Month: July 2017

  • July 27, 2017

    The Vibes of Home

    Home is such a multi-dimensional word.  It conjures up so many images and feelings:  Safety.  Warmth.  Love.   Sometimes it’s the place you grew up, sometimes not.   Sometimes it’s a structure, sometimes a group of friends, or a place.   It is an environment where safety exists and that touches you so deeply there is a familiarity recognized deep within.   It is a place where you feel you simply belong.

    I have, for much of my life, considered San Luis Obipso and the Central Coast home.  It is where I was born, where my family lives, and where I have long felt “rooted”.    I have spent much of my life in other places as well, though, and they offer up a familiarity as well.    It is amazing to me what happens to us when we return to a former home: instant recollections of times you have forgotten and emotions stored away somewhere surface.

    I just returned from a wonderful get away to visit some dear friends in two different states.   The first part of my trip landed me in my old stomping grounds of Minneapolis, Minnesota, where I lived for 6 years while working for WCCO-TV.   I’ve now been back “home” in California longer than I lived in the Land of 10-thousand Lakes (there are actually 11,842 in the state), but the minute I walked off the airplane, I started feeling the “Vibes of Home”.    How many times had I flown in or out of this airport,  stood at baggage claim waiting for some news-maker to come down the escalator so we could get a quote, or eagerly stepped out to passenger pick-up after a trip.   I know this place.  It knows me.

    As I drove toward my destination, I didn’t need a map.   I knew the routes and neighborhoods and businesses.   If felt familiar and friendly.  And when I pulled over to stop at one of my favorite old hang-outs, I was overwhelmed with a sense of joy.    I experienced some wonderful (and yes, deeply painful) experiences in Minnesota and being here again had them floating through my mind like a movie.

    The welcome I received from friends had me feeling like a child returning from a great adventure to her family.   We picked up where we left off, with an eager and enthusiastic game of catch up.    I was introduced to children I hadn’t met yet as “Aunt Jeanette”, and as we sat around and talked we were able to laugh at each other’s idiosyncrasies through our shared time and experiences together.

    I left Minnesota largely not of my own choice.  I was laid off in some downsizing of our recession and I was bewildered by the experience.  It led to a chance to come home to California, though, so I celebrated the opportunity and tried to leave the pain of the losses of that time behind me.  My recent return, however, reminded me of how roots once planted, always exist below the surface somewhere.

    I recalled how lonely I felt when I first moved to Minnesota, how far from home…but how I found a circle of friends who were like family.   I have incredibly fond memories of my time at WCCO, on sidewalk patio’s downtown and at lakeside docks.   I remembered weddings and funerals, adventures and mishaps, and the ways I struggled, grew and blossomed here.   My dog Madelyn’s ashes are scattered around Lake Calhoun, where we walked daily.   And no doubt, some of my DNA is here as well.

    After a wonderful week of catchup and re-connecting, I felt kind of re-rooted to this place I once called home.  At the airport my heart smiled again as the staff at French Meadow Bakery served up a heavy dose of courtesy and kindness with every bagel and breakfast sandwich.   Minnesota Nice isn’t just a saying.  I had forgotten.   I walked toward my gate grateful, lucky enough to experience it, and to know that anytime I visit, I will always feel the Vibes of Home here too.

     

  • July 13, 2017

    Frame of Reference

    It’s amazing to me how our viewpoint does not always reflect any kind of absolute reality.    What we are seeing, experiencing in the same situation can be drastically different than what a friend, relative, or partner is.

    Consider trying to take a picture of the someone standing in front of sunset.   They are likely barely visible in image because the brilliant sun behind them is providing such harsh backlight.   But step around your subject, with YOUR back to the sun and suddenly they are perfectly lit and you have a shot worthy of framing.  The subject hasn’t moved or changed, but your perspective has.  You take a radically different picture.

    I was reminded of the importance of frame of reference this week.    I was heading back up to Tahoe for the weekend and got caught in nightmarish traffic due to accidents.   After 7 hours, I was still only to Sacramento and it was getting late, so I decided to call it quits at a friend’s house in Eldorado Hills just past the capitol city.

    After a deep, hard, wonderful sleep, I woke up cloudy-headed and kind of desperate for coffee.   My friend was working early so left me instructions on how to use her fancy espresso maker.   I read them carefully but got stuck one.

    “I have some fresh ground beans sitting in the grinder in the upper left-hand cupboard adjacent to the oven.”

    I opened that cupboard (and every other one in her kitchen) a half dozen times and saw no grinder.   I know how organized Missy is so I was certain it was somewhere but after a half hour of searching, I gave in and face-timed her at work.   She walked me through it and told me to open one cupboard again.

    “There it is!” She exclaimed.   I still saw no coffee grinder.

    “I’m sorry Missy, I must be losing it.  I don’t see it.

    “The white one right up there to your left.”

    “Oh!  It’s a WHITE ONE!”

    You see, in my cloudy-headed state I was looking for the coffee grinder that looked like the one I have at home.   It’s black.  Hers is white and since I was looking for a black little machine, my mind just didn’t register the white one right in front of my face.

    I was a reminder to me about the perspectives, and lenses we all carry with us into our daily lives.    They frame our experiences today, often based on our past experiences.  My perspective in my quest for morning coffee lead to a relatively harmless blind spot, but if our experiences have included hurt, betrayal, being taken advantage of….guess what we’ll be on the lookout for?   It also often comes at the cost of missing out on something useful right in front of us.

    Ever had a disagreement with someone and argued over the way things went down in a previous conflict?  You swear it happened one way.  They are indignant because they remember it totally differently.   You are both seeing your realities but from different perspectives.   Having a wise friend or counselor can be like me reaching out to Missy on Facetime.   They can offer another perspective.  Do try to steer clear from seeking out counsel from any friend who just wants to be your cheerleader.  You don’t need help finding what you can already see.   You need someone who can offer a different frame of reference and expand or even change your point of view.   “What am I missing here?” Should be the question we ask when trying to resolve a conflict, but too often we are more intent on proving ourselves right.   Just because we can’t see the coffee grinder on the shelf doesn’t mean it isn’t there.   And when you change YOUR frame of reference you may suddenly see your subject bathed in the beautiful glow of a setting sun rather than shadowed and dark because you were standing in the wrong spot to get a bright, brilliant and accurate picture

  • July 6, 2017

    Shred the Gnar

    I keep being reminded to play like a kid. A couple of vivid examples happened in just the last week.

    Gordon, my fiancé, and I love boating up in Lake Tahoe. The first summer after I left KSBY we spent most of our summer days floating on the crystal clear blue of that beautiful body of water. He was recovering from surgery and I was recovering from my latest stint in television news. This summer we are both working more, have our condo up there rented out much more, and are both wondering whether taking the boat out of storage and docking it for the season makes sense. We have been dealing with a bit of option paralysis.

    Last week we were still debating whether to head north and get the “job” done. Gordon called Leon, the free-spirited owner of the boat storage facility who he had talked to several times already that week to say he had changed his mind again. We would wait until after the 4th of July weekend. Here’s how the conversation went from there.

    Leon: “Dude, too late. I already pulled your boat down, got the guys working on it right now. Time to Shred the Gnar Dude.”

    Gordon; “What is Shred the Gnar?”

    Leon: “Dude, are you that old? It’s 4th of July weekend. You know, get out there and get to it. Break some shit.”

    Gordon asked how soon I could be ready and said we were heading north.

    “It’s time to Shred the Gnar.” He told me.

    After a quick inquiry from me, followed by a google search, I learned “Shred the Gnar” has to do with extreme sports…snowboarding, skateboarding, surfing or skiing but to me it’s a fun new commandment to quit taking life so seriously and seize the day. It’s become my new favorite saying for the summer.

    http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=shred%20the%20gnar&defid=6348075

    https://www.quora.com/What-does-shred-some-gnar-mean

    We were back in Shell Beach for the actual 4th where for some reason we tend to steer clear of the crowds and craziness and watch the fireworks from a friends house. But this year, we opted to get on our bikes and ride right down into the chaos. Gordon, his son, a couple of friends and I ended dancing our way down to waters edge, lying on our backs with the fireworks exploding right over us. I mean you felt each explosion and it was fantastic! Not quite tearing down a powder-covered mountain, but Shredding the Gnar in our own middle-aged way.

    I got to thinking about how easy it can be to take the easy path to summer and life in general. It takes a little extra coordination to load bikes, boats, or toys of any kind and actually use them to PLAY (you know, like you did as kids) but it’s so worth it.

    As we were riding home (must faster than cars caught in traffic) and my legs and lungs were burning heading up the hill out of Pismo Beach I got to thinking. How many 4th of July celebrations have I missed because I was reading the late news. I remembered how for the last couple we weren’t sure Gordon would even be able to ride like this again. I was overcome with such a sense of gratefulness we made the effort. And a commitment to continue playing like a child as often as possible. Life is short, unpredictable and far too serious for too often.

    So Shred the Gnar Baby!