I’ll be Home For Christmas

I smell cinnamon and pine. I hear the sounds of rhythmic pa-rum-pa-pum-pum’s in the background of every shopping mall and doctor’s office, and they remind me that the Special Day is nearing. I watch the shoppers and taste the ginger, and mostly, I feel the briskness of my walks from my car to work (and back again), and I race the almost-snow to dusk so that I can wrap my presents and bake my cookies. My most favorite holiday is back, and this year, it has shown up in its very best attire.

Okay…I know. Not everyone is hopping aboard the Santa sleigh. Not everything about the season is fun and exhilarating. Many people hate the stress; the pressure to buy more and spend more and be more…. chipper, is just exhausting. People seem ruder. Traffic is worse. Everywhere is unbearably crowded, and every intended gift that seemed purely perfect in November is now sold out – or worse, overpriced. So we make a choice: breathing in the nostalgia of the holiday or caving in to the annoyance of the hubbub. Which do you choose?

I was watching the news on a Thursday evening in early December. The Chicago Post Office was urging residents to claim letters to Santa, written by underprivileged children who would probably see close to nothing under their Christmas trees this year. “Over 4,500 unanswered letters…” the news anchor mentioned quietly, and then it was on to the next segment. The following Saturday around 12 noon, I went with a few others to retrieve a letter. We parked, took an elevator and a few staircases to the main building, and prepared to read through several notes before choosing the right one.  We reached the desk, and inquired hurriedly, wanting to do a “good deed” and get on with our day.

“The letters are gone,” the postal worker smiled, “they’re all gone.”

Not nostalgia, not hubbub, just thousands of people making a choice to make a child’s Christmas magical.

This got me to thinking. Maybe Christmas is a way of bringing us home. Some of us go physically. We sit by the tree with our eggnog and our board games and our indulgent meal, and we enjoy the company of people we love. Others of us go home to the place in our hearts where the excitement of our first Christmas remains. We stick true to our early traditions, partaking in the very same activities we always have: watching the same movies, cooking the same food and reading the same stories.

And then there is circumstance. It can prevent us from being surrounded by people we love. They are too far away, or have passed on, and we can only be encircled in the memories we have with them. Christmas emulates goodness but it also magnifies sadness. We miss them. Maybe this is the time we choose to bring others home. We answer a letter, or we say a prayer of thanks, or we commit to creating a new tradition that embraces what we always loved about this time of year.  

So, as much as I love the cinnamon and the constant shopping, those are not the things that make this holiday shine so bright. It’s being at home. And no matter where our home, it is always the people who make us want to be there.

Then, even when the obligatory winter flu sets in, or when it gets too cold to not yearn for summer, or when the chaotic commotion seems just too much to bear, we commit to remembering the reason for the season.

Christmas is about renewed joy and hope for a better next year. It is about miracles and forgiveness, and most of all, it is about recognizing the people who make us feel better. They are our family, our friends, or the people we wish were here. They are our homes. They remind us of where we came from, and they lead us where we need to be. They are Christmas. They are Christmas every day.

www.yoursmartheart.com

Eat, Drink & Be Scary

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I really like Halloween.

It isn’t my favorite holiday, but it does pave the way for Thanksgiving, Christmas and spiked Eggnog, so I think it deserves the designation as one of my favorites. As my mid-twenties approach my upper-twenties (really?!), I am finding that some of my childhood memories are becoming more blurred than I’d like. Things once effortlessly recalled – first days of school, names of toddler friends, permit driving and becoming a teenager – now seem more difficult to remember. They always stand out as important, but have lost their details and particulars as time has moved forward and I have grown up. However, those annual chilly (and chilling) October 31-sts always stand out prominently in my mind. Perhaps this is why I like them so much.

Halloween as a little one was fun because chocolate never tasted as good in April or August as it did in October. We paraded around in our ghoulish glory, and the school parties always included dry ice.

Halloween a little older meant going trick-or-treating while our parents waited on the sidewalk and not by our sides. We exhausted ourselves inspecting every inch of Party City for the perfect accessories and the greatest face makeup.

Then, we started celebrating with our friends, starting at dusk instead of in daylight. Uproarious laughter resounded as we tip-toed from block to block, racing each other for the best brands of candy and the heaviest bags of loot.

Unlike other things that gradually slowed to a dullish end as we grew older, Halloween always continues for those who love it. Theme parties and taffy apples and scary movies are no less appealing now than they were when we experienced them at 11 years old. Sure, the drinks have become stronger – the nights later – but the fanfare of the holiday remains year after year. Why?

The answer here is simple: we love to dress up. We become scarier, or meaner, or prettier, or more fun. We become Snooki-liscious or Disney-esque or mummy-fied. This is almost more amusing than ever before, because we are adults and we have careers, relationships, homes and other things that give us a regular “identity.” Maybe we continue to embrace Halloween, because it is so freeing to let those things go for a night…

…And then, just like that, it’s back to reality. November 1st is here. Halloween is over. I giggled putting away my Tinkerbell costume last night because what seemed so fitting for a bash on Friday seems quite silly now. Photos and green glitter remnants remain as evidence of the fabulous evening, but already its memories begin to fade.

Life is funny like that. Every once in a while, it gives us a chance to revisit our childhood. It gives us an opportunity to remember why we love a particular day or season. It even gives us an option to dress in disguise for one night a year.

But maybe the trick here is remembering that what makes costumes so fun, is that we are our regular selves for the other 364 days. What makes a holiday so treasured is that it so seldom occurs. What makes youth such a great phase is that it’s so hard to get back. We grow and realize that as adults, it takes guts to don disguises with conviction and pride, but that the real courage comes in being brave enough to take them off.

And, when Halloween comes around next year, we know our very best costumes are only a congested closet (and a really great memory) away.

www.yoursmartheart.com

What If?

So, I hear the world is ending tomorrow. HA. (If that’s true, I’d like to know why I chose NOT to splurge on the Chick-fil-A ice cream cone I was dreaming about after spinning class last night.)

Each time a rumor is instigated that predicts the so-called end of our world, senseless buzz begins about what we would do or say or eat or dismiss in the case that we really did know the end was near.  People make jokes about quitting their jobs and spending their life savings on one last trip to Vegas via jumbo jet.

But if we’re serious about it, the would-do’s and would-say’s revolve not around money or jobs, but around other people.

“I would tell him how I feel.”

“I would spend extra special time with a close friend.”

“I would give her a hug and tell her how she’s changed my life.”

“I would say ‘I’m sorry.’”

Similar thoughts occur when someone we love gets hurt, becomes ill, or sadly leaves us. The feelings arise because when we are faced with the unbearable thought of no tomorrow, we beg for second chances with the people we love most.

This got me to thinking: we 20-somethings are past the point in life where we can depend on a physical place like a high school gymnasium or college campus to help us foster and keep relationships with others. We are growing up and older, and are striving to create new beginnings with people we meet along the way. We must also do our best to honor those “forever” kind of friends – those rare ones who know us by heart.

The thing is, we won’t be privy to our last day or moment. We won’t have it broadcasted on the radio or shouted from the mouths of psychics. In a perfect world, we would remember to live like every day is our last. Then, our world only ends when we choose it to be done – when we stop truly living and stop deeply loving.

Whether it’s the people we love, or the ones we have forgotten, we should remember to spend the quality time now. Give the hugs more often. Say the sorry’s sooner. To remember that the world doesn’t let us hold on to much. Not to time. Not to money. And certainly, not on to forever. That’s why it’s important to hold on so tightly to each other.

Tomorrow, our entire lives may very well flash before our eyes, but not because the end is near.  If we get it right, it will occur because we are spending just a few moments remembering to be thankful for the people who brought us to now.

 I don’t know about you, but I’m off to get my ice cream – and maybe this time, I’ll go with a friend.  ;)

www.yoursmartheart.com

Tags: Chick-fil-A, End of the world, Friendship, Sex and the City

Princes, Princesses, and Pippa, OH MY!

I noticed today in retrieving my People from the mailbox that every magazine, newspaper and tabloid is still abuzz about the Royal Wedding. Two weeks have passed, and yet the time gone by has seemingly increased America’s interest in the majestic affair.  Perfect pictures grace glossy covers and accompany headlines boasting, “From Waity Katie to Princess Catherine,”  “Pippa: The Sister who Sparkled,” and (what I find to be the most hysterical), “When will Kate Middleton Get Pregnant!?” The Royal Wedding of 2011 has been hailed the event of the century. And, if loving the event was wrong, I don’t want to be right!

All joking aside, it was a beautiful day. Kate looked magnificent in McQueen. Daylight glistened through the stain glassed windows of Westminster Abbey as the bride took her 4-minute stride down the aisle. Harry looked dapper in black, and William seemed perfectly blissful. Pippa, wondrous in white, was every bride’s dream of a lady in waiting. Even the Queen herself seemed sunnier than normal.

After spending my own fair share of time perusing RW coverage, I began to wonder, what is our fascination with this marriage? Could it be that most of us are relieved to see joyful news on television and in the newspaper? Could it be that, as Americans, a wedding abroad is just plain fun to watch? Might it be that after the sad ending to Diana’s marriage, privacy and life, that it was nice to witness this pair tying the knot so connected and in love? Probably.

But perhaps the real reason we revel in these fanciful moments is because we have secretly dreamt of being princesses since we were little girls – of having the wardrobe and the castle and the life.

Maybe growing up changes that.

We spend our twenties building our lives, so often forgetting that we get to choose our fairytale. And the funny thing is, being a princess is probably not all it’s cracked up to be.

Here’s the truth. Most of us will never have to deal with the media during the biggest moments of our lives.  We won’t need to worry about our siblings being exposed, or our vacations being interrupted, or our lives being under constant scrutiny. Pictures of us lounging in bathing suits will probably never hit the newsstands (and I am particularly grateful for that).  

So, since we’re not princesses, we may never stand on a balcony in front of thousands cheering for a kiss. But we’ll also never have to sit down with reporters later asking why, exactly, the kiss was so short.

And, if we’re lucky, we’ll snag our own version of a prince, who – not because of a crowd, or an expectation, or a photo, but just because – asks for just one more.

 www.yoursmartheart.com

Tags: Royal Wedding

May I Trouble you for the Time?

Today, I am thinking a lot about growth.

 Often, I have trouble thinking of a topic to blog about. Most things seem too mundane, or boring, or personal. Sometimes, though, I am lucky enough to be inspired to write because of a moment that takes me by surprise.

 Yesterday, I had a 15 minute window for lunch. It was a crazily busy day, and I knew I needed to rush home, throw a sandwich together, and return to my car before my next client meeting. Of course, I got stuck behind a school bus, which made at least 5 stops between the entrance of my neighborhood and my house. I tried hard not to be annoyed – there were children in the bus, after all – but I was so wrapped up in my own schedule and the clock that dictates it, and I became distracted. So distracted, in fact, I almost missed my blog topic, standing right in front of me.  

 While behind the bus, I looked at my side-view mirror and watched as a middle-aged man ran rapidly down the sidewalk. He was in jeans and not running clothes, so I wondered where he could be heading. When the bus made its fifth and final stop, the man stopped also, threw his hands up dramatically with a grin, and waited for the children to exit the bus. The last little girl stepped off, and she smiled toothlessly at the man. Her dad.

 I now know three things for sure. One: that the man was racing the bus to make his daughter laugh. Two:  that he probably raced it everyday because he looked so forward to her coming home from school. And three: that I felt oddly verklmept as I watched them walk hand-in-hand back to their home.  I thought about it a lot that day, and made sure to hug my own Dad extra tight when I saw him next.

 Someone wise once told me that time is the one commodity you can never get back. How true that is. Today, a year seems far. But next year becomes tomorrow so damn quickly.

 Do you remember when our twenties seemed far off? Remember when our biggest problem was finding a cool lunchbox? And then finding a flattering haircut? And then finding the perfect prom date? And then finding the best college? But, that’s the thing about growth. The minute we hit its next stage, we instantly wish we got those problems back.  We cannot appreciate the phase until it’s over. We cannot understand the lesson until we learn it.

So, all we can do, is try to be thankful. To value that today is the only time we will ever be this age during this month again. The truth is, we will never get our twenties back. Nor the simplicity of our childhood.  But, sometimes, if we’re lucky, we’ll experience a moment that lets us re-live it. And when that happens, we can choose to reminisce on a time when all it took was Dad racing down the street to make life seem absolutely perfect.

(Happy 55^th Birthday, Daddio.)

Somewhere Over the Chrysler Building

A trip to New York City last weekend helped me get my groove back. There was something about the fresh, freezing air there, something in the way the purposeful people walked and talked, something about the open-until-6am-bars and bright lights that helped to renew a part of me that tends to go missing in the middle of February in Illinois. I left Chicago with a bad migraine and pounds of work-related stress, and returned feeling well-rested, well-fed and perfectly pleasant. Somewhere between New York’s Midtown neighborhood and Chicago’s Midway  Airport, I found me again!

While there, everything seemed to happen the way things should. Every bad occurrence (surviving 3 freezing cold hours in a failed attempt to see a live taping of Regis and Kelly) seemed to be balanced out by a good one (getting the inside scoop on Gossip Girl filming from the bartender at our hotel). My boyfriend and I met people selling sidewalk paintings that seemed beautiful enough for MoMA. We explored the city’s history, learning that we were just 2 of the 46 million travelers that would visit  The Big Apple in 2011. We subway-ed to Jewish delis and strolled through Times Square. We prowled the streets of Fashion Week.  We gazed at Ground Zero and remembered to be grateful. We did things that regular New Yorkers do every day, probably without a second thought.

Marvelous moments are so easy to find when you are far away from what you recognize.

Having traveled to the city several times, I always like to say that New York is my happy place. But here’s the truth: I didn’t have to go to New York to get happy.  Actually, it could have been a good friend’s house, or a walk downtown, or a trip to the local Godiva shop. Whether it’s over the rainbow or across the state line, travel has proven to be my great teacher. In leaving my comfort zone, I can learn about others and hear their stories. I step away from the life that I know to visit a place outside of me. Part of going away is experiencing the excitement of somewhere new (Manhattan margaritas taste better!), but the best part of going away is becoming aware of something new.

Sometimes, leaving makes you appreciate where you come from. Sometimes, time spent away from family and friends can shine light on their incredible importance in your life. Sometimes, experiencing something other than home can give home its value. And sometimes, life just feels better when you allow yourself to see it from another point of view.

www.yoursmartheart.com

Tags: Kelly Ripa, New York, Travel

For Auld Lang Syne (For the Sake of Old Times)

Well, I’m (slightly?) delayed in getting my “Happy New Year” blog posted.  This shouldn’t surprise me or anyone else; delayed action is my own personal frenemy, something that also plagues my rising in the morning, my completing work at work, my putting the bills in the mail before the due date, and my getting into bed at night.  This past year, as the seasons changed from Winter to Spring and so on, I promised myself that by 2010’s end, I would find a way to move away from delay. And yet, here I am, posting a Happy New Year blog on January 28^th…

Every New Year, we resolve to be better. We ask ourselves to hurry up with the things we should have accomplished the year before. We make lists of ways to look, feel, and act – lists that assure this year to be the one we get it all figured out.  And if you’re me, you vow to rid yourself of that procrastination temptation in favor of filling up the gas tank before that ugly yellow light turns on. This is what the New Year is all about. Yes?

Maybe not. Ironically, one quick Google search lets you know that Auld Lang Syne loosely translates to “Times Gone By,” or “Long, Long Ago.”  Hence, the song we traditionally sing on New Year’s Eve to mark a new beginning, actually pays homage to the past.  It mentions nothing of running toward tomorrow, but of appreciating the people, places and experiences that have shaped our lives, and made us who we are. This fact literally fluttered through my mind while on a mini-vaca over the last week of December, and remained with me until the 31^st.

And so, this year, when the clock struck midnight, and I had the choice to begin 2011 with action or delay, I chose delay. And before you accuse me of abandoning my resolution before the new year had even begun (!), let me explain what I mean. Maybe this year, I can commit to pausing to enjoy. Maybe we all can. What does it look like? Finding contentment in the simple things, because they are so rare. Finding gratification in the people who bless us, because we know that each year makes staying in touch more difficult. Finding joy in the minor things we accomplish, because accomplishing anything is something.  Finding happiness. And then giving it away to someone who is having trouble finding it.

Remaining in the moment, and procrastinating tomorrow until, well, tomorrow.

Just for old time’s sake.  

www.yoursmartheart.com

I Won’t Grow Up, I Won’t Grow Up

Ahh, to be young. We are, still.

Aren’t we?

According to many, we sure do act like it. We Gen-Ys or Millennials have been quietly coined the “Peter Pan Generation” because of our almost universal aptness to perform traditional “rite of passage” events later in life, taking more time to finish school, working for less money for a longer time, even opting to live at home later than we (or our parents) might have planned.  This, for many, begs the question, will we ever grow up? And we are not the only ones wondering.  New York Times Magazine devoted a 10-page spread to this topic in its August 2010 issue, and tried to answer this pressing question: ”What Is It About 20-Somethings?” The article dabbled in the term “emerging adulthood,” and wondered if delaying traditional coming-of-age milestones offered opportunities for further self-discovery, or if it actually fostered self-indulgence.  Won’t we ever move on, move out, move up? Hence, Peter Pan.

 This where it gets confusing. If I am not mistaken, Peter Pan’s yearning to remain in childhood had more to do with his fear of growth than with his love of being young, right? This is quite the opposite with most of us twenty-something’s.

Instead, could it be that we are fixated on doing everything right the first time around? More than three times the size of the generation that preceded, we are an age group  having been pressured to find the best jobs in the midst of history’s most devastating recession. We want to get married, but not divorced, smart but not while accruing debt, happy but not too comfortable, and on and on. Perhaps out of respect for those who provided us with tools to grow, perhaps as a promise to our generational legacy, perhaps as an homage to our childhood selves, we want to step out into the grown-up world feeling at least somewhat confident, happy and at peace. We aren’t afraid of what the future holds; we are intent on making our future everything we dreamed it would be.

So while the “experts” call us Peter Pan, we can smile. Because despite the above-mentioned efforts, the truth is, we will make mistakes. We might not get everything we had planned for, and when that happens, we’ll know where to go.

Second star to the right, and straight on till morning.

www.yoursmartheart.com

Things Disguised As Me

 

Questions. We asked too many of them when we were little. Our parents asked too many of them when we were in college. And now, they stand as annoying reminders that sometimes, we just don’t have all the answers.

Life as a 20-something is full of questions. Many of them trivial: “Does this cosmopolitan match my shoes?”

Many of them are more complex. We thrive most when we believe we have the right answers. If we choose “A” and actually make it to “B,” then we are a success. If we choose “A” and “B” never shows up, we are wrong. Is this really how life works now? Is everything so finite and factual that there is only one real, right choice? Alert: scribbling outside the lines has now become a major faux pas.

This got me to thinking: Second-guessing is our human addiction. When we were younger, it was about questioning our role in a group, or wondering if we were doing enough to get ahead and make it to adulthood. And although our increase in age is supposed to bring us an increase in security, the gnawing feeling of needing an answer never really leaves us.

Only now, we worry about how quickly we can accomplish everything in comparison to others our same age. College? Check. More schooling? Check. Flourishing friendships? Check. Glamorous job? Check. On and on until we have enough checks to make us feel like we are thriving, to make us certain we have as much success as our friends, siblings, or the person we haven’t seen since high school but still secretly wish we could emulate . Like it or not, the world is full of comparison, status and standards. Many of us cannot help but think… how do I measure up? How do I know when I have found the right answer?

The truth? We don’t. To question who we are is to improve who we end up becoming.  But to pressure ourselves into thinking we should control all, or know all or be all – these are lies disguised as ourselves.

In the end, maybe we secretly don’t want “A” to take us to “B.” Maybe the off-road adventure is the part we were meant to experience. Maybe the mistakes are what make us better. Maybe trying to be right is what leads us to be wrong in the first place.

Maybe we live for the things we are certain we know. But maybe we resolve to keep living for the things we’ll never know at all.

www.yoursmartheart.com

Reflect My Truth

 

Last weekend I was blessed enough to spend quality time with a family member who is more like a friend.  Moments of time pass by too quickly when we are together, and though we are far apart in distance and in age, we manage to conserve our common ground, and always find it when we reunite. Spending time like this with people we love tends to bring out the best in both ourselves and our lives. It is almost as if the world demands more of us when we are surrounded by the people we most respect.

Relationships like this one are rare, and I know that I am lucky to say that in my own life I have a few people who bring me to this higher level. Call it consciousness, awareness, understanding or knowledge; regardless, it is something we should strive for more regularly. 

This weekend and in the coming summer months, I challenge myself and my peers to be honest in our assessment of the world in which we live.  I don’t mean the traditional “think globally” mantra, although that is important, too. I am speaking more of the personal world we strive to create for ourselves. How can we honor our reflections – those thoughts that only our hearts (and the people who know our hearts) recognize? What ideas really make us tick? What progress can we promise to create? How can we listen more clearly to the inner voice that promotes peace and tranquility?

Just as a mirror reflects my physical image, so my thoughts reflect my truth. Perhaps this means choosing to be with and around people who support this higher thinking.

Like the triple flash of a camera, our lives can sometimes be blips of semi-truths. We can tend to walk unbalanced, and lose our sense of strength. When this happens, we must resolve to resort back to those people who demand the most of us. They are the perfections in our reflections.

www.yoursmartheart.com