Giving Tuesday

Remember when the holidays were simpler? 

Back when I was growing up in New York City, Thanksgiving was the official start of the Christmas season. But not because big box retailers were open on holidays or at 4:00 am or advertising "doorbusters." (Interesting trivia, btw. Look up the word "doorbuster" and you'll find "a special discount price available for a limited period, typically during special early-opening hours." But it's also defined as "a firearm with special attachments for forcing entry through a door." Hmmm. A coincidence? Maybe not. More like a warning. Basically, you want to stay away from any Walmarts on Black Friday in open carry states.) 

But, I digress.

In my childhood, Christmas started when Santa Claus and his entourage rode by at the end of the Macy's parade. We shopped — slowly and sanely — over the next three weeks or so. Although last minute trips to Woolworth (Remember Woolworth?) were fairly common too.

When I see Black Friday footage online or on the news, I'm ashamed of us. Really, people! One day earlier (or earlier that day, depending on where you shop), you sat around a table with loved ones, thanking God or whomever for all you have. Whether you believe the Pilgrims were peaceful settlers or murderous invaders, today's holiday is supposed to be about gratitude, right?

So where does all that gratitude go when flat-screen TVs and Tickle Me Elmos — "Doors open at 5:00 am!!! Limited supply!!!" First 50 customers only!!!" — are on sale?

Out the window, apparently.

Here are a few things I'd rather do than participate in Black Friday:
• Eat kale, raw, without salt or anything
• Get a root canal
• Read my daughter's book list for Honors English 12

There are many (many, many) more.

So, let's all forget Black Friday. (And its digital spin-off Cyber Monday.) This year take a minute for (and take your teen to) givingtuesday.org to start a better tradition. The movement #GivingTuesday was started four years ago at the 92nd Street Y (in my hometown). It's meant to be "a global day of giving fueled by the power of social media and collaboration." Instead of kicking off the shopping season, #GivingTuesday kicks off the charitable season. It celebrates and supports giving and philanthropy. 

Although it's still a new idea, #GivingTuesday has already generated a lot of interest, buzz and much needed support and donations for worthy causes, ranging from schools to not-for-profits, religious organizations, community and social causes, and more. Today, #GivingTuesday is supported by 30,000 partners in 68 countries. It's generated 15.4 billion print and social media impressions (32.7 million on Twitter alone) and more than 750,000 hashtags. Most important, since 2012, it's been responsible for a 470% increase in online donations.

What a better use of our money and time than crushing each other to grab a coffee maker or a Barbie Dream House.

Put the "giving" back in Thanksgiving.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of my book  Lovin' the Alien.   
 

Rain on My Parade

The Wednesday before Thanksgiving. The worst travel day of the year in these United States. 

Take a deep breath and drive.

Despite a 5:30 am start, a fairly vigorous storm, and a sleeping teenager in the backseat suffering from the start of a nasty cold, we made it to my hometown in relatively short order. In fact, my mother was surprised by how early we arrived and scolded us because she hadn't finished making beds or putting out fresh towels. 

It was a cold, wet, dreary day so apart from a quick lunch at a local Irish pub, we stayed in the apartment. There was plenty to do: catching up on some client work (that would be me), pulling out tools and playing handyman (that would be my husband), preparing side dishes for the next day's feast (my sister), and looking through stacks of photographs from recent horse shows (my daughter and her grandmother).

Soon, my brother, sister-in-law and marvelous niece showed up. We had chicken chili and watched back-to-back Charlie Brown Thanksgiving specials.

The first was familiar. The kids (Ever notice how grownups don't exist in the animated world of Chuck Brown? Except for the occasional "Mwah mwah mwah.") made a holiday dinner that included toast, popcorn and jellybeans. This menu would actually go over pretty well in our house. Except the toast.

The second was new to me, having aired in the early 90s (after I was a child and before I had one). It placed the Peanuts gang aboard the Mayflower, Charlie Brown in a drawstring version of his trademark zig zag shirt. They suffered through the long journey to the new world (including countless scenes of the settlers getting seasick — I wish I was kidding), settled Plymouth Plantation, made friends with the Indians and enjoyed a celebration of Thanksgiving. Essentially the same story we're always fed and less than accurate if you start digging.

Apart from our own family's feast (at my cousin's in Westchester County where there will be much wonderful food and probably no toast), this morning was supposed to be the trip's highlight. Per usual, my daughter and I had planned to walk up to Central Park West and muscle our way into the crowd to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Alas, it's not to be.

Midway through Charlie Brown's pilgrim adventure (really, did Charles Schultz have anything to do with that subpar program?) my daughter fell asleep on the couch. We could barely rouse her to head into the bedroom and once my mother located a thermometer we learned that she had a 102-degree fever. So, apparently, the cold is more of a flu and that means ...

No parade for us. 

She's still sleeping as I type this and savor a cup of my mother's coffee. When she wakes up, she will be p-i-s-s-e-d. But, I'll remind her, as her mom, I have to make the tough decisions. And sometimes the not-so-tough, just unpopular. Taking a feverish teen to stand out in 30-degree weather for three hours wouldn't really qualify me as a responsible parent, would it?

We'll be back here in a couple of years, but meanwhile, you can take a few minutes to read my Thanksgiving parade remembrances on Women's Voices for Change.

Have a wonderful holiday full of love and joy and gratitude. 

And be particularly thankful that you're not on the Mayflower, getting seasick with Lucy, Linus and Charlie Brown.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.  

Gratitude

In a day and a half, those of us in these United States will partake in a tradition known as Thanksgiving. It doesn't matter how you feel about the invasion and subsequent genocide that took place when this country was "discovered," "founded" and "settled" (you now know exactly how I feel about it). The concept of stopping and giving thanks is a powerful one.

In theory.

In practice, this year will be less about being grateful for what we have and more about conspicuously consuming as much as we can — whether that means eating too much or camping out at the local shopping center to grab as many "Black Friday" bargains as possible. Some retailers are starting the madness on the holiday itself, forcing associates to cut short time with their families. 

Unfair, exploitive, and certainly not in the spirit of Thanksgiving.

As the mother of a teenage daughter, I try to set a good example: help her feel genuine gratitude for all we have and genuine compassion for those who have less. Like most of our friends, we have much more than we need. In fact, that's one of the earliest lessons my husband and I tried to teach. It went something like this ...

"I need ... (fill in pretty much anything that a young daughter would want: a toll house cookie, a Glitter Princess Barbie, fairy wings, the new Elmo videotape ...)"

"No, you want it. You don't need it."

"But, I need it."

"Is it food, shelter, water or oxygen?"

(Silence.)

"Then you want it. You don't need it."

Understanding that your needs have been met (your needs and a lot of your wants too) is a first step toward gratitude. This is not just an admirable feeling. It's absolutely critical to our health and well-being. Last year, the American Psychological Association presented a study demonstrating that teenagers who were grateful were more likely to be hopeful, happy and well-behaved at school.

The study included 700 kids, measuring the "gratitude" of each based on his or her positive outlook on life. After four years, the "most grateful" teens were 17 percent more happy than their peers. They were 15 percent more likely to see meaning in their life, and 15 percent more satisfied. Perhaps most importantly, they were 15 percent less likely to suffer symptoms of depression.

Giacomo Bono, Ph.D., a researcher from California State University, put it this way: "More gratitude may be precisely what our society needs to raise a generation that is ready to make a difference in the world." 

Inspired by one Oprah Winfrey, I started a gratitude journal a few years ago. Each morning, I would list five things I was grateful for. This didn't last long. Not because I was ungrateful, but because the process was so boring and redundant. But, I think it may be time to dust off that journal, and buy one for my daughter while I'm at it.

This Thanksgiving, I'm thankful that I have so many things to be thankful for. As always (well, maybe not always, but at least 90 percent of the time), my daughter is on top of my list.

Thank you.

If you enjoyed this post, order a copy of my new book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.

No Rain on Our Parade

When people hear I'm from New York City, they typically ask me one of two holiday-season questions ...

"Have you ever been down to Times Square on New Year's Eve?"

and

"Do you go to the Macy's Parade on Thanksgiving?"

The answers, respectively, are "No frrrkin' way!" and "Abso-frrrkin'-lutely!"

I grew up on Manhattan's Upper Westside, a mere ten-minute hop, skip and a jump from the beginning of the parade's route on Central Park West. We went each year as a family, or if my mother had too much dinner preparation to tend to, my father took us. One year, we left the house later than usual and the parade had already passed. Not to worry, we jumped on a downtown subway and arrived at Herald Square in time to watch the whole thing.

When I was in high school, I was a member of the prestigious First All Children's Theatre Company. In 1978, we were invited to participate in the parade. What a thrill! Although several of the younger children marched (one lucky young man got to sit on the giant Schaper Cootie Bug), most of us were down at Macy's, where we did a musical number from The Incredible Feeling Show by avant-garde dramatist Elizabeth Swados. Dressing rooms were set up between cosmetics counters on the department store's first floor. Ours were right next to the cast of Broadway's Peter Pan, including then star Sandy Duncan. I think we had to be there at 4:00 am — not exactly prime-time for a bunch of teenagers. But, what a wonderful memory!

Throughout college and after I moved to Boston to start my career, I always returned to New York for Thanksgiving and always, always attended the parade. There were years when it was just my mother and me, my siblings either sleeping in after an evening working or away on some adventure. I did manage to drag my husband along a handful of times, but he prefers to watch the parade from the comfort of a couch, coffee in hand. After all these years, the only person I can really count on is ... my teen daughter.

Imagine that.

This year, I confess that I expected a little push back. Getting up early (unless it's to drive to an equestrian event) is not exactly her forte. But, she was perfectly amenable; in fact, she expected and — dare I say — even looked forward to it! 

The weather was gorgeous: sunny and mild for the time of year. We walked up to Central Park and then fought the crowd for a couple of square feet of prime parade real estate. Although we had a bit of a wait, we didn't mind. The people-watching was pretty epic and we got to eavesdrop on some very entertaining conversations. (Two aspiring actors from Ohio debated whether a mutual friend was "gay gay" or "bi gay" and whether it was his mother's fault because she bought him a Louis Vuitton bag. And, no. I'm not kidding.)

The parade began, as these parades often do, with clowns and roller skaters and balloons and a team of New York's finest, who seemed to be in a particularly good mood despite their holiday detail.

With my daughter nearly my height now, I didn't have to hold her up or worry about whether she could see. We could both relax and enjoy. And, really, there was something for each of us. It was as though the powers that be at the self-proclaimed "World's Largest Department Store," planned their parade to appeal to trendy teens and their not-exactly-with-it-anymore moms. In fact, whenever I wondered, "Who is that?" she knew the answer. And vice versa.

So, my daughter was pleased to see The Wanted, Flo Rida, Carly Rae Jepsen, and Jennette McCurdy. And, I was happy to wave to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Chris Isaak, Jimmy Fallon and Whoopi Goldberg. We were both thrilled to see Gabby Douglas and the U.S. Women's Gymnastics team. And, I will always have a soft spot for the cast and creatures of "Sesame Street."

By the time Santa Claus arrived (and, if anyone from Macy's is reading this, let me just say "Best. Santa. Ever!"), we were a little tired and ready to head back to my mother's cozy apartment and the all-day feasting that awaited there. As we recapped the highlights together, I thought about how valuable family traditions are, and — despite some fairly typical teenage ups and downs — how much I enjoy my daughter's company sometimes. She wouldn't let me take any pictures this year, but that doesn't mean they weren't there in my mind.

I thought of them later, as thanks worth giving.

A Mother's Thanksgiving

I'm the mother of a tween and today I am thankful ...

I'm thankful that you still climb on my lap once in a while. Usually at a really inopportune time, like when I'm at my desk on a conference call. But, I'm still thankful for it.

I'm thankful for your recent report card.

I'm thankful that in fourteen years, we only had to go to the pediatric emergency room once — and we were out again in under an hour.

I'm thankful every time I see you draw or write or hold a fork in your left hand because you remind me of my father. He never got to meet you but I know wherever he is, he's proud of his first granddaughter.

I'm thankful that you clean up so well.

I'm thankful that you defend your friends from cafeteria bullies.

I'm thankful every time I watch you in an equestrian event. I'm thankful when you get a good score on your dressage test. I'm thankful when you get a clean round in stadium jumping. I'm thankful when you perform well cross-country. (Mostly, I'm thankful when you don't fall off the horse.)

I'm thankful that you're kind to younger children.

I'm thankful that you're kind to older grandparents.

I'm thankful that you humor me when I tell you there's a movie that you'll simply love or a book you simply have to read. (I'm especially thankful when you end up agreeing with me.)

I'm thankful that you friended me on Facebook.

I'm thankful that you are growing up in this time in this place. Although there are many things wrong with our country right now, I don't worry about a bomb falling on our house or that you'll die of a preventable disease. I value our freedoms and the protection we are afforded. And, I believe that you and your generation have the power to make the world you're inheriting a better place.

I'm thankful that you sometimes, occasionally, once-in-a-blue-moon, make your bed without my nagging you.

I'm thankful for your pretty hair, your lovely figure, your green eyes, your warm smile. I'm thankful that you're strong and healthy.

I'm thankful for your sensitivity and your sense of justice. I'm thankful that when these qualities cause you to feel a slight more deeply than others do, your sadness is usually short-lived. I'm thankful for your resilience and your optimism.

I'm thankful for your sense of humor. I don't always get it, but I'm thankful for it.

More than anything else, I'm thankful that you chose me. That you came into my life and changed it forever. I honestly don't know who or what or where I'd be without you.

Happy Thanksgiving, my darling daughter. Happy Happy Happy Thanksgiving.

Can you go make your bed now?