Commercial Seductions

A few days ago I discovered that Chris has elected to control much of his health through drugs. I *thought* he was keeping his promise to try diet and exercise first so this was quite a shock. Since 100 percent of his "issues" are lifestyle related and since I believe that pharmaceuticals are important but should not be a crutch, we are having a difference of opinion.

I'm trying hard to understand but I'm failing. He feels like the choice he made is essential to saving his life. I feel like it was weak.

The liberal part of me acknowledges that this is his choice and it isn't my business. The part of me that is pure woman is disgusted by what I consider to be weakwilled. To keep from exploding over and over I have to not think about it.

Tough if you are watching any amount of TV (ironically its own special player in this drama) because the commercial lineup is roughly 60 percent drug company sponsored. As I sit here 3 of the last 4 commercials have been for the following:

Crestor

Lipitor

Viagra

Lipitor is one of the components of his drug cocktail and the one I most object to given its side and cumulative effects. But there sits a man about Chris's age and he is discussing how important it is to him not to have a heart attack. How he is doing this for his wife. He is so convincing it's hard not to be sucked in.

He is exactly the kind of role model men all over the country would follow, the 2009 version of the Marlboro Man.

I'm not an Ad Man but I've touched the industry in my practice and I'm familiar with the concepts of hook and hold. I've been closely involved a couple of campaigns (product and services) and I know the first step is to identify your target audience.

There is no question in my mind that these commercials are just like any commercial for a product upon which profit is the goal.

And they are effective.

This afternoon I was going through a pile of magazines and found an ad for Viagra. It was about having "that talk" with your doctor. A full page ad. It resonated with me because frankly, cholesterol, and high blood pressure aren't the only problems a man like Chris has when they are nearing 60.

What I don't understand is why the ads aren't geared toward women and why they don't say "how to have that talk with your man?"

Oh wait, I know...*we* aren't the gullible ones.

Until we become mothers and we are told to shoot our daughters up with Guardisil in all of its minimally field tested with no long term impact studies conducted. Because we should trust our daughter's fertility to the motives of profit just because a commercial, or a doctor who recently had lunch with a drug rep, told us to.

Personal responsibility has many faces. It starts with asking the hard questions and not falling for the advertisers story telling.

Cigarette anyone?

NL

Pick and Choose

I've had a chance to spend some time recently thinking about relationships...particularly familial relationships... and I've come to the following conclusion:

They are complicated.

Over my desk hangs a snapshot taken at my stepdaughter's wedding. In it is the bride (her), her father and my daughter (her half sister). That is where the blood ends.

The picture also includes my niece, two nephews, my mother, my sister, and my brother-in-law. Oh, and me.

Generally speaking I like this picture. It oddly contains some aspect of each person's personality. My youngest nephew is distracted by something his sister is holding. His sister is focused and wearing her Mona Lisa smile. My daughter is smiling and her eyes are dancing at something the photographer was saying. My ex-husband is wearing the exact same smile he has for every picture.

My sister is smirking. She smirks frequently because, I think, inside her head is this constant Robin William-like chatter. It's even funnier when it exits her mouth. My brother-in-law is a stoic kind of guy and yet he has a pleased look on his face. It's the look that has always anchored my fondness for him. You have to know him to be able to see it and I'm still not sure that everyone in our family has figured that out.

Next to me my mother is grinning her usual grin - it's the one she uses for pictures and moments when she has to smile becauses she is "bucking up." I'm not suggesting she wasn't happy...I think she was...but the tedium of post ceremony pictures gets to everyone. Behind me my eldest nephew is towering over most of us and it is in this picture that I am reminded that the bare-butt baby I helped deliver into this world has grown into a handsome young adult.

And yet...it feels incomplete.

I look relaxed in this picture as I tilt my head in toward my mother and I actually like this picture of me because it doesn't show just how fat I am (vanity thy name is woman.) But if you know me, if you really know me, that smile is the one I give when I am seething and trying to be a good sport. It is a perfect blend of my mother and my father.

Missing from the picture is my heart. He is standing out of the picture looking on. It never occurred to him to be part of the picture - but it occurred to me. The look on my face is the look of a woman honoring a bride's wishes made clear just moments before and trying to be a good sport about it.

It is only just now that I realize why this picture and that scene make me so angry.

With two exceptions, every person in that picture is the brides family because of me and only because of me. Not an ounce of shared blood flows through her veins. She hangs on to the family I brought into her world with a tenacity reminiscient of Molly Brown and the Titanic. But not my WHOLE family. Only the part she picks and chooses.

Also missing from this picture because they could not attend are my father, 2 brothers, my sister-in-law, my brother-in-law, my 5 other nephews and other niece. Had they been there she would have wanted them in the picture and those 10 other people would have spread around her in love. But still she would not have wanted Chris.

But Chris is as much my family as she is. In fact more so.

It is Chris that wakes up with me every morning, worries about whether I've had lunch (or dinner), holds me when I sad, sits quietly with me when I am watching a waterfall, thinks outloud with me when I'm am noodling through a "situation", patiently explains football to me every weekend and laughs at me when I yell at the football refs, players, and coaches. He is not me but he amplifies everything I find good in who I am (and sometimes the stuff that isn't so good.)

My sister wisely suggested that perhaps she did not want Chris in the picture because to her he represents the fact that her father and I are no longer together. That may be true. But my family is as much to blame for that as I am, and certainly more to blame for it than Chris is. It was my family who raised me with enough self-esteem and strength that when I finally realized that we were NOT good for each other I was able to leave him.


So it left the question wide open. How much of your family can you choose?

With that first divorce in my family came a question in our ranks - was my ex-husband (and his children) still part of our family. We pondered deeply for about 3 seconds and then came to the conclusion that yes, they were.

And it was this decision made without hesitation that serves as the backdrop for why my step-daughter's exclusionary behavior bothers me so much. Does she have the right to pick and choose?

After much thought I've decided that while she can choose her family, she can't choose mine. Mine is wide and open and loving even in our every annoyance with each other. Entrance into my family is a gift that seemingly never ends as my divorce from her father (and therefore her) did not alter my family's decision to let them keep their places. Maybe it's the fact that a big family realizes that a new kid does not spread the love any thinner.

At the end of the day I think what I've learned is that I *can't* pick and choose parts of my family. If you're in, you're in. But I think I learned that the moment my parents brought home my first sibling.

So if the piece that glues you to my family is *me* then you get ALL of my family - Chris included.

If you can't deal with that...then it's time to get out.

NL

People Who Mean Something

Ah Facebook....the decisions you force me to make.

Do I accept a friend request from someone I don't know (or at least, don't think I know?) I do not.

Do I accept a friend request from someone who is a great friend and whose invite I've been expecting? I do.

But what about all those people in-between? The ones I'm more a passing acquaintance with or, in a few cases, whose presence brings back some past ugliness?

I have a couple hard and fast rules. One rule is that, no matter how often FB suggests you, if you work for me I don't initiate the friend request. If *you* initiate it then it's probably a yes. If you didn't work for me and now you do, I'm not hurt if you de-friend me. I know that the boss relationship can make the friend relationship a bit...um...awkward.

[Let me take moment here to let all of you who have been friends for a long time and are now navigating with grace the path of working for me AND being a friend that I am very very grateful. I'd hate to be losing friends faster than I make them simply because of a paycheck.]

Recently I found several friends on Facebook and I initiated "friend requests" and I was SCARED. It had been a LONG LONG LONG time and what if they didn't remember me? What if what they remembered was that they didn't much care for me and that's why we lost touch? (I know that's stupid - ALL of my friends will tell you that losing touch is almost always my fault...I've very bad about staying in touch with people...just ask my mom!)

One of them, after several weeks passed, said YES to my friend request. I can't tell you how excited I was to find him in the first place. He had a HUGE impact on my life - there is a part of who I am that was very much shaped by our relationship and I hold several memories very precious. Our lives changed and our paths parted but he never completely left my thoughts.

But as the weeks passed from the time I first asked him to be a friend I thought "oh, maybe what he remembers isn't as fond as what I remember." Maybe he was disgusted by the life/career choices I made and wanted nothing to do with the woman he last knew.

So his "yes" thudded through me like a drum and I was awash in relief.

Turns out that Facebook is full of people and some of those people MEAN something to other people. A lot of people on my friend list are those kind of people in my life. I am who I am today because of them.

And I know that the double blessing is that there are several people who friended me even though I have hurt them through the years. I wasn't always there when they needed me. I wasn't always who they needed when I was there. Sometimes I would get so caught up in my own dramas that I wouldn't pay enough attention to theirs.

So maybe, just maybe, Facebook will be the place where a few relationships are mended while others are rebuilt. Because these are people who mean something.

NL

Songs My Father Nearly Sang Me

When I was a kid, every once and a while my father would burst into the one happy little ditty I think he knew (his other favorite song was the Russian dirge "Happy Birthday".)

He'd get this far:

Last night I slept in a hollow log

With the girl I love beside me;

When my mother would make him stop.

This drove me crazy because I just KNEW the lyrics would be delicious and probably a bit naughty.

I was talking about this the other day with my friend Jane and so she said the obvious "Let's google it." A moment later the lyrics were up on the screen in front of us and when we found the familiar verse I thought "huh...that's not so bad."

It went like this:

Last night I slept in a hollow log

With the girl I love beside me;

Tonight I sleep in a feather bed

And she's right there beside me

This morning I sent the entire song with its lyrics off to my father. It was found in a link from the SCA (Society of Creative Anachronism) in a document titled "Songs unsuitable for children...and small dogs." It is full of songs I think my father would love. It was while sending this email to my father that I noted the verses that followed and I finally understood my mother's concern.

Last night I slept in a hollow log

With the girl I love beside me;

Tonight I sleep in a feather bed

And she's right there beside me

She jumped in bed and covered up her head

And said I couldn't find her

But she knew damn well she lied like hell

So I jumped in bed beside her!

I diddled her once, I diddled her twice,

I diddled her once too often.....

I broke a spring, or some damn thing

I diddled her to her coffin......

My mother was probably right not to let him finish the song because I would for sure have remembered it and sung it for someone - and not knowing what "diddled" meant, likely would have done it in church where I sang most often.

All that said, it is now clear to me that I come by my love of Bawdy English Drinking songs quite honestly.

Thanks Pop! I love you!

NL

Hi! I see you've met my cat.

Buzzzzzzz.....

6:17 am this morning my phone rings. Fortunately, I'd woken up at 6:15 am all on my own so I wasn't completely startled awake.

I knew before I answered it what it was.

I was right.

"Hi, I'm sorry to call you so early but this is the number on the cat's collar" said a sweet voiced young man in my ear. I glanced over at Chris quickly, thinking that tenor sweet had it's advantages but remembering that from the moment I first heard it, Chris's baritone rumble had me at hello.

"I'll come get him, what apartment are you in?" I offered, wondering just how fast I could get dressed.

I am not a pretty sight in the morning. Gone are the days when a boyfriend would greet me with "You really are beautiful in the morning." Now my hair sticks up, more in the grayer places, and my cat allergies show up in my eyes.

I throw on a bra and a house dress and run down the hall in my bare feet. I knock and the door to 408 opens up. He's a nice guy clearly, and way ahead of me in his morning routine. He is obviously okay with his surprise visitor.

"It's okay, we're cat friendly and he's a great cat."

"He loves people" I explain "and he's discovered that by walking the balcony he can meet more of them. He's been visiting other people regularly. I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay" he offers back "we don't mind. He's a really nice cat. What unit are you in?"

I shove my thumb to the left and tell him. He looks surprised, tells me that he thought for sure he came from above and that explains why there were no injuries when he checked for them.

This entire time I have my purring fluffy big boy of a cat in my arms and he is perfectly happy to be in the center of two talking adults. Thanks to him, I've met 3 of my floor neighbors - only one of which wasn't particularly pleased to find him on her balcony. The other two have discovered that he is perfectly content to be petted, held, and chatted with.

Meanwhile, I've decided that I really like my neighbors. I think it might be a nice chance to get to know the people I live next to beyond just a wave in the hallway. Arlingtonians are typically a pretty good lot and I know that already.

But I have to find a way to stop meeting like this!


NL