in my life, I was feeling accomplished if I arrived at work with matching shoes and if my children were fed before I collapsed in the evening.
Needless to say, I didn’t want to go to the party. But I did.
I don’t remember much about the actual event. What I do remember is trying to find the bathroom and opening a door to a bedroom instead. At least, I think it was a bedroom. I couldn’t tell from all the junk that had been thrown in and piled up to get it out of view. This was obviously the mother’s attempt to make her home and her life appear perfect.
At that moment, staring at all that junk piled to the ceiling, I realized how many people spend too much time and energy trying to create an image of who they think they should be rather than simply being who they really are.
My family may have been weird, but at least they taught me the importance of embracing and accepting differences and imperfections, especially our own. They also taught me that no great discoveries or great works of art were the result of simply following the crowd or doing what everyone else was doing. Great advances come from thinking outside the box and having the conviction to do things differently.
My parents innate ability to do this may have skipped me, but it went right to my children. Neither of them seems to care about doing what is considered to be popular or the “in” thing. They are simply happy pursuing their own interests and are comfortable in their own skin. I admit that I sometimes forget what I’ve learned and start comparing them to other kids.
Then I remember the Addams Family. Their neighbors and community members may have thought them strange, but not only were they oblivious to what other people thought, they were also incredibly happy.
I like to think my family is too.
Just So You Know 