Familius

Life Is Not Something You Measure In Cups and Teaspoons

Today's guest blog is from Brenda Moguez and from the Lessons From My Parents crowdsourced book project. We invite you to continue to share this project until October 31st and celebrate this upcoming book. 

The summer after I graduated from college, I was jobless and lying around at my parent's house pondering my existence in the world. My grandma, Della, called me and told me to come see her. Della and Don Corleone shared this sort of control over people; when Della told you to do something you didn't argue. Della had been sick, and she needed help. It made sense for me to go. I was glad for the chance to escape since I hadn't a clue what to do with the degree or my life. I was on the plane the next day heading for Pueblo, Colorado.

I wasn't prepared for the woman who awaited me at the airport. She had lost weight and looked older than her sixty-five years.

"I am dying you know," she said after we hugged.

"We're all dying," I replied. In my family, the women are the backbone. Weakness of any kind in the girls is considered one of the deadly sins.

Della wasn't exactly cover material for Redbook. She was definitely not a blue rinse, Bloomingdales sort of lady—she clipped coupons, a scarred survivor of the Depression and was prone to hoarding cans of SPAM—and when the grey started weaving its way into her thick head of hair she opted for Lady Clairol’s Cherry Silver. She gave me a couple of days to enjoy our time together before we hit the Dialysis Center, and visited with her doctor. Our meeting with him set the tone for the next couple of weeks.

“Your kidneys are failing, and dialysis is no longer a viable option.” Dr. Mong was matter of fact. “Mrs. Ortega, there is little we can do for you at this point. I suggest you tidy up your affairs and make final arrangements. Is there a Mr. Ortega? I’ve seen a couple of gentlemen come and go during your treatments, but I wasn’t sure if one was a Mister.”

“There hasn’t been a Mister for quite some time, but there have been several SOB’s since Mr. Ortega left.” Still smiling, Della continued, “How much time is left on my limited warranty?”

“Limited warranty?”

“When is my time up? It can’t be that hard a question to answer. Is it hours, days, or weeks? Is the answer somewhere in those papers you are looking at?”

“Mrs. Ortega…” He paused for several seconds before lifting his eyes from Della’s chart. “It’s difficult to put an exact date on your warranty, but I suggest you gather your family and take care of any unfinished business. It’s a matter of weeks.”

“Thank you, Dr. Mong. Come on, Hijta, let’s go to Passkeys Bar and have a cold beer, maybe some lunch, make some plans, and celebrate.”

“Thanks, Dr. Mong. OK, Grandma, lunch it is.”

Over the course of the next week, the rest of the family flew in and took care of the final arrangements. I was at her side for whatever she needed. It was only fitting since she had always been there for me over the years. I had one more lesson to learn she told me the last night we were together.

"I haven't given you my recipe for green chili stew,” she said. I knew how to make it, had for years. I spent too many hours at her heels in the kitchen while growing up not to have learned how to make it. Since we were snuggling on her bed, I didn’t argue.

Her shunted arms pulled me in tight. The Este Lauder Youth Dew perfume she was so fond of wearing wasn’t strong enough to mask the smell of illness, which clings to the body once death takes hold. We lay intertwined for a long while. She drifted in and out. I hadn’t had to confront death before nor was I sure what I was going to do without Della. She was always there with an answer, even before I knew the question.

"Hijta, I want to tell you how to make Green Chili Stew because you won't find this recipe in Betty Crocker.”

“OK, Grandma.”

“You need some pork. Buy the cheap cut, pork shoulder is best and then cut it into bite-size pieces, fresh or canned tomatoes, and only use fresh roasted green chilies and jalapeños, chopped onions, fresh chopped garlic.” Then she explained how to cook it, "First you have to brown the pork. After it's browned, smother it with flour, and brown that too.” She was specific with the ingredients, but vague with the measurements and the time required per task.

“I won’t be here to help you along, Hijta. Life is not something you can measure out in cups and teaspoons. Remember this, and you will get along just fine. Cooking chili is a good place to find the answers you are looking for.”

I listened attentively because I wanted her voice to go on and on and never stop. After she finished explaining how to make chili, she asked me if I got it. I did. I understood. Life was not something I would find in books nor could I measure it out perfectly, and regardless it might come out differently depending on the conditions.

She closed her eyes for the last time.

5 Ways to be a Great Family Leader

In a September 6 online issue of Inc., journalist Jeff Haden writes a great article called “5 Underrated Traits of Great Leaders”. Always interested in correlations between best management practices and best family practices, this is Familius adaptation from Jeff’s article:

1.      Quietly pick up the trash: While great business leaders go about taking care of minor issues like waste on the floor without any chest pounding or need for recognition, sometimes family members, particularly husbands, take out the trash and need the entire neighborhood to know it was him. Great family leaders do what needs to be done, never looking for accolades, applause, or acknowledgement;

2.      Don’t ask poets to diagram sentences: Jeff writes that “Great leaders develop their employees, but they do it in ways that allow their employees to still feel they’re successful, at least most of the time.” What this means is that great leaders work to leverage their employees’ skills and talents.  As family leaders, working to help our family members discover and cultivate their own skills and talents is even more critical. While understanding basic math is important, don’t enforce advanced calculus on your daughter who is composing music and loves it.

3.      Fetch your own ketchup: You’ll find that great business leaders will always go back and fix their own mistakes or get their own forgotten notes. They don’t ask others to do that for them. Likewise, great family leaders go about taking care of their own business and don’t expect family members to solve those issues for them. They are accountable and expect to be held accountable.

4.      Shy away from spotlights: Reinforcing number one, great leaders don’t understand what all the fuss is about. They go about their day working to create positive change. They are diligent, dedicated and determined. Their genius is usually their consistency. Great family leaders have them same skills. Neither great business nor family leaders need to have people acknowledge how great they are. In fact, they don’t really think they’re great. That’s why they keep working at it.

5.      Jump on grenades: Not literally, but great leaders take responsibility when something goes wrong. They take the blame. Great family leaders need to do the same thing. If something goes wrong and the family suffers, take responsibility as the leader and find a way to make it better.

The Familius Family International Film Festival

Film and video have been a key component of the Familius strategy since we envisioned a company that created content to help families be happy. Having film content that provides how-to, role play, and unique stories that inspire us to spend more time with our families, cultivating those relationships we all long for, complements our book and article strategy.

About a month ago we launched a campaign to create the only digital film festival focused on family and entirely devoted to non-fiction. There are nine days left to this campaign and we invite you to share it with your circle of influence. Together we can make this festival a reality. 

Are You Far Behind?

Sometimes we tell our family members, “I’m so far behind!” and they respond kindly, providing empathy and a listening ear.

Other times they say, “I don’t want to hear how far behind you are when I’m equally far behind and no one is helping me watch my children.”

(This is hypothetical, of course.)

The reality is that all of us are far behind and perhaps the best thing to say is, “What can I do to help you?” rather than dwelling on our own position in our fictional race.

“In helping others, we shall help ourselves, for whatever good we give out completes the circle and comes back to us.” —Flora Edwards

Love and Acceptance

Today's guest blog is by Teresa Clark from the Lessons From My Parents crowdsourced book project. As announced yesterday, Familius has extended the submission deadline to October 31st. We welcome your stories. 

It was one of those days when simply everything had gone wrong. It wasn't even an exaggeration, there was not one little sliver of light in my day and I was bound and determined to make everyone around me as miserable as I was. When my mother asked me about my day, I let her have it. I dumped my entire emotional bucket at her feet using the most colorful, off-color language I could think of.

I wanted to shock and annoy, I wanted to hurt her as much as I hurt, I wanted to be left alone, and I wanted to wallow. I naively assumed if I could make the air around me toxic enough then she would go away. That's not what happened. She sat on the edge of my bed, unflinchingly allowing the angry and inappropriate words to pool up around her, as my angst poured over her. She never once tried to stop me, interrupt me with advice, or censor my diatribe—she simply listened. When I had finally exhausted my trucker vocabulary and all of my anger had gushed out of me I stood defiantly over her waiting for her response. She simply wrapped her arms around me and pulled my head down to her shoulder, stroking my hair and making soft shushing sounds as if I was a precious infant with an upset tummy. I fell to my knees and the healing tears flowed out of me with as much force as the injurious words had only moments before. When my racking sobs finally ceased she simply kissed me on the forehead and walked quietly out of my room.

In that rare and shinning moment she had taught me more about pure love and acceptance than any words or advice ever could. In my most unattractive and unlovable condition she had given me a life-altering lesson on the tangible impact of God-like charity without offering a single word. It was a shifting point for me. While we never discussed that moment again, it became the catalyst for a journey of self-improvement that led me forward in ways I could have never imagined.

I’ve raised four children to adulthood now. It’s safe to say I had such a moment with each of them. It wasn’t until I lived her side of the experience that I fully understood the depth of love and pain and mastery that swirled through my mother’s heart that hot summer afternoon so long ago.

Familius Extends Lessons Deadline

Our lives are built on stories. The writer Philip Pullman said, “After nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need the most in the world.”

Because of the wonderful story submissions Familius has received for the Lessons From My Parents project and since learning that there are a number of international writing organizations and individuals planning on additional submissions, we have decided to keep the submissions open until October 31, 2012.

This project is to celebrate and explore those life moments taught by our parents that have influenced the rest of our lives. We hope that you will continue to participate in this crowdsourced book project by sharing this link through your own social media: http://www.familius.com/1lessons-from-my-parents.

A digital and physical book will be published later this year that collects all accepted submissions.

We look forward to your stories . . . 

Let's talk family. 

Be All That You Can Be

One of the biggest fears we have is wondering if we are doing it right. “It” being whatever it is that we know inside we must and should be doing—being a good husband, a good mother, a good employer, a good sibling, a good father . . .

Rarely do we have a playbook and each situation is so unique that any instruction manual is often ignored if read at all.  We’re on our own and we know it and that’s why we fear.

The reality is that if we put aside the fear that we’re not good parents, not a good husband, not a good mother, not a good brother. . .  and focus on just “doing” by “being”, while we might not get it right every time, we’ll get close and we’ll find that it will do for now.

All those marketing catch phrases, whether “Be All That You Can Be” or “Just Do It”, while inspiring, really have more meaning than the copywriters intended.

Do the best you can, the very best. Discard your fear of failure and embrace the reality that by doing the best you can, over the years, it will all work out.

“When hungry, eat your rice; when tired, close your eyes. Fools may laugh at me, but wise men will know what I mean.” —Lin-Chi

Spread Love Everywhere You Go.

My Mother Was a Good ‘Noshima’

Today's guest blog is the final part of a three part series by Celia Jones and part of the Lessons From My Parents crowdsourced project. We invite you to participate by going to Lessons From My Parents and either submitting a Lesson or sharing this project with your friends and family. Thank you.

You would never hear Mama complain about her lot in life: “If everybody put their troubles on the line, they would gladly take their own over someone else’s. As long as you have your health, you have everything”; ironic as my mother was always fighting the effects of poor health with debilitating ailments.

Despite the many hardships in her life, she never seemed bitter, never complained about having more than her fair share of trouble, nor asked the question—“Why me?”, but would say instead, “Why anybody?” “Why anybody” has helped me deal with my own difficulties of the early onset and progression of Parkinson’s Disease and the death of my daughter. Like her, I’ve found that keeping a positive attitude and refusing to see myself as a victim and helped me cope with some of the most devastating life challenges

Mama accepted that bad things can happen to good people and passed on some of her superstitions, such as: “Beware the people with the evil eye!” She believed there was a sort of person who begrudged other people’s good fortune and ‘gave you the eye’, inflicting illness and misfortune on the receiver of this ‘eye’. Dressing us in red to ward off the evil eye accompanied a precautionary ritual: a close relative had to spit in the air close to your face after exposure to suspected evil looks. I used to think that this probably worked because nobody could be jealous of you with spit all over your face. I’m only a little superstitious, but I still learned that it was unwise to provoke envy in others. Unconsciously, I've found that I've also adapted her kind of stoic philosophy. Without being negative, I'm aware that there’s no guarantee that bad things won’t happen to my loved ones and cherish them all the more.

It was her philosophy to counteract anger and cruelty with a dose of kindness: “You can get more bees with honey than vinegar.” That made the most impact. In other words, disarm people who are hell-bent on creating ructions and hostility by showing them understanding. Psychologists today prescribe this non-confrontational approach as a means of dealing with conflict situations. As a high school teacher, I often followed this advice when handling obstreperous students and found it to be an effective approach.

One day when I was teaching a senior English class, I told my students about my mother’s sayings, and one boy asked me if my mother was a philosopher. The question surprised and amused me. I was going to answer my student’s question by saying that, of course, she was not a philosopher. She wasn’t very well educated, and I never considered her very bright when I was young. However, like an epiphany, years after my mother’s death, I suddenly realized that my mother was a good ‘noshima’, a good soul. Her sayings had made their intended impact on my adult behavior, life choices, values and relationships. I felt both a renewed respect for my mother and a sadness that I hadn’t recognized the value of her words before. Her little gems still lingered in the depths of my psyche. Mama’s behavior expressed true love, and her words expressed a down to earth wisdom and courage. Once more, I could see Mama waving her palms over the Sabbath candles spreading her own personal version of the Jewish zeitgeist. Her rubbery matzo balls and dense chicken soup still felt heavy in my chest, but all around me, what I was most conscious of was the lingering sweetness, which would always be with me, of my mother’s ‘nshoma’, her enduring spirit.

It’s Nearer, Rather than Farther

Today's guest blog is part two of a three part series written by Celia Jones from the Lessons From My Parents crowdsourced book project. You can participate by visiting http://www.familius.com/1lessons-from-my-parents. We encourage you to share the project with others and submit your own Lesson. Thank you. 

Recently, I got hold of an old super 8 film reel that my father-in-law took of my husband and myself leaving from San Francisco Airport for a supposedly two-year teaching stint in Australia, which ended up being permanent. Everyone else looked excited, and my father was being his natural comedic self. I had not noticed until viewing this film 25 years later the devastated look on my mother’s face as she sat in the shadows observing all the activity, not wanting to spoil the excitement of our adventure and sensing that we wouldn’t be coming back to live in America again.

Shortly after we left America, my father became ill, and Mama was left on her own to cope. She never missed a day visiting my father in the hospital after his cancer operation, gritting her teeth making the painful two-mile painful walk on her arthritic knees. My father said she encouraged him with a mantra-like phrase: “It’s nearer, rather than farther.” Mama supported Daddy in his journey to overcome his illness and taught me the value of true devotion.

Fortunately, Mama was able to bring my father home from the hospital with her, and I can just hear her sighing: “There’s no place like your own home,” when they walked into their house. Mama feared the prospect of living alone. No doubt, she would have thought about her adage: “A mama can always find room for 16 children, even though 16 children can’t find room in their home for one mama.”

Mama always used to say it would be a nightmare to have to live with her children, remembering how difficult it was when her own mother had to live with her and my father. As a parent herself, Mama was unselfishly devoted to her children, no strings attached, and she has been my role model in raising my own daughter.

My parents were not materialistic, and though they could afford to buy a nicer, more modern place, Mama refused to move from our old ramshackle house on Nursery Street. She was totally attached to the oversized kitchen, which was Mama’s domain, where she created her culinary triumphs and frequent disasters for her family. Instead of resembling the fluffy-looking loaves pictured in the recipe books, her bread rolls turned out like cargo-ship anchors. Her problem was that she was overly generous with ingredients; if the dish called for one cup of flour, she’d use two, or three eggs instead of the one the recipe required. She always said, “I don’t like to skimp on food for my family. You have to cook with love.”

She would express her values in sayings with a food theme like: “He cries and eats creplach,” which reflects Mama’s attitude to selfish people. Creplach are Jewish dumplings, once considered a delicacy usually for the wealthy. This saying encapsulates my mother’s censure of the selfish type of person who will never admit that he is financially comfortable for fear that someone might be jealous or ask them for a loan to help them out of a desperate financial situation.

Tomorrow's blog will be the conclusion of this guest series.