Discussion Closed

Maybe I've had a rough week.  Or two.  Maybe how I'm feeling now is real and it's all the other times when I'm busy with busy-ness that I don't think properly.

I see a day when I won't be allowed to be a Christian.  In my lifetime.  Already, I am not allowed to believe what I believe.  Apparently, I, and my fellow conservative Christians, are prejudiced on the scale of the KKK for believing that marriage is for one man and one woman.  That is what I believe the Holy Bible teaches.  But then also, I see a dismissal of the Bible as some random book that Christians use to justify our hate.  Sure, that's been done in the past, the present and I'm sure will in the future.  For every and any Belief structure.  Ever.  Not just Christian.  But I am starting to see a dismissiveness about the Bible, that frankly I don't see about the Qur'an, the I-Ching, the Tripitaka.

Maybe because in our country, we have a Christian heritage, and there have been so many Christians in our paths that have disappointed or disgusted us.  Because we went to Catechism as children, we think we know what Christianity is about.  Or we see the radio or tv personality that spends a little too much time talking about homosexuals and not enough about the thousands of other topics we could grow in.  And I'm sorry for the spewing they have done.  The public shame and hatred.  So maybe it's the ole "familiarity breeds contempt."

Maybe we paint ourselves as closed-minded because we have a set of beliefs. And we paint ourselves as hypocritical because we can't follow our beliefs.  I know I can't follow what I know.  I can't even follow a diet.  Our worst offense, I think, is that we don't "accept all faiths."  (Although some Christians do.) I'm not even sure what that means.  If you are of a religion that doesn't believe Jesus is the Savior, how can you be accepting of Christianity?  If you're a Jew and you marry a Christian, how can you accept a religion that is waiting for the Messiah and one that already has one?  Unless of course, nobody really believes any of it.  Or.  You're constantly doing the figurative cocktail party version of religious dialogue.  You know,

"How's Ramadan going?"
"Oh fiiiin fine.  And your prayer wheels?"
"Oh great.  Couldn't be better.  Good seeing you!"
"Good seeing you, too."

I see a day coming when this country will join the approximately 40 countries where being Christian is not allowed.  Wait.  Let me be specific.  There are some countries where you are actually not allowed to be Christian or you'll be jailed, tortured and/or killed (Arabia, Iran, Mauritania.)  There are others where you can live there as a Christian, but puts severe restrictions (Algeria, Indonesia.)  You can have a Bible, but not in the native language.  You'd be jailed and/or killed.  And then there are countries where you are technically allowed to be a Christian, worship and talk about it but the persecution ranges from pressur to abandon it to attacks and killings (Nigeria, Laos, Uzbekistan, Turkey, Nepal.)

I don't think I'll ever be jailed or tortured for being a Christian here in the US, but I won't be allowed to maintain my religion without being ridiculed and labeled "hateful."  Oh wait.  That's already happening.

A Good Person

We all want our villains to look mean and nasty and our nice guys to, well, seem nice.

When I was in grad school, our class went for a summer studio in Spain.  One young woman met some American boys and went off to an island for the weekend.  (I think I've told this story before.)  Some of us less adventurous asked her if she wasn't scared?  Her answer, was "They were really nice and they were American!"

Do I have to spend any bloggy real estate to explain why that statement is completely stupid?

I thought not.

It reflects, though, what many of us think, that we can tell if someone is wicked or not.  A Good Person  doesn't do Bad Things.  If they do, they get put in the other column and become a Bad Person.

Except that they do.

A Good Person might snitch some supplies from the office closet.  Or let a friend get involved with someone they knew was mentally ill.  Or forget a friend's birthday.  A Good Person might get themselves in trouble at the investment bank and try to hide the tremendous losses.  And these people might look very much like your dad, your neighbor, even you.

A Good Person might not report a crime.  A big crime.  Over decades.  While simultaneously doing lots of Good Things; working hard, honestly, giving to good causes.  This person is being discussed in two ways, both, I believe erroneous:

A.  He is now a Bad Person and everything he did was Bad.  Nothing he did in his life matters anymore because he did this very Bad Thing.
or
B.  Yes he did a Bad Thing but he did so much Good so let's cool our jets.

The first point of view demands that we paint him only as a villain.  The serpent.  The Joker.  The evil nemesis.  B. wants us to whitewash the Bad, as if his Deeds, his Works atone for the Bad, like a global tally sheet.  The fact of the matter is, Joe Paterno, like all of us, was Good and Bad.  The Bad choices he made do not get a reprieve because of all the Good things he did.  The Bad Thing remains objectively Bad whether committed by Adolph Hitler, The Buddha, or a beloved football coach. 

Most of us live unremarkable lives, doing seemingly unremarkable good - being kind to a neighbor, loving our children, doing an honest day's work.  But if we're honest, we live doing unremarkable bad - yelling our our kid, rolling our eyes about our in-laws, cursing out the other driver.  Were I to see that shower?  I know without a doubt, I would have tackled that guy and pulled the boy out.  No doubt.  But in humility and truth, I can't say I'm a better person than McQueary or Paterno.  At the same time, I have no scruples saying that wickedness won here.

In the end, maybe none of us are Good or Bad, but Human, capable at times of doing Good and too often capable of doing Bad.

On Losing My Mother

My mother died in 1987.  As that time came back, I slowly remembered it was July.  I remembered it was hot; that I had to get there in a hurry.  Late July, I think.  It's July again, but 2012.  I do the math and, slowly, realize it's been 25 years.

25 years.

They waited for me to get there - Korea - from Boston.  That I should see her and say my goodbye.  But I couldn't.  When I got there, to their living room and saw the small, simple casket, I couldn't see her.  I couldn't stand the notion of someone lifting the lid.  My aunt encouraged me to see her; that it was important to fully understand that she was gone.  The man from the funeral home was there, ready to lift that lid.  But I still couldn't.  I collapsed on my dad's shoulder and begged him not to open it.  For me, I had no trouble fully understanding that she was gone.  That she was in that box, for 3 warm monsoon days, waiting.  Forever.

My good friend just lost her dad.  She is 42.  An adult. A grown-up.  Maybe it hurts more the more memories you've chalked up; the deeper understanding you have of what it is to lose a parent.  I was 27.  I don't know if it hurts less or more.  Not that it really matters.

I flew back, went through my days competently.  I had to find a job, and I did.  I interviewed well, showed up on time, did a good job.  But emotionally, I was needy and behaved inappropriately, blind to others' needs, blind to my own deficiencies.  I'd fall asleep in my new apartment, in my new bed, having put in a full day at my new job.  But every night, as if a clapping thunder had awoken me, I'd sit up in bed, my heart pounding, a dreaded sense hovering over my stupor.  Every night, for years. 

At some point, I no longer woke with a pounding heart or a sense of dread; I simply awoke.  At 11, 12, 2, 3.  For over 20 years.  I don't know if it had simply become habit or what.  I still have trouble sleeping.  Someone suggested that if I worked hard all day, I wouldn't have trouble sleeping at night.  Circumstances are such that I no longer have to see that person.  It's a good thing, too.

I was 27.  Just out of graduate school, embarking on a career.  I'd guess my mom would have been proud of me.  I don't know.  I do know that I never had the chance to get to know her as a grown-up.  Maybe 27 seems plenty old to some of you readers, but I know how young I was, how much I needed to grow, indeed, how much I would grow.   In painful ways I never wanted to.

A year or two before she died, she had a choice to go on vacation, or fly me to Korea to see her.

She chose the vacation.

I think the hardest part was growing up and realizing that I was not the most important thing in her life.  That by my mom and dad moving to Korea, not only did I lose my physical home, but I also lost my psychic dwelling.  I slowly came to realize the existential loneliness that philosophers over the ages have contemplated.  I.  I alone.  Separate and independent from my mother. Where do I dwell?

I sought a home at my brothers'.  At an aunt's.  At friends'.  All of them were fraught with awkwardnesses not of their doing, but as circumstances of our days.  Who could I turn to that was completely and totally on My Side?  Where could I "let my hair down" and rest?

In the letter to the Ephesians, the Apostle Paul writes, "I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being,  so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith."

And there I dwell and hope to, the rest of my days.

Fashion Friday: Summer Dresses

95.  101.  91. 84. 83. 84. 81. 88. 88.
Temperatures for the near future here.


There's nothing more comfortable than a cool casual dress in this warm weather.  Nothing to bunch up.  Anywhere.  And as I've gotten older and wider, shorts don't flatter me as well.  So I really splurged and bought several dresses to carry me through these warm days.

The criteria for me, are as follows:
1.  Sleeveless.  [Did I say it's HOT??]
2.  No layering required.  [Did I say it's HOT??]
3.  Does not show panty lines.  [I know that there are women of a certain age who would GASP at the notion of a lady not wearing a slip but well...did I say it's hot??]
4. Wash-n-wear.
5.  Last but not least, modestly priced.  I'd even say inexpensive.

Hey, remember this post from last year about what to wear for the Fourth of July?  This is what I wore to watch the Fourth of July parade:

 

I was the red to my boys' white and blue:

It looks bit dressy, I admit, but it is really a simple take-off on the t-shirt dress.  Red cotton jersey dress by Andrea Jovine, gold and linen ballet flats by Ann Klein Sport, both purchased at Marshall's.  The dress is snug at the top, with an empire waist and a skirt that billows away from my body but is cinched with the band at the bottom to give it a modern twist.  The satin gold necklace is from Hallmark (yes, as in cards,) and gold drop hoops by JLo.


The next dresses are all in great patterns that do wonders for hiding problem areas and meeting criteria #3. 
What I wore yesterday:

 

Jewel-tone paisley dress by moa moa [sold at better department stores, but I got at a thrift store.] Handmade geometric earrings from a boutique, chain mail necklace from Charming Charlie's.  Jeweled "Nora" sandals by Mia.

Here are two more I got also from Marshall's:

And here are a couple of outfits I put together from Polyvore. They can be really simple [as long as they FIT well] and you can jazz them up with colorful sandals or even flip-flops and a fun tote:

Summer Dress Block by blackbeltoma featuring short heels

Fun summer backpack to go with anything! From Target.

Summer Dress Gray by blackbeltoma featuring rhinestone shoes

Summer Dress Green by blackbeltoma featuring rhinestone shoes

Whatever your style, you can find summer dresses to keep you feeling COOL and looking HOT!

First Day of Pool Season

Our little town doesn't have a local pool.  Instead, there are several private club pools you can join.  It's nothing luxurious but clean, safe and just the right size.  I can pretty much scan the whole place and find who I need to find.  The lifeguards all know the families.  Once, when Boo snuck to the bathroom without letting me know, I had all the lifeguard hollering his name.  Cuz they all knew him.

There are probably 4 or 5 school districts represented and we don't go to school with most of the kids, not do we travel in the same circles.  Most of these kids, I see only during the summer.  So it's fun to watch them grow these past 8 seasons.  And watch my boy grow:

2006, age 4

2007

And the big day when he learned to swim!

With his baseball-coaching Unca Paul, 2010

With his dad, 2010

And May 28, 2012:

Growing into the lankiness of boyhood.

Memorial Day

By circumstances of history and geography, nobody in my family served in the US military.  My oldest brother, born in 1953, was eligible during the waning years of the Vietnam War but was never called.  I remember my parents figuratively wringing their hands wondering if he'd be drafted into the obligatory service of the Korean Army.  We weren't citizens yet and if he were called, we wouldn't have had any protection from the US government.  [Yes, they'd draft you but not protect you.]

I just went to my 30th college reunion.  Memorial Day weekend came and went.  My husband recently lost 2 uncles.  His mother has crossed over from the peaceful days of retirement into the waning, translucent days of memory loss, loneliness and depression.

It's no surprise then, that I have been thinking about the passing of days. As it was Memorial Day, I looked for these pictures of my dad and his one older brother, who served in the Korean Army and Air Force, respectively:

I think this was around 1950.  There were 4 boys in that family; one went to be with the North Koreans.   The other, a geeky, brainy young man, was captured by the North Koreans, for their "brain trust," no doubt.  These 2 brothers were able to escape the Communists coming from the north and served in the South Korean military.

Ten years later, my dad was at Kimpo Airport in Seoul, heading to Brandeis University for a PhD in Mathematics.  My uncle rose in the ranks of the Air Force.

Back then, Korea was still reeling from the Japanese Forced Occupation, WW2 and the Korean War.  Unlike the bustling industrialized powerhouse it is today, it was a poverty-stricken, physically destroyed Third World country.  Only the biggest roads were paved; children played in the dirt in rags.  The people were small mostly because of the lack of good nutrition.  My dad and uncle would have been quite a vision at 5'-9" and sturdy of build.  It was said that people in the streets would stop and stare at my handsome uncle, wondering if he were an American movie star

My grandparents left their home in Haeju, now in North Korea,  lost a father to Japanese torture and imprisonment, and lost 2 sons.  Now a 3rd son was headed to the other side of the world.  No jet planes direct from Seoul to NYC, but instead, a prop plane that hopscotched from Seoul to Tokyo to Hawaii to Chicago before landing at Kennedy. Never mind cell phones, there was barely such a thing as overseas calls of any kind.  Remember, these were the days of black & white TVs and 3, maybe 4 channels!

Maybe they were so used to losses that this kind of joy and opportunity overrode any sadness they were sure to have.  Maybe their deep and abiding faith in God helped them through.  There's no "maybe" for me.  I'm sure as I can be of anything, that their God, was their source of strength and confidence.

All Religions Are Not Created the Same

"Why do we make the catastrophic error of thinking that all religions are right and that it does not matter whether the claims they make are objectively true?

All religions are not the same. All religions do not point to God. All religions do not say that all religions are the same. At the heart of every religion is an uncompromising commitment to a particular way of defining who God is or is not and accordingly, of defining life's purpose.

Anyone who claims that all religions are the same betrays not only an ignorance of all religions but a caricatured view of even the best-known ones. Every religion at it's core is exclusive...

...What the person means by saying, 'You must be open to everything' is really, 'You must be open to everything that I am open to, and anything that I disagree with, you must disagree with too'.

Ravi Zacharias in Jesus Among Other Gods.

Every religion think it is Right, or at the very least, the Best.  Or it is not truly a religion, is it?  Why have a religion that says, "I think this is right, but go with that other one if you feel like it."  Even if there is no God, per se as a Being, in the religion or belief system, there is clearly the thought or pursuit of the Best or the Right or the Eternal of some kind.  The person open to all religions, is not open to Nazism or the KKK or even the part of Christianity that says things they don't like.

What I Wore 5.23.12

I feel like I've been running ragged just running errands. I've been to functions that required me to get cleaned up, but all this ragged running has not left me the wherewithal to get my camera.  So all the Wheres will be "running errands."

What: So I wore this tunic top recently but found a better way to wear it.  I like it better with a scarf; I feel less bare.  It also allows me to show off my new Talbot's espadrilles.  Brown tunic top by Zara Collection over a fluorescent green cami.  Brown capri leggings from Kohl's, hand printed silk scarf bought at an artisan shop years ago.

What: White v-neck tee from Talbot's, denim A-line skirt by, black patent wedges by Me Too.  Mixture of gray jewelry.

My photo spot has a little to be desired.  This is much better, right?  I finally figured out another way to configure my camera and you can watch my garden transform through the season.

What: The Talbots tee again, but this time under a black knit jersey cardi with skinny jeans.  Black modified Mary Janes by Naturalizers Natural Souls.  Love my new vintage Bakelite bangle bracelet in pumpkin, with a handmade amber and gray beaded necklace.

See what other moms wore at The Pleated Poppy!

Educating Boo

Several years into our marriage we decided it was time to start a family.  We were older, and we had had enough years to get to know each other and enjoy our child-free time.  As I made my application for the Worldwide Pregnancy Club, I noticed some rules of engagement. 

When a woman enters that distinguished group, it appears that all the world is an adjunct member, whose opinions and advice is readily dispensed.  In any venue.  I saw strangers approach pregnant women and touch them, uninvited, in sensitive areas.  Even men, whose consciousness of social respectability and sense of decorum would prevent them in other circumstances, were seen reaching out to touch the extended sensitive areas.  I told my husband that I would wear a sign that said, "Don't touch me."

But it made me wonder what about a pregnancy allowed such behavior.  Pregnancy, the direct result of physical intimacies that these strangers would never broach, somehow entered the realm of public discussion.  Does the universal experience of child-bearing and child-rearing bear itself to become public property,  allowing for some kind of global membership?  Does the whole world become a member of the Board of Trustees for your pregnancy?  As offended as so many were by Hillary Clinton's It Takes a Village, I always thought, and still think, there is truth to the idea that we all affect each other and take a part in educating our children.

I've recently decided to home school my son. 

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I wanted to give you a few seconds to let that sink in.  Is your response in the same realm as what others have said to me?

"How will he get socialized?"
"Home schooled children are weird."
"You won't have any time to yourself."

[To be fair, I've had as many people say to me, "Only you know what's best for your child."]

There is something global, universal about how children are raised and I have found that the words "home school" is the equivalent of the extended belly which gives people permission to touch me in a personal spot, in public, uninvited.

What I Wore Wednesday - 05.02.12

I don't have a lot of pictures this week.  My excuse this week?  My son has a Science Fair project due on Friday.  NEED I SAY MORE??

What I Wore: black and white patterned cowl-neck, bat-wing sleeve sweater from the clearance rack at Kohl's.  I love it because the cowl drapes gently creating a nice neckline for me, and the tails are long enough to cover some of my "problem" areas.  Black flare pants from at least a million years ago, which are a tad short for my bronze and jute platform sandals by Talbot's.
Where: Church.

 

What I Wore: Yes, I did.  I wore gym pants in public.  Even though I wasn't at the gym.   Or even exercising.  CHAPS polo style top to match Adidas gym pants in slate and marigold.  Large silver stud earrings.  Love my Sally Hanson Salon Manicure (c) polish called Good to Grape.

Where:  Running errands.

Check out the other styles at The Pleated Poppy!