Good & Plenty - Candelaria Silva's Blog

Say what you mean and...

2012-05-16T12:29:57Z

Say what you mean and mean what you say was one of the “snaps” my friends and I used to say when we were growing up in St. Louis. We didn’t really understand what we were saying given the ferocity of our delivery of those words but as I’ve grown, I’ve come to understand them.

They’ve come to mind a lot recently as I’ve heard people, particularly politicians and reality TV characters, deny something they’ve said even when their exact words are replayed or repeated to them.

“I didn’t mean that…”

“What I meant was….”

“My comments were taken out-of-context.”

“I didn’t say that.” (Yes, you did ---, here are your exact words.”)

"I didn't say that."

It seems there is a culture of denial and we expect people to know what we mean when we say it and to know that what we mean is ever-changing as it suits us to fit the situation at the time.

As a result of observing this in others and seeing in their words and behavior my reflection, I’m becoming quieter, more thoughtful, and much slower to respond. I’m trying to choose my words carefully with everyone from my spouse to my children to my friends to my acquaintances, basically to everyone that I have occasion to speak with.

This is difficult to do but a wise practice in this world of the quick retort, the promotion of sound bites, and the elevation of the negative/dramatic/silly (by the social networks and by the media amny of whom seem to lead/slant as much as they reflect).

In this age of denying and flip-flopping, which happens on all sides of the political spectrum, I crave honesty and forthrightness . As girls – my friends and I had it right: Say what you mean and mean what you say! – even if we didn’t fully understand the truth of those words.

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If you liked this post, you might also like:

I Don’t Have An Opinion that I’m Willing to Shre

This or That? (depends)

The Missives are in the Air

Encouragement

2012-05-09T02:06:24Z

A mother, a brother, a teacher, a spouse, a child, a coach, a stranger, a friend – any or all or other than these can be a source of encouragement.

Written, spoken, whispered, bellowed, frequent or rare – words of encouragement are precious.

I have received, witnessed and given encouragement to others. Allow me a few examples –

My sister encouraged her friend who lived next door to aim for and go to college when they were in high school – something her friend hadn’t considered, intending instead to do a civil service job. They both became teachers and have made great careers in edcation.

Mr. D – my supervisor in my first job at a public television station in St. Louis encouraged me when he discovered I’d talked my way into a clerical job but couldn’t type. He gave me a month to get it together. My uncle encouraged me not to quit said job and bought me a typewriter that I practiced on every night. He also gave me insight to go early and stay late to get the work done.

I encouraged two women who were mere acquaintances at the time I met them, to pursue careers in facilitation and training. I coached them, had them assist and shadow me, and they both went on to have significant success.

Dreams, goals, desires and sometimes fantasies get achieved with encouragement, such as

a door opening that seemed closed,
an introduction given,
a connection made,
a scholarship granted,
a fee waived,
a deadline extended,
a janitor taking that late grant and putting it in the received pile,
a call taken,
information about opportunities shared,
an event/gathering/meeting attended,
a contribution made.
Etcetera

External, internal, earth-bound or from a realm beyond encouragement abounds.

There are so many ways to for us to support each other. Encourage and noursh!

Whose turn is it to wash the dishes?

2012-04-24T11:54:09Z

I don’t have to hunt through the trash to find the forks.

I’m not a referee for “whose turn is it to wash the dishes.” You know how that goes:

It’s her turn to wash dishes., child 2 says to child 1.

No, it isn’t. I washed them last night.

No you didn’t!

Yes, I did.

I have a full set of matching glasses.

All my pots that had tops, still have them.

None of my pots are missing.

One of my morning rituals is to put away the dishes that were washed by hand, mine or my husband’s, the night before. The tea kettle is boiling or I’ve poured myself a glass of orange juice and set it on the counter for a few minutes to take the chill off. As I was putting away the dishes one recent morning, it occurred to me how quickly everything is getting done and how much I like the order of the plates and bowls stacked neatly and the utensils lined in order.

No one’s battling over dishes, I thought to myself and stopped to savor the peace and take a walk down memory lane to the dish battles.

My sister would hide unwashed dishes, especially pots, in the oven. And the dishes she did wash were usually not that clean. She had better things to do than clean the kitchen.

I once got punished for washing my sister’s dishes, which I found grossly unfair, because I was just trying to be helpful:

At the time my mother worked in the evening,. She left instructions on who was to do what before we did our homework and went to bed. My sister decided she didn’t feel like washing the dishes, period, end- of- discussion. I pleaded with her to do them so mom wouldn’t get mad. She wouldn’t budge. So I washed them, crying and muttering to myself about the unfairness of it all, because I didn’t want to hear my mother’s tirade about the dishes not being done when she came home. Unbeknownst to either of us, my mother had doubled back into the house and was sitting quietly in the living room listening to us. I was happy that my sister got punished but ticked-off that I also got chastised and punished because I did the dishes for my sister.

A more pleasant memory popped up of I my mother teasing me about how wet my clothes would get when I washed the dishes – something that still happens to this day.

The worse memory about dishes from my childhood was the time my mother woke my sister and me up early one morning, around 4 o’clock because we hadn’t cleaned the kitchen to her satisfaction. That was dreadful – being snatched out of the sound sleep of the young and made to snap alert and start working! After that, I learned to just do the dishes quickly and all the stuff that goes with cleaning the kitchen, a habit I’ve retained to this day.

With my own children, I don’t remember much about their kitchen battles . I believe that I had them wash dishes on alternate days. I have a friend whose mother used to give her a week of kitchen duty – so she had one week on and one week off. It worked for them. Other parents I know don’t have their kids wash dishes at all; they either use paper plates (yucky-lazy!) or do the dishes themselves.

If I could, I would turn back the clock and revisit those noisy meals and kitchen battles. Actually, I get to do that now when I visit my daughter and her family, only I'm "canderella" when I'm there - cooking and washing dishes from the moment I arrive until the moment I leave.

What about you?
What are your dish battles and who are they with – your roommate, children, spouse, or yourself?

Jump, Jump, Jump on It!

2012-04-18T13:02:00Z

Opportunities (actual) and leads (possible) are delivered fast and furious in this age of instant communication. I am learning that I have to be as fast in my response. To hesitate, even for a day, can often mean that the opportunity that knocked has left your doorstep, your street, sometimes even your city.

Knocks

In the past week – two opportunities came to my inbox. One delivered by an acquaintance of some years, the other by a friend.

I paused on one and even though I got the materials in (encouraged by an email exchange with the organization) I didn’t do it quickly enough and received a short email: “I am sorry to tell you the grants for the workshop are committed.” I was encouraged to watch for other opportunities on their website and apply again in the future which I will but...

Dang!

I hesitated. Didn't read the email until the evening I received it. Filled out all the narrative information but messed around in getting the financial information. Then my home fax machine said that the fax # I had was wrong. It turned out it wasn’t, my machine is whack, but that meant I waited another day to a fax. (Still, how could an opportunity that was still open on Monday morning be lost by Monday evening? Could it be that they didn't like my stuff? No, it couldn't possibly be that.)

Cut & Paste is my friend

So, on Tuesday morning when I got an email from a friend alerting that an organization was looking for people to read grants, I actually delayed my departure for a meeting to craft a quick cover letter and send my resume. Thank goodness for cut and paste and old documents quickly accessed.

I cut and pasted relevant bullet points from other correspondence, read the letter 3 times (and spell-checked) and off it went. I got the gig and go for a short training session on Monday. Even though it meant I was 15 minutes late for a standing Monday meeting (which usually starts late but of course didn’t this time and, yes, I alerted them, consummate professional that I am J), I carped the frickin' diem. I’m glad I did because the email I sent was sent to other people and the grant reading spots were filled quickly.

Stupid, Slug

And, yet, I hesitate, again. (Why, Candelaria, why?!) I have successfully bought around 14+ different items from Craig’s List for my home. I have lost many more beautiful items when I hesitated because of cost or because I was trying to figure out how to get the item or didn't send an email indiciating my interest the first time I saw the object I desired. This time, my hesitation cost me two beautiful lamps that would have been perfect for my tiny bedside tables (purchased from Craig’s list for a song). The lamps only cost $20 each! (Told you I was stupid and a slug!)

In my defense, I contacted the seller early and was ready to pick them up on Thursday but the seller was going out of town until Monday. She sent an email Monday morning saying that it was a traffic zoo downtown where she lived (because of the marathon). I wrote that I would pick them up the next day and gave her some times. She wrote back. Something told me to go on down and brave the crowds and get them but – having had a couple of exchanges I thought we were cool. Chick wrote me back that night:

I'm really sorry to do this to you, but I just received another offer of full price, cash, and willing to pick up the lamps within an hour, and I took it. I would not usually ever do this, but I have been trying to get rid of the lamps for a while, and while I have the day off I needed to take the opportunity to sell them. Please accept my apologies. I hope you are able to find a suitable alternative elsewhere.

Really? Yeah, really. And I have only myself to blame because I ddn’t jump, jump, jump on it to borrow from the Aretha Franklin song (Jump, Jump, Jump to It, where she sings, “when my baby calls” and her back- up singers sing “jump to it.”)

When opportunity raps on my door – I’m jumping. In fact, bye-bye…got a cover letter to write for a freelance facilitation gig.

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If you liked this post, you might also like:

I Love Craig’s List

Falling Asleep at the Wheel of Your Life

There is always a choice

2012-04-07T12:36:40Z

The fact is, there is always a choice.

Even if it’s a bad choice.

Even if it’s something you don’t want to choose.

Even if it’s a choice that scares you.

We always have a choice between what we’re doing now and something else.

Don’t like the life you’re living now?

Choose or make another life.

Don’t like the job you have?

There are choices: find another job, leave the job, make the job you have more interesting or stop trying to like it and just doing it.

People have made choices like:

Getting a divorce or staying married (despite wanting to divorce).

Abandoning their children or holding on to their children for dear life.

Moving to a place where they don’t know anyone or staying where all is familiar.

Saying NO!

Saying YES!

You…me…we always have a choice no matter how untenable it seems, no matter how difficult it feels, no matter how elusive it proves, or no matter how inconvenient it is.

You…me…we made choices even when we thought we didn’t. You know those times you’re just living your life and next thing you know months or years have passed and things have been completed or timed out or opportunities passed. Doing nothing , staying on track, running in place – all choices.

Doing the right thing or doing the wrong thing or doing the sanctioned thing or doing nothing at all – choices.

You…me…we made choices and even if those choices, in hindsight weren’t the wisest or most fulfilling or most lucrative, we made them and we need to stop pissing and moaning about what we didn’t or did do, because what has passed is gone forever. There are no “do-overs” to quote President Bush.

Got it?

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Note: On Friday I made a small, inconvenient choice. What happened was I got on the always packed #23 bus out of Dudley Station. A man who smelled horribly sat next to me. I could have dealt with the smell. What I couldn’t deal with was the loud cursing he was doing about another passenger, seated near me, who had somehow offended him when he told the driver he had no money on his card. “Bitch I got money,” was how his tirade started. “I’m disabled.” (He had crutches.) He then proceeded to talk about his lover who pays him good for his sexual prowess. The bus, now packed to the brim, pulled out of the station. The tirade continued with people rolling eyes and his cohorts egging him to be even louder and more outrageous. I pushed the signal and got off at the first stop out of Dudley Station, exercising my choice to not listen or sit next to foulness. Inconvenient for me but I was free. As I got off the bus, another passenger said that she was sorry I had to hear such filth; I told her I was sorry for her, too. A minute or so later, a #19 bus approached and I hopped on. It offers another, less-colorful way to get home. The #23 bus often has drama which is why I tend not to take it - an inconvenient choice, but a choice nonetheless.

If you liked this post, you might also like: Falling Asleep at the Wheel of Your Life.

The trap of packaging

2012-03-25T01:40:34Z

Don’t let the packaging prevent you from opening the gift!

I have a friend who wraps the gifts she gives with exquisite paper and elaborate bows. They are a thing to behold. Many times the wrapping is better than the gift inside. I am a lousy gift wrapper. If you placed my gift next to my friend’s gift, you’d always go for her gift first because hers just looks like it going to be good. Meanwhile, my simply-wrapped gift goes untouched even though I do give thoughtful, useful, all-around great gifts even when they are thrifty. (This always happnes when I participat ein Yankee swaps.)

Remember folks that:

All that glitters is not gold and
All that simmers is not stew and
Sometimes great gifts come in nondescript packages.

In the quest for love – or just even a date – people miss each other because they want their romance wrapped in a particular package. They know the height they want and the weight and the color and the type of hair and they won’t look outside of these trappings to the gift within.

Remember folks that:

The package is not the gift and

The icing is not the cake and

The cover of the book is not the story.

You have to open the package to find the glory.

Goodness, kindness, joy, honor, humor, strength, and others of these most important attributes come from within and they come from all the faces, races, ages, stages, neighborhoods and livelihoods of our human tribe and that’s no jive.

Remember folks that:

Pretty is as pretty does and

Handsome is as handsome lives and

The proof of the pudding is in the eating*

Not in the package.

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*According to Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, the phrase dates back to at least 1615 when Miguel de Cervantes published Don Quixote. In this comic novel, the phrase is stated as, "The proof of the pudding is the eating."

Alone...so many women

2012-03-17T15:38:06Z

Gorgeous 28 year-old, college-graduate (BS & MBA), African-American, communications & marketing professional. In the market to purchase her first home. Fun-loving. Witty. Willing to try new things. Sees the world as her domain. Will date guys from various racial backgrounds.

Alone.

Gorgeous petite, 46 year-old lawyer. African-American. Has traveled the world. Serious golf player. Fun-loving.

Alone.

Attractive voluptuous, 49 year old, Native-American, college-graduate. An organizing whiz. Irreverent. Independent. Very giving. Dry-wit. Serious shopper and bargain-whisperer. Occasionally snaps-crackles-pops.

Alone.

I have a lot of gorgeous female friends who are alone in this world.

Classic beauty with a flawless complexion, 41 year old, Jamaican-American, college graduate. Has aristocratic tastes with an eye for value and thrift. Well-traveled. Varied interests including politics and community activism. Cooks, gardens, fabulous decorator. A soft-interior beneath a prickly exterior.

Alone.

Voluptuous beauty, 47 year-old. African-American combination of Southern values and East Coast sophistication. Has incredible joy and is so fun-loving - from hoola-hooping to singing to dancing to playing games to dressing up for Halloween. Currently finishing her master’s degree.

Alone.

A 53 year-old beauty in the tradition of a Lena Horne with southern warmth, abiding faith and a mischievous wit. Is a working (and sometimes non-working artist).

Alone.

My friends are dynamic, educated, and sophisiticated. All are attractive – some world-class beauties. Several are athletic. All are hard-working, honest, and accomplished in their own ways. They are either childless or have raised their children.

Each of them are alone – some have been alone for years. Others date intermittently but have yet to find companionship. Some want to be married. Some do not.

What they want seems so simple but has proven elusive – companionship…partnership with a good man….a date a couple of times a month. These are not women who would eschew a guy who doesn’t have a “suit job” or a bachelor’s degree. They are open and yet they remain alone.

56 year old woman who looks 40 is one of the most beautiful women to ever walk the earth and an accomplished artist and entrepreneur.

Alone.

53 year old widow who has travelled to every continent but one. Deep dimples, fabulous energy, talented and credentialed interior designer. Out-going.

Alone.

32 year old voluptuous petite with a wild mane of hair that cascades down her shoulders. Creative writer and technology whiz, peaceful nature. And freckles.

Alone.

A petite fashionista who is incredibly fit. Has been featured in a national magazine because of her beauty. World traveler and appreciator of life. Out-going. Fabulous cook – soul food and soulful food. Makes things happen even without a mate.

Alone.

Where are the men? Where are ya'll? Many of these women hail from Boston but others from the Midwest and the South. Why should these fabulous women be so alone?

Friday Night Fun for Free (in the ‘bury and on the T)

2012-03-13T03:45:04Z

The 'bury (Roxbury)
Instead of crashing or cuddling in last Friday night (3/9), I decided to head out. I’m so glad I did because I ended up having a great time – the kind of time that happens in the city so frequently if goes for it.

The first fun of the evening featured Art & Jazz at the auditorium of the Dudley Library. sparc! the ArtMobile, a project of the Center for Art and Community Partnerships at Massachusetts College of Art and Design featured live jazz by The Makanda Project combined with art-making. Picture it:

The front of the auditorium featured the musicians – playing jazz.

The left and right sides of the auditorium featured professional artists with their easels set up as they created a work of art inspired by the music.

The back of the auditorium (the entry point) featured long tables with art supplies and people of all ages and ethnicities making art.
The middle of the auditorium was filled with people listening and responding to the music – some getting up from time-to-time to get a closer look at the art that was being made to the left, right, back and in the middle of us.

A stack of what looked like pizza boxes but were really art supplies was quickly distributed among the drop-in artists. The supplies included paint, pencils, brushes, small stretched canvases.

A couple of artists had sketch pads and sat in the audience making art. One gentleman spread his materials on the floor and painted. Everyone was comfortable.

The professional/trained artists had easels – each creating a different image. One artist drew one of the musicians who were performing. Another young artist, Destiny Palme( a graduate of Mass Art) used tape and paint to create a grid on her canvas. Radiant Jasmin and Larry Pierce each made strong pieces that couldn’t have been more different.

That’s the thing about art – it speaks to each person’s unique response to the same stimuli.

The invitation to the event asked - Can you hear in colors? And it was clear that the artists could. It was also clear that the colors of the rainbow were drawn to this event with the crowd being very diverse – almost evenly between the diverse white people and the diverse brown people.

The Makanda Project musicians reflected the diversity of the crowd. The band is large and has 13 musicians – including saxophonists, trumpeters, trombonists, a pianist, a drummer and bass player. Formed in 2005, it is dedicated to performing the huge body of work composed by the late musician Makanda Ken McIntyre. They will be performing at Bunker Hill College on April 12 and at the Dudley Library again on April 13.

What a special evening the crowd of more than 100 of us enjoyed. Without a doubt sparc! achieved its mission to "ignite art and design in the neighborhood. I look forward to another such experience.

Park Street T Station
When I left the library, I thought my evening’s entertainment had ended but it hadn’t. I caught the Silver Line downtown – a slower ride than expected because of crowds streaming out of the Opera House. The bright neon lights of the Paramount Theater and Opera House made me feel like I was in Times Square or Vegas for a minute. There were tons of people downtown walking around and going into various restaurants and clubs. The CVS was hopping.

I made my way into Park Street Station and got my second entertainment for the evening – a group of young musicians playing on the middle Red Line Platform. They are called Midnight Snack and they were so good that I walked through the Braintree train that came before my Ashmont train, so I could be on the same platform and contribute to them. They had people dancing. They perform at Park Street regularly and have a video on YouTube.

A peaceful, artful, musical, joyful Friday night in the city.

Note: I apologize for the different in font sizes in this post. I keep trying to fix it and it's not working, so I'm going to let it go as is.

I don't have an opinion that I'm willing to share

2012-03-03T13:02:42Z

I don’t have an opinion – a new year’s resolution I just made.

The cat will have my tongue more this year. And my fingers will hesitate, too.

I will have few opinions that I’m willing to share.

Next time, I will not respond to the email dialogue about the lack of diversity in the speaker-candidates put forward.

I will not verbalize the fact that I’m working at yet another place that has more than 100 employees but only 1 full-time person of color and 1 part-time person of color.

Minding my business.

When various friends ask what do I think about their kids, their situations, their partner-candidates, or their clothes, I’ll just make pitter-patter utterances.

Zipping my lip.

When told “this is the way I’ve always been” I will not suggest that change is possible or desirable.

Not filling in the blanks.

People don’t really want you to fill in their blanks. They want you to listen. Agree. Accept that the way it is, is a-okay.

To make a suggestion, give an opinion or even just offer an observation is taken as criticism, as a judgment, as rbeing a boat-rocker. It makes people uncomfortable and geez-Louise I certainly don’t want to do that.

I’ve realized that not everybody wants feedback even when they ask for it, even from an ally who has their best interest at heart. Institutions can run just the way they’ve been running. Mediocrity seems to be an acceptable level at which to function. Pretending the elephant is not in the room is current practice. Leave the naked emperor unclothed.

I won’t stop caring but I will stop sharing.

I resolve.

Words You Don’t Want to Hear

2012-02-26T03:44:08Z

Four words that you don’t want to hear, especially when the call comes in the morning at a time you don’t usually hear from your son, the night owl-worker: “Are you sitting down?”

"No."

"Sit down, Ma, sit down."

He was hit...by a cab…while crossing the street. He looked both ways, “like you taught me to.” The cab came out of nowhere. He was tossed into the air, his head slammed into the front window, he rolled off the car and started walking until he was stopped by witnesses.

“I’m okay ma, but I could have been dead…"

Lots of bruises, a few scars, lingering pain, some stitches. Tremendous gratitude, tremulous wonder. Why did I survive? he thinks.

A few weeks earlier, another budding comic, a young woman, his friend was in a car accident. Her call went differently. There was no happy ending. She died.

Why her and not him?

It wasn’t his time?

And it was hers?

Seems so.

But why?

We don’t know why.

So, let’s accept it, embrace it, and move on.

You didn’t have to have a car accident for your Mom to come see you.

Let’s not let another year go by that we don’t see each other. Let’s not take for granted that we have all the time in the world because we don’t. Let’s bury the hatchets that need to be buried, repair the estrangements that shouldn’t be, and be and do love in the world.

I am beyond grateful, thankful, prayerful, and mindful. I almost lost my son, he dodged another bullet (figuratively and literally a while back).

Amen.

Books I Read in 2011

2012-02-03T03:48:07Z

So many people ask me what I’ve been reading because I'm known to love reading and to have eclectic tastes. Here are the titles of most of the books I read in 2011. A few I forgot to write down - especially the children's stories I shared with my granddaughter.

I do want to share a book from this year that I finished a couple days ago that just blew me away, The Book Thief. If any one who reads this post has read this book, please let me know. I really want to discuss it with someone.

Fiction

Imperfect Birds – Anne Lamont

Purple Hibiscus – Chimanda Ngozi Acdiche

Windy City - Scott Simon
The Human Stain – Philip Roth
The Anti-Racism Trainings – David Reich
Then She Found Me – Elinor Lipman
Cowboys Are My Weakness – Pam Houston
Hotel DuLac – Anita Brookner
The Future of Love – Shirley Abbott
All We Every Wanted was Everything – Janelle Brown
Dancer – Colum McCann
Let the Great World Spin – Colum McCann
The Double Comfort Safari Club – Alexander McCall Smith
The Sexy Part of the Bible – Kola Bouf
Every Man Dies Alone – Hans Falada
The Elephant Keeper – Christopher Nicholson
Let the Northern Lights Erase Your Name – Vendela Vida
The Lovers – Vendeal Vida
Julia’s Cocolates – Cathy Lamb
How I Paid for College – A Novel of Sex, Theft, Friendship & Musical Theater – Mark Acito
The Five-Forty-Five to Cannes – Tessura Holtne
Super Sad True Love Story – Gary Shteyngart
Knit Two – Kate Jacobs
The Clothes on Their Backs – Linda Grant
The Madonnas of Echo Park – Brando Skyhorse
Following Polly – Karen Bergreen
American Gods – Neil Gaiman
The Elegance of the Hedgehog– Muriel Bybery
Cutting for Stone

Non-Fiction

The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration – Isabel Wilkerson

Sweet Soul Music
The Making of a Chef - - Michael Rahman
The Town That Food Saved – Ben Hewitt
Mind in the Making: The Seven Essential Life Skills Every Child Needs - Elin Galinsky
The Blessings of A Skinned Knee - Wendy Mogel

Memoirs/Biographies

All that Is Bitter & Sweet – Ashley Judd

Just Kids – Pattie Smith

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind: Creating Currents of Electricity & Hope – William Kamkwama

A Pig in Provence – Georgeanne Brandon
Extraordinary, Ordinary People (A Memoir of Family) Condoleeza ice
Damn Near White: An African-American Family‘s Rise from Slavery to Bittersweet Success – Carolyn Wilkins
One Day I Will Write About this Place – A Memoir – Binyavanga Wainama
Bitter is the New Black – Jennifer Lancaster
Such a Pretty Fat – Jennifer Lancaster
Bright Lights, Big Ass – Jennifer Lancaster
Happens Everyday – Isabel Giles
Red Dust Road: An Autobiographical Journey – Jackie Kay
The Grace of Silence: A Memoir – Michele Norris
The Year of Magical Thinking – Joan Didion
And Furthermore – Judi Dench
Foxy: My Life in Three Acts – Pam Grief
I Remember Nothing & Other Reflections – Nora Ephron
I Feel Bad About My Neck & Other Thoughts on Being a Woman – Nora Ephron
My Reading Life – Pat Conroy
The Other Wes Moore: The Story of One Name & Two Fates – Wes Moore
Losing My Cool: How a Father’s Love & 15,000 Books Beat Hip-Hop Culture – Thomas Chatterton Williams
The Faraway Horses – Buck Brannaman
Storyteller: The Authorized Biography of Roald Dahl – Donald Sturrock
A Life Unburdened: Getting Over Weight & Getting on with My Life – Richard Morris

Children’s
Charlotte’s Web – E.B. White

History, mystery, romance, drama, memoir, grand, great, quick, escapism, challenging, witty, silly, snarky, poetic, moving, amazing...I love reading! Thank goodness for public libraries.

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If you liked this post, you might also like - Learning from the Lives of Others, My Fascination with Memoirs

This may be the last time

2012-01-22T03:14:53Z

What would you do if you knew this was the last time that everything would be what it was.? Would you choose your clothes differently? Would you change your location? Would you weigh your words carefully? Would you savor each moment and imprint it in your memory because one day this memory would be all that you had?

What if the last time you visited your family was the final time in fact you would ever see them again? Would you have done different things knowing it was the last visit? Would you have paid attention more closely to what each one said? Would you have said the things you felt be they love notes or explanations why…?

Had you known that the birthday party a few years back was the last time your two children would talk to each other, might you have done something differently? Could you have changed what happened after?

When those words flew out of your mouth, had you known they would have caused a fissure that turned into a wound that would not heal (although it has been scabbed over only to be hurt another time)– would you have chosen your words differently? Might you have chosen silence instead?

Because today is the only day we have, this moment is the only moment that is real and look it’s already gone. How can you make something so fleeting stay?

Pay attention because you just never know when you’re speaking the last words, making the last love, or leaving never to return.

Things to Pray for…or not

2012-01-17T04:00:37Z

Denver Broncos quarterback Tim Tebow has been in the news a lot recently because he prays before games. This got me to thinking seriously about something that I’ve been mulling for a while now – what should one pray for? What do I pray for? Why does it bother me when I see what to me are frivolous (or offensive) prayers?

Here goes a few of the things I’ve mulled about prayer.

Mull # 1 – Faith and the slow cooker
The most recent occasion for me to mull about prayer was when a friend was telling me about finding a slow cooker at Morgie’s* for $14.99. She had seen a slow cooker she wanted at Targets but it was too expensive. She prayed about it. Then one day “faith told me to go to Morgie’s” and there it was.

Hmmm. Since she goes to Morgie’s on a regular basis, I don’t believe it was faith that led her to the slow cooker. I think she just wanted to shop…yet again.

Mull #2-20 – Prayer circles before performances

There are any number of crude and rude entertainers who pray with their crew before performing. As if God is really interested in helping someone do the best violent, sexist, and/or vulgar performance possible. I'm not even sure that God is interested in the most sublime performances. I sorta think you're given the talent, you nurture the gift, and you perform. Although I must admit that sometimes the stars align and music can feel transcendant.

Mull # 21+++ - Prayers to hit the lottery

Hitting the lottery is a want not a need and nobody deserves to hit it more than anyone else. (Including me!)

Mull # 100 – Prayers to win a football (or any other) game

Doesn’t God have more important things to do than to help anyone win a game? A game! I don’t even think God cares football (or hockey or basketball or figure skating or any of our human distractions).

I figure God has any number of ~~true~~ prayers to answer and big picture items to ponder – like whether it’s time to be done with this planet and humans in general.

To me it makes sense to: thank God and recognize the blessings already present in your life and then, perhaps, to pray for:

Strength to get through the challenges you are facing.
Resources to help you meet your needs.
Prayers for healing, management of pain or ability to cope with illness, pain, etc.
Peace.
Companionship/love (and not ignoring this blessing when it doesn’t come packaged the way you thought it should be).

Growing up in a traditional baptist church in St. Louis, I remember hearing Reverend Smith preaching that a “prayer prayed is a prayer answered.”

Mull # 101-1000 – If my prayer didn’t get answered:

Did I not pray hard enough?
Was I not specific enough?
Was I not deserving enough?
Was someone more deserving than me?
Was it just not my turn?
Was it that I needed to recognize the fact that my needs have been met and even a few of my wants and maybe that was all to be had?
Was it that I needed to make the one step so God could make two?
Was it that God had given me what I needed to go forth and didn’t need to be bothered with small things?

Faith is such a personal thing. I am a believer. (I recognize that a number of people I know who have fabulous lives don’t believe at all. There are also people I know who are unfailingly good people and don’t believe at all!)

So I guess I won’t be hitting the lottery or getting the specific goodies I want because these are not things I will pray for.

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Afterthought: One of the most profound prayers ever written is the lyrics of Precious Lord I’ve had this spiritual in my head, specifically the version sung by “The Struggling Seven” a men’s group that used to sing this song “on request” in the Sunday evening service at the church I grew up in – Rising Star Missionary Baptist Church.

Precious Lord

Lyrcis by Rev. Thomas A. Dorsey (1899-1993)

Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on,
Let me stand
I'm tired, I am weak I am worn
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

When my way grows drear precious Lord linger near
When my life is almost gone
Hear my cry,
Hear my call
Hold my hand lest I fall
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

When the darkness appears and the night draws near
And the day is past and gone
At the river I stand
Guide my feet,
Hold my hand
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on,
Let me stand
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

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*Morgan Memorial (Goodwill Industries)

An unexpected change in the neighborhood

2012-01-09T13:03:02Z

Ashmont Market and Liquor Store, a short five-minute (if that) walk from my house, is being sold. I first learned of this from my husband, who saw one of the Georgeoulopoulos brothers showing the ropes to a non-family guy – [presumably the new owner).

Whine. I like it just the way it is.

After returning from my Christmas vacation, I ran up there for something (they have a little bit of everything and always have what you’ve run out of to cook some new concoction) and asked one of the brothers if the rumors was true.

He said, “Yes.” (man of few words)

I said, “Ohhhhh. I’m gonna miss you.”

He said, “ Yeah” or something like that.

I said, “It won’t be the same.”

He didn’t say anything just had a brief look of something like sympathy for my feelings cross his face.

“I hope the new owners keep it like you run it.”

“They seem nice,” he offered.

I fear the change in ownership.

The Georgoulopoulos family have been dependable, stalwart, friendly if not effusive (at least not to be but then I’m a newcomer to the neighborhood only having lived here for 8 years.)

I first noticed the store while waiting at the bus stop in front of another small neighborhood store. There were always cops stopping by for the deli sandwiches in the back of the store. I went back to investigate and discovered they also sold meat. This was where I discovered some of the juiciest pork chops I’ve ever seen. I hadn’t cooked pork chops in more than 10 years until I was tempted by the looks of theirs and bought two for dinner.

Ashmont Market and Liquors been a neighborhood fixture for 30 years. They gave the facade and signage of the store a much-needed and attractive facelift a couple years back. Brothers Harry, John, and Peter Georgoulopoulos run it. (Two of them are twins but I don't know which two.) I believe they inherited from the father who passed a year or so ago.

Observation: I sometimes loathe change. (Who me? Yes, me!)

Realization: I am assuming that the change in ownership would be a change for the worse; it could be a change for the better.

Decision: I’ll be optimistic. I mean it would only be in the new owner’s best interest to keep/maintain what has made the store work for the neighborhood.

Right?

Here's hoping.

This could be the year

2012-01-02T03:22:20Z

This could be the year
This could be the year, you know.
Right now, you can believe and/or decide that this is the year that:

You find the love of your life (or renew the one you have).
You get the job you want (or a job that will do).
You sign that book/music/movie contract.
You snare that scholarship.
You forgive the person you need to forgive.
You forget the things that aren’t important.
You start that exercise program that you know you should.
You welcome that new baby who represents new hope for the world.
You lay down you weapons.
You (fill in the blank)

This could be it, you know. This year.

Oh the delightful possibilities of a brand, spankling, New Year.

Jingle all the way

2011-12-18T00:01:00Z

Yeah, I’m corny. I admit it. Especially this time of year. I am jingling all the way this holiday season.

I adore the Christmas lights and holiday carols. I called them holiday carols because in addition to Christmas carols, I love and sing Seven Principles, the Kwanzaa song (lyrics & music by Bernice Reagon, recorded by Sweet Honey in the Rock*) as well as winter carols like Frosty the Snowman (lyrics & music by Steve Nelson & Jack Rollins) and Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow! (lyrics by Sammy Cahn, music by Jule Styne).

I love carols so much, I actually joined the throng at Pops Goes the Holiday Season on December 3^rd in the World Record Breaking Caroling Attempt at Christian Science Plaza in Boston.

I dig Christmas movies, old and new. I watch these every year. My favorites are:

It’s A Wonderful Life (no surprise there)
A Christmas Story (also no surprise)
Home for the Holidays
Scrooge (various versions including the one with Bill Murray and they all still spook me a little bit)
Grand Canyon (not a holiday movie but has the holiday spirit in it to me)

I treasure Christmas accoutrements - trees, ornaments, wreaths, garlands, holly, poinsettias, wrapping paper, Santa hats and reindeer antler headbands and car ornaments. I have a red velvet lounge set that I wear every Christmas morning. Call me Mrs. Santa if you want to…I am. Having granddaughters and a (step) grandson give me license to Mrs. Santa-it-up.

I love-love-love holiday shows particularly sharing the experience with my fellow audience members and becoming of one positive mind at least for a brief time. This season, I’ve seen:

Black Nativity (41^st annual production put on by the National Center of Afro-American Artists) in collaboration with Roxbury Community College) – It lifts my spirit and celebrates the birth of Jesus and the struggle of Mary and Joseph to find a place for her to give birth.
Anthony Williams' Urban Nutcracker by Ballet Rox – An exuberant production!
Holiday Pops – A time-honored Boston tradition featuring the Tanglewood Festival Chorus.
The Christmas Revels – This year the songs and skits were mostly French (with a couple of numbers from the Middle East) and I didn’t know any of the music (although the music was provided) but most of the audience seemed to. I was still able to experience the glow emanating from the exuberant performances and the enthralled audience. (I preferred Christmas Revels in 2009 which featured traditional American music, including Appalachian folks songs and African-American spirituals because this music was more familiar to me and I could more easily participate.)

Next year, I hope to have my granddaughter with me in Boston so I can share these holiday shows with her and take her to her first high tea. Meanwhile, I look forward to Christmas Day with family and friends. We’ll cook, share stories, laughter, and delectable food (especially cakes, pies & cookies). We’ll exchange gifts (tokens of our esteem according to our means), we’ll sing carols (on key and off), we’ll go to church (Jesus is the reason for the season after all), and we'll give thanks that we are all together once again and anticipating a great new year!

Merry Christmas, Joyous Kwanzaa, Happy Hannukah, and a Feisty Festivus (for the rest of us).
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You might also like to read:

This Christmas

(*From the album, B’lieve I’ll Run On See What’s the End’s Gonna Be.)

Reciprocity

2011-12-09T12:19:42Z

Give only to those from whom you have received. Receive only from those to whom you have given.

Ayi Kwei Armah

Two Thousand Seasons (1973)

I read Two Thousand Seasons years ago and this quote has always stuck in my mind. In the novel, this philosophy and practice of reciprocity is credited as a seminal Pan-African belief system by the Ghanaian author, Armah. The breaking of this practice when the Europeans arrived then plunged the African people into a period of utter devastation that will last for 2000 seasons.

This explanation of reciprocity has always spoken deeply to me because I believe in and like to count on reciprocity. Through helping and supporting others, I believe I am building an account that I can withdraw from when I need help or support.

The fact is that the circle of reciprocity has to start somewhere. Someone has to give first. Someone has to keep account or the giving. You want to be able to go to the people you’ve given to and know that you can get back when you are in need. You want to be able to give to people who’ve given to you when hey are in need.

Reciprocity doesn’t often happen as an equal exchange or in a straight line. Rather, it happens that you give to someone in your sphere and they return the gift to someone else within your (or a different) sphere. The sphere might be as small as your family or as large as the world. Generosity will be given to you, sometimes from people you don’t even know.

I often wish for straight lines. They are neater and speedier. It’s easier to keep account. In my time of need, I find it difficult not to keep account when the account I thought I’d build within a certain sphere is depleted of resources. However, this is not often how life works so I am having a renewed lesson that generosity, payback and/or support won’t always come from people you expect or even people you know, but it will come. Your job is to be generous when called on to do so.

I have realized, however, that being generous and showing support doesn’t require one to keep giving to specific people if they’ve proven themselves non-reciprocal or appreciative. (I’m all about showing appreciation.)

I must confess, I wrote another post about support and reciprocity that was a raging, get-people-told rant. I drafted it late lone sleepless night and sent it to my husband and asked him what he thought. He made a good argument for my not posting it. In fact, writing it, expressing my hurt and dismay actually dampened those feelings. So let’s give a round of applause to Tessil for keeping me from doing the wrong thing (even though it would have felt so devilishly delicious to have posted it).

As a blog friend from Australia wrote me recently “remember to take your own advice and Believe!”

I will. I am.

As my Mom often says, “One monkey don’t stop no show.”

Don't Change - An impossible request of family

2011-12-01T13:34:02Z

“Don’t change a hair for me, not if you care for me.”*

When you live away from your family-of-birth and only get home to see them once a year or so, you hope that all the things you love about them will be the same when you see them. This was my wish for my Thanksgiving visit home.

You want the loud laughter and the recounting of family stories, even the ones that feature you. You hope the cousins will sing songs from the church you grew up in and imitate the singers and the classic shouts of particular church members who you remember so fondly.

You want your Mom to be as fabulously beautiful and appointed as she has always been. You want your brother to be the stalwart, kind and dependable man you treasure. You want your sister to be as bossy and directive as she has always been. (Everybody thinks she is the older sister because of her bossiness.)

You want your younger aunts (who are more like cousins) to be as funny, boisterous and loud as they’ve been your entire life. You want your jewel of an aunt to have on another of her fabulous sparkly accoutrements – hat, jewelry, sweater and or wig.

Don’t change a hair for me not if you care for me.

The core of these things remain, I’m happy to report. But change, change happens, of course. It is impossible to stop. Some of the changes are incremental and more visible because you don’t see them daily:

The physical change of a niece growing into a thoughtful and accomplished teen in a young woman’s body who drives now!

The slight bend of your still fabulous and fashionable mother’s shoulders and twisting of her fingers by arthritis.
The graying hair among those family members who do not heed the clarion call of Miss Clairol or Dark ‘n’ Lovely.

Other changes are dramatic:

The change in bodies from lithe and lovely to bloated and leaden.

The transformative weight loss of the heavy brother into a sleek, stylish man.
The continued signals of mental illness that is devouring the personality of the once brightest light in the cousins.
The calamity of divorce breaks apart the bonds of a couple and thrusts their children into a landscape of ever-changing allegiances and alliances confusing to everyone.
The death of a matriarch and a beloved uncle who strong personalities, opinions and ability to bring everyone together are lost.

There are positive changes:

New & rediscovered love and marriages, which the family expands to embrace.

Cousins doing well, traveling well beyond the original geographic strictures of the family and doing good work.
The quiet ones now raising their voices to be heard (and having something to say).

It is good to come home to the people who made me, who are the foundation upon which all that I am was built. In many ways, they have changed little – I am comforted by this. In other ways they (and () have changed so much. Older, frailer, but mostly unbowed.

We are family with our long memories, unrelenting love, highly visible but unspoken fissures and secrets, legendary lore, and grand gossip.

Don’t change, don’t change, promise we won’t change before we meet again.

(*Lyric from "My Funny Valentine" by Lorenz Hart)

With Appreciation – A List

2011-11-12T20:57:52Z

I am feeling appreciative that I’m an appreciator of the bounty of this world.

I appreciate the arts events that I’ve participated in over the past 2 years courtesy of my gig as marketing consultant with Door2Door to the Arts by SCM. In this capacity, I put together seasonal calendars of arts events. This fall I’ve attended: a BSO rehearsal with YoYo Ma, a trip to the Museum of Russian Icons, a concert by the Cantata Singers, a talk by Malcolm Rogers, Director of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, and Candide at the Huntington Theatre. I look forward to attending Martinis and Merriment at the Jewish Community Center in Newton tonight and Singers’ Night at Berklee College of Music on Tuesday. (I am a culture vulture in case you can’t tell.)

I appreciate other arts events like Roxbury Open Studios and a talk by author Walter Moseley at Roxbury Community College recently.

I appreciate living in Dorchester. Last night it was my pleasure to attend the latest talk of the Dorchester Speaker’s Forum: 50 Years Later: Jane Jacobs and The Death and Life of Great American Cities. More than 125 people gathered at All Saints Church on a crisp Friday evening and listened to the wisdom of the panelists: Gov. Michael S. Dukakis, Glenna Long (author of Genius of Common Sense: The Story of Janet Jacobs and “The Death & Life of Great American Cities”, M. David Lee, a partner of the architecture and planning firm, Stull and Lee; and Frank Keefe, a Boston developer, who served as moderator. It was a convivial evening that featured rich discussion during which the panelists, especially Gov. Dukakis, shared the hard-won battle to prevent what Boston might have been if the continued path of so-called urban renewal that decimated the West End of the city had been allowed across the city. (While some skirmishes were lost, the battle was won.)

I appreciate facilitating two successful workshops in the past 2 weeks. The first was “Selling Yourself on Paper” (part 1 of Pick-Up Your Power and Use It to Get a Job). The second was “Discovering Who I Am: Guiding Young Children as They Learn about Their Racial/Ethnic Identity” at the A View from All Sides Conference in Marlboro. I appreciate Parent University of the Boston Public Schools and Children’s Trust Fund respectively for selecting me to do these workshops.

I appreciate the deliciousness of the fall soups that I’ve begun making in earnest. Nothing is more soul-warming that homemade soup on a crisp fall day!

I appreciate an unexpected payment for work done voluntarily. (It came right on time.)

I appreciate receiving a Roxbury Pudding Stone Award at the Heart of the Hub fundraising event from Discover Roxbury. I stepped down from the board after many years of service in June 2011. It is affirming to get an award from people who know you! (Thanks, again, everyone.) And I appreciate that DR has taken over Roxbury Open Studios, an event I founded, thereby ensuring its continuance.

I appreciate the people who’ve ordered copies of two my two booklets, Pushing Through Shyness: Networking Tips when you’re shy, slow-to-warm-up, inexperienced or just don’t feel like you belong (a mouthful if ever there was one) and Handling Rejection.* Thank you.

I appreciate having many irons in the fire and the possibility of an additional iron or two because of 1 recent and another upcoming interview.

I appreciate holding on to love despite a recent rocky time in my marriage.

I appreciate:

the comics who provide laughter.
the writers who write so many incredible novels, stories, memoirs & poetry that I will never lack for material to read.
the musicians who provide music to dance to, groove to, make love to...
food, glorious food.
my life despite occasional turmoil and uncertainty.

I appreciate my faith and my doubts.

I truly appreciate my family:

the children I birthed,
the granddaughter I adore,
the husband I found (and who found me),
my mother who is unfailing in her love, and
my sister, brother and the rest of everyone in St. Louis who know me from the beginnings of my journey.

And I appreciate you, my readers, some known to me, others unknown to me.

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*Copies of my booklets can be ordered via my website: under the putlications button.

Pushing through shyness: Networking tips

2011-11-01T01:02:21Z

ON SALE NOW:

Pushing Through Shyness: Networking Tips when you’re shy, slow-to-warm-up, inexperienced or don’t feel you belong by Candelaria N. Silva

Networking can be useful or a waste of time. It can be painful or it can be fulfilling. It can be drudgery or it can be delightful. You hold the key to what the experience is for you.

Pushing Through Shyness gives you tips and tools to work a networking event to your advantage. It is useful for novices and for professionals. The 9-page booklet is illustrated and printed on high-quality stock and would make a practical motivational tool or gift. An order form is attached for your convenience.

Candelaria is also available to do a workshop on this topic. Contact her if interested.

(Also available for purchase is Handling Rejection, an inspirational essay. Watch for upcoming booklets including How to Design and Facilitate a Workshop and Real Issues to Discuss with Teenagers about Sex.)

Thank you for your support.

Order Form for Pushing Through Shyness

Please note, there is a PayPal link on my website (candelariasilva.com) under the publications heading.

If you like this post, you might also like:

Handling Rejection: An Inspirational Essay by Candelaria N. Silva