It's Way Past Time

When we decided to create this blog and were trying to come up with a name, we settled on “Virtually Deep Thoughts” as a shout-out to Jack Handey’s deep thoughts that used to be a part of SNL.  The name acknowledges what we were going for; not necessarily the most profound blog, mostly just ramblings, our random thoughts on random things.  Obviously, that has turned into day-to-day topics, often featuring Amelia, as I’m sure you, our few faithful readers, are aware.

This time, since I have a voice, however small it may be, I cannot continue to remain completely silent.  There have been countless others who are undeniably more eloquent and more educated on this subject.  And so, I will resist the urge to ramble on; I won’t even try to build an argument or change your mind, wherever you stand.  This is simply a rundown of my thoughts on the matter, in their most simplistic form.  That does not in any way mean that anything about this is simplistic.

I stand with those who are fighting injustice.  Injustice in it’s many forms; not just on one particular front (p.s. #lovewins).  Right now, though, I am speaking about the injustices in our world today based on race. 

Black lives matter.  I believe that all lives matter and because of that, when the issue at hand is about black lives, I have no problem acknowledging that black lives, every single one of them, do indeed matter.

The discrepancies between how people are treated are unacceptable.  This has to change.  I am supporting changes, having conversations, being willing to communicate about our problems, striving for diversity in my daily life and hoping to move towards better tomorrows.  I know that I can do more and will continue to be open to new ways to affect change.

Symbols, including flags that remind us of a history of hatred and oppression should not be celebrated.  Claiming that a flag is a part of history or a flag does not hurt anyone on it’s own is completely correct; however, that does not have anything remotely to do with whether it’s acceptable for it to continue to fly in front of government facilities or be endorsed by those with power in our society.  Being “not racist” is not enough. History has its place in museums; that’s how we learn not to repeat our past mistakes.  As an aside, guns may not walk around killing people on their own, but gun control does help to limit the amount of gun violence our society allows.  (If it were up to me, I would take it further than that.)

As a Christian, I believe that we are called to love.  Love is a lifestyle and not just words.  One of love’s jobs is working for equality.

I realize that I have said “I” an overwhelmingly abundant amount throughout this post and I hope that you’ll overlook that and hear the intent behind it.  I say that because, possibly, the most important thing I can say is that this is not about me.  Right now, this is not about white America; it’s about black America, and that is completely ok. 

Today, my heart aches with Charleston and so many others who have felt deep loss.  I mourn.  I am reeling from the dichotomy that the past few weeks have held.  I am thankful for a leader who gives eulogies.  I am grateful for those who have more effective words than I do.  I am willing to work, to change, to listen, to stand and most of all, to love.

Owning Cardinal Perceptions

If you've read our blog before, particularly posts from me, you know that I'm a gi-normous baseball fan and even bigger St. Louis Cardinals fan. On Tuesday of this week, the New York Times published a story about my beloved Cardinals. The Cardinals are known in baseball for the 'Cardinal Way', but the allegations in the NY Times' story shed light on a different Cardinal Way. It is such a big story that it was on Today, NPR, Wired.com, bizjournals.com, fortune.com, Politico, and even the BBC across the pond.

The Houston Astros have alleged that members of the St. Louis Cardinals organization 'hacked' the Astros' database of player personnel files containing trade talk memos, scouting reports, and proprietary statistics. They were alerted to this by the appearance of closely-held information anonymously posted to a website last year. They began working with the FBI and Department of Justice to find the culprits and bring them to justice.

This is bad for the Cardinals, and bad for baseball. The Cardinals currently boast the best record in Major League Baseball. Rob Manfred, current MLB Commissioner, is in his first season as commissioner, and prior to the All-Star break is in the midst of a corporate espionage scandal courtesy of a federal law from 1986 regarding computers. Yeah...not much has changed since then. I'll spare you a lot of the mundane details, but Cardinal employees allegedly accessed a database from a Jupiter, FL home (site of their Spring Training) using a list of passwords left in a former employee's office. You can't make this stuff up. It reeks of jilted junior high romance, and revenge.

However, what I really want to talk about is what happened on Thursday. Bill DeWitt, Chairman of the St. Louis Cardinals issued a statement regarding the allegations against his organization. In it he said, "These are serious allegations that don't reflect who we are as an organization." Blah blah blah! "We hold ourselves to the highest standards in every facet of our organization. It has been that way forever, and is certainly true today." Blah Blah Blah!

I could've written this statement with boiler-plate language that would've fit any number of scandals - political, academic, religious, collegiate, or personal. I have one request in these situations. Like it or not - own it!

I know that my beloved Cardinals are in damage control, but what can demonstrate higher standards than saying, "I'm ashamed of what has happened, and we will work to change,"? Nothing! Perception management and damage control only prolong reconciliation and healing. Yes, this does reflect the Cardinals organization right now. It may not have a week ago, but it does right now. It is part of the history of the organization from now on. Just own it already! More than that - this translates to all areas of life.

Years ago, I would've been in denial about many of my own issues, and this just delayed my ability and willingness to deal with them. If I was lying, admit it and change. If I was hurtful, admit it and change. If I was an addict, admit it and change. On the eve of my second Father's Day, this is one lesson that I will teach my children. Don't lie to yourself, and meet your faults directly.

Managing perception is tiresome, and delays progress, more often than not. I don't care if I live in a mountain town, and it's only hot and humid 3-4 months out of the year. The Egyptians came up with a concept of cooling residences in ancient times. In 1902, air-conditioning was mechanized. Then it was further developed and installed, for the first time, in a private residence in North Carolina. Air conditioning is great! Granted this is a silly example, but I want steady, reliable air-conditioning. Boone A/C rant over.

 I don't care if your team only had four players arrested this weekend. It does say something about your school or organization and it's standards. I don't care if only a few people committed fraud. It is a part of your team's, school's, government's, or business's standard of operation. I don't care if only one crazy person did one insane thing, it does say something about your society as a whole.

I never progressed personally by saying, "Well Adam that was just one mistake at a given time. That was just one accident. That was just one poor choice. That doesn't define me." I only made progress when I owned and admitted my failures and short comings.

Go Cardinals and Happy Father's Day!

A Little Cake, A Lot of Fun, Our Little Sunshine Just Turned One

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,

 You make me happy when skies are gray.

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you,

I love you more and more everyday.

On the morning of Friday, June 5^th, Adam and I got up and got ready for our day as usual.  However, on that morning, when we heard the familiar babbling from Amelia’s room, we both rushed in with our camera.  We sang “Happy Birthday” and snapped pictures of our always-happy-in-the-morning not-such-a-baby girl.  She laughed and clapped at the unexpected morning excitement, only pausing to try to hide her eyes from the flash.  And so began Amelia’s very first birthday.

            This day may have felt typical for Amelia in her one-year-old routine way, but for me, for us, (and in truth, for Amelia) it was monumental.  Just like all of Amelia’s firsts, we anticipated her birthday.  I have confessed before that I love special occasions; I love marking time; I love celebrations and nostalgia and surprises.  This one was no different; in fact, if anything, this particular birthday was especially meaningful, even if the birthday girl had no idea why she had a particularly awesome weekend.

            All birthdays contain a certain amount of nostalgia, looking back over the past year, assessing what was good, what was bad, what has changed.  Like most parents, Adam and I spent Amelia’s birthday wrapped up in that nostalgia.  We constantly checked the time and reminisced about where we had been a year ago at that time.  Of course, this birthday was starkly different than her actual birth day; there was much less physical pain this year, but both years had cake.  As far as the assessment of the past year, I’ll hold off on that, so I can finish the story since I know you, reader, are desperately eager to hear the rest of the story of Amelia’s graduation from babyhood to toddlerhood.

            On her birthday, Amelia had French fries for lunch.  She gleefully swung in the baby swing at the park in Blowing Rock after which she braved crawling through the tunnel and she had her first taste of ice cream (vanilla from Kilwin’s; the verdict was “delicious” and “more”). 

            Later that day, after opening presents from Mommy and Daddy, Amelia celebrated with all four of her grandparents, her parents and her dog, all at once.  She was one happy little girl, with the exception of the five minutes when we tried to give her cake (oh, the horror).  When bedtime rolled around, she was more than ready.  As I tucked her in, I found myself faced with another moment full of bittersweet and nearly overwhelming nostalgia.  She looked so big in her sleep sack, holding her Amelia monkey blankie, wondering why I wasn’t leaving the room.  Once, not so long ago, that crib had seemed to swallow her; she had seemed lost in the vastness of it.  Now, I marvel at how she manages to flop around so much in her sleep even in spite of the four walls of crib slats.  Never again will the changes in one year be so pronounced.  Never again will she need me, need us, in quite the same ways.  Never again will she be a newborn or even a baby.

            I tore myself from her crib-side and rejoined my parents, my in-laws and Adam.  Once we were sure she was sound asleep, we left Amelia with a babysitter and headed en masse to decorate for Amelia’s “You Are My Sunshine” first birthday bash that was set to take place the day after her birthday.  This was one of those rare times in life when the actual look of something nearly matches exactly what you pictured.  I hadn’t mapped out each detail exactly, but the overall effect was perfect.  First birthdays are controversial in their own ways.  Sure, the birthday child has no idea what’s happening.  Sure, it’s a lot of work.  Sure, it’s just as much, if not more, for the parents.  To all of that I say, so what?  I didn’t feel the least bit stressed and I enjoyed every bit of throwing the party.  Amelia will never have another first birthday.  If you had only had one birthday, wouldn’t you want it to have been an awesome one?  

          And, whether she understood or not, when party time came, Amelia partied hard.  She absolutely and unquestionably loved her party.  She did not shed one tear, in spite of the crowd and attention and “demands” of being the birthday girl.  Instead, Amelia ate it up.  She played with everyone, went to anyone who wanted to hold her, ate her cake happily and opened all of her presents, happily moving from one toy to another.  She may have fussed – and it may have been a lot – when we had to clean the cake off of her, but to be fair, we couldn’t leave it caked in her hair and of course, she had to change into her post-cake wardrobe.

            The main thing that I want to say about her party is thank you.  I cannot express how much the party meant to us and how much we loved seeing everyone love Amelia.  To those of you who took time out of your day or travelled or turned down other (possibly more exciting) plans or whatever you did to be there with us, thank you.  Thank you. 

            After the party, life mostly returned to normal, as it always seems to do.  I am still trying to get used to saying I have a one-year-old.  Amelia is still exploring everything, walking everywhere and learning how to communicate. Milestones will continue to present themselves and then to be mastered.  I hope and pray that Amelia will continue to grow and learn.  Not all birthdays will be this big; whether or not we celebrate this way, this birthday will always stand out.  We will celebrate again, but never again will it be her first birthday.

            When you bring a newborn home from the hospital, it seems as though they change every day.  Each moment brings something new and even something exciting.  However, at the same time, the newborn phase can seem as though it will never end.  Then, you wake up, and it’s a year later.  Your newborn is now a walking, “talking,” playing, mile-a-minute toddler.  I can’t honestly say that I fully miss the newborn phase in its entirety, but the memory of it does carry with it finality, only because Amelia will never be there again.  It’s both happy and sad; one of the conundrums of parenting. 

            The happy part is that we all got through one year of being a family of three.  In fact, not only did we get through it, we got through it well.  Yay for us!  Amelia is growing, learning and is pretty much completely awesome already.  That’s a point for me and a point for Adam.  So, once more, (for this year at least) I’d like to wish you all a happy Amelia’s birthday.  I hope it was as happy for you as it was for us. 

Caterpillar Massacre

            I like to walk.  At this point in life, it’s one of my favorite ways to exercise.  Even Amelia can get involved.  Of course, Scout’s a big fan.  So, whenever we can, we take the whole crew to the Greenway.  I most definitely miss the Hendersonville Greenway and the walking trails at Moss-Wright Park, but the Greenway in Boone is beautiful, even if it could use a path that’s a little smoother in some spots. 

            This afternoon, Amelia and I visited the Greenway without Adam or Scout.  We had a fairly uneventful walk, with only one shoe being thrown and only a handful of whines about being confined to the stroller when there weren’t enough dogs or people or trees or other interesting things to watch.  We rounded the curves and followed our usual route.  This route includes a path that’s completely shaded by trees on our way back to the car.  It’s always a greener, quieter, more contemplative part of the walk.  Scout rarely does big business there; even she seems to appreciate that it’s nearing the end of our walk.

            Today, as I entered that stretch of the path, I was caught unaware as I felt something under my shoe.  I assumed it was a crack in the sidewalk or a leaf or something on that inconsequential level.  When it seemed to stick with my shoe, I finally looked down.  I found that I could barely see the path.  There was a multitude of thin, black and yellow caterpillars covering the ground.  Some were moving, some were not.  Needless to say, the caterpillar that first drew my attention was in the latter category.   Perhaps, I had stumbled upon the Great Caterpillar Migration or the Caterpillar Trail of Tears or something equally definitive in the society of the caterpillars.  Horrified, I tried to tiptoe past the grouping, without disturbing more than necessary.  Of course, Amelia’s three-wheeled stroller took up too much room to be too careful.  So, I took the path of least resistance and left a dreary wake as I raced past the stampede.

            This wildlife encounter reminded me of a day earlier this month when I was playing with one of my preschoolers on the playground at their daycare.  She found a worm and was captivated.  I narrated the experience and tried to continue the interest, bringing other friends over to share.  They all watched, pointed and explored.  It was adorable.  And then, it happened.  The original student who had discovered the worm took action.  While the other students watched, she suddenly took aim and…stomped.  The worm had no chance.  Amid the brown splotch that was left on the sidewalk, I scrambled to divert the attention of a very observant group of preschoolers. 

            Maybe it’s just in my world, but it has not been a good month for creepy-crawlers.  Even though I’m not normally a fan, of course, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. 

I could turn this into a metaphor for our lack of control in life or drone on about the circle of life or how everything has a purpose.  But, tonight, on a Sunday night, with another workweek looming, I’m not going there.  Sorry.  Tonight, dear faithful, patient, perseverant reader, you’ll just have to accept this random story, join me in feeling sorry for caterpillars, and hold out for a (hopefully) more poignant, relatable, well-written post next time. 

Greg Maddux's jersey, Taylor Swift’s favorite number backwards and Tomorrow

Yes, we are playing Pyramid and hopefully, this game isn’t as tough for you as it is for Joey Tribbiani.  For this one, the answer is the number 31.           

Tomorrow is my 31st birthday (or today is my 31st birthday eve or today is the day that I celebrate 30 and 364 days).  Nominally, tomorrow is not as momentous a day as it was last year.  There is no decade coming to an end, no new over the hill jokes coming my way, and there are no wistful country songs written about turning 31.  All that being said, tomorrow marks the beginning of a new year, a new age.  Today, I am valuing the close of 30 and anticipating the beginning of 31.  Any of you who have persevered through my wonderments can’t possibly be surprised that nostalgia in all its glory is rampant tonight.  Sammy Hagar put it surprisingly well when he said, “Every year on your birthday, you get a chance to start new.”

            On paper, this may not be a monumental birthday, but in reality and in possibly the understatement of the decade, it has been no less than a monumental year.  The first half of my 30^th year was event heavy, but those particular events were enough to last me the whole year and then some.  During one third of the past year, I became a mother, moved unexpectedly and started a new job.  It was an overwhelming whirlwind of a trifecta. 

            The events of my 30^th year have undeniably and irrevocably affected who I am at 30 years and 364 days old.  While events in our lives do most definitely shape who we are, I have repeatedly discovered this year that I am not defined by any one of the hats that I wear.  Right now, I am at a point in my life where I juggle quite a few parts of my life.  Often, they don’t overlap, but that isn’t always the case.  I am many things and all of it somehow adds up to be just Katy.  I don’t feel like adding sides to myself takes away from others…that in and of itself may be a rant for another day…

            While I love the beginning and ending signified by birthdays, one of the reasons I am enjoying getting older is that age doesn’t mean that I lose anything. Katy at nearly 31 has built on Katy at 23 and at 16 and at 9; I haven’t lost the girl I was at any of those times. 

            “The great thing about getting older is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been.” – Madeleine L’Engle

            Anyway…I hope you’ve all had a wonderful my-birthday-month so far, a terrific my-birthday-week and now, happy my-birthday-eve to all of you!