Every breath, renewal.

So much to do; so little done. - Cecil Rhodes, Last Words

I'm always amazed when another year has so speedily passed me by, wishing I'd done so much more of some things and a lot less of others. Still, this is the time when resolutions are made, and hope revives that, yes, this may be the year that changes everything. Will I fall victim to the vices that prevented my accomplishing the previous year's goals? Only time can tell.

While some make out huge to-do lists of things that will change during the coming year and found themselves overwhelmed with the actions required for the habits meant to be created, I, on the other hand, find myself either bored by a single resolution or have chosen the one thing that I was really incapable of doing (or unwilling to do the things that would fulfill said resolution).

So what of this year?

I've decided to take each day as it comes with its own set of goals, and finally free myself from the burdens that have plagued me in past resolutions. New Year's Day is marking a renewal, yes. As does every morning. As does every minute. As does every breath.

Edward M. Kennedy (1932-2009)

We know the future will outlast all of us, but I believe that all of us will live on in the future we make. - Ted Kennedy, accepting an honorary degree from Harvard University, December 2008


Last week, we lost a member of the Senate whose ideals and vision were the driving force of his politics and legislation. Ted Kennedy's ferocity was both inspiring and intimidating to those of us who didn't know him personally, but felt they had an insider's view into the closely held private world of one of the most recognized and well-known families on the planet. I can only imagine what he was like for those who worked with him, played with him, loved him, and was close to him.

He wasn't merely a spectator to history, as most of us are. The unfortunate circumstances surrounding his family have made him a central figure in it. Despite his personal downfalls and tragedies, he worked tirelessly to change the world for the better. Whether it was school lunch programs, civil rights, Medicare, or the recent health care reform, he sought to put everyone on a level playing ground, knowing full well that he had a leg up in everything that he ever personally accomplished. When it seemed the best of the Kennedys died in those dark days in 1963 and 1968, he continued on course, and one might say, eventually became the best version of himself.

Not everyone always agreed with his policy-making, but most people could admire the passion he had for the job he did, and the compassion he had for others. And behind him is the legacy that will continue on with his influence on the family he became patriarch of, in the speeches he gave in times of horrible sorrow and immense joy, and in the legislation he penned.

The commitment I seek is not to outworn views but to old values that will never wear out. Programs may sometimes become obsolete, but the ideal of fairness always endures. Circumstances may change, but the work of compassion must continue. - Ted Kennedy, at the Democratic National Convention, 1980

Let's play pretend!

Be careful what you pretend to be because you are what you pretend to be. - Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night

I have some very distinct memories of pretending as a kid. I remember being a princess, being the Wicked Witch of the West (possibly the most fun), being a pilot, being a damsel in distress (hanging off the cliff that was my bunkbed), and being a cashier at McDonald's (I'm not kidding). It's safe to play pretend when you're a child; you know that if you don't like what you're doing you can always become something else. There's no worry about changing careers, going back to school, finding the money to go back to school, worrying about success and failure. When you're a child, these things don't exist - they are merely the figments of adult imaginations.

Which makes me wonder: do we have this thing all wrong?

Maybe the starting of being the thing we really want to be is in the pretending. The confident stance, the image of that success, the feel of that accomplishment, even if not achieved already, can only push us towards that endeavor. If things don't work out exactly as we'd hoped, we can change our minds and do something else or start again. Life isn't a fixed state. So how can we be?

People debate what "time" really is - an illusion, a mental construct, a tangible measurement? Is it relative or constant? I really don't know. You could listen to a dozen different physicists and still have no real answer. But if time is an illusion (and it could be), then the person you might be lies within you already. I think.

A few nuts.

Families are like fudge - mostly sweet with a few nuts. - Author Unknown

I went most of my life without meeting my great-aunt Gracie. A potential relationship between the two of us was victim to circumstance. My dad's side of the family was from Queens, my mom's side from rural Minnesota, and I grew up in a few places in the Midwest, with the very rare trip to Dad's hometown. This didn't lend to closeness with my paternal relatives.

Sadly, it wasn't until I was an adult that I met Gracie, my grandfather's sister. The story goes that she wasn't exactly a US citizen. You see, when she was a kid, the family moved from Nova Scotia to New York City. My grandpa and his brother became naturalized when they served in World War II, but she never did. According to her telling, Gracie wasn't naturalized because of an incident that involved her naturalization papers being on the table and something about spilled grease. Whatever the exact series of events, Gracie never became a citizen. We kind of joked about her being an illegal alien because she had lived most of her long, long life here in the United States. Could you imagine INS coming for this little old woman with a New York accent, carting her off in handcuffs?

Gracie was quite the character. The first time I did finally meet her, she came directly up to me, gave me a big kiss on the mouth (something we Midwesterners aren't all that comfortable with - insert joke here), and promptly said, "You know this side of the family is crazy." No kidding.

This tiny woman smoked like a fiend most of her life, wore too much makeup, drowned in old fur coats, always wore her hair in a loose bun, and burst into song at the drop of a hat. She was absolutely lovely. I only met her a few times before she died. This saddens me because she was delightful, and sweet, and I will miss all the stories that she would gladly relate, now lost to the ether.

It is my sincere hope that everyone has a Gracie in their families, someone who is unique, funny, and maybe a little nuts, an external reminder of our internal craziness. I knew so little of my great-aunt, but I am so glad I did have the chance to connect, no matter how brief, with this wonderful character.

On forced idleness...

I never remember feeling tired by work, though idleness exhausts me completely. - Arthur Conan Doyle

After experiencing a pinched nerve that seemed to completely knock me out for the count, I awoke this morning feeling better, rested, in the least pain in a week, and found myself surrounded by the reward of idleness: a small mess and a large pile of work to be done.

It's funny how you can almost miss working (maybe even the things you dislike doing) when you've been forced to abstain from these activities for a while. And when there's more to do when you come back to all of that, it's a strange sort of comfort; you're happy that you are capable of doing these things again.

Now that I can start on my tasks, I don't want to stop; not so much because I just want to get all of it over with, but because I can and because I want to feel that sense of accomplishment that comes from finishing even the simplest of chores. And with each set of tasks done, my energy is growing, something that can't be said from sitting lazily on the couch.

I'm glad to be back, and won't be taking for granted the experience of health and being pain-free any time soon.

Open mouth and insert ... well, you know.

My fellow astronauts... - Dan Quayle, former Vice President of the United States, beginning a speech at an Apollo 11 anniversary.

Sometimes I find myself in some exciting or unnerving situation where my brain has utterly failed me. My mind races at a hundred miles an hour, running through word after word, phrase after phrase, and for some reason, the appropriate thing to say won't come out of my mouth.

It's hard to stay in the moment when you are thinking about so many different things, from outcomes of actions to what you had for breakfast that morning. But I find that grounding myself, slowing down, and being present - especially during these situations - can prevent something like the above quote from happening. A big breath in, a good and full exhale, and I'm back in business.

At the same time, it's quite the reminder of how human I am when I manage to mess up what I meant to say, or when I should've just kept my mouth shut. And when the most visible or admired people in the world do exactly the things that I dread doing myself, it's comforting to know that we all are capable of these mistakes, big or small. It also makes it easier to laugh at myself from time to time.

Walter Cronkite (1916 - 2009)

A few days ago, the world lost one of the most well-known and respected broadcast journalists since the advent of the television. Walter Cronkite, though a newsman of the generation before me, was one of the many people that came to mind when thinking of such occurrences as the death of JFK and the Iran Hostage Crisis. His reporting was significant because people trusted that he told them all he could about the events of the day.

What's most remarkable about the life of this man is that he was there, on the sidelines, of so much history of the last seventy years, that it's hard to believe that one man can experience all he did.

He was an impressive man with an incredible legacy.

Let his words speak for him today:

I can't imagine a person becoming a success who doesn't give this game of life everything he's got.

In seeking truth you have to get both sides of a story.

Our job is only to hold up the mirror - to tell and show the public what has happened.

There is no such thing as a little freedom. Either you are all free, or you are not free.

This opens the door on another chapter of history.