Dear Mom: It's Best You Don't Know

Dear Mom:

This is one of these "letters in my head" that I've actually decided to put in writing this time, and do so publicly. You have no idea how many times a week I write one of these missives to you, knowing that while you can't read them, somehow across the miles you do get the message from me, your son.

Right now the world is a crazy place, and I hate to say it, but I'm actually blessed that you are in bed, adrift in your Alzheimer's Disease and what it does to your mind and body, not knowing what goes on in the outside world.

I remember back in 2001, as your diagnosed dementia progressed into early onset Alzheimer's (you had just turned 60), and the tragedy of 9-11 occurred.  To you it was unreal, like a movie, as it was to many of us. You imagined certain aspects of the events that didn't actually happen because that was the way your brain was wired. Again, I think you're the lucky one in that you never knew everything that went on that day or how it would affect all of us, as a nation and individually.

All this weekend I've tried to imagine your reaction to the school shooting in Connecticut and the murder of 20 young children, all first graders.  I know you'd be devastated, simply based on what I know about you and the way you were around children of all ages.

I was always amazed at how you would gravitate to almost any child and make a connection.  You held newborns almost as if you ached to do so. We'd be out in public, in a shopping mall or a store, and I'd turn around . . . and you'd have someone's baby in your arms. You were a mother to so many, in your own immediate family and to the extended family of Austins, MacEntees and more.

You counseled and cared for so many of my cousins, and even children of close family friends, knowing that a trip to New York City or that special birthday treat was a glimmering highlight in their life. You knew who had been abused, who had been neglected. It was almost a secret language you spoke with them. You connected instantly. And you let them know, based on your own experiences with abuse, that it does get better.  That there are kind souls out there. That good trumps evil each and every time, even if we don't see it in the short run.

As your disease progressed, this connection became a problem: you'd want to hold small babies and try to grab them from strangers. Or we'd be at a restaurant and you'd focus on smiling and waving to a small child across the room and ignore your food or the conversation.

So what would you think of these 20 young lives eliminated by a madman? You'd cry, you'd talk to others about it, and you'd hold your own children a little closer and little tighter if you could.  Something I think every parent in America has been doing this same thing all weekend.

But you'd also wonder about the mother of the madman who was also killed.  You'd ask how this happened, and you'd have empathy for her and her family. That empathy is the greatest gift you've ever given me: the ability to picture myself in someone's else's shoes and ponder their plight before I jumped to conclusions.

My biggest fear over the next few days is that we as a nation jump to short-sighted, knee-jerk solutions to what is a serious problem: mental illness, access to guns, violence and the way media glorifies it at the expense of making a profit.

While it's better you not know these things, being the smart, capable and strong woman that you were, you'd find a way to make sense of it all. And you'd tell everyone not just how you felt, but what needed to be done. That's what I miss most right now.

© 2012, copyright Thomas MacEntee

Getting Younger People Involved with Genealogy

And when I say "younger" I'm talking about anyone under 40!  I had an interesting encounter on the phone today which made me pause and think about this topic:

I recently signed up for a free trial of a product and since this is how some companies handle their marketing and customer service, I received a phone call from the company.  They wanted to make sure I fully understood how to use the product, if I had any questions, etc.  Without revealing the product, you can probably guess if I tell you it has to do with webinars.

So, Mr. Genealogy Webinar here explained that he had no issues with the product.  Then, I took the chance to do some proselytizing about genealogy (as in, "Hello.  Have you heard the good word about Genealogy today.") by stating that the product was very popular in the genealogy community, etc.  I pulled out all the stops and discussed the various webinars, the Geneawebinars website etc.  

The woman then asked if genealogy was related to family history. I explained a bit more and I also said that webinars help beginners better understand how to research, what tools to use etc.
Finally, I heard her make this statement (paraphrasing): "Oh that's neat.  I'll have to tell my folks since they're getting ready to retire and they need something to do."

I guess I get frustrated when someone under 40 doesn't take an interest in genealogy or thinks it is something for us old folk.  Well, to that end, I've started to produce a future episode of GeneaBloggers Radio entitled "Getting Youth Involved In Genealogy" which was suggested by Drusilla Pair of Find Your Folks.  Stay tuned for the July 15th episode which will be hosted by DearMYRTLE and will have Professor Dru and others as guests.

Hopefully we can get kids fired up about family history.  Or maybe we just need something like School House Rock just for genealogy . . .

© 2011, copyright Thomas MacEntee

SNGF - A Childhood Memory

This week's edition of Saturday Night Genealogy Fun has been posted by Randy Seaver of Genea-Musings:

1. What is one of your most vivid childhood memories? Was it family, friends, places, events, or just plain fun?

2) Tell us about it in a comment to this post, a Comment or Note on Facebook, or in a blog post of your own.

My first vivid childhood memory that I can still recall is when I was about 3 years old (which would have been 1966) and it involved a set of bunk beds shared by me and my brother. What is I recall is that somehow I was climbing down the side ladder and must have slipped - the next thing I new I had bitten my tongue and quite badly.

There was blood everywhere. And I remember that my mother's sister Jo'el was visiting and she held me with a towel applied to my tongue to stop the bleeding. I know I didn't have to go to the hospital and have stitches but I was very scared as I'm sure my mother was too.

Soon thereafter the bunk beds were dis-assembled and used as two single beds in the same room I shared with my younger brother.

© 2009, copyright Thomas MacEntee

Holiday Entertainment

Well this isn't a tough post for me - just trying to organize all the different plays, shows, concerts and more that my family has seen around Christmas as well as those in which we've participated.

There are always the ubiquitous Christmas concerts in grade school and high school as well as highly entertaining Christmas pageants at church - especially if something doesn't go exactly right! These pageants are, to me, one of the best forms of holiday entertainment because we all know the story but it is the interpretation that always charms us. While I was never in a pageant, I did sing in grade school choir and very often did solo work. I do remember one year, I believe I was in 5th or 6th grade, where we were asked to entertain a local nursing home with our Christmas concert repetoire.

And as I've said in earlier posts, I grew up only 90 miles northwest of New York City. So I fondly remember trips to Radio City Music Hall where we would see a movie, usually Disney, followed by the Christmas Show with the Rockettes. Very neat especially to see them up close and in person. My mother also grew up going into Manhattan with her grandmother to see the Rockettes. But her absolute favorite memory was going to see the movie Cheaper By The Dozen with her other 11 sibilings. The manager of the movie theater told her father that if he could prove that all the kids were his, admission was free. He quickly ran home and brought back those 12 birth certificates!

I outgrew the performance bug in high school but oddly, it came back around 1993. I was involved with several church organizations in San Francisco and I remember holiday concerts and lots of solo work. Each small choir I was in had a dearth of tenors but I tended to be the only bass/baritone in the group and willing to belt 'em out. Nowadays, I can usually be found cutting up with friends in piano bars and singing the Bob Rivers version of Winter Wonderland entitled "Walkin' 'Round in Women's Underwear."

Finally, I now enjoy performances by the men's acapella group Chanticleer as well as attending any sing-along Messiah performance here in Chicago. But hands down, my all-time favorite holiday event was the Dance-Along Nutcracker™ in San Francisco. Started in 1985, it is put on by the San Francisco Lesbian/Gay Freedom Band™ and is absolutely hysterical. They have an area where you can rent tutus, masks and other props or you can being your own. People are dancing on the stage and in the aisles of a huge concert hall. Nothing in my mind could be more fun and it always brings out the child in everyone.

But What Can I Give?

As the title above states, this was the dilemma of the Little Drummer Boy: seeing what the Magi had brought and feeling that he had nothing of value to give to the baby Jesus. We often have greater gifts than we realize, be they material items or true talents. The obstacle often is how to match them up so they work for good and for change.

I was not raised in a home where volunteer work was performed or charity donations made, at least not in the formal sense. But I always think of my mother as very charitable. She was the middle child of 12 and was always the "peace broker" among them. And this continued in adult life as anyone acquainted with her knew that she was always the reliable, good friend that you could call at 3:00 am and say, "Please help me." Those are the people you keep close to you.

In California, I was involved in several Christmas-time charities that enabled you to "adopt" families in the community who had dismal prospects for any sort of a Christmas. The Salvation Army and The Edgewood Center in San Francisco would call me in early November and let me know that they had several families who could use some help. More often than not, these were single mothers with one or more children who were trying to get their lives back on track. That, I could relate to.

So I'd put out my e-mail to co-workers who actually looked forward to this every year. I would make copies of either a handwritten letter from the mother asking for basics such as underwear, clothes, dishes and maybe, if it's alright, a toy for one of her kids. And almost never was there a mention of what Mom wanted. Luckily, the organizers supplemented her letter with all the sizes, wants and needs of her and her children.

The first two weeks of December would be filled with phone calls, storing items, etc. Items were delivered to the charity unwrapped so they could be inspected and made sure they were appropriate. What I received each year was astounding: bikes, clothing (new, of course), household items, gift cards to grocery and clothing stores. I soon came to the realization that many people have the desire and the means to help those who have less, but they often don't know where to begin.

So, along those lines, I've taken on a project this year in Chicago. Operation Santa Claus is run by the United States Postal Service here and takes letters written to Santa and matches them with volunteers who want to play Santa for a day and deliver needed items to the child, his or her siblings, and parents or caretakers. This has been going on for several years but I would always read about it too late in the season.

Down at the main post office, volunteers had sorted the letters into piles: one child, two children, etc. Again, there were letters that would ensure you spent the rest of your lunch hour with a box of Kleenex. Operation Santa Claus then gives you a sheet with rules and instructions, takes your ID and personal contact info and wishes you good luck. And thanks you profusely.

Right now I have friends out shopping for Family 1 (a single mother who has two small children, works 30 hours a week and goes to college) and Family 2 (a grandmother who is caretaker for her three small grandchildren). We will then have a wrapping party next week. But this time, we get to actually deliver the items to the family. I just hope I have the emotional stamina and wherewithal to do this part of Operation Santa Claus. If you are interested in such an opportunity, click the link above - many cities have local Operation Santa Claus chapters.

Is it really better to give than receive? Why can't both occur at the same time? They do when you try to make a difference in someone's life, especially that of a child.

Child Rearing: Then and Now

This post has been burning inside my head all week and I just have to write it out. I was prompted to think back as to the different child rearing methods used over the ages, especially in my family.

What prompted me to blog on this topic was a news piece on 60 Minutes this past Sunday called The Millenials Are Coming! If you saw the segment, you know what I'm talking about. And if you are older than the Millenials (aka Generation Y), the segment and the concept probably irked you as well.

What is a Millenial? By definition, a Millenial is a child born between 1981 and 1995. This group strongly identifies with technology (they were born in the same year the IBM PC debuted and part of the post-Sony Walkman debut), knows how to use gadgets proficiently, are more interested in friends and social groups than careers (hence the growth of social networking sites such as Friendster, MySpace and Facebook), and are more than likely to be raised by Helicopter Parents.

Millenials are usually raised with concepts that just seem off-kilter to me. There is no "losing" in organized sports - everyone gets a trophy or a medal just for participating. Millenials are used to being constantly "stroked" - lots of positive feedback and encouragement. Their parents raise them in a world where they are constantly protected from harm or failure to the point of not learning from their mistakes. Millenials often have a middle-class background. Their parents blossomed during the Yuppie era with important careers and more important children.

The key focus of the 60 Minutes segment was how the influx of Millenials into the workforce seems to be changing the American concept of the workplace. "Faced with new employees who want to roll into work with their iPods and flip flops around noon, but still be CEO by Friday, companies are realizing that the era of the buttoned down exec happy to have a job is as dead as the three-Martini lunch." The piece goes on to discuss how corporations and firms are bending over backwards to recruit the Millenials and adjusting how they operate: a boss is becoming more of a therapist now.

And Millenials seem to depend upon and relish the role of their parents in all of this: "And dear old mom isn’t just your landlord; she is your agent as well. 'Career services departments are complaining about the parents who are coming to update their child's resume. And in fact, you go to employers, and they're starting to express concern now with the parents who will phone HR, saying, 'But my little Susie or little Johnny didn't get the performance evaluation that I think they deserve . . ' ' "

Ok - now comes the opinion part - you were just waiting for this right? And while sometimes I may come across as having a bad case of "old f*rtitis," I think in judging this method of child rearing it is justified. Take a look:

- I was never raised with an exaggerated sense of entitlement. Period. It helped that we didn't have much, but it was always made clear to me that someone just down the road had it much worse. And my family wasn't just making that up. And my friends were in the same economic group as me, and were not always allowed to "know" that. One friend looking back has said, "We were poor but we just didn't know it. My family made many sacrifices so that we had decent clothes and could participate in the same clubs and sports as the other kids."

- I was told what was expected of me and what the consequences were if I didn't meet them. They were not unreasonable: mind your manners, say please and thank you, respect older people even if you don't know them, do well in school, get a job in high school, save your own money for college if that's what you want. I knew where the bar was and where I stood in relation to that bar.

- Education was key. This was my ticket to better economic circumstances than my family. I was one of the first people in my family to go to college and graduate with a four year degree. But I had to work for it. There were no handouts in life. And I didn't need to be constantly stroked.

- I would rather have died than have my mother call up a teacher, let alone an employer, and speak on my behalf. I don't know if I would ever show my face again at those places. I had my triumphs and my failures but they were mine - all mine - as were the lessons I learned from them.

- The world didn't owe me a living. It just owed me opportunities to succeed. They just weren't always the same opportunities as others.

- I was expected to pitch in around the house as well as hold a job as a teenager. Despite this quote from the 60 Minutes piece: "Today, fewer and fewer middle class kids hold summer jobs because mowing lawns does not get you into Harvard."

- I learned that a job, and my mother, taught me a work ethic that has stayed with me through good times and bad. And I had to take some really crappy nightmare jobs in my time with pyscho bosses and co-workers. I didn't expect my boss to stop by every five minutes and ask how I was feeling or if I was ok. I knew that if I wanted a good evaluation, a good bonus - hell, even to just keep the job - I had to put in long hours and do more than just "show up."

- I appreciated the sacrifices my mother made for me. It wasn't easy raising two boys, being newly divorced, with no credit and little work experience. My mother didn't necessarily let me know all the time what she had to do. But the rest of my family did and I always have appreciated it. I never said this, as one Millenial did, on the segment: "'I remember my dad getting laid off and all these things growing up. And that's 'cause they sacrificed for the company. Well, the first knee jerk reaction from me is I sure don't want to do that. I'm going to be in it for me and I'm going to make it work . . '" You fool, they sacrificed for you.

I also think that the 60 Minutes piece was probably very cleverly edited. And it made generalizations and used stereotypes. I have very close friends that are 24 and 26 who are very driven and don't have this sense of entitlement. One just purchased her first condo, has a great executive job, and is one of the most caring people I know. The other came from the same circumstances as I did and went to college, has a great job, and doesn't expect things to be handed to him.

When I was finished watching, I thought to myself, "What crack pipe are these people smoking out of?" I'll admit that my mother nor my family were perfect. And I am happy that certain child rearing practices are long gone ("children are meant to be seen and not heard," or taking a switch or belt to a child's rear end) but I think we've gone in the totally opposite direction.

If you think this is silly, beware. If you are in your mid to late 40s like me, realize that these "kids" will be your supervisors very soon. As one expert said, "They are enormously clever and resourceful. Some of the others are absolutely incorrigible. It's their way or the highway. The rest of us are old, redundant, should be retired. How dare we come in, anyone over 30. Not only can't be trusted, can't be counted upon to be, sort of, coherent."

I also think these companies hiring consultants to assist them with dealing with Millenials and to actively court them and their behavior have "drank the purple Kool-Aid."

All I have to say is: "What crust!"