Other People's Business

Today is Scott's 48th birthday. I took him to breakfast to begin celebrating. The restaurant only had 4 other people in it. 3 men sat in the corner together. It was 8:20 a.m. so the three were not in a hurry to get to work. None looked old enough to be retired. They were talking loudly. Voices carry in a high ceilinged room when it's not crowded. One voice was dominant. Blah blah food stamps. Blah blah unemployment. Blah blah socialism. Within minutes, he established to me a little bit about him. He is either unemployed or underemployed, he will vote for the Republican or Tea Party candidate in the elections in November, he is blue collar, upper lower class, mildly educated, watches Fox News, and will have the tendency to lean in the "ists" direction. Classist, racist, etc. He is either hard of hearing, or believes his views need to be shared with the widest possible audience. I knew he was wearing either a John Deere or Caterpillar ballcap before I glanced his way as we were leaving. He talked the way working class people have talked for centuries - everyone else is doing it wrong. And then I wondered about me. About all the attention paid to other people's business. Perhaps when I focus on other's shortcomings, or develop a negative impression too fast, it's because there's something that's poking at me about me. OPB. OPB is not my business, it's not anybody's business. Social networking sites try really hard to make it their business, because those things are in the business of connecting people, not to each other, but to the marketers who are paying to reach the people who have to have an opinion on OPB. I don't care if someone likes WalMart.  I truly do not care what you had for dinner last night. That's OPB. Something changes in the world when comments can be made on every damn thing anyone does or espouses or thinks. People might begin to believe that their opinion matters beyond its importance. When OPB becomes my business, or your business, then sides are taken. Lines are drawn. And the importance of those lines is blown all out of proportion. Someone outside of our own locked heads must be blamed - whoever that is, even if it's someone just like us we do not recognize in our finger pointing. I learned a lesson today. It does not matter what I think about those guys in the corner. It's not my business. And I'm reminded again I don't have to have an opinion on everything. Scott and I enjoyed our breakfast together, right after we agreed that those guys were talking loud. And then we ignored them, and concentrated on our business - enjoying our breakfast and celebrating Scott's special day.

My Birthday and St. Patrick's Day

After a certain age birthdays are about getting license tabs. My friend Geri says birthdays are all about the cake, and she gets herself a dazzling one each year. I'm looking at my tab on my desk, hoping I remember to put it on the car when it stops raining, and already hoping I have the money to get a new one in 2013. And wondering if I'll get myself a cake this year. Which brings us to 4-leaf clovers. How? Luck. My Aunt Suoma gave me a 4-leaf clover decades ago. I kept it in my wallet. When my wallet croaked, I took out all its precious stuff, and found the clover was dust. Lucky dust? I don't know. Did carrying it keep me from a fatal car crash somewhere in time? From a heart-crunching relationship? From a terrible job that would have broken my spirit? Maybe. I made two shamrock plants this week. One is for sale on etsy. And one is on my dollhouse front lawn. I have a new literary journal to review this month and it arrived yesterday. My first one was published last month for The Review Review. This new journal is about luck. I'm excited to read it, and glad I don't have an opinion on luck right at the moment. That's lucky already, isn't it?

Happy Birthday, Beckie

Rebecca Carolyn Conrad was born on this day in 1969. She had a childhood like all children have; their stories are personal in how they remember the tale. It is not my tale to tell. She grew up, worked and gathered the skills, knowledge, opinions, feelings that became the incredible woman I met in 1995.

She changed my life that year.

Beckie has a beautiful, discerning, analytic, no-nonsense mind. She is an excellent teacher, a stalwart ally, an incomparable creative, and a gifted mother. Beckie was able to accept the original medicine she was born with, and add other gifts she gathered along life's path. Like her own video game, she landed on the caches of special powers that would be valuable and useful as she journeyed through this life.

Beckie inspires the people she meets to do the best they can. We've all met people who have this special gift, and they make finding a good path and the work in doing the right thing much easier.

For two years, when I was struggling mightily with cancer, she held my consciousness. It was not weighty or burdensome for her, and she quietly went about her own life with love, while ensuring that mine was as peaceful as could possibly be. She is a powerful and awesome spirit and I admire her strength of character and will. She is an evolved human being. I hope we will see more people like her come into the world, and take their place among the healers and peacemakers of the future. We need heroes like Beckie, with her unconditional love and clear-eyed vision.

On your day, beloved Beckie, I light a white candle to honor you, and wish you joy, comfort, peace and the company of a glorious host of more human beings just like you.