The Lion Sleeps Tonight

After writing about Eunice Kennedy Shriver's death and how much I admired her, I also want to acknowledge the death of her brother, Senator Edward Kennedy.

The news broke this morning and the reporter said, "The nation is mourning the loss of Ted Kennedy."

Ok, wait a minute. How do they know the whole nation is "mourning?"

Ted was not my favorite Kennedy. Maybe it has to do with Chappaquiddick. I'm big on forgiveness; I'm equally fond of accountability.

I've always found him a little slimy. The whole rape trial, Uncle Teddy helping out his nephew, William Kennedy Smith, didn't help.

But, I must certainly admire his passion in the senate and his endless works in the areas of health care, the poor, the disabled and more.

And let's not forget he left a wife, an ex-wife, children, step-children, nieces and nephews. By tragic default, he was the family patriarch. He rose to the occasion and they were some pretty steep shoes to fill.

I guess I am mourning. I'm in awe of of this family that I do not know. I'm astounded that he is the last of the nine siblings and now the torch of this family -- America's royal family -- has been passed to the next generation.

My generation.


(Correction: Jean Kennedy Smith, Ted's sister and mother of the accused rapist, is the last living Kennedy of that generation.)

Doodling in the Dew

Sometimes I go out with the dogs in the morning. I love being outside early. I love the promise of a new day.

The dew is beaded on the deck rails and everything feels crisp.

When my dad goes fishing, he leaves the house very early. But, I've noticed he doodles along the deck rails. Usually he doodles one word: Sandy.

Self Defense

Do you own a gun? I know lots of people who do. Some responsibly; some not. I'm very mixed on this issue.

I'm tired of watching the news and hearing of drive-by shootings or drug deals gone awry. On the other hand, I'm tired of learning of innocent people harmed. Would they have been better off armed?

This is on my mind because I am being cautioned a lot lately. At some point, I will be a single woman, living alone. I'm armed. I have pepper spray that I will eventually blind myself with. Or, confuse it with Binaca and have zero taste buds. I have a dog who will warn me of a disturbance and then in real trouble, lick the intruder to death. If he's smart enough to carry treats, (isn't everone?) she will just go move in with him.

What's our next job? Do I get more treats?

Truthfully, you'll never know what I decide about the gun thing. And, I'm making jokes about my dog because she will always follow me. You may or may not have treats in your pocket. But I am a sure thing.

Grab a Shovel

Growing up, I was used to my parents saying "no." Now I live with them again and we play the fun game of saying "no" to each other. I try to be the Food Nazi; occasionally I get to be the teenager (at 46!) in this home. I recently spent the night with a girlfriend -- dog in tow, not a danger in sight -- but my dad told me the next day that we need to revisit the curfew discussion. We will decide if I am allowed to have overnight camps when I am 50.

There are times when God says "no." Frankly, we all should know that but we continue to bargain in prayer.

Please, God, make it right.

And of course, we mean right to us, at that moment, not necessarily right for our lives or His plan.

Most of us wait for some big, huge, life-altering sign from prayer. The odds are pretty good that we won't be the chosen one who gets the burning bush or the parting of the sea. In the quiet moments, we might get the realization that we're praying really hard for something and the answer is no.

One of my dad's favorite sayings is, "If you pray for a garden, you'd better grab a shovel."

There's also the folklore tale of the olden country village, stricken with drought and holding a revival for a rain dance. (Every oldie in the world has told this story. Movies have been made about it.) The rain comes at the end.

Nobody brought an umbrella.

The Mindset List

Every year since 1998, Beloit College releases the "Mindset List." What started as a cultural reminder for teachers of incoming college freshmen has grown into a document used around the world. It's a touchstone of the rapidly changing frame of reference for this generation.

It's filled from the silly to the serious. Most of the students entering college this fall were born in 1991.

Members of the class of 2013 won't be surprised when they can charge a latte on their cell phone and curl up in the corner to read a textbook on an electronic screen. They live in a world organized around globalization with McDonald's everywhere on the planet. Carter and Reagan are as distant to them as Truman and Eisenhower were to their parents. Everybody knows the news before the evening news comes on.

Here are a few of my favorites from the list:

They have never used a card catalog to find a book.

Magic Johnson has always been HIV-positive.

Babies have always had a social security number.

The American health care system has always been in critical condition.

Women have always outnumbered men in college.

There has always been a computer in the oval office.

Chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream has always been a flavor choice.

The list is not intended to make the rest of us feel old but that's exactly what it does to me. It's still fun to read. To view the entire list, go to: http://www.beloit.edu/mindset/

The Kennedy Mystique

With the death of Eunice Kennedy Shriver this week, Ted Kennedy is the sole remaining child of Joe and Rose Kennedy. And, I suspect we'll be eulogizing him soon.

I've always had a fascination with the Kennedys. Some writers refer to them as American Royalty and I tend to agree. Yes, they have their scandals and their bad seeds but they also have done some pretty amazing things.

Eunice was known for founding the Special Olympics and championing the mentally challenged. We all know this passion was born of her love for her older sister. This may be how she will be immortalized in the history books but I was most impressed with her role as a mother. Her four children adored her and more importantly, wanted to live up to her expectations. Her expectations were huge. There was a quote from her daughter, Maria Shriver, at the memorial service, "If my mother were here today, she would be pounding on this podium and asking all of you what you have done today to change the world."

Good question. Probably one we should all ask ourselves more often.

Fair Time

My mother and I went to our state fair yesterday. It ranks pretty high on my list of annual fun things. My "sister" and another friend joined us and a good time was had by all.

My friend had a list of things she wanted to experience. (She had not been to the fair for a couple of decades.) Her expectations were pretty high:

The dog-faced boy,
The two-headed pig, and
The potato chip that looks like Jesus.

Alas, none of these were there this year but we did get to experience:

The gigantic sculpture made of cheese,
Several barns, along with their lovely smells,
An exhibit about the space program,
Gigantic vegetables, and
All the fried food you could ever think about eating.

This year, our fair has added a few extra days to the schedule. I may have to go again.

When Your Presence Is the Present

We all get in situations where we are asked to attend something we would rather not. Maybe we have something more fun to do. Maybe we just flat out, don't want to go. Maybe you're like me and your mother pokes and prods and reminds and uses guilt trips until you just do it so you don't have to hear about it anymore.

It can be anything: a wedding of a coworker, a business dinner for a spouse, a hospital or nursing home visit that feels uncomfortable, a committee meeting that you know will drag on forever...

I'm getting better at setting boundaries for myself. I say no more often than I used to. But I will always be the person who can usually slip into the other person's shoes and ask myself, "Is this important to do?"

Yesterday while I served as liturgist during our worship service, I saw two faces that don't normally attend our church. They were there simply to support me.

Their presence was a gift that I cherish and I thank them.

Let's Dance

It's possible that I dance every day. If you know me, you've seen it. I dance alone; I dance with strangers. I dance in supermarkets and I have left my footprints on more than one tabletop.

This is the part where I'm supposed to be sorry. Oops, I'm not. Dancing is who I am. I have been teased and shamed. It doesn't work. People who dance often make others uncomfortable. Here's a few things you should know:

I realize I'm not a good dancer. I don't care. The spirit moves me and I go.

I don't expect you to participate. I love it if you do. I am not hurt if you don't.

The true release of dancing is not always happy.

I can only speak for me but I feel sorry for people who don't know the soulful release of a good dance.

I had an iPod issue earlier this summer and I had to use my goddaughter and her boyfriend's good nature to fix it. I felt like an oldie because it was an easy fix but I needed young people to chart the course.

Now I am back in business. Flicking on my music and dancing to my heart's content.

Oh, %#*#@!!!

The other day I received an email from my girlfriend and she told me about her rotten day. Later she forwarded an email she received from her company's email techies -- seems they frown on using expletives on the company email. It is such a part of my vernacular that I didn't even notice it in the email.

I know better. I was taught (by parents, teachers, adults I admire)that swearing was unladylike and a cross between laziness and ignorance. I failed that lesson and I fail it often. (Although I am extremely careful around children and in business situations.)

There's an article in this week's Time magazine that quotes a study in the journal NeuroReport. The study found that cussing does more than vent frustration; it can actually reduce physical pain. The example used is women giving birth are far more likely to blurt out a choice cuss word -- or a string of them -- when the same woman would never use such language on a regular basis.

In a moment of complete insanity, I volunteered to serve as liturgist in church this Sunday. My recurring nightmare is flubbing something and then dropping the F bomb.

I won't. But my peon brain is having a party making me think about the possibility. I'd really hate to have to find a new church.