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The Road to 192.6 was Paved with Sweat

~ mjdaum ~ 2 Comments

dreamsdontworkunlessyou doAfter my June 10, 2017, blog (“Creating a Butter, I Mean Better, Me”) and the pronouncement that I would be embarking on a new path to a healthier self, I thought it might be worthwhile to reflect on this journey on a somewhat regular basis. The point of the reflection would be to identify what’s working and what’s not. I wasn’t going to blog after every moment of reflection. When useful information bubbled up, I intended to scribble it down and post it here. My thought was that my learning could help someone else achieve a goal. Well, we all know what happened there (read my last post for a refresher). A year later and this post still sits in my “drafts” file. Not for long. I’m dragging this bad boy across the finish line if it’s the last thing I do. Hopefully I’ll burn a few calories in the process.

Thankfully I’m in a little better shape than I was a year ago at this time. As a result, while the weight of this unfinished project might be challenging, it’s not impossible. I’m pretty confident I can push and/or pull it to where it needs to go.

Before we go any farther, there is something I want to make clear about my intention with this post. It is my hope that my sharing might push you to share some of your own insights/learnings. I would love to hear from you and for this blog and this journey to be more of a discourse than a monologue. It really doesn’t matter if your goal is different than mine. There’s an African proverb that says, “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” I don’t know about you, but I would like to go far. I want to go the whole way. The entire distance. To the finish line. I think that’s part of what this journey is about – coming together, keeping together and working together. So please, consider joining me. Please think about posting your thoughts, goals or observations in the comments.

If you’d rather not share, no worries. I’m forever grateful and blessed by those who take the time to read this blog. I’m buoyed by the belief that we’re in this together.

What’s worked?

Putting the goal out there in the universe. Almost as soon as the June 10 post went live, I received a ton of well wishes from friends and family members. Incredibly, just a few days in, I felt as though I had this tremendous circle of support. It’s like I had my own little weight-loss cheering section, if you will.

Part of that spirited club of pro-health advocates includes what I refer to as accountability partners. These are the people who have the Herculean task of holding me to account for the goal I’ve proclaimed. They check in on my progress and ask the hard questions. What did you eat for breakfast? What do you plan to eat when you go to that concert? Do you really want to eat those fries when you’ve eaten healthy all day? Have you exercised? Is a cheesy chicken burrito smothered in guacamole and sour cream on your plan? Are you doing what you said you were going to do? Did you weigh this morning? Do you really want that second glass of wine? How far did you walk? Have you thought about weight training?

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I’m not going to lie. I don’t always love the questions or the pushing and prodding by my accountability partners. It’s especially hard when you think you’re doing everything you can and the needle is not moving. At the very beginning, I was in the middle of a full-on plateau. I was vigilant about consuming well under my calorie goal and yet I was not losing weight. On day nine of this torturous journey, the unthinkable happened – I gained a quarter pound! I thought I was going to blow a gasket when I recounted my perceived failure and instead of patting me on the head and handing me a Twinkie one of my accountability partners suggested I amp up the exercise. “I think you need to walk farther and faster. You should also add in more hills.” You. Are. Out. Of. Your. Mind. As the irrational part of my brain imagined punching this accountability partner in the throat and running to the nearest QuikTrip for a taquito and a few five cent Tootsie Rolls, the rational part of my brain knew she was right.

I’m very fortunate that no matter how ridiculous, defensive or annoyed I get, my accountability partners remain focused on doing whatever they can to help keep me on track.  Their significance cannot be overlooked. They are companions on this journey. They’re riding shotgun. They are the copilots. They help manage the GPS. They are the ones who assist in recalculating the route when I’ve veered off course.

After a recent vacation this summer, it came as no real surprise to me that I gained several pounds. When I lamented this reality to a couple of my accountability partners, their responses were similar, “Well you’re back on your plan now, right?”

No matter what your end game, it’s essential to have people around you who are going to applaud your successes AND also call into question occasions when you don’t keep your word where your goal is concerned. You need accountability partners.

Exercise, exercise, exercise. I remember when I was in my 20s, I could start a diet and lose 8 pounds in the first two weeks. That’s not the case anymore. It’s freaking hard work to lose an ounce these days. I am not exaggerating. These pounds are persistent. They have a death grip, literally, on my thighs, butt and belly. They’ve been with me for a couple of years now and they think they know me. They (mistakenly)believe that if they hang around long enough, I’ll give up. I will go back to feeding them Cheetos and Big Macs. Guess what? Ain’t gonna happen. I’ve been attacking the persistent pounds with a variety of cardio AND diet and I think I’ve got the pounds on the ropes. Four of them surrendered last October after losing their grip on a 10-day plateau. Two more of them went packing in July after I kept to my calorie goal and exceeded my exercise goal for an entire week.

I’m committed to exercising every day. I have to be in order to achieve my goal. I have to I walk my dog, Moose. I must ride my bike. I need to do the treadmill. I sometimes plank and do some band work while I’m binge-watching Netflix or Law and Order reruns. I have to go the extra mile. I can’t sit around. Healthy eating alone will not get me to where I want to be. Exercise. Exercise. Exercise.

Planning ahead. I’ve been on the road a lot the last couple of weeks, visiting family members and reconnecting with friends over lunch and dinner. In order to stay on plan, I have to plan. I check out restaurant menus in advance so I know my options. I bring food or dressing or drink when necessary. I remind people of my journey. I’m very direct in asking for their support.

I don’t, rather, I can’t leave the food or opportunities to exercise to chance. Why? Because I know my weaknesses. I can’t, for example, sit and watch other people eat tortilla chips, salsa and guacamole. That’s just not in my DNA. I’m not that evolved or in control just yet. So I try to steer away from places or menus that feature foods I have not learned to say “no” to, like chocolate layer cake or chicken parmigiana.

A couple of weeks ago I spent a few days in Phoenix with extended family. Before the trip, one of my brothers, who was also going, asked me if I intended to stick to my plan. I said yes and he offered to do some shopping for me. So I sent him a list of fruit and low-calorie frozen meals. Everyone was so supportive of my choice to try to stay on plan. Not once did I hear, “Oh come on – you’re on vacation.” It helped to have a few of my accountability partners vacationing with me.

Journaling all food and activity. One of the key words for me in the preceding sentence is “all.” I account for everything that goes in my mouth and every bit of activity that I do where I actually break a sweat.

I use the MyFitnessPal app to log my food. And I log it all. Today, I grabbed a handful of pretzel thins. Before I ate them, I counted them and logged them. Last night, I dished up some berry crisp for my husband. I topped his sweet treat with Cool Whip and proceeded to lick the spoon. I logged those calories, too. It may sound a bit obsessive, logging every tidbit or morsel – however small, but the reality is I arrived at 230 pounds by not accounting for what was going in my mouth. It was just a bite. A taste.

IMG_6673I have a Garmin Vivosmart HR that I use to track my activity. I’ve had some sort of tracking device for years, but it wasn’t until two summers ago that I started using this technology correctly.

I remember getting my very first FitBit. It was the kind you clipped to something. From the minute I first started seeing the numbers, I was hooked. Look at all of those steps. I took 1,000 steps yesterday. Woo hoo! Then, I logged 1,500 the next day. You go girl! The crazy thing is – I wasn’t really increasing my exercise level. I was merely cheering steps I would have taken anyway. Steps to the refrigerator were now exercise. Steps to the living room, a half marathon. Steps to the kitchen table, amazing stuff! Initially I was blown away by all of my “activity.” At the same time I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t seeing any results.

So I joined a group challenge called the “Workweek Hustle.” There were about a half dozen friends and family members in this challenge, competing to see who could log the most steps from Monday through Friday. I am a fairly competitive person so I thought this might be the way to really up my game. Yeah right, think again. I was competing against a nurse who worked 12 hour shifts, the owner of a nursery and garden center and one of my nieces who could seemingly spend hours on the treadmill without batting an eye. I got pummeled in the Workweek Hustle.

After reading several articles about fitness trackers and weight loss, I realized that I would benefit more if I didn’t just focus on number of steps, but also on stepping faster. Eric Finkelstein, Ph.D., lead author of a study on FitBit use, explained, “If you really want to get healthy, you have to engage in brisk walking or running—something sustained.”

Increased exercise needs to be paired with changes in diet to really help you lose weight and improve overall health, Finkelstein added. “You shouldn’t assume that all you need to do is buy one of these devices and suddenly your health is going to improve.” If it was only that easy, I would be at my goal by now. But it’s not. It’s work.   It’s sweat dripping from your forehead and down your back work. (At least that’s what it’s like for me.)

So now, with my Garmin and the Garmin Connect app on my phone, I track steps, intensity minutes, heart rate, floors and my weight. The Garmin Connect app syncs with MyFitnessPal, making adjustments to my available calories (when I exercise) so I know how many calories to consume during each day.

Weekly weigh-ins. I weigh once a week to check the progress to my goal. I try not to weigh more than once a week because the daily fluctuation drives me nuts. I try not to go longer than a week before stepping on the scale so that I can better manage any weight gain.

There are a lot of different ways to measure progress to a health goal. I just happen to use the scale.

Since we’re on the topic of the scale, it’s time to share my current status. As you probably already guessed after reading this post’s headline, I weigh 192.6 pounds. In a little over a year, I lost 37.4 pounds. My current body mass index (BMI) is 25.4 which classifies me as “overweight.” I’m no longer in the “obese” category.

What’s not working?

Random thoughts from the trail...Putting off exercise. I really don’t enjoy exercise. I’m not a runner. I’m not a fan of the gym. I’ve been fairly sedentary this past year. Consequently, knowing myself the way that I do, I try to knock out my cardio first thing in the morning. I look at it like ripping off a bandaid, pulling a tooth or blurting out the obvious. Putting off exercising creates a tortuous situation for me. I get this sense of dread. Anxiety. Eventually I start rationalizing why it makes more sense to exercise later in the day which leads me to not exercise at all. I’ll come up with some reason to NOT do it. It’s too hot. It might rain. It’s getting dark. I have to finish this other thing. I don’t want to miss this really important show on TV.  Eventually, I arrive at the granddaddy of all excuses, “It won’t matter if I miss one day of exercise.” Yikes! It’s that kind of thinking that got me where I am today. Overweight. Unhealthy. Every day matters. Every choice matters.

 

Completely eliminating high-calorie food I enjoy. There are times when I appear to have the palate of a pre-schooler. I love a good fruit snack, piece of candy or cupcake with sprinkles. While these items are not part of my regular food plan, I will occasionally enjoy one of these sweet treats. I log the calories and then make adjustments to my activity level in order to burn those calories.

For me to resolve to never eat another cupcake would be a ludicrous proposition. Get real. With this sweet tooth? Ain’t gonna happen. On my current plan, I can eat anything I want. I just need to account for it. I need to manage the cravings, be mindful of my choices and count the calories.

We’ve reached the finish line with this blog post!

As we reach the end of this post, my thoughts return to you. What are you working on this summer? Any goals you want to share? What challenges have you faced and how did you manage them?

Playing My Cards Right

~ mjdaum ~ 6 Comments

fullsizerender-11Take a look at the picture on the left and tell me what you see. A beautiful stack of greeting cards, right? That’s what I see, too.

A couple of weeks ago, my husband, Jeff, saw me sitting at the table with said stack of greeting cards and shook his head. He didn’t say anything mind you, but sometimes body language speaks louder than words. Believe me, I heard his head shake loud and clear. The implication was that I have a problem.

Full disclosure, the head shake could have been directed at any number of things. Perhaps it was meant for our crazy dog, Moose, who can’t seem to get a drink from his bowl without proceeding to water the entire kitchen floor. It’s like his mouth is numb from some kind of canine dental treatment. The water just flows off the edges of his gums. Or maybe the head shake was Cardinals, Rams or Blues related. Jeff is a huge fan of all things St. Louis sports. So maybe the head shake was because the Cardinals didn’t make the playoffs. It’s possible. I don’t really know. I didn’t even ask. I just assumed it was meant for me.

And if it was meant for me, it might have been warranted. You see, I have A LOT of greeting cards. I don’t know exactly how many I have. Let’s just say that the above photo shows a fraction of my inventory. Let’s also just say that I probably shouldn’t buy another birthday card this year. Probably shouldn’t buy a thank you card, either. Or, a “Just for Fun” card. Or, a “I’m Thinking of You” card. Or a “Blank Card.” Or a card of “Encouragement.” But I know myself pretty well. I will buy more cards. I will add to the pile.

In my defense, I buy my cards at Trader Joe’s. If you’ve ever perused the greeting cards at Trader Joe’s, you probably understand my obsession. They are beautiful. They are unique. And, they are 99 cents each! Are you kidding me? It’s one of those deals I just can’t refuse. Ever. Never.

In fact, each time I make the trek to Trader Joe’s, I buy more cards. I could be running in for a bottle of three buck Chuck and a box of Joe Joe’s and you know I will snatch up a couple of greeting cards at the checkout. I can’t help it.

It. Just. Happens.

letter-writingIt just happens because I love to send hand-written notes in beautiful greeting cards. And I want to make sure when I’m sending a card that it assists in accurately and adequately communicating my thoughts, feelings and intentions. In order to accomplish the preceding, I must have the right cards for all possible occasions. The image on the front has to be right. The words on the front have to be right. The words on the inside have to be right.

I have made a few mistakes when purchasing cards. Consequently, some cards at the bottom of the pile have been in my collection for years. For example, I have a blank card that has a gorgeous monarch butterfly on the outside. The following quote frames the picture, “Just when the caterpillar thought its world was ending, it blossomed into a Butterfly.” I loved this card when I initially purchased it. However, every time I reach for it, I return it to the pile. I worry what the recipient might think I’m implying. Will the recipient think he or she is a caterpillar? That they have yet to blossom? That their world is ending? My intention might be to send a word of encouragement and the end result could be to offend or frighten. So, yeah, I haven’t used the caterpillar card yet.

You can’t tell by looking at the pile, but in the last few months I’ve mailed a lot of cards. Sadly, the majority have been of the sympathy variety. The sympathy card, in my mind, is the most important card to get right. It also appears to be the one that most greeting card manufacturers get wrong the majority of the time.

The last time I looked for a sympathy card, I ended up purchasing a blank card because the sympathy cards’ messages were definitely not right. One said something about the spirit of the deceased loved one living on in everyone’s hearts. Another urged “be strong” and “this will pass with time.” And then there was the cheesy and thoughtless “when someone you love becomes a memory the memory becomes a treasure.” What does that even mean?

My perspective around sympathy cards has been shaped in large part by my experience more than 20 years ago when my brother, David, died.

David’s death came a little more than a year after a cancer diagnosis and months of treatment to include intensive chemotherapy, a double bone marrow transplant and radiation. About 10 months following his diagnosis, testing and scans revealed David was cancer-free. But the cancer came back.

David was young, happily married and a father of two young girls at the time of his death.

I empathize with those who came to pay their respects at David’s visitation and funeral. I know they were looking for just the right words to make everything better. So were the kind folks who sent sympathy cards. This may sound crazy – especially coming from a writer – but there were no words that could have made things better. None. Not “I know how you feel.” Not “he’s in a better place.” Not “he’s no longer in pain.” And not “time heals all wounds.”

The only message that resonated with me at that time was, “This really sucks.” And, I don’t think you could have found that missive in a greeting card.

So I buy blank cards to send to family and friends who have experienced the death of a loved one. I write my own message. That message is simple. I care. I’m really sorry. And if merited, I add, “This really sucks.”

Want to read more about the “Art of Condolence?” Click here for more.

 

 

A Monday Memory: The Silver Lining

~ mjdaum ~ 2 Comments

(Editor’s Note: In 2011, Matt Lorton realized a longtime dream. He published a book he called, “Quad’s Corner: Tales from the Crip.” I was humbled and honored to be offered a small, supporting role in this dream when Matt asked me to write the foreward. Sadly, not too long after the book was published, Matt died. Shortly before his passing, while attending a play at The Muny, Matt marveled at the size of the audience and was said to have wished he could one day reach a crowd of that magnitude. What Matt never knew – was that his reach far exceeded that of The Muny. Moreover, Matt continues to positively impact people with his humor, his example and his compassion – to this day. Before I share the foreward and a little bit more about Matt with you, I have a few words I’d like to share with my cousin. Matt – thank you for always making me think a little harder, believe a little more faithfully and laugh a lot louder. I love you.)

At one time or another during our lives, we’ve encountered some conflict, problem, or hardship. And our friends and family members try to pump us up with the usual suspects – those go get ‘em mantras that may read a little differently but all basically mean the same thing. You know what I’m talking about – things like – “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.” “The glass is half full.” “Whenever God closes a door, he opens a window.” “In every cloud there’s a silver lining.”

I don’t know the efficacy of these little bits of wisdom. And despite their prevalence, I have to admit that I don’t know a lot of people who actually embody such positive energy on a daily basis. I don’t know many individuals who live by the preceding mantras – who ponder their significance beyond the time spent confronting conflicts, problems, or hardships.

And then again, there is my cousin – the author of this book – Matt Lorton. Positive energy personified – Matt is the man running the lemonade stand. He’s the guy who makes sure all of the glasses are half full. Matt is the guy who ignores the closed door and heads straight for the window. Matt is the silver lining.

Fortunately for us, that silver lining has chosen to share some of his pearls of wisdom, his sense of humor, his life, his trials, and his victories in this book. Moreover, I have the honor of writing this foreword – or introducing his book to you. But first, I need to acquaint you with my cousin. Because before you turn to the real page one, there are a few things you need to know.

Matt is about 46 years old. He is married and has five daughters. He has a very large extended family and circle of friends. Matt is a beloved member of the Calhoun County, Illinois, community where he was born, raised, and continues to make his home.

Life has not been a bed of roses for this good-natured man. He’s survived major floods as a neighbor of the Illinois River. He buried a parent. And did I mention he lives in a house with six women?

Seriously though, in 1999 Matt broke his neck in the family’s backyard pool. His wife, Lisa, saw it all unfold from the sun porch. While Lisa was nursing their youngest and looking on, Matt was splashing around with friends and his four older daughters. The swimmers taking turns jumping over a raft. When it was Matt’s turn, inexplicably, his foot got caught on the edge of the raft, flipping him forward and shooting him forcefully to the bottom of the pool. In that moment of laughter and splashing and fun – Matt became a quadriplegic.

I will leave it to Matt to share this event in more detail, but suffice it to say, his life was changed forever. Or was it? I’m not really sure. Because as unbelievable as it might sound, Matt has never been bitter, depressed, or angry about his circumstance. Matt has never needed someone to tell him about the silver lining. Nor did he need directions to the open window. Matt already knew all of that and didn’t forget it when he lost feeling from the neck down.

quads cornerMatt has taken on what life has handed him with enthusiasm, creativity, grace, and a sense of humor. Fortunately for avid readers like you and me, he’s written about it. Prior to his accident, Matt had accumulated over 25 years of experience in the construction and real estate development businesses. Following his accident, initially, rehabilitation became Matt’s life’s work. After two years of physical therapy, however, Matt and Lisa made an important decision, “We either rehab for the rest of our lives or get on with life.” They got on with life. For Lisa – that meant returning to full time nursing. For Matt – that meant returning to school. After earning a B.S. in Organizational Leadership, Matt went on to receive a Master’s in Communications.

While studying, working, and helping to raise his family, Matt also found time to share his experience with other accident victims. He was often called on to be a peer counselor – providing the kind of support no one else could offer to someone recently hurt in an accident and finding themselves in a similar position as Matt. He also spoke to medical students. In addition, he happily obliged when TV stations came calling right before the summer swim season opened – as they looked for people to interview for swimming pool safety stories.

Getting on with life didn’t stop there. Matt and Lisa formed a company – Life Assist Unlimited. Matt became an Americans with Disabilities Act specialist. He started to do more public speaking. He still enjoys talking to schools, churches, service clubs – anyone really – about change, about people with disabilities – about the importance of focusing on what you can do in the world.

Matt is a story teller by nature. He comes from a long line of story tellers. His father, my father, our grandfather – they all had this innate ability to make the most mundane seem exciting and compelling. Family get-togethers were never complete unless there was time spent sitting around the kitchen table listening to one of our elders talk about surviving life in the city on a diet of bologna, bread, and ketchup.

Matt is also quite funny. Again – I think it’s genetic. I’m convinced of it. What’s more, I’m going to go out on a limb and hypothesize that not only has the sense of humor gene not skipped a single generation in the Lorton family, it has somehow multiplied or become magnified in quite a few family members. They are funny, funny people. And I am not exaggerating when I tell you that it is virtually impossible to escape the company of a Lorton without hearing these words, “Did I tell you the one about the…?”

With all of that being said, it should come as no surprise that not too long after Matt’s accident, he started a regular e-mail column which he calls “Quad’s Corner.” Over the years his recipient list has grown from a few friends to literally hundreds of people. In his column, Matt reflects on his life, on all of our lives. He mixes humor with his common sense point of view to share his thoughts on politics, religion, and the challenges of his daily life.

Matt talks about his first time behind the wheel of this equipped van. He talks about the nightmare of having mechanical difficulties (with his wheelchair) while at the supposed “happiest place on earth” – Disney World. He talks about friends in need of prayers. He talks about his family and friends. He talks about his dog, Jake, and his run for the mayor’s post.

In an effort to show it all – and to be completely authentic and honest – Matt dispels the myth of TMI – too much information. Matt talks about needing help to use the bathroom and to get dressed in the morning. He talks about the assistants who see him when he is most vulnerable. No stone goes unturned, as they say.

This book is a compilation of all of those stones. This is a collection of Matt’s “Quad’s Corners.”

To have Matt’s writings reach this stage is the realization of a longtime dream. He’s always talked about publishing the “Quad’s Corners.” I never doubted for a minute that it would happen. When Matt says he thinks he can do something – he can – and he does. I’m privileged to play a small role in seeing this dream come to fruition.

Part of that role is to relate one more important piece of information. In the publisher’s effort to support Matt’s authentic self, the “Quad’s Corners” are printed exactly as they appeared in their original form. No one edited for typos or weeded out the grammatical errors.

I applaud the publisher for taking this tack. Because in my mind, these things, that might look like critical missteps by the English major, are things of beauty. Moreover, without them, we’d not know the entire story. Removing the typos would be like removing a few random pages from any book or like reading the CliffsNotes version of this one. In this book – it’s all of it together – the content and the context – that combine to deliver the message. In this case, the content is the story Matt is telling and the context is that when Matt is drafting a column, he literally forces a pencil into his curled hand and uses what little upper body strength and muscle that he might have to throw his hands toward the keyboard.

What we get from his genius and unrelenting self is a gift. And I don’t know about you but I want it all. I want the note, the wrapping paper and what’s inside – even though I already know a little bit about the contents – it’s got a beautiful silver lining.

(Final note – you can find Matt’s book by clicking here.)

When Life Handed Her Lemons, She Persevered

~ mjdaum ~ Leave a comment

“Dad…remembering you is easy, I do it every day. Missing you is the heartache that never goes away.” – unknown

mike schwerWhen you’re 5 years old, the biggest obstacle in your life should be the playground monkey bars. You shouldn’t have to worry about money, your health, what you’re having for dinner or how you’re getting to school in the morning. These should be the concerns and talking points for the adults in your life. But, as the adults, we know, and sometimes children are quick to learn, that life doesn’t always follow the path or pattern we imagine. The hard reality is that life isn’t fair. It hands us lemons. Sometimes, it goes one step further, and hands us heartache and disappointment.

In October of 2008, life handed my Little Sister, Hannah, the biggest heartache it could when it took her father from this earthly world and out of her sight and reach. After a short battle with cancer, Hannah’s father, Michael Schwer, died. This loss came just a couple of months after Hannah’s fifth birthday. A time when Hannah should have been celebrating first days of school, laughing and enjoying trick or treating and looking forward to the upcoming soccer season, she was faced with the daunting reality of this hole in her heart. (The above photograph shows Hannah hugging her dad after a soccer game.)

The amazing thing is – she persevered.

Hannah’s first soccer coach, Michael Schwer passed on to his dear daughter, his love of the sport, his bravery, his tenacity, his compassion and his perseverance. The lessons Hannah learned from her dad didn’t come through direct instruction, but through the beautiful way in which he lived his life.

In the field coaching just two weeks before he died, Michael Schwer showed Hannah the importance of never giving up – no matter who or what your opponent.

Honoring her father’s memory and legacy, Hannah follows her brave father’s lead, and faces life’s obstacles with a determination and hard-headedness that keeps propelling her forward. That’s not to say that it wasn’t difficult for Hannah in the days, months or years after her father’s passing. It was and remains a hard reality to manage. But Hannah has learned from it and has tried to create a positive response to a devastating outcome. According to Hannah’s mother, “She was my one kid out of all of my kids who wouldn’t open up about it.” Hannah went to a few programs for children who had lost parents but had difficulty communicating her experience to others. The first time she really had a breakthrough came when one of her elementary school classmates lost a parent. Hannah came to that student’s side, offering a compassion and empathy that only a child who had that shared experience could. She has since reached out to other children who have found themselves in a similar circumstance. As Hannah’s mom described, “Hannah makes herself available to them – just to tell them that if they need to talk or to be with someone who really understands – she will be there.” Not only has Hannah persevered, but she has used her loss and her hurt to help someone else. She has transformed her pain into a purpose, a feat that puts me in awe of my Little Sister.

lori chalupnyShe honors her dad through her perseverance. She reaches her dad through her soccer play and by connecting with those who once knew him. Throughout his coaching career, Michael Schwer mentored several Olympic athletes including Lori Chalupny and Becky Sauerbrunn. Hannah has stood in line for hours in order to meet these players – seeking any kind of information or insight they might share about her dad. After hours waiting to meet Lori Chalupny, Hannah’s persistence earned a priceless reward when Lori told her, “Michael Schwer was one of my favorite people – one of the best people I ever knew.” As joyful as these meetings are, they bring with them a bittersweet reality that these players knew Hannah’s dad longer than she did.

Hannah facial features resemble her dad’s. Her second toe is longer than her big toe – just like her dad. And she has this unrelenting spirit to keep moving in a positive direction, no matter what, just like her dad. Josh Shipp once said, “Perseverance is stubbornness with a purpose.” Hannah embodies that quote.

Hannah has faced unimaginable loss and change and hardships with grace and humility and a stubbornness to not let anything stop her from reaching her goals and aspirations. Consequently, she gets straight As, plays on two soccer teams, is very involved in youth group at church and is a proud and loving friend, daughter, sister, aunt and granddaughter.

Determined and often a perfectionist, Hannah gives 110 percent no matter what. Some will do the bare minimum – just what they can to get by. That’s not who she is. Hannah gives her best effort. Sometimes when Hannah is up late working on her homework, her mom has to remind her to get some sleep. “It’s just a rough draft – remember?” Her mom says.

Knowing what she knows about the fragility and uncertainty of life, Hannah lives her life always striving to be and do her best. There are no rough drafts for this feisty and resolute 6th grader.

“With ordinary talent and extraordinary perseverance, all things are attainable.” –Thomas Foxwell Buxton. I believe this about Hannah. I can’t wait to see where she goes!

(Editor’s Note: Hannah is my Little Sister through Big Brothers Big Sisters of Eastern Missouri.)

A Monday Memory: We All Wear the Same Pair of Shoes

~ mjdaum ~ 2 Comments

(Editor’s Note: Back in the 1990s, I wrote a weekly column for a  newspaper in northern Indiana. The column was called, “Consider This.” I recently ran across a few dozen of these old columns. It’s been both entertaining and a little painful sifting through those naïve and frequently unpolished musings. Nevertheless, I thought it might be fun to share some of them via this blog over the next several Mondays. Consider this a sort of throwback Thursday, or a flashback Friday, but on a Monday. Thanks in advance for reading!)

They were wearing the same pair of shoes.

I was on my way back from an interview and the one thought that kept going through my mind was that they were wearing the same shoes.

The preceding realization can’t be understood unless I also tell you about a trip I made last week to the city of Fort Wayne to interview a couple of people for the Allen County Edition of Senior Life. After an afternoon of work, I stopped by my brother’s home and visited with his family.

billyMy nephew and godson, Billy, an energetic and always enthusiastic 5-year-old, showed me his latest artistic endeavors that had made their way to the coveted door of the refrigerator. He invited me to play games and while I was engaged in “adult” conversation with my brother and sister-in-law, Billy vied for my attention, sitting on my lap and grabbing my hand.

As Billy started to cry and complain a little bit later in the evening, my sister-in-law commented, “See what happens when my son doesn’t take a nap!” She ordered pizza for dinner and when those cheese and pepperoni pies arrived, Billy sat quietly, carefully eating the slices that he would first dip into an accompanying side of tomato sauce.

While Billy was seated eating, I observed how content he seemed. I remarked to my brother and sister-in-law that I thought his outfit was really cute. Billy rolled his eyes at the word “cute” and refocused my attention to his tennis shoes. I didn’t understand his first reference to the shoes and asked Billy if he needed a new pair. “No way! I like these,” he replied simply, pointing to the shoes. They were white, with black and bluish-purple accents around the ankles.

Billy pleaded with me to spend the night, but I declined, explaining that I had to be at work early the next morning and I didn’t bring a change of clothes with me. I said good-bye.

The following afternoon I made my way to the home of Terry and Jeane DeShone. I was going to speak with Jeane concerning her experience with ADEC…Resources for Independence, more specifically its First Steps program.

A strong and humorous woman, Jeane shared her personal story of how she learned of ADEC’s early intervention services for children at risk of developmental delay.

Paul, her almost 5-year-old, was found to be at risk of delay when 10 months old. She told me about how much the staff and services at ADEC meant in the life of Paul and in the lives of the rest of her family. Paul was eventually diagnosed with autism.

We spoke for a little more than a half hour before Terry brought Paul home from preschool.

I looked forward to this meeting with great anticipation, especially after what I viewed as such an honest and sensitive discussion with Jeane.

When Paul entered the room, one of the first things that caught my eye was that he was wearing the same shoes my nephew, Billy, was wearing the day before. Initially, I tried to shake off what I thought was a pretty silly observation, but later I couldn’t put it out of my mind.

As Paul made his way around the room, he appeared unhappy about something. His mother placed a few treats on the table near where we were seated and he sat there quietly, carefully eating these treats, one by one. And I thought to myself how cute his outfit was.

We continued with our “adult” conversation. Jeane told me about how she learned to concentrate on what Paul has to give and not about what has been taken from him. She said that she has the first picture he ever drew by himself hanging on the refrigerator. “It’s just three marks, but we were delighted when he accomplished that,” Jeane said.

As we neared the end of our discussion, Paul grabbed my hand, vying for my attention.

On my way back to the office, I considered all of these parallels in my two visits. I thought how right Jeane was when she said that disabilities are a matter of time for all of us. That we are all closer to disabilities than we might think was powerfully illustrated to me.

I was overcome, however, by the realization that Paul and Billy are very much alike. There’s such a similarity there. I thought about how much I loved the fact that they both approach life with such enthusiasm and energy.

I thought that perhaps we don’t realize our similarities – what we have in common – all that often. We seem to be forever emphasizing our differences. But the bottom line seemed to be that we all want the same things. We all vie for attention, want to be accepted or who we are and recognized for our achievements, no matter how great or small.

I thought that we all have this desire to be loved and we all want to enjoy our lives.

After all that Jeane had shared with me when I saw Paul for the first time, I didn’t see his autism. I saw a little boy…a little boy with energy and enthusiasm…a little boy who liked candy…a little boy whose accomplishments were hanging on the refrigerator door…a little boy who could have been my nephew…a little boy wearing the same pair of shoes.

New Blog! Read Now and Avoid the Lines

~ mjdaum ~ 5 Comments

I was waiting in line at a drive-thru restaurant yesterday morning, after waiting in line at the bank, and suddenly it occurred to me, I spend a lot of time waiting in line. Or so it seemed. Curious – I pulled out my phone and Googled, “How much time do people spend waiting in line?”

Picture from www.dailymail.co.uk. In Longview, Texas, trucks and SUVs spilled out of the parking lot and lined the streets, waiting to get into the drive-through for Chick-fil-A.
Picture from http://www.dailymail.co.uk. In Longview, Texas, trucks and SUVs spilled out of the parking lot and lined the streets, waiting to get into the drive-through for Chick-fil-A.

I was stunned when I read that over the course of a lifetime, the average American will spend TWO years waiting in line. TWO YEARS. Americans as a whole spend roughly 37 BILLION hours each year waiting in line. Mind blowing, isn’t it?

More surprising than the numbers though, was the discovery of M.I.T. operations researcher, Richard Larson. According to an article I read in the New York Times, “Why Waiting in Line is Torture,” Larson is widely considered to be the foremost expert on lines. Did you know there was an expert on lines? I didn’t.

There appears to be an entire science around lines. I guess that’s not all that astounding given today’s culture. We live in a microwave society. We want what we want and we want it now. We order our lunch from the company who promises a “freaky fast” delivery. We download the Waze app to save time on our daily commute. We pay extra for “express boarding” when we travel by air. We read stories like, “Why Waiting in Line is Torture,” hoping the moral of the story will reveal some new trick for avoiding lines. We don’t want to wait. Not in line. Not online.

As a matter of fact, according to computer scientist Ramesh Sitaraman, waiting of any sort can mean high anxiety for Internet users. Sitaraman’s research found that two seconds is the longest we’ll wait for an online video to load before we start looking at our watches. If we have to wait 10 seconds, 50 percent of us are going to bail. Apparently, we can’t spare that kind of time.

Why do we hate waiting in line so much? For the answer to that question, we return to the line expert, Professor Larson. He explained, in an article in The Huffington Post, “The Hidden Joy of Waiting in Line,” that occupied time feels shorter than unoccupied time, so when we’re standing in a long line or in a doctor’s office waiting room, the time feels as if it’s dragging on. Waiting can provoke impatience, stress and anxiety, and in turn, anxiety also makes waits seem longer.

“The dominant cost of waiting is an emotional one: stress, boredom, that nagging sensation that one’s life is slipping away,” Alex Stone wrote in the New York Times in 2012.

Apparently, the mere presence of a line can freak people out. So it stands to reason that multiple lines can really push people over the edge, right? That statement is true – but not for the reason you might think. The presence of multiple parallel lines, like the ones we see in the grocery store, create an anxiety because we are pressured to pick the right one – the line that will get us through the checkout and out of the door the quickest.

patienceWe’ve all been there. I was there last weekend. Pressed for time, I was trying to get in and out of Costco in rapid fashion. I was doing a fantastic job, until I reached the checkout area and had to decide on a line. Before I could choose, there were several factors I needed to consider: the number of people in each line, the quantity of items in each cart, and the chattiness of the employees. Once I selected my line, I then spent the rest of my time waiting, comparing my wait to those in the adjacent lines. Am I beating that line? Am I losing to that one? I can probably beat all of the lines as long as nothing unforeseen happens – like a price check.

Weirdly, I don’t remember if I won or lost, because at the end of my shopping experience, the clerk helped me find a box to carry all of my purchases and a couple of my items rang up at lower prices than I anticipated. According to the line experts, my inability to remember the details of the race wasn’t so weird. The experts assert that when a long wait ends positively, we tend to forget all about the trauma of waiting. The reverse is true as well. If our experience ends on a down note, we will fixate on that negative story even if the whole process wasn’t that bad.

We’ve all been there, too, haven’t we? I remember not too long ago running into the post office to mail a few packages for work. I had a pile of brightly colored boxes I was sending to some folks who’d helped me out with a video shoot. The line moved quickly and the clerk was quite pleasant and helpful. When it was time to pay I handed the clerk my credit card, he processed my payment, returned the card and then mispronounced my last name. Instead of Daum he said Dum. Game over.

david barryOne of the biggest factors in how we perceive our line waiting experience boils down to fairness. It goes without saying (but I have to say it here because this is a blog and this is where I say stuff), the first one to get in line is the first one to be served. Anyone who colors outside of the lines of first come, first served, is asking for trouble.  Isn’t one of the earliest rules we all learn when it comes to line etiquette is that there are no cuts?

These new drive-thru lines, that split in two and then converge into one, sometimes make the first come, first served rule a challenge. Just last week I was sitting in a line ahead of the split and some guy drove next to me, almost on the sidewalk, and maneuvered ahead in one of the lines. I had this “Fried Green Tomatoes” moment flash in my head where I drove my little Prius into the side of his Escalade. Thankfully that inclination left as quickly as it came and I maintained my composure.

But maintaining one’s composure when someone cuts in line is easier said than done for some folks. There’s an ABC 20/20 piece about “line rage” that showcases throwdowns in the men’s room at a professional sporting event, at an Apple new product unveiling and a convenience store. There’s actual footage of a woman getting so enraged when a guy tries to cut in front of her to buy cigarettes that she maces him. Google “muffin macer” and you can find that stress-filled encounter starring two adults behaving poorly.

Helping people avoid these kinds of experiences and the stress of lines are professional line sitters. Robert Samuel launched SOLD (Same Ole Line Dudes) in 2013 in New York. Samuel makes a living sitting in line for everything from Saturday Night Live tickets to cronuts. He charges $60 to wait in line and then deliver two ($5/each) cronuts to customers who don’t want to wait in crazy long lines at Soho’s Dominique Ansel Bakery.

Shared from the QLess Facebook page.
Shared from the QLess Facebook page.

And then, there’s Alex Backer. Backer is co-founder and CEO of QLess.

Operating on the principle that “waiting in line sucks,” QLess aims to “eliminate waiting in line from the face of the earth.” QLess is based in Los Angeles, which I suppose makes a lot of sense. If your mission is to eliminate lines you headquarter where there are a lot of people and a lot of lines, right?

Founded in 2007, QLess offers a technology that holds your spot in a virtual line and notifies you on your mobile phone when it’s your turn. According to QLess, the company “has a proven track record at Fortune 100 retail stores such as T-Mobile, Vodafone & Harrah’s, government offices such as Kansas, Missouri and New Hampshire DMVs or the City of Austin, restaurants such as Twin Peaks, and healthcare providers such as the Cleveland Clinic.”

I don’t know about you, but I don’t have the resources to pay other people or technology to wait in line for me. Instead, I’m just going to have to suck it up, act like an adult and make the best of waiting. Spoiler alert – so are you.

P.S. My Google search turned some other interesting facts I thought about using in a later blog post – but hey – why make you wait? From the website Distractify, I found the following interesting tidbits about how we spend our time. (Disclaimer: I have no idea how accurate any of these things are. I just found them interesting.)

  1. We watch TV for 9.1 years.
  2. We spend two years watching commercials.
  3. Women spend 17 years of their lives trying to lose weight.
  4. We spend 92 days on the toilet.
  5. We spend 25 years sleeping.

Dancing Down Memory Lane

~ mjdaum ~ 6 Comments

stupid-shirt-irtI was putting gas in my car over the weekend, when I looked up and saw a woman wearing a shirt that said, “I’m with stupid,” like the one pictured at right. My first thought was to grab my phone and take a picture. I wanted to immediately share this visual with my siblings. It would be a wildly funny text. An inside joke. But, given that the woman wearing the shirt was standing like, four feet in front of me, I fought the paparazzi impulse and returned to my car.

Thankfully, my son, David was in the passenger seat. So I went into storytelling mode, hoping my enthusiastic sharing of memories, would feel as good as snapping a picture and texting the details.

JimmieWalker2You see, I’ve seen this shirt before – on one of my siblings. In fact, I think I played a role in selecting the shirt for said sibling’s wardrobe. If that wasn’t bad enough, I recall adding a J.J. Walker hat to complete the look. It’s true. There’s a perfectly logical explanation for this. I mean, it seems logical to me. You might think it’s a little bit cuckoo. Off center. Not that funny.

Anyway, when I was in seventh grade, I was responsible for watching my three youngest siblings while my mom was at work. My only charge was to make sure they didn’t get hurt. Sounds simple enough, right? Yeah, well – it was far from simple for this nervous Nelly. (Refer to my blog post, “It’s Just a Rash,” for more on my worrisome ways.) You see, we’re talking about ensuring the safety of a little brother, who at age 2, fell and hit his head on an iron planter. In front of a seasoned babysitter. While my mom was still in the house. The subsequent gash on his head required several stitches. This same brother also slipped and fell playing dodge ball at school once. A trip to the doctor on that occasion revealed a mild concussion. We’re also talking about corralling a younger sister, who at around age 4 was supposed to be napping when she removed the chimney from a metal dollhouse and gave herself a “shot” in the knee. Can you say four stitches? So you see, in reality, there was nothing at all simple about this task.

What to do? What to do? Cover them with bubble wrap? Lock them in their rooms?

Initially, I had no idea. Literally, none. Nada. Zero. For many of you younger folks, this will be a difficult concept to grasp. You’re probably thinking to yourselves, “Hello? Disney Channel!” But we’re talking 25+ years ago, well before Jessie, Phineas and Ferb, iPads, cell phones, Nintendos, etc. We were still writing on slate. Not really. I think we had pens and paper. We definitely didn’t have a home computer, nor the Internet. So I couldn’t just browse a few “Ideas for Keeping Young Siblings Busy” boards on Pinterest. And there definitely wasn’t an opportunity to Google, “how to occupy young children until mom comes home.”

I was stumped.

We didn’t have cable TV. DVR technology was not yet invented. So I couldn’t even rely on the hypnotic effects of the boob tube. After one episode of Gilligan’s Island and maybe a few minutes of Zoom, the natives would start getting restless.

midnight starLong story short, it was completely up to me to develop a creative strategy to keep my siblings busy and safe. It’s a scary thought, but I had to rely on my own pea brain for the precise approach. I don’t know where I came up with this idea, but when they were around first and second grade, I decided I would make them dance. I would choreograph some basic routines to tunes by the Bee Gees, Heatwave, Midnight Star or whatever other 45s I had laying around, teach them the moves and then make them rehearse over and over and over again until the clock struck 5:30 p.m. or my mom got home – whichever came first.

In retrospect, this was a pretty good method for keeping three kiddos in line, for two main reasons. First, because I made sure every dance was a group effort, no one was wandering off doing who knows what sort of dangerous thing. There would be no running around with scissors or crossing one’s eyes (because you know they can freeze that way). Second, because I didn’t really know what the heck I was doing, the technical difficulty of the dances was close to a 1 or 2. There were no jumps or lifts or splits and therefore very little risk for injury. Phew!

For whatever it’s worth, my younger siblings were pretty good performers. One year, they took their routine on the road and performed in the school talent show. That’s when they wore the J.J. Walker hats and the silly t-shirts. (In my defense, I had no budget. And I never claimed to be a costume designer or stylist. I was a simple choreographer.)

Anyway, they did really well in the show. I think they came in second to a kid telling jokes with a bag over his head (he called himself the Unknown Comic).

Everyone loved watching them dance, especially my mom. On occasion, my siblings would perform their latest dance routine as soon as my mom got home from work. She loved every moment of these performances. Loved. Loved. Loved them. I used her joy to my advantage. Every once in a while, when these little dancers tried to opt out of learning a new routine, or complained about being too tired, I would bring the ugly big sister pressure, “So you know how much mom loves to see you dance. And you’re telling me you seriously don’t want to be part of that? Mom works soooooooooooooo hard and you don’t want to bring a smile to her face with this dance? Really?” Makes me cringe just typing the preceding. But it usually worked. Guilt was a beautiful thing for this then stressed out teen. Ugh. I think I owe my siblings an apology.

It was at this point in my story telling that I glance over at David and observe that he has this blank look on his face. I couldn’t tell if he was horrified – wondering if his fate would at some point place him on the dance floor when he’d rather be playing a game of Minecraft. Or perhaps he was in disbelief – doubting my assertion that when I grew up we didn’t have iPads, Nintendos or cellphones. I asked him to share his thoughts and his response was simple, “That’s really weird, mom.”

Yeah, it probably was really weird. But it was also quite fun. There was a lot of laughter in between the introduction of each new dance step. And again, it met my ultimate goal. It kept them safe.

memory lane 2jpgYou see, you’ll do just about anything to protect and care for the people you love. You’ll dance. You’ll choreograph. You’ll have your creative differences. You’ll compromise. You’ll do the best you can with the knowledge and experience you have at the time. You’ll do better as you get older. You’ll apologize when you fall short.

And, you’ll smile when you see someone wearing a shirt that says, “I’m with stupid,” because it will remind you of the people you love – people who in spite of all of your weirdness always love you right back.

It’s Beginning to Look a lot like Christmas

~ mjdaum ~ 5 Comments

christmas quoteLast weekend, we celebrated Christmas. Yes, that’s right, Christmas.

I admit, the notion of commemorating a December holiday in May, sounds a little strange. A little wacky. A bit confused. I totally get it. But it’s true. We celebrated Christmas 2014 in May 2015.

At least this year, there was a celebration. The year prior, there wasn’t. 2014 was the year without a Christmas.

Before the pity parties are launched and the notes of concern are drafted, let me be very clear, I did celebrate Christmas. Jeff, David and I had a very lovely holiday. But the extended family gathering – on my side – well, it did not happen. We just couldn’t juggle all of the schedules, tweak the timing and deal appropriately with the last-minute this and that to get the annual get-together on the calendar.

When you’re a kid, holidays are easy. You wake up, make the short trek to the living room and you’re pretty much good to go. The hardest part of your day might be convincing your parents that 4:30 a.m. isn’t too early to check to see if Santa left anything for you under your tree.

Your parents deal with all of the logistics for the entire holiday. They manage the plans for who joins you for Christmas dinner and who you might visit during the  break. As a kid, you’re literally just along for the ride.

As you get older, things aren’t quite so simple. You’re now managing the logistics. There are multiple calendars to consider. There are kids in different schools with varying vacation schedules. Some of the kids play sports, with holiday tournaments immediately after Christmas. There are family members who have crazy work schedules. There are in-laws. And there’s the whole, “What did we do last year?” All of the preceding can make scheduling any kind of fiesta a challenging prospect. Add to mix, the fact that your extended family lives all over the country – and well, getting a date that everyone can convene in a single locale, without breaking the bank, is next to impossible. So you just do the best you can. You make it work.

What that looks like varies slightly from year to year, but there are a few things that are essential to a successful belated holiday gathering. Here are four off the top of my head:

  1. Christmas in May 2015 - kids have a water fight in the pond at my sister's house.
    Christmas in May 2015 – kids have a water fight in the pond at my sister’s house.

    A sense of fun and flexibility. In order to celebrate Christmas in any month other than December, you have to adjust your thinking. You need to put aside all of the stereotypical activities and preconceived notions you have about the holidays and be open to creating new memories and traditions. For example, if you’re celebrating Christmas in May in Ohio, it’s highly unlikely that it’s going to snow on the most wonderful day of the year. And that’s OK. Instead of having a snow ball fight after Christmas dinner, how about organizing a water balloon fight? At the same time, don’t feel like you have to abandon all of your favorite Christmas traditions. You can still get all of the kiddos together to make Christmas cookies in May. I don’t know about you, but I think sugar cookies and buckeyes are quite tasty all year-long. I can’t imagine one kid, or adult for that matter, turning his/her nose up to chocolate covered anything just because the holidays are long gone. If you find yourself getting annoyed or a little resentful that you’re not able to have this kind of gathering closer to the holidays, stop yourself in your tracks. Remember, the reason you’re celebrating when you are is because that’s when the bulk of your family can make this happen. And being with your extended family is what it’s all about – right?

  2. IMG_5825Gifts – real ones and the gag variety. What’s a holiday celebration without neatly wrapped packages? For the kids, both big and small, it ain’t Christmas if there aren’t gifts to exchange. So, save part of the gift giving for the belated celebration. That’s what we do, anyway. Make the effort to pull out the poinsettia and Santa adorned paper. It’s the holidays after all. Again, add some fun to the mix by including a few gag gifts. This year, my sister, Liz, had my husband’s name in the holiday exchange. In addition to Amazon gift cards, she gave him what turned out to be one of the highlights of the gift exchange. She found a “Things you Need to Know about Chuck Norris” t-shirt. I still laugh when I look at it.

    Christmas in May 2015
    Christmas in May 2015
  3. Your well-rested self. If you’re anything like me, you will want to take advantage of every single minute you’re with your family. None of my siblings live near me. My brother, Bruce, is the closest and he’s still a good three-hour car ride away. My sibling twins, Karen and Kevin, live the farthest, setting up their respective homes in southern California. So, when I have face to face time with any single one of my siblings, it’s game on. We will stay up late and get up early to maximize our time together. Therefore, get plenty of rest in advance of the gathering and tell yourself you will catch up on your sleep once it’s over. You won’t be sorry you got six hours of sleep instead of eight. You will be sorry if you go to bed early and miss the conversation about your niece’s wedding plans and bachelorette party.
  4. Empathy. As hard as you will try, you will not be able to accommodate everyone’s schedules. Believe me, we tried really hard last year and just when we thought we found the weekend – someone eventually remembered a work or personal commitment that presented a conflict. Do the best that you can. And remember that your family members are doing the very best they can, too. For those who aren’t able to make it, try to keep them in the loop. Use technology to put them at the party. Skype, FaceTime and plain old phone calls or texting can help bridge the distance and connect you with those who aren’t physically present.

And finally, and this is the hardest part, don’t let the celebration end – even when the last family member has returned to his or her home. Christmas is intended to be celebrated the entire year.

“Christmas is forever, not for just one day,
for loving, sharing, giving, are not to put away
like bells and lights and tinsel, in some box upon a shelf.
The good you do for others is good you do yourself…”
~Norman Wesley Brooks (U.S. design engineer, 1923–2002)

Practical Joking is in the Blood

~ mjdaum ~ 2 Comments

When I was taking David to school one day last week, it suddenly hit me: I. Am. Soooo. Lame.

Let me set the scene. It was April Fools’ Day. Although I thought about waking David up at 6:30 a.m. with some kind of prank – I didn’t follow through. I didn’t come up with a plan. Let’s be honest – I completely spaced it.

We talked about my inaction on the short trek to school and David reminded me that we didn’t prank each other  April 1, 2014, either. What? Are you sure? That cannot be!

nerf gunYou see, I come from a family of practical jokers. You might say that practical joking is in the blood. It’s part of the DNA. It’s our first instinct.

While some kids are taught from a very young age that the telephone is not a toy, I was trained on the art of the crank phone call. I think I learned how to short sheet a bed before I learned how to make one. Not really.

But for me to NOT prank anyone on April Fools’ Day – of all days – blasphemy! I mean I could lose some serious street cred at the next family reunion if the word got out that I let an opportunity to prank someone pass me by. That’s no joke.

The crazy hijinks runs on my dad’s side of the family – the Lortons.

That’s not to say that my mom’s family, the Tripps, aren’t funny. On the contrary, they are belly-busting hilarious. They love a good joke. They love telling a good joke. They love laughing at a good joke. You can’t visit the Tripps without hearing, “Did I tell you the one about?”

For many years, I used to think my Uncle Tommy Tripp should audition for Last Comic Standing. The guy is hilarious. I have always been amazed at his ability to remember so many jokes. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him tell the same joke twice.

The Tripps are good at physical humor too. I’ve got lots of Tripp family photos where some family member has pulled his pants up to his chest. You know, the Ed Grimley look? Or, someone has positioned a hat in a crazy funny way.

While the Tripps are quite entertaining, they aren’t big on pulling pranks. Unless you count my Uncle Garry’s “Pull my finger.” They just don’t get into the practical joke space.

The Lortons, on the other hand, love a good practical joke. They are all over it. They can’t get enough. They are pulling pranks 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

That may be a bit of an exaggeration. Or it may be completely on point. I’m not really sure. I just know that there are very few rules when it comes to their pranks. The only real rules are that a good prank is never mean-spirited and a good prank is never intended to humiliate.

Embarrass, sometimes. Humiliate, never.

You’re probably scratching your head right now and thinking to yourself – that can’t possibly be. There must be rules. There must be guidelines. You must draw a line. Listen, if you draw a line then you limit your possibilities. Everything and everyone can be part of the next great prank. Your job, your business, your friends, your neighbors, your children, your pets, your hobbies, complete strangers. These are your resources. These are the main ingredients for the caper, the shenanigans. There are no lines.

You’re still incredulous. I get it. I get that you’re going to assert that a line is drawn when it comes to age. Surely, practical jokes only involve adults, you’re thinking. Well, you’d be wrong.  Just the other day, my niece, Andrea, recalled being on the receiving end of a Lorton prank – albeit a prank on a small-scale. She thinks she was 10. “I remember Uncle Kevin and Uncle David saying that we needed to practice man overboard in grandpa’s boat. Next thing I know I was in the water!” Thankfully the boat wasn’t moving too quickly and Andrea was wearing a life jacket.

FullSizeRender (1)You’re still not sold. You’re now thinking that certain occasions are off-limits. Again, no. Let’s take a look at my wedding. Well, let’s first take a look at my engagement. When Jeff and I announced our engagement in 1999, everyone was thrilled. There were parties. There was fanfare. There was an engagement announcement in the McDonough Democrat, the newspaper that my dad owned at the time. And there was a line in that announcement that mentioned Jeff was a “former member of the St. Louis Blues hockey team.” Jeff is one of the biggest Blues fans I know. He’s been a Blues fan forever. But let me be clear, he has never played for the Blues. The first time we visited my dad, following this newspaper prank, was quite interesting. I won’t go into all of the particulars. Suffice it to say, church was quite crowded, given that the former professional hockey player was making an appearance.

weddingSkip ahead to the wedding. My wedding party, composed primarily of my siblings, had several hours to kill in between the wedding and the reception. So we drove around in our rented limo taking some spontaneous and fun photos. We took pictures in my old dorm, in a hockey rink, at the restaurant where Jeff and I had our first date, and at a gas pump. Everyone thought it would be hilarious if we got a picture of me acting like I’m pumping gas while the limo driver points at his watch. File this under “The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far from the Tree.” I submitted this photo to the South Bend Tribune. They ran it with a disclaimer that the limo company didn’t really make a bride pump gas before her wedding.

And then there is the prank I didn’t find out about until Jeff and I were on our way to our honeymoon. Jeff says, “Oh yeah, did I tell you what your family did to me at the reception?” It seems that at some point between the Chicken Dance and the Electric Slide one of my cousins told Jeff that my dad wanted to see him…in the men’s room. Jeff followed my cousin into the restroom and was soon surrounded by more cousins, second cousins, my brothers and my dad. My dad, with napkins carefully placed in his cheeks and using his best “Godfather” voice, cautioned my husband of a few hours, if he didn’t take care of me there were men in all parts of the Midwest who would take care of him. I wish I had a picture of that moment, but I don’t. (I do have a picture of a swirling toilet bowl. We did the disposable cameras on every table thing. During the wedding, my dad said that I should be careful when I get the film developed. He was in the restroom when a flash went off in an adjacent stall. My nephew, Billy, walked out of said stall a few seconds later, winding the disposable camera.)

That’s just a sampling of some of the smallest pranks. There are way too many to recount here. Several are way too complicated to recount here. Take my word for it.

soapWhich brings me back to April Fools’ Day. After dropping David at school, I quickly recouped and pulled off two small pranks. Thank you Pinterest!

For David, I painted the bar soap in his shower with clear fingernail polish. For Jeff, I replaced the creamy centers of his Oreos with mayonnaise. Cue the laugh track.

Phew! Maybe I’m not so lame?

Mary Jane Daum’s Diary

~ mjdaum ~ 6 Comments

On the weekends, I sort of act like a teenager. The self-imposed curfew that presides over my week nights is cast aside. I stay up until the wee hours, watching TV, surfing the Internet and flipping through magazines. If I happen upon a movie that grabs my attention, it could be 2 a.m. or beyond before my head actually hits the pillow.

What’s the big deal you ask? Well, the big deal is, I’m not a teenager. I can’t stay up all night and then actually function the next day. I used to be able to pull an all nighter. But that was like 30 years ago.

Spoiler alert: when you get to be a certain age you need your sleep. Take my word for it. Otherwise, you start to look and feel like part of the zombie apocalypse. You call your husband the wrong name. You don’t remember why you walked into a certain room. You go to the grocery store without your wallet. You doze off before 8:30 p.m.

Despite all of this self-knowledge, I can’t seem to help myself. Every weekend it’s the same thing. Stay up late. Get up early. I think I am just so focused on maximizing every second of my free time, that I ignore the rational voice inside my head that’s telling me to go to bed. I ignore the rational voice that is outside of my head, too. My husband, Jeff, will frequently see me doing the head bob, my final prelude to sleep, and he’ll try to coax me to go to bed. “I’m not tired,” I’ll say with my eyes half-open. Or, I’ll promise, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Two hours later, I’m still up with remote or Real Simple in hand.

This past weekend was no exception. On Friday night I stayed up until after 2 a.m. watching Bridget Jones’s Diary. bridget jonesFull disclosure: Bridget Jones’s Diary was not my first movie choice. There were plenty of other good movies from which to choose. But when I landed on Bridget Jones’s Diary, it had just started. Add to that the fact that I really couldn’t remember having watched the entire movie previously and it was game on.

I don’t know if it was because I was already kind of tired or what, but at some point during the film, I felt like I was watching my life story. Well, not really. I mean I’ve never lived in England. I’ve never flirted with a boss. I’ve never worn a bunny costume. My mother didn’t run off with a guy who sold things on TV.

So I guess it wasn’t like watching my life story. It was just very familiar. There were certain parts of Bridget’s experience that were very familiar, very relatable. Here are three of the ties that bind dear Bridget and me.

1. I related to this 30-something’s desire to improve her life and find love.  I went through a similar period in my 30s. Single and very motivated to seek out and land a life partner, I started to do some work on myself to ready for that important relationship.

I will save the details around a lot of that work for a later blog post. (However, I will share that some of this work was shaped by learnings that came from a book written by Iyanla Vanzant called, In the Meantime. The crux of the book was that you need to do a lot of house cleaning with your personal life before you’re truly ready for love. You have to purge yourself of everything that is keeping you from an honest and true experience of love. You need to make time for yourself so you can uncover your own issues and work to correct them. You have to figure out what it is that you want and keep your eyes open for those things. And you don’t settle.)

2. I related to the scene when Bridget is singing, “All By Myself.” Haven’t we all had one of those moments when we get overly involved in the music? We’ve all been there, right? We’re either crying ourselves to sleep while listening to some weepy tune or getting pumped to face some scary feat while blasting a high energy piece.

backstreet boysMy “All By Myself” moment came when an old flame was treating me poorly. Very poorly. After several beers and about 150 replays of “I Want it That Way” by the Backstreet Boys, I broke up with the guy. (Thank you Nick, A.J, Howie, Kevin and Brian.)

3. And finally, I related to Bridget’s happy ending. After all of the work, the angst, the emotion and the realizations, Bridget gets the guy. Not only that – she gets the right guy. She gets the guy who likes her “just the way she is.”

It took years of work, angst, emotion and realizations, but I finally got the guy, too. I got the guy who appreciates me for me. Jeff likes me just the way I am – the weekend night owl who doesn’t always listen to her inner voice, but who does occasionally listen to the Backstreet Boys.

With that, I think it’s time for bed.