Good & Plenty - Candelaria Silva's Blog

Giving Critical Feedback

Candelaria — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 02:08:00 GMT

What do you do when you have to give critical feedback to someone, especially to people you know?

I have found myself noticing some important things that weren’t done well or properly on a couple of occasions recently. I have decided not to put the feedback and suggestions for change in an email because words on paper can have a harsher impact than one means, plus they can be forwarded out into the universe to who knows where, and they can be edited. (Cyber bullets can be fired dramatically fast and sourced from raw materials so I'd like not to give any unintended ammunition.)

I have gone over a checklist I use in communication workshops, paying particular attention to the advice to “think of whose needs the feedback will meet.” I’ve done a quick analysis to make sure that I do not merely need to vent as opposed to giving important feedback.

(iStock illustration)

I know how to deliver feedback in a courteous, thoughtful, and quiet matter. Still, I’ve learned that sometimes it is difficult for people to hear feedback from me. I see it when they roll their eyes or purse their lips and get annoyed:

“There goes Candelaria again, giving feedback,” I can hear them thinking.

People will get defensive, or feel like you’re saying you could do whatever better than them, or treat you like you’re a know-it-all. (For the record, I know a lot but I certainly don’t know it all. I am reminded each and every day of how little I know and how much more I need to know). People do not like you to fill in their blanks.

Still, because I’m always striving to be my best self and, therefore, appreciate getting feedback especially if it’s given privately and not when I’m smack in the middle of an event or something (unless a safety issue is involved, then, by all means, interrupt me, pull me to the side and tell me what I need to know).

I’m in a dilemma because the feedback is for organizations that I interact with a lot, one as a board member. One bit of feedback pertains to a potential safety issue, while the other is a question of professional standards.

For now, I’ve decided to swallow hard and hold-off giving the feedback to the organizations and people and just write it out here for one of the wise readers of this blog to give me advice.

I'd appreciate your feedback, please. Thank you.

What is good?

Candelaria — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 19:12:59 GMT

iStockphoto image

Do you know what good is? Is a thing good in and of itself or only in comparison to other things?

What does it mean when we say that something is good enough? Is it only that way until something better comes along?

I’ve had conversations where I’ve been asked or asked myself:

What is a good school?
What is a good teacher?
What is a good relationship?
What would good look like?

I’ve had many experiences where I thought what I was getting was good until I had another experience and got something really good and had my notions and standards elevated. (Does good even need a qualifying adjective before it?)

For example, I realized that I’d only been getting adequate hair care after I went to a hair salon that gave me good, make that exceptional care. (Epiphany Hair Studio in West Roxbury )

To them their service isn’t exceptional in and of itself; it’s just the way they do business. Having gone there, I now know what good hair care is and what a good hair salon experience is. My standards have been elevated.

In thinking about what a good school is, I realize that there are many people who don’t know what a good school is or what they should expect of good teachers. A school system can have many schools with varying populations, different teachers and different parents. It is for this reason that the whole standardized test discussion rankles me. Perhaps we should wait to have standardized tests when we have standardized schools, teachers and kids. In exam, private and other top schools, certain practices are a given because thiey are part of the standards for top schools (i.e., arts, sports, community engagement, etc.) Particular educational practices are followed because they work. So although what works is known, these standards and practices are not applied across the board. Go figure. Anyhow – I’ll get off this tangent and back to my original point.

The relationship question was asked of me in a series of parenting workshops I facilitated in South Bay Correctional Facility a couple of years ago. One of the participants said she didn’t know what a good relationship between a man and a woman was because she’d never seen one. Another participant said that a good relationship was one that lasted but, in the discussion that followed, the women agreed that this wasn’t so. Together we brainstormed what a good relationship would be.

Developing notions of what good looks like means being exposed or exposing yourself to a variety of experiences. Not all of these experiences have to be lived; they can also be witnessed, read about, viewed through movies and film, and gleaned from the experiences of others.

Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn. –C.S. Lewis

Experience is not always the best teacher, only the most painful. (Source unknown.)

What does good look like to you? Do you know good when you see it? Do you expect good from the world? Can good be multiplied, quantified or duplicated? Must good be experienced to be known?

Life is good and ending this post rather than going on and on and on is also good. You can thank me later.

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If you liked this post, you might also like: Sorting for the Good

What of a Summer Evening? (Tito Puente Latin Music Series)

Candelaria — Fri, 16 Jul 2010 11:47:00 GMT

What of a summer evening when you accept your friend’s invitation and join your fellow humans to celebrate being alive?

The venue is public – O’Day Park next to Villa Victoria Center for the Arts. The music is live. There is just enough sun and just enough of a breeze for summer comfort. Rain teases but does not fall.

The music washes over you in waves and enters your veins making your legs, fingers, shoulders, toes, head, arms, hair and eyes dance in response. Some peoples’ bodies compel them to the space in front of the benches and chairs of the small amphitheater. They fill that space. They dance:

Women and men,
Women and women,
Men and men,
Children,
Soloists

in a variety of casual and fine array, the tribes of the human family represented in the skin tones from onyx to alabaster and the hair luxuriantly curly/kinky/straight/bald and the eyes of every shape and size.

We are beautiful people in this lovely world.

What: TITO PUENTE LATIN MUSIC SERIES

Who: Son de Madre were the musicians last night. Others are scheduled for the remaining events.
(Remaining Dates: JULY 22, JULY 29, JULY 31 AND AUGUST 5 | 7:00PM - 9:00PM)

Where: O’Day Park next to Villa Victoria Center for the Arts at 85 W. Newton Street.
(Note that some of the concerts will be at other venues – to find out more go to:
http://www.villavictoriaarts.org/programs_2010TPLMS.html

How: Presented by Villa Victoria Center for the Arts, Berklee College of Music and City of Boston ParkARTS

FOR MORE INFORMATION: 617.927.1707

Thank you for a little bit of heaven on earth – peace, joy, music, dance and connection.

Hello, Boston

Candelaria — Sat, 10 Jul 2010 01:13:00 GMT

Hello, Boston, do you hear me?
Hello, Boston.
What's wrong with me? I said hello in Boston and expected a return greeting.

(iStock photo.)

I say hello and you say, well, despite the lyrics to the song by the Beatles,* you often times don’t say a word, Boston; except for yesterday. Yesterday was an exceptional day because on my walk up Ashmont Street to Ashmont Station, three, count them, three people spoke to me first.

This is noteworthy.

I vowed a few years back to act like the up-South, St. Louis-bred girl that I am and say hello to people as I pass them along the way, throughout my day.

I quickly had to vow that I would continue this practice even when people didn’t speak back to me. It is my decision to say hello, it’s on them whether they speak back or not.

I try not to get my feelings hurt when people don’t speak back. This is especially easy on days when I’m breezing along feeling sprightly. On other days, as I’m trudging along or just feel a need for a spark of human connection, it is hard. On still other days I’m feeling that all is right with the world and so joyful I feel compelled to greet people.

It’s hard to have a greeting ignored and avoided. Sometimes I want to shout, “YOU KNOW YOU HEARD ME! IS IT SO HARD TO SAY HELLO?”

Really, is it?

In terms of speaking, my observations are:

Teens and younger people speak back more than older people. (The teens are often surprised that they’ve been spoken to.
Men speak back more than women do.
Walkers, joggers and cyclists are more apt to speak, wave or nod than people merely ambulating some place. (There’s a camaraderie among those of us getting our “exercise on.”

Why do so many Bostonians, New Englanders not speak?

Is it the cold weather?
Is it the fact that there are so many of us in this crowded geography?
Is it that we’re often in a rush?
Or are we just some inconsiderate souls whose habit of not-greeting each other rubs off on non-natives once they life here? (Sorta like how, in order to survive as a driver in Boston, you have to adopt the dangerous driving habits/techniques of your brother and sister Bostonians.)

I don’t require a whole conversation with my greeting as is done down South. That would be too much to ask and, hey, I’m usually rushing or heading someplace with all deliberate speed myself and not interested in getting sidetracked.

But a hello, a return greeting, is that too much to ask?

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If you dig this post, you might also dig: I saw you see me (and pretend you didn’t)

*From “Hello, Goodbye” by The Beatles (lyrics by Paul McCartney & John Lennon)

“You say goodbye and I say hello
Hello, hello
I don't know why you say goodbye
I say hello
Hello, hello
I don't know why you say goodbye
I say hello.”

Do You and Your Mate, Lover, Spouse do Couple-y Things?

Candelaria — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 02:14:25 GMT

I didn’t do any of it in high school. I didn’t do any of it in college. I didn’t do any of it in my first marriage.

The “it” is those “we’re a couple” moves that some couples do. I wouldn’t say that their old school but I’m not sure how much they are in favor now. You know:

Wearing matching outfits or, the less gag-worthy, wearing the same colors.
Sending a Christmas greeting card emblazoned with a photo of my husband and me.
Getting an annual couple portrait.
Having pet names.

I never did any of that sort of thing in previous relationships. Suddnly, I got the urge; that lovey-dovey feeling came over me on the 4th of July. My husband and I were heading up to Maine with our favorite cousins-couple and, as I was picking out what to wear, I realized I had a shirt that was the same color green as one I’d just brought back for him from a trip to visit our granddaughter.

He had selected an orange shirt to wear. So, I ironed both shirts (yes, I’m an ironer) and hoped he would notice my green top and pick the green shirt. He even asked me if I’d like him to wear the green shirt.

“That would be nice,” I grinned.

He gave me one of his “oh, puh-leeze” smirks.

I, ever optimist, just knew he was going to indulge me this tiny, little thing.

I finished dressing as he was heading to the shower. When he came downstairs, he had on the orange shirt. He said it was because he realized he’d have to change his shorts and they weren’t ironed.

It was really because he didn’t want to be all matchy-matchy, lovey-dovey, saccharine-sweet couple-y.

My feelings were hurt for a minute. I got over it – even though our cousins were dressed similarly in athletic wear. (A fact my husband noticed and mentioned.)

I’m here to tell you and him, that while I don’t know what made the desire to wear matching shirts come up in me; I do know that it will happen. It would be nice for us to be co-OR-dinated as the comedian John Witherspoon pronouces it in one of his famous routines.
(Private message: Darling, what you resist, persists. I am patient and persistent. The matching outfits will be happening.)

So, to all you couples out there – do you do couple-ly things? Holla.
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Believing My Husband
A Ring-Tone of Love

What happens when you don’t listen to your first instinct – a mini-adventure on the T in Dorchester

Candelaria — Tue, 22 Jun 2010 00:25:00 GMT

My first instinct, the one I didn’t listen to, told me to walk up to Ashmont Station and take the #21 bus to Forest Hills and either take the Orange Line to Stonybrook Station or walk from there to The Brewery where I was doing a presentation.

My second instinct, that other gal who often gets me into gentle messes said, “Nah, you need to make copies. Catch the bus to Field’s Corner Station, then go downtown. Get off a Downtown Crossing and go to Staples and make copies, then hop on the Orange Line.” “After all,” she added, “It’s 8:00. Your presentation starts at 10:00. You’ll have plenty of time.”

So off I went. The train stopped at Savin Hill. The doors opened – passengers on (no passengers are usually getting off there in the a.m.) and then they didn’t close. After sitting there for what seemed like an eternity but was really only 3 minutes, an announcement said that there was a police action at JFK and the train would move momentarily. I waited and waited and then I decided to get off and catch the train back to Ashmont Station and go the way I originally thought to go.

After about 2 minutes of waiting on the opposite side of the platform, it occurred to me that if trains weren’t being let into JFK Station, trains wouldn’t be coming out of there either. (Duh.) So I hauled ass up the stairs and out of the station, as a couple of cops were coming into the station clearly being watchful for someone, and made my way to Dorchester Ave. I planned to take the #18 bus to Ashmont Station and either take the #21 bus to Forest Hills or hop a cab.

Buses weren’t coming out of JFK either. Meanwhile I noted a number of police cars and wagons going down the street and couldn’t find a cab to flag down.

Gypsy cab to the rescue
I called my handy-dandy gypsy cab guy and he got me to The Brewery in twelve minutes by going through a succession of side streets that got us over to Washington Street, over Dimock Street across to Amory Street and the Brewery. Yippee. I love a driver that knows where he's going.

All of the above was done with pacing and sighs and a bit of consternation that was too wee to be considered anxiety.

I tucked into Ula’s Café to get breakfast while figuring how I was going to make copies when, who should walk in but a friend who has a consulting gig there. I told her my dilemma and she said she’d make the copies for me. “No problem.” It was now 9:40.

Walked to the place my partner and I had contracted with (and paid) to use space for our workshops and, lo and behold, it is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. My partner paced at the outside entry, I paced on the inside entry.

What is up with this day? I thought to myself. This workshop is going to be great or, no one is going to show up for it.

I Spy
I spied an office across the hall with the lights on and people working. I put a positive thought in my mind, waltzed in, asked if I could speak to the manager or Executive Director, told her my dilemma and asked if I could use their conference room. TShe said, "Yes." (What a wonderful word yes is!)

All’s well that ends well
The workshop participants arrived. Workshop went well. Rescue angel declined to accept payment. However, the morals to this story are:

Listen to your first instinct. I should have gone the way I first thought to go or gone out the night before to get copies like I’d planned.
Know alternatives.
There’s more than one way to skin a cat and get from point A to point B in Boston.
Carry some cash.
Have the name of a cab driver or friend with car who will come to your rescue.
Thank your lucky stars.
After all, the train might have been stopped in a tunnel and there’d have been no way to maneuver or to send a message that I was stuck.

It all worked out. Woo-hoo.

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Heard on the Bus and Other T Stories

Happiness from Small Things (with a note to sourpusses)

Candelaria — Sat, 19 Jun 2010 16:58:00 GMT

Small things make me happy.

iStock photo

I can get deliriously happy over simple things. I realize that this has helped keep me steady even with the doom and gloom that occurs in the world, whether it is distant or up close and personal. I’m here to tell you that the gloom and doom is not the only reality. It is a big part of what happens in the world but not, for many of us, the major part.

Here are some of the small, simple things that have made me happy recently. I don’t know if you have to be me to appreciate them but they sure made me feel good:

Finding a set of lovely white porcelain Chinese soup spoons for $4.99. I made soups for two weeks just so I could use those spoons.
Having a former client email me to say she’d like to underwrite my doing coaching for an aspiring artist. The contract is small but it is unexpected and so welcome.
Fixing a big breakfast (homefries, homemade biscuits, mushroom omelets, fruit salad) for my cousins and enjoying food and conversation. (I didn’t try to impress, I just made my simple fare and it was a hit.)*
Watering my flowers and dead-heading them.
Suddenly realizing that a shift of sidetables would (and did) make my sitting room more lovely and spacious.
Walking Castle Island, the Arboretum, up Guild Hill in Roxbury, up and down the Monroe Terrace streets in Dorchester, down the path by the Mattapan trolley, in the West End by Mass. General Hospital and watching the city wake up, etc. Each walk makes me realize, yet again, what a beautiful walking city this is.
Having another birthday and watching the birthday cards and email greetings roll in (you give, you get).
Feeling good about said birthday! Another year accomplished, the blessings, lessons, happenings of the coming year to look forward to.
Working my way through my costume jewelry drawer and boxes. and finding new treasures to wear.
Eliminating paper napkins and using cloth napkins at home. Makes me feel simply elegant and elegantly green.
Reading the novel in stories, Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout, which I found incredibly moving and exquistely conceived and written.

I am so blessed to be happy with small things because small things, it turns out, are my province. I have accepted this.

But some people (plural) – I won’t say who but you know who you are – some people wouldn’t recognize happy if she looked like Naomi Campbell and was walking toward you naked with open arms.

Note:
*Really anything you cook and share with people will be a hit. It’s the sharing that’s the point, right? But, there have been times when I agonized so over what to fix, the table setting, etc., that I whipped myself into a frenzy instead of just doing what I could do in the moment.

If you like this post, you might also like:
You are what you do
Love you but not absorbing your pain
Wonderful world, wonderful people

The end is near

Candelaria — Sat, 05 Jun 2010 03:19:51 GMT

It is ending.
Will it end?

It is ending.
Will it end?

It is ending.
Will it end?

______ is ending.
Will _______ end?

You fill in the ______.
You decide.

I Spy – I'm Jive

Candelaria — Sat, 29 May 2010 00:30:00 GMT

Do you find yourself checking out the list of confirmed guests before you respond to an evite invitation?

Do you look at your telephone when it rings to see who’s calling? (Yes, there are those of us who don’t bother to set-up distinctive rings for our nearest and dearest).

Do you automatically click the maybe button on your evite responses so you can back out if ~~something better comes along~~ –I mean- something else comes up.

Have you felt perturbed when a live person answers a call when you were planning to just leave a message on their answering machine. (Leaving a message is not the same as actually delivering a message and engaging in dialogue with the recipient of said message.)

Admit it. You know you do.

Such is the ambivalence about electronic medi. While it makes processes and symptons efficient and helps us be organized, it also:

allows us to spy,

demands that we snoop, and

turns us into avoiders of people and definitive decisions.

It is so last century to actually pick up a phone just because it rings - something we used to do back in the day. (I’m so 2010 you’re so 2000 and when?* I’ve been waiting to use this line for some time now.)

It’s so inefficient to just send an email, invite people to something and make a list of who’s coming, who’s not coming and who hasn’t replied. (To heck with them any way.) Non-repliers should be deleted from future invites.

Send a print invitation? Really? Unless it’s a wedding who bothers with those any more? (Except maybe for a few of us holdouts who have a collection of invites that we are trying to eventually use-up.)

This i-spy, snooping, deciding to respond based on who else will be at an event rather than one's availability or the importance of the event itself is ~~impolite~~ jive.

I’mon try to do better.

Ms. Jive Turkey

*My apologies to the Black-Eyed Peas for tweaking this lyric.

Smories (Help a Sister Out)

Candelaria — Tue, 25 May 2010 15:42:00 GMT

Dear Reader,

I need your support. Two children’s stories I have written were selected for the launch of a new site: smories.com . It features children reading stories that were submitted and selected by the site founders. There is more information about them at the end of this post.

Please click on my stories, Jump! Jump! Jump! and Tracy Became a Frog One Day .
Then listen to them (they are short). The writer whose story has the most views, wins a cash prize for the month. It’s that simple. The stories are not long. The same little girl reads both of my stories in her lovely British accent. (I had no hand in selecting the reader.)

If I win, I’ll use the money to support my Random Booking project as well as to help fund self-publishing one of my children’s stories.

Thank you.

Candelaria

http://www.smories.com/watch/tracy_became_a_frog_one_day/
http://www.smories.com/watch/jump_jump_jump/

About Smories (from the website)

Smories are free original stories for kids, read by kids. 50 added every month.

“We got the idea for smories.com during an extremely long journey in a very dirty Land Rover from the Kalahari desert in Botswana to Cape Town in South Africa in February this year.

Our daughter (8) had the idea to film herself with our ipod reading Enid Blyton short stories, and then play them back to her younger sister (6). This kept them entertained for hours.

Our kids have always loved reading to each other and are transfixed when other children read them stories. They are also obsessed with the internet and will make their way to youtube any time they get their hands on a computer.

We thought a website that had a continuous flow of new stories, read aloud by kids, would make a healthier destination than so much of the stuff out there. Imagine you're stuck in traffic and need to keep a miniature person entertained in the back. Access a playlist of smories stories from your i-phone and voila...

Once we had the idea for a site that publishes stories for kids read by kids, we also thought it would be a great unthreatening forum for showcasing unpublished stories. This allows writers to test their work in a straightforward and transparent way, hopefully giving them exposure which they might otherwise not have received.

- Lisa Swerling & Ralph Lazar, March 2010

Go to the website to submit your own story. Who knows, you may be selected.

Watching you, watching me

Candelaria — Sat, 22 May 2010 03:45:00 GMT

Couples tend to watch each other: he watches my food intake, I watch his drinking.

Watching…noticing personal habits, foibles, tendencies and characteristics is easy to do.

Actually, to take us both off the hook, it’s not so much that we’re watching as that we’re noticing. It’s quite easy to notice the things that your spouse or other close loved one does, especially if:

It’s something you don’t do.
It’s something you think they shouldn't do.
You consider it a negative or “bad” habit.
You wish they would do less of it.
You’re worried about their health and well-being.

I love to eat. He loves to drink.

I grew up in a household with abundant food and no liquor.

He grew up in a home where a drink (or two or…) with dinner was de rigueur.

I love sweets and am only able to reduce my intake by only baking or bringing them in the house when we have company.

He can eat one (yes, one!) cookie or one slice of my most delicious banana bread and not eat another for a couple of days. (Although if I make an apple pie, he will go back until it’s gone over the course of a day or two – that’s his kryptonite!)

All of this is fine and good when it stays light. It is when you feel watched, monitored and judged that this gets into argument territory.

iStockPhoto

This is written as an alert to a newish friend who I can tell is trying to influence me to lose weight. She doesn’t get that I feel attractive as I am or that I’m comfortable taking my long walks and lifting weights and don’t have a goal in mind other than to keep everything in working order – if weight is lost in the process – fine, if weight is not lost, also fine.

I’m getting ready to have to tell her to back up off me – the suggestions about hair, clothes, weight, etc. And I know she’s well-meaning in this but she’s petite (and well-to-do - oh the clothes she can afford) and her beauty aesthetic is not the same as mine. She has not had to go on a diet ever, having the genes and habits that allow her to keep her petite figure.

This year for Lent (which I never observed before but did so in support of my husband), I gave up peanut butter. (I have a “jones” for Skippy Peanut Butter and just discovered that I even like the “natural” one Skippy makes.) You might laugh but it was very difficult to give up peanut butter. A couple of times I wanted to run to the store, grab a jar and just open it up and stick my index finger inside and put a big glob in my mouth, but I didn’t.) Next year, I’ll probably try to give up bread (another love) for the month.

Love is acceptance of each other, even when we’re checking each other out.

(Whisper: let me tell you what I recently did - for love. I colored my hair - not back to black but bounced to brown. I won't say more about that now.)

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2nd Random Booking & Donate a Book to a Kid in Need via BlogHer.com

Candelaria — Thu, 20 May 2010 20:30:00 GMT

Random Booking #2

My second random booking happened today on the #45 bus from Franklin Park . (I was headed to Merengue Restaurant . - if you've never been, I recommend it, delicious Dominican food. in a tropic-inspired atmosphere). Another young mother, one of her legs in a cast, had two young children with her – a baby in a stroller and a 2 year old walking. After asking her if I could give her daughter a book as a gift, she said, “Yes, we love books.” I gave her "Whose Knees Are These" a board book. They both gave me megawatt smiles.

BlogHer.com & BookRenter book donation drive

BlogHer.com, to which I am a contributing editor, has a book drive going. The details are below.

BlogHer and BookRenter, a company that rents textbooks to college students, are launching a book donation drive. We're asking people to go to BlogHer.com and leave a comment sharing the book that's had the greatest impact on their life.

Bookrenter will be donating 1 book for every comment left on the post from May 3-28 -- up to 1,000 books -- to kids in need. They will be donated on behalf of BlogHer.com to Head Start through FirstBook.

THE FACTS: Books Are Shockingly Scarce for Kids in Need

• In low-income neighborhoods there is an average of only one book for every 300 children, compared to 13 books for every child in middle-income neighborhoods.
• 80% of preschool and after-school programs serving low-income populations have no age-appropriate books for their children.
• 70% of 4th graders from low-income families in the US score ‘below proficiency’ in reading.
• 85% of juvenile offenders have reading problems.
• Among adults at the lowest level of literacy proficiency, 43% live in poverty
• Among adults with strong literacy skills, only 4% live in poverty.

Click below to participate.
http://www.blogher.com/books-make-difference-share-which-book-changed-your-life-donate-book-child-need

Thank you so much.

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Random Booking - for the Love of Reading

Random booking – for the love of reading

Candelaria — Sat, 15 May 2010 12:50:00 GMT

Yesterday, I finally did something I’ve been thinking about doing for a long time. I gave a children’s book to a young girl and her mother while riding the bus. Her mother was young and wasn’t interacting with the little girl on the ride from Ashmont to Forest Hills Station.

She’ll be the first, I thought, glad that I had remember to stash a book in my bag.

“How old is she?” I asked and smiled at the mother.

“Two and a half, almost three,” she replied.

“Oh, she’s so cute,” I said. And she was with her white beads jingling at the end of her neat braids.

“Thank you,” mother said and then went back to her nowhere stare.

I reached into my bag and pulled out a brightly-colored board book, “Whose Toes Are Those?” by Jabari Asim with illustrations by LeUyen Pham that featured two tiny, brown feet on the cover.

“May I give you this book for your daughter?”

“Yes…why sure,” she said.

She passed the book to her daughter who squealed in delight, seized it with both hands and began to look at it and talk about the pictures.

The gift even made the mother crack a smile. She said thank you – as did her daughter. She didn’t read the book to her daughter on the bus but I felt good that I’d booked someone there by officially launching my quest to give books to at least one child a week while I'm on the bus or train (more if I’m able to pull it off). *

Call it random booking for the love of books by me who "might should" have been a librarian!

*****
This is prompted by my love of reading, enjoyment of children's books and the fact that I see so many young parents not talk to or interact positively with their children while riding the T. The other day, one young mother had her hands full with a baby in the stroller and two little ones ages 4 and 6, I'm guessing. She had her iPod in her ears and was reaidng a paperback with the word BITCH prominently in the title. It took 3 or 4 yells before her six year old caught her attention. The little girl was "reading" a Metro paper and wanted to show her mother something in it. Mother would say, "Yes!" or "What???!!!" or "Leave me alone - damn" and then go back to her book. I guess it was good she was reading but the scantily clad model on the cover and the word BITCH were not the best literature for the children to see. Oh, well...

A Gift of Water, A Lesson about Water

Candelaria — Sun, 09 May 2010 11:19:00 GMT

Gift:

The recent, brief water crisis that happened in Boston when we had to boil water before we could drink it and the resultant run on bottled water, made me truly appreciate how available good water is in the U.S.

For many people in the world, getting water for daily use requires leaving their homes and villages and walking many miles to bring home water in buckets. A simple and elegant solution has been designed: the Hippo Water Roller .

The videos on the website are quite lovely – especially the “Hippo Tears” one. The “Project Leader Video” explains the thoughtfulness and science in the ingenious design. (I’ve donated one Hippo Water Roller and plan to donate more as my budget allows.)

For educators, raising money to donate a Hippo Water Roller would be a good project for students. It may also get them thinking about other practical design and science solutions.

Lesson

During the Youth Producing Change Screenings at the Human Rights Watch International Film Festival in January 2010, the film, Aquafinito, was screened. It was produced by Annalise Littman, currently a freshman at Tufts University and a former student at Newton South High School.

Aquafinito describes the struggle of people around the globe to gain access to clean water.

“Aquafinito raises awareness about the environmental and societal implications of bottled water, and Youth Producing Change has provided an important opportunity for the film to be seen and it's message to be heard." – Annalise Littman

To get a DVD of this film and those of other youth filmmakers from 2010, contact:
nedbalj@hrw.org. The DVD is available free to educators.

Unprepared – bottled water and less = less

Candelaria — Sun, 02 May 2010 11:52:00 GMT

Like many people who are concerned with the environmental impact of bottled water, its expense, the dangers in having private companies own public water sources, and the turning into a commodity of something that should be free, I haven’t bought a bottle of water in over a year. I’ve been using filters as well as drinking the water that comes out of the tap. Our water is sourced from the marvelous Quabbin Reservoir and tastes good so this makes sense or made sense.

Both/And not Either/Or

With the contamination of the Greater Boston water supply due to a “catastrophic rupture ” I have to modify my stance. This is another one of those “both and situations” rather than either/or.

Luckily, I had three gallons of bottled water in the basement and a bag of ice left over from a gathering. (I used to buy a bottle of water every time I went grocery shopping. )

From here on out, I will make sure to have at least 10 gallon jugs of water on hand. (This reminds me, I’ve got to restock my supply of non-perishable foods to eat in case it comes to that.)

I’ll also use my surplus of lobster pots to boil water and keep on hand.

I now have a deeper understanding of what people have faced in disasters. Having access to safe water is central to our lives. Many people don’t, even when there isn’t a catastrophy.

Need to get my head out of the sand

Because I’m not a news junkie and often don’t turn on TV especially on Saturdays because I’m running errands, working, or just vegging, I had no idea we weren’t supposed to drink the water. According to news reports, the criss began at 10. I don't know when the public began being informed, but I didn't find out until 6:30pm-ish.

I found out when my husband called and told me because he was on his way home from his Saturday errands and stopped at the corner store to pick up something. Someone came in and asked if they had any bottled water. The clerk/owner told the customer that they were all out and that’s when my husband found out and called me, after I had washed the salad ingredients because I decided I didn’t want to go out to dinner and would cook. Said salad was tossed.

What people don’t tell
I have friends and acquaintances who call me for all sorts of bull-crap, but not one of them notified me of the water situation. Upon hearing, I immediately called a friend who had gone to Six Flags for a birthday celebration. I knew she was heading back to Boston and might not know of the water ban. I didn't make calls to other friends. Now that I think about it, what's up with that? I have to be more neighborly. Just because I'm trying not to spread gossip, doesn't mean I shouldn't tell important info.

Public Notice…Not

I have gotten automated calls for all sorts of things from the Boston Public Schools, unions and politicians, but not one about this water situation. No police cruisers came down my street announcing the water band on bullhorns as they reportedly did in other communities. Haven’t seen any fliers, either.

Less is Less

I have always known, to quote my sister in St. Louis, that “less is less.”

Less taxes = less services.
Less maintenance = less prevention.
Less oversight = less solid work.

Our infrastructure is seriously inadequate. Think of all the jobs repairing the infrastructure would create. The jobs and the sense of well-being of having well-run, appropriately-maintained systems and not just adequate, cross-our-fingers that nothing happens to the systems we do have.

Workmanship? Integrity?

The new backup system failed. In an article in today’s Globe, Tunnel failure came before backup could be finished , reporter Beth Daley writes:

The Hultman tunnel was always seen as a priority, and even as ratepayers debated costs across the entire MWRA system, there was relatively little argument about the need to upgrade the old aqueduct.
“You always need redundancy,’’ said Joe Favaloro, executive director of the MWRA advisory board, which advocates for ratepayers. He said it was unclear how bad the problem is, and what costs would eventually fall to ratepayers.

“You don’t budget for catastrophic failures on pipes less than a decade old,’’ he said. “The irony is of course that the [much older] tunnel is fine. The piece that collapsed is less than a decade old.’’

We will find out what caused the breach in the pipe but one has to wonder…was it inferior materials, shoddy workmanship, experimentation with new at the expense of the tried and true. “The much older tunnel is fine…”

Sheesh!

Coinkidink (Coincidence & Connection)

Candelaria — Sat, 01 May 2010 13:27:00 GMT

I heard from three people on Monday, April 26, that I hadn’t heard from in a while. The coinkidink (coincidence) was that all three were former clients of mine from the same educational program.

None of the three knew each other or interacted at the program.

One is a 19 year old girl who is working off and on and her G.E.D.
The other is father and engineer from Guinea who took advanced ESOL classes.
The other is a single-mom from Ethiopia.

Each wanted something of me:

assistance with writing a letter to teachers about a daughter, recently arrived in this country, who has never spoken more than two words;
help writing a cover letter for a job;
something to do.

They wanted connection:

the teenager attends classes sporadically and desperately needs a job but has never worked.
the single mom is frustrated in finding a job that will use her skills and return her to the salary she made as the manager of the Boston branch of a retail store that closed;
the father wants help for his daughter.

I provided the assistance by setting up appointments to have food and conversation with the teen and the single mom. I tried to get the single mom to use the cover letter format I’d taught her, substituting the new job requirements for the old. I wrote the letter for the father that he will copy by hand (he doesn’t have a printer and no time to come pick-it up).

Most of all, I listened. People need a listening ear, a friend who can write an effective letter, someone to send them job postings and info about opportunities for them and their children…a shoulder to lean on.

I veer between willing service and pushing people toward independence. I don’t want to become the default answer person and to create dependence yet how can I refuse to help with requests that are simple (for me).and easy to accomplish? I try not to delve deeper into the situations than the requests to avoid getting emeshed in another's person's life. I have learned to give the teenager distance – she won’t follow my advice but she will, eventually, come back to the realization that the G.E.D. is linked to getting work and, eventually, achieving her dreams.

This is why I often put a wall up between myself and the new people I meet, because my heart, brain, and life have only so much capacity. I feel guilty about it, especially when it makes me appear insensitive and unfriendly. Despite the wall, people do get in.

Do you struggle with this at all?
Why did these three people find me on the same day?
Is the coinkidink sending me a message?

Don't Bring Home a White Boy and other Notions that Keep Black Women from Dating Out (Book)

Candelaria — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 19:39:14 GMT

I’ve recently had conversations with four of my friends about the lack of dates, mates or love in their lives. They are attractive, educated, active and fun. Three are well-traveled. They are heterosexual. They are Black. In each conversation, the idea of dating outside the race has come up. It is an idea they consider but most have not practiced.

I was looking browing Shelfari.com when I saw the title of a new book by Karyn Langhorn Foley, Don’t Bring Home a White Boy And Other Notions that Keep Black Women From Dating Out. Published by Simon & Schuster it came out in February 2010.

She addresses the cultural resistance of black women to dating outside the race despite the fact that many black men do so. Karyn Langhorn Foley herself married to a white man.

I haven’t yet read the book but plan to buy it soon. After viewing a video in which she talks about the book, I feel that her approach will be informative and nuanced. She is clearly thoughtful in discussing the challenges of being “unhappily single” and the need for women to go beyond their physical preferences and the messages they’ve received about not dating outside the race.

In the discussions I’ve had with my friends over many years about this topic, one of the reasons they've said they don’t date men of other races is because they aren’t asked. For every black woman I know who has dated or developed a long-term relationship with a white man, there are scores of others who have never been approached by someone outside the race. There are still more who don’t even get approached by black men. (Whoopi Goldberg discussed this on The View earlier this week. She said that she'd been criticized openly about dating white men and when one black guy challenged her about it she asked him, "Have you asked me out?")

I have had two dates with white men in my life. The first was when I was in high school. The second was when I worked at Boston City Hospital and it was a lunch date with a colleague so I'm not sure it qualifies as a date...make that two, we also went out to the movies once.

I would have dated white men and other men of color but it just never happened. I am now happily married to a black man. Our relationship and subsequent marriage came as a surprise to me because I had basically decided to move from Boston and had given up on finding a mate in this town. Several people who knew both of us would have never thought the two of us would become a couple let alone husband and wife. This goes to show you that your friends and acquaintances don’t always know what will make you tick and, therefore, won’t introduce you to single, eligible people they know.

I wrote a short prose piece called, The Right White Boy some years ago. Read it and let me know what you think about this topic.

My bottom line is that in the world today all of us have to be open to love – however it is packaged and to the wonderfulness in the world wherever it exists. No limits!

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If you liked this post, you might also lenjoy Tribe of Good People .

Lying to yourself? Me, too!

Candelaria — Thu, 15 Apr 2010 16:20:59 GMT

I often jot down phrases and ideas and keep them in the queue for my blog posts. A couple of times over the last few years, I’ve thought, “that person is lying to themselves.” So, I started jotting thoughts down for a post entitled “lying to yourself.”

One incident had to do with running into a friend and former colleague who I hadn’t seen in a couple of years. Her conversation about her “boyfriend” was the same as when last we had a long conversation. He is the boyfriend who isn’t, except in her mind. She’s not the only women I’ve known who's elevated an occasional tryst (or even frequent trysts) into true romance and an almost engagement (in her mind).

“She’s lying to herself,” I thought judgmentally.

Another incident involved listening to a friend as she was forcing herself to fall for a potential new beau. I kept telling her to pay attention to what he did rather than what he said he was going to do. She was seriously looking to pull up stakes and move half-way cross the country to be with him before there was a real reason to do so.

BTW – people don’t like you to fill in their blanks…to say the unsaid. So, a lot of times, I just end up listening, having decided in my mind how much time I’m going to give the ~~lies~~ I mean fantasies they’re spinning.

I have also watched my dear daughter go back and forth, up and down in her relationship with her significant other – they’re together, they’re not, he loves me, he loves me not, I love him, I love him not, we’re partners, we’re estranged. Oy vey.

BTW – you can’t live your children’s lives only influence them and offer advice, cross fingers and pray.

Then something happened the other day that made me critically aware that I am no different, human being that I am.

I, too:have lied to myself.
I, too, have chosen to weave a fantasy rather than work toward a goal.
I, too, have chosen to look but not see what was real.

To borrow from the Michael Jackson song, I’m looking at the woman in the mirror and she’s got to change her ways going deeper and further than she has gone to face the truth. It's time to do something different or accept what is.

That one finger pointing out at others, left three fingers pointing back at me (the thumb was neutral).

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Fittin' to do it

My house won’t let me leave

Candelaria — Sun, 11 Apr 2010 02:50:00 GMT

The occupants of my household are clingy. I’m talking about the inanimate occupants* – the furniture, the floors, the art work, the photo frames, the dishes, the plants, and the technology, especially the technology. They call to me, vie for my attention, and distract me when I’m trying to leave.

It doesn’t matter where I’m going – a walk or a doctor’s appointment, or what I’m planning to do - make a quick run to the post office, attend a meeting that may bring me a contract to earn money to keep said household going, or a getting a pedi-mani, something in my house will distract me. It’s like the house wants to hold on to me!

What happens is that while filling the water-bottle to take on my walk, the dishes from last night’s dinner demand to be put away. They know they can wait until my return but they almost fly in my hands so I delay leaving to do this one thing (which often turns into another). A walk planned for 7:00a.m. can turn into one that begins at 7:30.

A picture that wasn’t crooked the day before suddenly needs to be straightened and then needs to be dusted and then I notice that all of the pictures on that wall need to be dusted. I mean what will it take, I rationalize, not even five minutes, ten tops, so I stop to take care of this.

What about dinner, the frig asks? Yeah, I think, I should pull out something for dinner. The next thing I know, I’ve plumbed the freezer and am browsing through my cookbooks and/or recipe notebooks and/or doing a quick computer search for a recipe.

I didn’t use to be this way.

I’ve learned not to turn on the telly or the radio or the computer until I get dressed for appointments that require me to be on time. After I’m dressed, and only then, can I turn on the computer, check email ortype a document. I have to time myself even then.

I could focus, concentrate and walk straight instead of the detouring, multi-tasking attempts, and flittering I do now.

So this morning, I was fully dressed, coiffed (if you can call what I did to my hair today a “coiffure”), with my face prepared by 7:30 even though I didn’t need to leave the house until 9. It is now 8:45 and I’m going to stop...this...post and pick it up when I return…that is…if this darn computer will let me. An email just came in I could check it quickly, right. No…no…I’m standing up, I’m saving this post, I’m…turning, the computer…off!

Post-script – I made it out and got to the tour of the ICA (Institute of Contemporary Art) in plenty of time!

Do you find it difficult to get out of your house?

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*The other animate occupant doesn’t seem to have this problem.

Portable Happiness

Candelaria — Tue, 06 Apr 2010 21:02:37 GMT

I carry happiness with me. While walking yesterday, while riding the T today, while doing some spring cleaning this past weekend, I had happiness in my ears and on my hip. Let me introduce you my portable happiness - Ms. iPod.

Listening to music on my iPod player (gifted to me by hubby) is instant joy.

Yesterday, Michael Jackson’s “Rock with You” got me going.

Today, I veered between Déjà vu by Beyoncé and Jay Z
and Stevie Wonder’s “Do I Do?” from his album Musiquarium (1982).

'

You can’t be down or depressed listening to Do I Do.

Stevie asks:

Do I do what you do when I do my love for you?

"Yes, Stevie," would be my answer. There are several live versions of the video on YouTube, but I so enjoy listening to the song through my ear phones. (And dancing to it, of course.)

I’m on the T, listening to my portable happiness, mouthing the lyrics so as not to disturb my fellow riders, going back in my mind to one of the first times I heard this song with my girls – Mimi & Diane – back in our day...

Ah, there was a time when there was no better ones to be than we three (and no one than me).

Grab your iPod, put on some music, dance.

Spring has sprung!

Good & Plenty - Candelaria Silva's Blog

Giving Critical Feedback

What is good?

What of a Summer Evening? (Tito Puente Latin Music Series)

Hello, Boston

Do You and Your Mate, Lover, Spouse do Couple-y Things?

What happens when you don’t listen to your first instinct – a mini-adventure on the T in Dorchester

Happiness from Small Things (with a note to sourpusses)

The end is near

I Spy – I'm Jive

Smories (Help a Sister Out)

http://www.smories.com/watch/tracy_became_a_frog_one_day/ http://www.smories.com/watch/jump_jump_jump/

Watching you, watching me

2nd Random Booking & Donate a Book to a Kid in Need via BlogHer.com

Random booking – for the love of reading

A Gift of Water, A Lesson about Water

Gift:

Lesson

Unprepared – bottled water and less = less

Both/And not Either/Or

Need to get my head out of the sand

What people don’t tell

Less is Less

Workmanship? Integrity?

Sheesh!

Coinkidink (Coincidence & Connection)

Don't Bring Home a White Boy and other Notions that Keep Black Women from Dating Out (Book)

Lying to yourself? Me, too!

My house won’t let me leave

Portable Happiness

http://www.smories.com/watch/tracy_became_a_frog_one_day/
http://www.smories.com/watch/jump_jump_jump/