We Must Promote Men Learning to Feel Their Feelings.

The other night I went to see one of the Human Rights Watch's Film Documentaries.  Whenever, I choose to attend one of their  presentations, I walk away knowing much more about the human condition than I thought I knew. This was their 22nd year of showing stories of human resilience, from around the world, of  issues that grip our time.
This year, filmmakers excelled in showing the power and influence of the media on human rights, a timely enough topic.
I saw Better This World, about two boyhood friends from Midland, Texas, who wanted "to make their world a better place"; they decided to protest the Republican Party's 2008 Convention. Of course, they met an older more experienced "revolutionary" who guided them in planning to do more than they intended.

As the movie moved along, I got more uncomfortable, as I realized that they were beginning to feel that perhaps they were in over their plans and were beginning to feel uncomfortable about the direction their new older friend was taking them. I don't want to spoil the story, except to say that both young men have been through the troubling court system, did nothing to bring the wrath of the FBI down upon  them and to be called terrorists. They have both been in jail.. In fact, one of the men is still incarcerated.

I was left with the feeling that our culture has failed our young men. We have intimidated them from connecting to their feelings. We have told them not to cry, to dismiss their inner, intuitive feelings of discomfort.These two were actually seduced by the older, more sophisticated  'revolutionary', who turned out to be a paid professional.  These two friends were caught in a web of dishonesty and manipulation from the first step they took 'to make their world a better place'!

This is a true story and it is a shattering one. It deserves to get the attention it warrants, to be seen by those who can't act on their inner feelings, who continue to dismiss their warning systems to turn away from what can turn out to be a disastrous path.

Just Thoughts on Attention, the Weather, and Stilettoes.

Sometimes I have so many things I want to write about, I don’t know where to start. I think I’m in some kind of ‘overwhelm.’ I know I’m not alone, for I’ve been in more and more conversations where this state-of-mind comes up in conversation, along with the over use of cell phones, the excessive number of e-mails we all are getting and the way our kids text each other, even when they’re sitting almost on top of one another...

And one of my dearest, oldest (in time) friends just left after staying with me for four weeks. She came from a six month stint in France, where she supervised some property repairs for friends, which gave her knees further reason to scream out for their own repairs.  Here in NYC, she endured the medical journey necessary to schedule double knee surgery in July. I played a new role for me, the best kind of sister, I hope – intentionally giving her the space and support she needed, the kind of attention I would have wanted in her shoes...

So, I’m going to write about some things that have been on my mind lately, things I can do nothing about, things I have to accept for what they are.

Obviously, the weather which  is currently very hot and humid here. I feel very grateful that I have not seen any tornadoes overhead, nor floods in my neighborhood, and I have not had to deal with what parts of Japan are living with right now. I have no reason to complain. 

The number of politicians who have screwed up their lives with adolescent sexual behavior is growing fast. I can now count at least eight. I wonder who’s going to be next.  Governor Mark Sanford’s lying about his extramarital affair has even resulted in a new definition of the phrase, “I was hiking the Appalachian Trail”

Mason, the Alabama dog who was tossed up and away during one of the recent tornadoes, broke both his legs, took three weeks to crawl home to find his owners and is now in rehabilitation. What a show of strength, resilience and most likely a reflection of the attention he received from his family.

The pot-holed streets of New York are in dire need of attention. Left as they are, it is far too dangerous for the ladies in stilettos to cross them. I really don’t know how they can walk anywhere ...maybe I’m just envious, as I couldn’t even sit in them....

Meeting Wendell Potter, the man who blew the whistle on the Healthcare industry’s nasty tricks to stymie positive humanitarian advances. He was head of the team created to specifically discredit Michael Moore’s documentary, “Sicko.” We’re going to talk more, because he needs to attract more attention to his urgent message, in order to save lives.

And then there’s the untimely, too early death of a friend of one of my sons, who spent his elementary years  going in and out of our house, and who grew up to be a powerful  music and theater producer. That’s just too close for comfort.

Looking at this list, I see there’s a sort-of theme: repair and acceptance. Just thoughts.

Sex, Lies and Attention!

First, Bill Clinton, then Elliot Spitzer, John Edwards, and others and now Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Dominique Strauss-Kahn, all bad boys, all acting out and getting  lots of negative attention, spending millions of dollars on legal fees and causing real emotional damage to their families and friends.

They have also undone much of the good in their careers, impeded the growth of social and political work they began, and brought shame upon many of their colleagues.

Why can’t these men realize their humanity, admit their awful behavior, and simply tell the truth? 

Kids lie, research shows, to get out of trouble. They often make up huge stories about who did what to whom and how.  Very creative kids tell the most outrageous lies. For example, a mother comes into the kitchen and sees that milk has been spilled all over the floor. She asks, “who spilled the milk?” She gets various answers, “He did it, she did it, a bird flew in the window and did it? I don’t know.” The purpose of this exercise is to get the milk cleaned up, no matter who did it.  After the milk is cleaned up, Mom could talk to the kids about owning up to their behavior, speaking without anger about being honest. The 'milk caper' could have been a total accident anyway, with neither blame nor shame involved.

Perhaps these men never learned that lesson, and have just continued lying, to get out of trouble and to get away without taking responsibility for their hurtful, anti-social behavior. I believe there's learning gap here.

The kind of attention we get in our childhoods lives with us forever, and some of us didn’t get the kind we needed to grow up,  to live honestly, to respect the lives we’ve created and the people we’ve brought along  to live with us.

Great to Connect and Smell the Pickles

Recently I sent out an e-mail blast with a video I think expresses the essence of attention - I've received it several times and even put it on my Facebook spot. I've gotten comments from "Fabulous, I' have tears," to lots of  "Thank you's" to "who are you promoting and why?"...and so the beat goes on...whenever one shows up or speaks up, someone out there doesn't like it. I've heard this one forever.

The really wonderful part of all of all this is that I've heard back from so many with whom I've been out of touch, since I moved to New York. I am thrilled. There's such a feeling of joy when I reconnect with old pals. I even heard from  Europe and New Zealand.

So after an energetic Friday in my office, on Sunday, I subwayed down to the lower East side of Manhattan for a professional tour of the area with an Alumni Group of U of M. Somehow it was sponsored by the Business School, so I was the only one there from LS&A. Very fun to share this with all ages, some graduates of the B school and some in-going graduate students. We all share a joyousness about our years in Ann Arbor no matter our ages. Some continue to return for the Football Games; others go back for reunions, which I've done; I  luckily discovered some years ago where the Michigan Band practiced for a trip to The Rose Bowl, and I went in Pasadena and watched them for hours --- totally thrilling and exhilarating.

Now, about those pickles. We were on the street listening to our tour leader who'd just handed out plantains to give us a taste of the area, when she started to talk about our next stop, the Pickle Factory.  During the great Jewish immigration in the early 20th century, the pickle business was huge with some 70 factories thricing. Today there is only one and it's owned and operated by a group of Chinese. There were lots of people already in line and the smells coming forth were music to my nose. I had to go in, where there were about 20  vats with everything you could imagine being pickled. Even pineapple. Our guide had bought us sour pickles, which were delicious, but I wish I'd had a chance to taste the dills. I'll  just have to go back.

This was certainly another connection for me. Those smells came from my childhood, even though I grew up in Detroit, which did not have pickle factories; fortunately we had deli's.

In two hours we went historically from the Jewish part of the area and the Italian/Irish part to today, where the Chinese have settled. It was a glorious day and the most-used park in New York was packed full of Chinese families connecting, chatting, using the playground equipment, walking babies; we could easily have thought we were some place in China.

What a week-end...

Miracles Are Abounding, for Which I Am So Very grateful!

You know people are always trying to connect people; it's the nature of the beast, so to speak. One day a childhood friend of mine from Detroit called. She still lives there. I left there some 45 years ago to live in Los Angeles. She'd been talking to some other women and somehow the subject of New York came up. They all discovered that they had friends in New York who should know each other because they'd probably really like each other. Several calls and e-mails later, Joan and I had a lovely dinner together.

The ladies from Detroit  were right; we did like each other.

That night after our dinner, Joan went home and called other friends in our old home town to tell them about her new friend, named Alice, who had moved to Port Huron as a young mother.  She really knew little else about my early life, as we'd never met before.

Here comes the 2 degrees of separation. Both women she called knew me! Sue and I had gone to elementary school together, and Rhoda had worked in my father's Ophthalmologic office for years and years.

While I had not known Rhoda, for I actually lived in Port Huron the very years she started working for my father, I decided to call her anyway.

We chatted like old friends. She is just a few years younger than I am, and when she worked for my father, they would have lunch together during which time he would lecture her on his rules for living, on strict dating protocol and other issues, just like he had me.

Well,  our conversation turned out to give me something I never would have imagined.  She delivered a much  miracle to me:  a communication that my father had with her, which was really meant for me...about being happy...never too late, so glad, finally.

Riding New York Buses Is Like Going to the Theater.

I absolutely adore riding New York City Buses. I never know exactly what's going to happen. As I am an experienced people-watcher, I really do take in the scene.
Yesterday was quite a dramatic treat.

I got on a bus going uptown, and noticed that the driver had actually waited for me, I thought. I asked if he'd seen me running to catch him. "No" he answered. Ok! I sat down and waited. Five minutes went by. Finally he started driving. He soon stopped and waited again. This happened three more times. I looked at my watch. He then announced to his riders, at last, that he would not be moving again, until the bus in front of his moved on and suggested we all move to the other bus. There were six of us who got off and on again and started speaking to each other about this adventure. Others shared that four buses had previously arrived at the same time, which was very unusual, so our driver was obviously trying to slow down....

We were now becoming bus buddies, involved in this common experience.


The next part of the ride went really fast, and I transferred to a cross-town bus. When I got on the next bus and approached the fare box, I saw a slip of paper which said "Free." I thanked the driver, sat down in the front row and preceded to watch as the other riders got on and reacted to the slip of paper. One lady looked angry. One man asked if that paper meant that he could just sit down; he was carrying a brief case full of Financial Newspapers. There were lots of riders at that time, so there were lots of totally different reactions. Some looked relieved, some looked harried, some registered disbelief. Almost no one thanked her!

Finally, a little lady walked up the the front to ask the driver where she would stop next. The driver told her to please stop yelling, to which the little lady replied that she always sounded like that, as she had a loud voice. She got off with no further conversation.

Finally, it was my turn to get off, so I thanked the driver again and wished her a lovely evening. She just smiled at me and looked so relieved that someone actually had paid attention to her.

An Ode to A Cinnamon Roll

Yesterday was my birthday, so, naturally, thoughts of past birthdays and other celebrations came floating by. I can still gleefully see and feel, when I felt most celebrated and loved.
I've spent especially wonderful birth days in Sapporo, Japan, on Isla des Mujeres, Mexico, in Detroit,, Ann Arbor Michigan, in New York, in Kenya, Africa, in Israel and in California.

The day after I always feel a little heart-achy, for another measurable year has come and gone, and I naturally have to account to myself. I bet I am not the only person who does this!

One way I have of giving myself the attention I need to support the accounting, is to discover some comfort food. This helps. Cinnamon rolls are very high on my list, as is Jello, quality chocolate cookies, lamb chops, spaghetti with good tomato sauce - all foods from my childhood. When I got home from elementary school and smelled cinnamon rolls, I knew everything was calm and cool at my house; my mother wanted to bake, and I got a treat. That was a win-win.

I just finished eating one of Starbucks Morning Buns, a fine example of a cinnamon roll.
That was a treat. I guess I'm easy.

Birthdays are really special, for it's simply the day we were born. In my workshops I ask people about this. Some of the stories I've heard are almost unbelievable. Some, who were born near Holidays, have never celebrated their day.

One man who was born on Valentine's Day, now celebrates with huge parties, for the first time. At his childhood home, it was always a national holiday, never his birthday! Another man told me he would never ever eat banana cream cake, again, for his mother baked that for him every single year; it was HER favorite, and she never ever asked him what he wanted. One women knew her father was never home for her birthday, as her father chose to go hunting the first day of the season, which fell on her day. Her mother tried to argue with her in my workshop, but the daughter knew, as she'd lived the pain and the grief of her Dad's leaving that particular day. She felt totally dishonored and abandoned. At least, this adult child really got to tell her mother her truth.

I've given lots of people permission to celebrate, to honor themselves for the day they were born.

I know of lots new birthday celebrators going on around the world. And I still know some who don't want to even know about their birthdays, and I know why, and that's sad for me to hear. Birthdays arrive on time, every year, whether we went them to or not.

So let's pay attention and give ourselves and others the attention we need to mark the day we arrived in our world, hopefully to make it a better place.

Monday Can Be A Perfect Day for Thinking!

It’s one of those Mondays...

It’s a grey day, full of wonderings for me...

Why are so many people, 3 million, following Charlie Sheen on Twitter and buying tickets for his up-coming live national shows? His two in New York at Radio City sold out in 30 minutes...What is he selling? He talks about WINNING, but what is he winning? Are people just eager to see how a celebrity drug addict can continue to hold the public’s attention? Is he a live reality show? What is he offering his audiences?

Meanwhile, in Japan an entire way of life is changing for thousands of people, as everything they’ve loved and owned has been destroyed. They seem to be helping each other survive day to day, which surely is a giant form of winning for them. There’s a generosity of spirit that’s showing up in their daily interactions, that we would be wise to pay attention to. What if...that kind of pervasive tragedy occurred in our country? Would people help each other and share their food and shelter?

What if more people lose their jobs in America? That’s like having a giant personal earth quake here, as families become fractured and can’t maintain their emotional or physical balance and style of living. I've seen and heard more and more personal stories coming from job lay-offs lately, and there doesn't seem to be any cure for this in the near future.

...these thoughts are about how fragile life can become for any of us... I am watching to see how different forms of change effect people and how they choose to survive, I call this "attentive living."

My Japanese Soul Is Hurting Lots These Days.

Whenever I talk about the nine months I spent in Japan, living with a Japanese family, hanging out and working with a Missionary family and absorbing a new culture and a new way of being, I feel as if I'm back in Sapporo again. That time was so super special for me.

And now when I look at the pictures of the devastation that's happening there, I just weep and feel like I've been punched in the stomach. I can't even imagine how changed their lives are going to be.

I've heard back from my Japanese family in Tokyo, who are really alright but shaken up more than they've ever been.
I've asked what I can do. I shall write more about this.

YEA!!! College Kids Speaking Out About SEX and Planned Parenthood's Value!

It's a grey and damp day in New York City and I actually feel likes there's sunshine in my heart.
I just saw a video that college kids from Wesleyan made about their involvement with SEX and the value of Planned Parenthood for them.

Hurray...



Hope it goes viral and gets a billion viewers - it's so real, fun and, yet, serious.
They're speaking out about having SEX...imagine?...or not or wanting to...giggling, smiling, fresh and talking about the services that Planned Parenthood provides: testing, birth control, etc.

We need more young people to shout out messages like this group from Wesleyan, to own what's happening in their world and realize the ramifications of loosing precious services that they have may have been taking for granted and could actually go away.

I think there's an energy building among more people these days - to face what's really happening in our country and how some of the political chaos will personally affect us. We've got to get away from our television sets, our video games, our cell phones to meet with others, to volunteer where we can to help others, to give money when we can...

Oh my, I am beginning to sound like an activist...

Women...and Men...

Yesterday a friend and I went to hear a very prominent French film director speak and show clips from his old films. He was given a handheld microphone, which he buried on his chest, so neither of us could barely hear a word he said. What a waste. Why have they stopped attaching small microphones to peoples jackets?

That's some progress that doesn't seem to work, unless someone shows the speakers exactly where and how to hold the microphone.

The clips, which included a famous Western and World WAR II flick, were all fantastic; now that I've had a taste, I want to see all of them. David Niven was sure a handsome dude, as his plane was going down in flames, while the woman on the airfield was trying to talk him to safety as she was falling in love with him.

At dinner, we discussed the event, which led to further conversation about how men treat women...a natural progression from the movies we'd seen. She asked me about seasonal relationships, which occur when the man wants to ski all winter and play golf all summer, ignoring how the woman feels about his choices. As my friend talked and I listened, she moved from being consumed with him to how she felt about the terms of their relationship. I could see her excitement at finding clarity about why the relationship wasn't working for her.
She concluded that I was a good friend. I gave her the kind of attention she needed - being present,actively listening and re-framing what she'd been struggling over. She told me that I ought to be speaking to bigger audiences.

I could never have predicted how yesterday's "date" would turn out.

Recovery and Appreciation

I have had a two week bout with pneumonia, which I am gratefully through with now.
Why does one have to get sick sometimes to appreciate the treasures of having good health? Today, even when I had to walk a short while in the rain, I loved being out. The streets glistened, the puddles created choices for me – should I go directly in them or around them – the smell of the day indicated to me that Spring is in the air.
I think I am learning to be grateful every day for all the good fortunes I have in my life. I stop to metaphorically smell the various roses more. I am aware of all the sights and sounds I have in my life in New York. I love being in the streets and just watching. I love the different boots that people choose to wear on different weather days. I actually decide the ones I would like to own and sometimes even stop the wearers to ask where they bought them. People are always delighted to tell me. It’s as if I have given their decisions my approval. That’s positive attention, I know.
I love to see all the families out walking together. For years I lived in Los Angeles, where people spend most of their hours outside encased in their cars, unless they descend on the parks or the beaches. There just seems to be more interaction between people here. I feel like I am part of the world here.
I love learning the short cuts around the city, how to go anywhere by public transportation and where I really enjoy the adventure of shopping and stopping for snacks.
I never fail to marvel at the sights I see outside my windows: The lights, the traffic patterns and the sunsets. I could take photos of the sunsets almost every night, for they’re like art pieces evolving right in front of my eyes.
Now that I’m healthy again, I want to take advantage of every moment of every day, even when it means that I am silent for a bit, take the time to breathe and to consider my choices. Perhaps, this is really what happiness means to me – being conscious, being present, being able to make choices and enjoy the moment.

Tomorrow's A National Holiday Celebrating George and My Father's Birthdays.

Tomorrow's a holiday; it's George Washington's birthday and it was also my father's.

I wish that I could have told my dad the exact kind of attention I wanted from him. Who knew? He was a well known and gifted surgeon. But he didn't want to know very much about the business of medicine. He performed miracles, saved patients from losing their sight and gave lots of his time to a free clinic, where he was really the happiest.

He also didn't want to know anything about taking care of minor house hold chores: fixing plugs or any other electrical gadgets around our home. And he didn't think that I needed to know anything he didn't know about or care about. While he did not live long enough to participate in the coming technological revolution, I know he would have participated in it, as he was an inventor of sorts.

He did care about the stock market and would discuss part of his investing with me. He decided one day to invite a stock person from New York to come to our home in Detroit. I asked my dad if this man was rich. He told me that he really didn't know and I ought to ask him when he came to dinner. I was eight. So I did and Anthony G. said, "No." That was the end of the man from New York and a real acknowledgment for me. I felt intuitively smart. That was a real gift from my father to me.

I am sure, however,that my father never thought that his daughter would want to start a business or become a social entrepreneur, which is now a huge challenge for me, one that I am struggling with daily.

I so would have liked him to give me opportunities to earn money for myself. I needed to feel that I was valuable, that my time was valuable and I could support myself, financially. I know that I am not alone in feeling that my earning muscle is far from developed.

I am voicing this now, so other fathers and daughters can realize that the kind of attention we get in our childhoods lives with us forever.

Dr. Temple Grandin's Story Is All About Attention

I recently saw the movie about the autistic Dr. Temple Grandin. I had known about her and her amazing work with cows and how they were led to be dipped and ultimately to be slaughtered. Because Temple is so gifted visually and can work out everything in her mind, the creative team gave the audience many examples of how she could actually see things we could not. Claire Danes was terrific as Temple.

Fortunately for Temple, her mother never gave up mainstreaming her, special teachers became her mentors and defenders, her roommate in college was a blind woman who gave Temple the kind of companionship and acceptance she needed. These positive attention-givers counter-acted the continuing negative attention she got from her peers, from the men who were established in the animal husbandry industry and from the rules which excluded her and her mental gifts.

There's been such an increasing number of autistic children born lately, Temple has become a spokesperson for the public's need to realize that autistic kids can grow up to use their special kinds of thinking to make real differences and contributions in many industries.

Special kinds of attention must be paid to bring these kids safely through their childhoods and into their adult lives.

Today is the annual day for loving!?!

Today is February 14th, Valentine's Day. It occurs every year! And it seems to become more commercialized every year. The cards and red hearts are everywhere - in the candy shops, the party shops, drug stores, grocery stores, pet shops, jewelry stores, department stores --- begging for our attention and requests to buy them.

Have you seen this year's red satin pillows with words of love embroidered on them?

My thoughts for the day:
Why does a day for love have to be only one day a year?

It doesn't really matter whether we think of self-love, being selfish, or giving ourselves the kind of attention we need...we have to be good to ourselves before we can be good to others.

Being selfish has gotten a bad rap, for it really is all about our learning to take care of ourselves. If we don't take care of ourselves and expect others to do it for us, we often are disappointed, get angry and withdraw from the other. This kind of behavior certainly doesn't work for anyone.

When we tell people that we love them and, yet, treat them unkindly, or thoughtlessly, or disrespectfully, we really are not loving them at all. I have heard so many stories about this; I think we all have to give it some thought. Count the different ways you love people --- by returning phone calls appropriately, by being conscious of listening and not interrupting when you're in a conversation, by putting your cell phone away when you're sharing time with someone, by acknowledging support or gifts we receive we receive from others.


Decide how you want to be loved so you can tell others; then make sure you discover how others around you want to be loved. It's not the same for everyone.

Try making your own card this year announcing to those special people in your life that you are going to love them all year the way they need/want to be loved. If they haven't told you, ask them!

Be your lovig self today and everyday.

Our Kids Deserve Valentines Every Day!!!

There are too many headlines in today's papers about the escalating amount of stress which our kids are exhibiting. I see articles about the percentage of college kids who are on meds for stress relief. I see news that New York State high school graduates don't have the skills they need to survive at college. That's the bad news. And there is some good news. There a program surfacing in elementary school that's been created to teach young kids how to handle the stress that they're facing in their early lives today, as their parents loose their jobs and the family starts wondering if they have to move.

First comes awareness, then comes action which leads to solutions. The earlier the programs start, the more experience kids get in handling their stress, the stronger and healthier they can can become with taking meds. Older, experienced kids can mentor younger kids. What a concept.

Why did I title this, " Our kids deserve Valentines every day." Well, our most commercial holiday ever will be here in just three days. All kids know what valentines are and they want lots. The more they get, the more popular they feel. And sometimes they even get to eat them, the chocolate and candy hearts.

Valentines are also supposed to show that someone cares about them. That's what all the advertising says. So, perhaps if we let our kids know everyday somehow that we do care about them by giving them the kind of attention they need, we can prevent the amount of stress in their lives.

We can be more available to them. We can turn off our televisions, our blackberries and our computers. We can read with them, play with them, walk with them, build castles with them, we can cook together - anything that involves our spending time together and doing something creative together. We can listen to them. We can really watch them play.
By choosing to be consciously attentive, we can extend Valentine's Day from a one day event to an everyday event and watch our kids thrive as they get that we really do care about them!