Criminals, Thieves, and Robbers

I have recently been invited to join a book club in my home town and was pleased to receive the invitation. I respect and like the members of this group. I did have some trepidation about accepting since I don’t often have time to do all the reading I would like. And If I were obligated to have read a book in its entirety each month to speak intelligently about it, I would feel guilty about being unprepared for the critique and discussion about the assigned book.

It has been two months now since my induction into this group and I consider myself a complete failure so far. The first author who was chosen is a writer of thrillers, not my most favorite genre. I tried. However I found him to write in such a fashion that I never became interested in any of his characters. So how can I read a book about people for whom I don’t give a hoot? I voiced my opinion and sat silently listening to those who did enjoy the book. Sigh!

This month the chosen book is The Wizard of Lies the Madoff story. Again, I felt like I would be in above my head. I know nothing about stocks and bonds, converting convertible bonds into common stock, mergers, accuisitions, tax-write-off, etc., etc., etc. Never mind, I told myself, I will read this book to find out why Madoff became the criminal, thief, and robber that he is. You see, I am interested in people and what makes them become who they are. Is it some thing in their environment, in their upbringing, some experience they may have had, or what? Why did Bernie Madoff become the Bernie Madoff who destroyed hundreds of people’s lives and who now rots in prison? This will be interesting, I said to myself.

Wrong again! Sadly, it disappointed me. It was written more like a historical treatise about his family background, not unusual or pathologic, and then the steps he took in his career that led him to the ponzi scheme that we know as the mother of all ponzi schemes.

The book failed me in showing me Bernie Madoff as a person, someone who not only thinks and plots, but someone who also loves and hates and plays and feels. The book fails to do that and I shall attend the next book club meeting once again without having finished reading it.

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The Yin and Yang of Love

I have been busy writing my book, so much so that I haven’t had a chance to post a blog. Until today. My book is not a sequel to my memoir, Becoming Alice. Rather it is what now is called creative nonfiction. I won’t belabor the point by going into a lengthy definition of that category, but instead I’ll tell you it is about a young woman who basically wants to get married. What woman doesn’t?

In the process of dating and the man and woman in my story have a lot of yin and yang between them. I thought you might like to know what that means. I went to my dictionary and here it is: “Yin and Yang (Chinese philosophy) are two principles, one negative, dark, and feminine (Yin) and one positive, bright, and masculine (Yang), whose interaction influences the destinies of creatures and things.”

I object! I have never heard yin-yang used in such a way. I have always thought of it as two forces that pull in different directions, perhaps like the positive and negative in electicity or the currect Republicans and Democrats in Congress. I just had to get that one in there. I personally used it in the back and forth dance couples often do when they first get to know one another. Or, what married couples often do for the rest of their lives.

Being a woman I STRONGLY OBJECT to the negative force being identified as feminine. And who says the positive force is always masculine.

I’ve got to do something to protest. I can throw my dictionaly away. Obviously it is way out of date. Or, I could give up on Chinese philosophy on which I have often relied. My favorite sayings are “He who hesitates is lost.” and “Patience is a virtue.” Perhaps it was Confucious who said that.

In any case I am right about people not always seeing things the same way. That is just part of the human condition, call it yin and yang or whatever you like.

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I Like You Because ….

I was in the beauty shop last week getting a haircut. It was on a Friday and the business was booming; every one of the half dozen chairs was occupied with customers and operators working as fast as they could to process as many clients as possible. I often enjoy looking at the costumes of beauty shop operators because I think that they think they must be in punker garb to be successful. Purple and orange hair. Rings in noses, earlobes, belly buttons. You get the picture.

My beautician is dressed normal. She is fifty years old and perhaps that makes a difference. I don’t know. During a lull in my conversation with her, I overheard a customer at the other end of the row of chairs speak to her beautician. I couldn’t see either one of them since my head was tilted down so that we could cut around my neckline, but I heard, “I met this guy and he’s great. He owns his own business and he’s a Republican.”

It made me laugh and I said to my own beautician, “Never mind that he’s divorced because he beat his wife and cheats on his taxes, but he’s a Republican!

Of course, I know many people who have different formulas for whom they like. For example, mothers who don’t want their daughters to go out with anyone other than Jewish men, Mormon men, Catholic men, Armenian men, Germans, Swedes, Poles, and, of course, Democrats or Republicans. Need I go on?

What has happened to the time when we decided to like someone who was kind to others, ambitious for their families, charitable, intelligent, hard-working, lovimg, open to new ideas, or just simply nice.?

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What About Regrets

Having pondered the subject of guilt in an earlier blog, I am now thinking about its second cousin, the subject of regret. My parents had many regrets in their adult life, the main one being that they didn’t leave Europe at an early age and thus avoid the horror of the Second World War. But there were others, many of them being the decisions they made in either spending or managing their money. No matter how problematic my father’s relationship was with my brother, he never regretted anything he said or did in my poor brother’s regard. Remember, he was the one member of my family who never, never was able to say, “I’m sorry” except on one occasion.

My mother had many regrets, the most painful one for her was that she felt she was not close to her mother. And after my grandmother was killed, she was haunted by the fact that she never told her mother that she loved her. It’s mistakes like that which are the most lethal ones with which to live.

The other most painful regrets have to do with money. I heard my dad say, “I should have invested in that apartment house.” Of course his friend, who did take a chance on it, made a small fortune. Moreover, Dad didn’t learn from his mistake. He never was able to risk a dime on anything that wasn’t a hundred percent insured, solid investment. He had many regrets in his life.

Fast forward to my own regrets. I must be chip off the old block because I don’t really have any regrets regarding my interpersonal relationships. However, my husband and I both regretted not putting our house on the market a couple of years earlier when the market was hot. Our house is rented now and the regrets have diminished.

Moreover, recently there has been some talk about the fact that we may be going into an inflationary period in our economy, and owning a house may just end up being the best hedge against inflation that we could possibly have. So all this makes me wonder if we should really spend a whole lot of time kicking ourselves over regrets, when there isn’t much we can do to reverse things, and maybe, just maybe, our decisions may end up being the best ones we could have made in the first place.

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Saying I’m Sorry

I’ve often wondered why so many of the public figures in our society say “I take full responsibility for this problem.” These public figures may be congressmen, evangelests, actors, businessmen, and the list goes on. Their actions may be to abuse power, steal funds, or take part in unacceptable, and sometimes perverse, sexual behavior. Currently the inspectors of the nuclear plants in Japan admitted they haven’t done it right for years. The air traffic controller at the Reagan National Airport fell asleep, leaving two incoming planes to fend for themselves. Luckily no one was hurt. Where was the FAA in all of this? They haven’t taken “full responsibility” for the incident either, except to say there will be a “full investigation.” The controller has been fired, but we haven’t heard a word out of him.

I wonder why no one has ever come out and said, “I’m sorry.” It must be that saying I’m sorry means that you admit you have done something wrong. It implies that you must feel some guilt about what you have done. It makes you look bad. In Japan you will “lose face.” But if you say, “I take full responsibility for this catastrophe or problem,” it implies that the problem may have been caused by some other person, perhaps an employee, a spouse (for a failed marriage), an adolescent (whom you haven’t monitered closely,) a neighbor, a colleague, anyone else other than yourself.

I have always thought saying I’m sorry showed strength of character. It shows a person is confident enough in himself to admit to others his mistakes and feels he can overcome the problem and still be accepted. Perhaps I feel so strongly about the importance of saying, “I’m sorry” because my father never, ever in his whole life admitted he was wrong or had made a mistake about anything. That is, not until he was ninety-seven years old and was caught red handed in a mistake he’d made. I am so glad that happened. I can now remember him better for all the positive characteristics he had, and they were many.

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Bosses-On the Good to Bad Scale

I still have Bosses, Leaders, and Power in my mind. How could I avoid thinking about it? Every day that I put CNN on for the latest news, I see the kind of Leadership, the kind of Boss, and the Use of Power that the Lybian leader, Ghadafi offers his people. This also effects the rest of the world actually. Just go and fill up your tank at any USA service station and you’ll see how his every move impacts all of us. Ghadafi is a tyrant, for sure, but what I want to know is how there are so many Lybians who support him, who fly his plane and tanks and kill their fellow citizens. Have they been so crippled by having their own ability to think taken away from them for many years that when they are finally given a chance to exert themselves, they are unable to do so? Is this the same kind of brainwashing that we had seen among Hitler’s “judend namely the German children, who cheered for him blindly? This is all very scary stuff, as far as I’m concerned.

But I’m also worried about the leadership of the countries in the rest of the world that stand by lamely and don’t use the power in their hands to stop the Hitlers and Ghadafis and Mubaraks and … and … and …

Is this also a problem on a much smaller scale? For example, how many parents dominate their children, how many husbands and wives dominate their spouses, how many siblings dominate one another, how many bosses dominate their employees to the point that they are unable to express their own free will? Not a small number, I would imagine. I think leadership qualities can be identified in childern as early a nursery school. Perhaps we should find a way for those who are being bossed around to learn early on how to deal with those who rule over other in negative ways.

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Being Bossed

In my last blog I wrote that it is common for one person to be the decision maker, leader, boss, or, whatever you want to call it, in a relationship. Sometimes that person is aware of it and takes advantage of his dominance; sometimes it comes about in a very subtle way, as I described in many European marriages I witnessed as a child.

The whole subject got me thinking about the person or persons who are being dominated, be they wives, children, office workers, farm hands, secretaries, etc. I think sometimes people are content to be bossed around because it takes the responsibility of making decisions away from them. It is my feeling about people who follow certain religious leaders who dictate to others how they are to live their lives.

Most usual, in my opinion, people are not happy to be controlled in any way. How do they then deal with their discontent? They may seek to dethrone the dominant person by fighting for his/her position as in a family, business, law office, etc. Perhaps they will do as I did when I felt I could not live being dominated by my father. I left the household and moved to another city. I have known others who have left their religion, their job, and even their family.

For me it is clear that being bossed/dominated does not work in the long run. What I didn’t know was that my family members would eventaully follow me to me new home city, forcing me then to take over the leadership position. I hope I didn’t abuse that power.

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Who’s the Boss?

I was having lunch the other day with one of my cousins and as is usual in our meetings, the conversation turned to a rundown of what is new with each member of our extended family. We don’t have a very large family but still, it seems that certain members see each other more regularly than others. I’m not sure if that is “normal” or not. I think it is.

So, I asked my cousin about some members with whom she is closer and the conversation went to a married couple in which the husband has been very successful financially. As I remember him, he was always the one to remind the rest of us about how he rose from being a shipping clerk to being the head of his lucrative company. Meanwhile, his well-dressed, bejeweled wife would sit in the background silently, smiling.

“Don’t kid yourself,” my cousin said to me at lunch. “She’s the whole show.” Of course, what she meant was that the quiet, subservient wife was, in fact, “the boss!”

It made me think about so many European families that I knew growing up as an immigrant in Portland, Oregon in which I saw that same equation at work. It seems to me, looking back at it all, that the Viennese culture I knew then required the husband/father to be the head of the family and thereby the one to lay down all the laws by which everyone under his roof was to live.

However, their wives somehow knew how to finagle their husbands into giving in to their wishes. My mother did it by crying. I’m sure others had other means for manipulating their husbands … without their even knowing it.

What was and still is clear though, is that everyone else among their acquaintances who knew the couple, knew exactly who was “the boss.”

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About Being Liked

Being liked is such a subjective feature that I went to the dictionary to see the deifinition of the word like as it pertains to people’s relationships. It states: To regard with favor or have a kindly or friendly feeling for a person (or group, etc.)

I don’t think about being liked at all any more. It doesn’t really matter to me, although I’d rather be liked than disliked. In any case, there isn’t anything I’d do to encourage or discourage any other person’s thinking or feeling about me. As I often say now, “It is what it is” and ” I am who I am.”

But that was not always so. If you’ve read my memoir, Becoming Alice, you’d know that I would have jumped through hoops to get anyone to like me. I even religiously read a column in my home town newspaper that instucted people who felt left out, what to do to get others to like them. Their advice was compliment everybody you come in contact with. They wrote: Tell them you like what they’re wearing, you think they look good, you think they are smart, you like their house, their car, their garden, their cooking, etc. etc. etc. You know, I think they do have a point. It probably works some of the time.

On the other hand, I think that tactic brought to the extreme can be counter-procuctive. Ever heard “kissing up” to your teacher, your friend, you lover. or anyone else. Not pretty.

Another annoying tactic was one my own dear father used. When in a social situation, he’d agree with whatever anyone in his immediate company said. It ususally came with a broad smile and, “Right you are!” Then after the party left and we were in our own kitchen, he’d say, “Did you hear what that idiot believes? How stupid can you be?” Sometimes I wonder if either one of those tactics got anyone a friend who actually liked them.

Personally, I think one has to just plod along being themselves and hope for the best.

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A Cure for Writer’s Block

Perhaps some of you have noticed that I haven’t posted a blog in quite some time. There is a reason for it. I’ve been in the throws of moving out of a house I’ve lived in for thirty-six years. Thirty-six years! Can you just imagine how much junk one can collect and hord in all that time? Enough junk to make seventeen trips to the Goodwill Industries and enough junk, (or should I call it “waste”?) to fill to overflowing seven garbage containers, that needed to be picked up over a seven week period of time.

Lucky for me, quite a lot of my possessions were taken by my children. I am so happy about that. I feel like I haven’t lost them altogether; I will be able to see them when I visit their homes in the future.

And then there are all the other items which are being sold at an “estate sale” as I’m writing this blog. Now, don’t think these are priceless antiques we are talking about. These are left over beds, chairs, tables, kitchenware, lamps, couches, etc. etc. that are simply “used furniture.” I just need to get them out of the house for whatever tenants will be moving in to rent the place.

What has all this got to do with writer’s block, you may ask? Well, being the pack rat that I am, I have stored pieces in my closets and drawers from the year one. They are items that have been given to me by people whom I’ve known and liked and loved over the years. Each time I pick up a vase, or a platter, or a perfume bottle, or a picture frame, I remeber the person who gave it to me and I get that warm feeling about that person. And I know intimately the entire story about that person that makes him or her interesting. It is food for a short story or an essay. Perhaps even a novel.

I picked up a perfume bottle from my vanity. It was given to me by one of my best friends. I recall her first love, her first husband, her three chidren who were my kids best friends, her divorce, her single years, her struggle to make ends meet, and the man who became her second husband.

I picked up a porcelain Cocker Spaniel figurine made by the famous German potter, Rosenthal. It was sent to me by an early admirer in an effort to push me into a relationship in which he was far more serious than I. The ying-yang that took place between us would make for interesting reading.

There are so many more objects in my house that have a story behind them. So, my advice to anyone that is having writer’s block, is to go through their house and find those objects with remarkable stories behind them and write their stories.

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