An Attitude of Gratitude

Cultivate the habit of being grateful for every good thing that comes to you, and to give thanks continuously. And because all things have contributed to your advancement, you should include all things in your gratitude.
          ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

               

Last weekend was the Thanksgiving holiday weekend. Like so many others, I enjoyed cooking and entertaining family for a true feast-- turkey and stuffing and all the trimmings. I love Thanksgiving! Not just the food and family, but the whole idea behind it-- pausing for a day to be thankful for the blessings in our lives. It is a somewhat overlooked holiday too-- squashed between Halloween and Christmas. It has become the gateway to commercial Christmas-- look at how many of the stores opened on Thanksgiving evening to begin the Christmas shopping craziness. Black Friday has morphed into Gray Thursday...

The history of the holiday is well known-- the little band of Pilgrims who gathered with a much larger band of Native Americans for a harvest feast. It had been a long year with over half of the original Pilgrims dying. Some 250 years later, President Abraham Lincoln initiated the day as a national holiday-- amazing, given the nation was in the middle of a horrific bloody civil war. Both were trying times, yet the people stopped to celebrate their blessings.

I have been following with interest several friends on Facebook who have been diligently posting daily "what I am thankful for today" posts during the month of November. I like the idea of stopping each day and thinking of a different blessing, and then commenting publicly about it. I think that when one starts looking intentionally for things to be thankful for, it changes the perspective on life in general. It can be hard sometimes to develop "an attitude of gratitude". It requires reminders every day to think differently-- we have to remember to look for blessings.

Back in my days as a health care administrator I sttended a day long management meeting in downtown Indianapolis. These meetings were held quarterly, and for the most part they were an intrusion on my work time-- I had to be away from the office for a day and that meant the next 2 days would be double busy. However, at one of the events there was a speaker who talked to us about becoming intentionally thankful. His message was a simple one-- learning to acknowledge the blessings in your life can change how you see the world. It can change who you are in profound ways. But you have to learn it as a behavior and practice it every day. How to do that?

The speaker had a simple recommendation and I can tell you it works. He told the group that less than 1% of all cars made are yellow. Yup, yellow cars are the rarest. And he said that when you are out and about, if you see a yellow car you should immediately name something you are thankful for. Out loud! He told us that in his family, he has 2 small children. When they are driving around the children look for yellow cars. The first child to see one yells out something they are thankful for, and then the other child has to think of something else. Imagine driving down the highway and passing a yellow car, and having the children in the car yell out "I'm thankful for CANDY!" and "I'm thankful for our doggie!" Apparently they engage in a Thankfulness Competition of a sort-- what an idea!!

I have been using yellow cars to remind me to be thankful ever since I heard that speaker. I frequently find that I can name way more than one thing-- some days I have a very long list. But my heart is always lighter after I name them out loud-- taking even a second or two to acknowledge a blessing in my life can lift my spirits and make the day better.

If you are finding yourself caught up in the dreary days of winter, try looking for yellow cars and developing "an attitude of gratitude"... it just might help!

Happy Birthday, Sam!

Perfect love sometimes does not come until grandchildren are born.
          ~Welsh Proverb

Three years ago my oldest grandson Samuel made an early appearance on Thanksgiving night. He arrived earlier than expected, so Grandma was still home in Indiana when the call came. But she headed off to Maryland and arrived the day he and his mommy got home from the hospital.

It was love at first sight for this grandma... and still is. Watching him grow has been a thrill, despite how far away we live from one another. Sam is, quite frankly, adorable. He is all boy-- a little buster who loves to run and jump and throw... and his laugh is boisterous and infectious. He certainly has charmed his Grandma Barb!

I look forward to seeing him soon and wishing him a happy birthday in person, but because this is his day, I want to wish him a very happy third birthday!

Here are a few photos Grandma has of Sam over the years:

Newborn Samuel

Sam age 6 months at his christening

Sam age 9 months wearing the Michigan helmet hat!

Sam's first birthday-- and first taste of cake-- he liked it!

18 months old at Grandma's house-- trying on Daddy's shoes!

Second Birthday

Age 2 1/2 with brother Will-- our trip to the zoo wore them both out!

Almost 3... showing Grandma how to work her new smart phone...

 Grandma loves you, Sam!!

The Testing of Character

Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power.
          ~Abraham Lincoln

Our character is what we do when we think no one is looking.

          ~H. Jackson Brown, Jr. 

I have been thinking a lot about recent events and the response people have had to them. First of all, Superstorm Sandy came and left horrible devastation on the east coast of the US. I have lots of family, family-in-laws, and friends who live there, so as the storm headed towards shore I found myself riveted to the Weather Channel, praying that nobody would be hurt or lose their home.

The aftermath of this huge storm left so much damage, with flooding and homes blown apart. Power was out for millions. As time as passed, the problems have continued because power remained off for days and days and days-- for some it still is off. We forget sometimes how dependent we are on good electrical and gas power.  Weather turning cold has added to the misery.

And just last weekend here in the Indianapolis area there was a massive explosion that leveled two houses in a neighborhood and damaged 80 more, 30 of which have been deemed uninhabitable. It killed two good people-- a school teacher and her husband. The cause of the blast has not been determined, though it is presumed to be some kind of gas leak inside the house (the furnace is the best guess at this point). While the devastation was not of the scope of the superstorm, it was right here where I live, which made it significant to me.

How people respond to these events has prompted many stories on the news and the internet. There have been stories of looting and people losing their tempers on TV...  But for the most part, the stories have all been about people reaching out to help one another. Here in Indy, stories of neighbors rushing to the explosion and dragging people out of burning homes to save them... and on the east coast stories of people volunteering to make and pass out hot meals at shelters, donating clothing and supplies, donating blood. First responders who risked their own safety to rescue people who didn't evacuate.

I just read a story on the Internet of one family in New Jersey who had a camper trailer that they used in the summer that apparently escaped  damage in the storm. They offered it up as a shelter for anyone who needed it, and a family of three, including an 8 year old little girl, literally moved into the camper. Their home had been completely destroyed in the storm.

Then, we hear stories of infidelity on the part of the CIA Director and several generals in the US Army. The stories have been all over the TV and newspapers, and have portrayed a picture of men who thought on some level they were invincible and could do anything they wanted.  These men were hugely successful, climbed to positions of power, and it went to their heads. How often have we seen this happen?

These two versions of human character-- the one version where people overcome adversity by forgetting their own welfare and help others, and the other version where people achieve prominence and power and lose it because they focused only on their own welfare and pleasure-- provides us with a valuable lesson. If you believe that character defines the greatness of any human being, then you must look beyond money, position and power to what lies within (and I am including myself in this-- important introspection!). And one sure way to find out what is within a person is to see what they do not when adversity strikes, but when they think no one is looking... And what do I do when I think no one is looking??

A Thank You to our Veterans!

In war, there are no unwounded soldiers.
          ~Jose Narosky

When our perils are past, shall our gratitude sleep? 
          ~George Canning

Today Lanny and I had the incredible honor of participating in the Veterans' Day Parade in downtown Indianapolis. Lanny was asked if he would be willing to drive our 1950 Studebaker Champion convertible in the parade, carrying 3 World War II veterans who had participated in the Indiana Veterans' Honor Flight project. I drove downtown with him, then was able to watch and photograph the parade from the sidelines while Lanny drove the car.

The Indy Veterans' Honor Flight project was formed to help get World War II vets to Washington, DC so they could see the monuments built in their honor. These brave men and women returned from war 65+ years ago, and did not seek glory or fame in their service. In fact, many of them did not or could not speak of their war experiences for many, many years. Instead, they went to work to build our nation and raise their families. Over time, the stories of these brave men and women began to become known. And with the recognition, there was an awareness that they are aging and we are losing them over time. They saved the world from Hitler and Japan, and deserve to tell their stories and be recognized for their sacrifices...

The day was warm and clear. The sun was bright. It was a perfect day for a parade! We parked Ruby (the Studebaker) at the Armory downtown, where 3 aging vets climbed in the car. There were 3 other Studebakers, one loaded with women vets, and the other two with more men. Girl Scout and Boy Scout troops accompanied the 4 cars on foot, carrying poster sized photographs from World War II of vets that had been taken on an honor flight. We had photos from WWII of the three vets in our car-- the changes over 65 years were pretty profound. The shining young faces in uniform scarcely resembled the old folks in the car... except for the smiles, of course!

The parade is huge-- it literally stretched for a couple miles, and took over 2 hours to pass by. I saw floats from VFW posts, more carloads of vets from all the more recent wars. There were veteran group bands, high school bands, motorcycle veteran groups, vets on foot, riding in the back of trucks, a group of vets driving Vettes (that is, a fleet of Corvettes driven by vets!), as well as kitschy groups like the Indianapolis Police Motorcycle team (who perform syncronized motorcycle stunts), a human flag and the Shriners Murat Flying Fezzes (a group of Shriners who drive this silly biplane looking contraption that is on a car chassis...). Lots of music, lots of color, lots of fun.

a Veterans' Band

The Human Flag

Broadripple High School Marching Band

A Veterans' Honor Guard Motorcycle group

Submarine Veterans' float

But there was also a serious side to all this. I stood on the street next to four men wearing hats and sweatshirts that indicated they were vets:  two from the Navy, one from the Army, and one Marine. Time and again people stopped to tell them "Thank you for your service!"  One woman, who was marching with a USO group, came over to shake their hands and said, "We are in the presence of greatness when we shake the hands of people such as you four..." People on the sidewalk watching the parade often yelled "THANKS!" out to vets who were marching. Many spectators, especially little kids, were waving flags.

It was a day to celebrate and to remember and to thank those who have served. It was a good day!

Cultivating wisdom

Education is the cultivation of wisdom and virtue. In deciding how to accomplish this with our own children, we would do well to see how it was done in a time when wisdom and virtue were more prevalent than in our own. 
          ~Martin Cothran, in a blog at http://www.memoriapress.com/articles/founding-fathers.html

While in Italy, Lanny and I marveled at the scope of subjects we saw in the art we viewed. The art was seen not only in art museums and galleries, but also in churches. Especially at the huge museum at the Vatican, we saw masterpiece after masterpiece, whose subjects were not just religious ones. Many were about Roman or Greek mythology, or political figures. What surprised us was the knowledge the artists had of classical Roman and Greek subjects. Even the Sistine Chapel, which has long been considered a sacred Christian masterpiece, has classical nudes and sibyls scattered across it. Michelangelo's work required a detailed knowledge of Biblical stories, and his portrayal of each character required an understanding of the philosophy and theology and politics of the time in which he lived.

The ceiling frescoes of the Sistine Chapel, painted by Michelangelo in 1512.

 In another area of the Vatican we walked through several rooms that had frescoes painted by Raphael. He had been influenced by Michelangelo's work in the Sistine Chapel, which was underway while he painted this fresco, and most of the subjects were given to him by the pope who commissioned the work. One of the works, entitled The School Of Athens, had a classical subject that referred directly to Greek philosophers and mathematicians. To paint this required a good knowledge of Greek philosophy and mathematics.

The School of Athens fresco, painted by Raphael

                          

Bernini, who sculpted about 100 years later, used many Greek mythology subjects for his sculptures. We found his sculptures to be incredibly beautiful... touching expressions of the Greek stories they represented. One of the most beautiful is the sculpture Apollo and Daphne, depicting the god Apollo as he attempts to grab the young woman Daphne to take her for his own. As she tries to escape, she cries out to the gods for help, and their response is to turn her into a tree. The sculpture captures the moment Apollo finally is able to touch her, but it is also the moment she begins to become a tree-- leaves are growing out of her fingers, her legs are beginning to grow roots. Of course the subject required a knowledge of the myth...

                     

The common thread in all of these masterpieces is that the artists all received a classical education, that included learning Latin and Greek,  literature, music, art and philosophy. Mathematics and  science were also learned. They didn't just study how to paint or how to carve marble.

I was reminded of this during the recent election. Public education was an issue that was discussed locally. Everyone agrees that education is important, but there are vast differences of opinion on what exactly that education should look like.

Without arguing any particular political points, I want to make a pitch for including more of the "classics" in our public education. Lanny and I wondered aloud if creating anything even close to these works is possible today, given our emphasis on "practical" education. We have heard people advocating for years a return to "readin', writin'. and 'rithmatic". Philosophy is viewed with suspicion. Art, music, classic literature are seen as frills and unnecessary. I disagree! All of these subjects are important, and indeed, exposure to the classics can expand a young mind to appreciate the beauty in them. And I would make the case that without exposure to the classics, creativity is diminished and our world becomes a more narrow and rigid place.

Writing this blog, I did some surfing on the internet about "classic education". I learned that the founding fathers of our country were classically educated. They all knew at least some Greek and Latin, most spoke other languages. They knew philosophy and mathematics. They had read classic literature. And that is how they were able to shape the concepts that became our unique form of government.

So, as we continue the debate about what public education is going to look like, let us remember the importance of including some of the classics. Let us remember how studying these subjects enriched the lives of some very creative people, and fostered new, creative ideas. We can do better than just training people for skilled jobs. We can teach them as young people to think creatively!! If we can do that, solutions to many of our society's problems should be an easier task.

Voting then and now...

I had the good fortune to be able to right an injustice that I thought was being heaped on young people by lowering the voting age, where you had young people that were old enough to die in Vietnam but not old enough to vote for their members of Congress that sent them there.

          ~Birch Bayh

                

This morning Lanny and I got up a little early and headed over to our polling place where we both did our civic duty and voted. We have been bombarded for weeks with political ads on TV from both political parties, and often the races have been almost mean-spirited. There have been accusations and half-truths (or worse) hurled by both sides at one another... till we have been sickened by it. However, it would never dawn on either of us not to vote. It is the most important duty of each citizen, one that must be guarded closely to protect our democracy.

When we went to sign in, there was a young woman right in front of us. She handed over the mandatory photo ID-- in her case, a driver's license. It had a different appearance than Lanny's and mine, and the poll worker commented on it. She pointed out that it was different because she was not yet 21. This made me realize that this must be the first time this young woman was going to vote for President of the United States. "Good for her!" I thought. And then my mind wandered back to the first time I voted for President...

It was in 1972. I was a junior at the University of Michigan. The voting age had just been dropped to 18 from 21, so I was able to vote. It was also the first time that students were allowed to register and vote in the area where they lived at school, rather than at the place where they had lived with their parents. In Ann Arbor, Michigan, there were suddenly 40,000 more people who were deemed eligible to vote in 1972, and the polls were not prepared.

Ann Arbor, and indeed all of America, was a very different place back in 1972. The big issue that year was the Vietnam War. Sharply divided about this issue, Richard Nixon was running as the incumbant. George McGovern was the Democratic candidate who ran on an anti-war platform. He was considered a pretty extreme liberal candidate, and had the majority of student votes that year. At the time of the election, the Watergate scandal had occurred but was not yet the big issue that it would go on to become.  Ann Arbor, having all those students, was a hotbed of antiwar activity. And, to add to the intensity of the time, there were actually 2 students running for seats on the City Council. 

To get out the student vote, there were volunteers who drove students to and from the voting locations, which some thought were placed in the most inconvenient locations to discourage students from voting. I was taken to the polls in a Rainbow People's Party multi-colored VW van, along with a half dozen others, by a hippy who was the brother of a local radical left hero, Pun Plamondon (and who was in federal prison at the time of the election!).  When I got there, the line was long. I waited for about 2 hours to have my 2 minutes in the voting booth, the line full of students like myself. And I voted for McGovern... who lost. In fact he lost so bad the only state he carried was Massachusetts. A landslide for Nixon. But, those 2 students running for Ann Arbor City Council won, and served for several years, giving the students access and a voice in the governing of the city in which they lived.

I have voted in many elections since then, but I will always remember that first time. I hope the young woman we saw remembers her experience today. It was certainly not as unusual a setting-- no hippies, no anti-war demonstrators. Just citizens from our local area waiting patiently to express themselves in the voting booth. Having a say in how this wonderful experiment in democracy is going to run for the next four years.  It is a privilege and a duty of all citizens. It is what makes our country the envy of the world. I remember being proud to vote in 1972, and that feeling of pride has only increased over the years. 

 

God Bless the United States of America!!

Stories from Italy: Poor Pauline!

As bees their sting, so the promiscuous leave behind them in each encounter something of themselves by which they are made to suffer.
          ~Cyril Connolly

Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere.
          ~Mae West, Wit & Wisdom of Mae West

                                                         

 Marie-Pauline Bonaparte Borghese was born into a large French family in the late 18th century. Her father was a lesser nobleman, and when he died the family was left destitute. There are stories that Pauline and her mother had to make money taking in laundry.

Pauline was the younger -- and favorite -- sister of Napolean Bonaparte. As he rose to prominence in the French army, he assisted Pauline in entering society. He arranged her first marriage to another Frenchman, General Charles LeClerc. They had one son, Dermide. As Napolean's military career advanced and retreated, so went Pauline's life. She was apart from her husband most of the time, and was at times in physical danger because of all the warring that was going on. During this time, Pauline began taking lovers at a rather astonishing rate, despite her contracting Yellow Fever. When her husband, Le Clerc, died, she rebelled at the protocol of mourning to the point where her brother, now Emperor, felt it necessary to find her another husband quickly. He again arranged a marriage,  this time to Camillo Borghese, 6th Prince of Sulmona, a wealthy Roman noble. Indeed, the Borghese family in Italy was similar to the Vandberbilts in the US. They were rich, powerful, friends of the Pope and nobility.

Pauline continued her lifestyle of parties, excessive luxuries and paramours at such a legendary pace that her husband left Rome and took up residence in Florence with his own mistress. Stories of her exploits are legendary. She posed for the statue below, which then was prominently displayed at the Borghese villa, much to the scandal of society. When asked by someone viewing it, "Pauline, were you not uncomfortable posing for such a statue?" she replied, "Why no! The room was perfectly warm!"
                                              

                           

 

Pauline's son died before adulthood, and she died a fairly young woman. She was estranged from her husband, given only one apartment in Florence in which to reside (the Borghese family had homes all over Italy, including a villa next to the Vatican and a huge palace elsewhere in Rome). She was rebuked by society for her promiscuous behavior. At her death, only her brother, out of power and in exile, was close to her. A beautiful young woman who rose from poverty to attain more worldly goods than most died an outcast. 

While in Florence, our tour group was treated to a "Renaissance Dinner" in Pauline's apartments. The dinner was delicious. There was entertainment in the form of Renaissance music (flute, harpsicord and other tympany). And the setting was the beautifully maintained early 19th century apartments, complete with guilded ceilings and exquisite crystal chandeliers (now electrified for safety...). We were told the story of Pauline after dinner, having dined in what was her boudoir.  Here are a few photos from that evening...

 

The jester came around with various games and tricks, and engaged a lot of us in pranks to the amusement of the rest of the group.

Look above the mirror on the wall to a large dark window. There is a balcony up there. The story is that when Pauline entertained her lovers (remember-- we ate in her boudoir...) there was an orchestra up there that played, but they were to keep the curtains closed so no one in the orchestra would know who that evening's paramour was!

Carrying in the meat entre to much fanfare

 

Stories from Italy: The Paradox

First of all, let's get one thing straight. Your Italy and our Italia are not the same thing. Italy is a soft drug peddled in predictable packages, such as hills in the sunset, olive groves, lemon trees, white wine, and raven-haired girls. Italia, on the other hand, is a maze. It's alluring, but complicated. It's the kind of place that can have you fuming and then purring in the space of a hundred meters, or in the course of ten minutes. Italy is the only workshop in the world that can turn out both Botticellis and Berlusconis.

          ~Beppe Severgnini, La Bella Figure: A Field Guide to the Italian Mind

Before we traveled to Italy, we had heard about the wonderful coffee served there. Indeed, here in the United States, coffee Italian-style has become quite popular. Expresso machines, cappuccino instant mixes, milk foamers have all become readily available. We Americans love our coffee too, so Lanny and I looked forward to trying it in Italy.

The first day in Rome, our tour guide told us how Italians often meet for an expresso. He told us it is a common thing to invite a friend to go have an expresso at the local coffee bar. But there are certain unspoken rules about how one does this. First, you will pay an additional fee if you sit down at a table. This can result in the oddity of seeing a coffee bar crammed with people at the bar, but all the tables empty! He showed us how to sweeten the expresso with this wonderful concoction that can only be described as some kind of liquified brown sugar. You drizzle it into the expresso. We learned Italians for the most part like their coffee very sweet. And second, he told us that the coffee was called "expresso" because the expectation was that you would drink it quickly. The cups are tiny, and even then you only get half a cup. But in that half a tiny cup of coffee, you have more flavor than in a full cup of American coffee-- it is incredibly strong. With the sugar, it is an amazing, overwhelming taste that made me stop for a moment and savor. Then it's gone and you are expected to leave your post at the bar so others can step up and enjoy.

Lanny shows off his cup of expresso-- with lots of sugar!

On the other hand, in the morning we were served cappuccino. This coffee is strong, but mixed with foamed milk in a way to make it silky and thick. It is served in a much larger cup. It too is a feast for the taste buds, but in a much less intense, silky way. I loved it so much I usually had two cups every morning with my breakfast.

This was how our cappuccino was served at our hotel in Florence... great way to start the day!

And that seemed to be the Italian paradox:  a country that can at times be so intensely beautiful you have to stop for a moment to savor as it rushes past you,  and a country that also allows you to sit and enjoy it at your leisure.

Days spent touring, we experienced this paradox countless times. One minute we are traveling in the craziest traffic ever as Roman ruin after Roman ruin passes us by, the next we are in a hushed museum standing in front of a masterpiece of art.  We could walk all day touring historic places surrounded by indifferent and sometimes rude people, and then sit down for a meal at a little Trattoria and experience the wonder of Italian food and great restaurant service. Lunch can be a hurried affair at these little pastry/lunchmeat shops where you grab a sandwich or snack and go.  Dinner is always a multi-course event, eaten over several hours, with the most delicious food and wine I've ever had.

We also discovered that Italians have other delights that helped us savor our surroundings. We were introduced to the Italian Spritzer, a wonderful concoction of sparkling wine and liqueurs served in a tall wine glass and garnished with olives or oranges or whatever. They are served in bars in the early evening hours before dinner.  They are to be enjoyed without rushing--

One last example of the paradox we found ourselves in:  one afternoon in Venice, after shopping (and walking!) most of the day, we treated ourselves to sitting down at Florians Caffe in St. Mark's Square. Florians has been there in constant operation since 1720 (that's right-- since before the US existed!) and had become famous as The Place To Be Seen by all manner of artists and intellectuals such as Goethe, Proust, Balzac and Dickens. Now it is mostly for tourists, as it is situated on the largest square in Venice. It has an orchestra that plays outside, with seating on the square, and in the evening the orchestra competes with the orchestra of a caffe across the square. We sat down, knowing full well Florians was known to be expensive, but wanting the experience. Plus, we were tired and thirsty. We ordered a bottle of sparkling water and two cream sherries. The waiter, perfectly outfitted in white tie, and perfectly mannered, served us with a flourish on a silver tray with white linen napkins. The orchestra played music like the theme from The Godfather.  First we quenched our thirst with the water, and then we savored the cream sherry and the little Venetian cookies they brought with it. For a moment, we could sit and savor the hubbub of all the tourists in the square, the sights and sounds and tastes of Venice. As we sipped our last bit of sherry and ate the last cookie, our waiter delivered the bill. It was 39 Euro, the equivalent of $50! He was most efficient in processing this charge to our credit card, and then the expectation was that we would pick up our packages and move on... only so much savoring allowed!

Back at home, I find I miss the rush and mad pace a little. But I really miss the savoring of new and intense experiences. Italy has provided a great example of how to enjoy life in this way. Perhaps I will ask Santa for a milk foamer for Christmas-- as a way to bring a little bit of that Italian savoring here.