The Lion Sleeps Tonight

I'd already written the majority of a new entry--one that I liked a good bit, actually--but that entry needs to be relegated to the back burner, at least for the day.  This is a sad day.  This is a heartbreakingly sad ending to a heartbreakingly sad story.

Rest in peace, Joe Paterno.

My heart breaks for him.  I, frankly, cannot think of a worse way to die---and I'm not talking about cancer.  Imagine spending sixty-plus years dedicating your life to something you loved, something you believed in, something with which your identity was completely intertwined-- and losing it, abruptly and in scandal.  Imagine losing your will to live, and dying a broken person, in the public eye.    Imagine, really imagine, dying of a broken heart.  Imagine that happening to your parents, your grandparents, your children, and tell me that doesn't break YOUR heart.

I see some similarities between the death of Joe Paterno and the death of Charles Schulz, the creator of the Peanuts cartoon.   I've carried the Charles Schulz Story for years.  For those who don't know the story, Charles Schulz in his sleep at home February 12, 2000.  His last original Peanuts strip was published the very next day, on Sunday, February 13, 2000, just hours after his death the night before.  His creation could not exist without him, and, as it turns out, he could not exist without it.  

Think about that for a second.  Most of us will end our careers with a retirement party.  Some of us joke about our jobs killing us.  Most of us will retire into the sunset, and will be replaced in the workplace with little fanfare, and will carry on with our second (or third) act. A select few, those whose career accomplishments have  touched the lives of millions, literally cannot live without their work.  Those are the people who are irreplaceable.  

Joe Paterno is irreplaceable. 

Joe Paterno's positive impact is immeasurable.

Joe Paterno's significant positive contributions are his legacy, and should be remembered as such.

This isn't the time or place to discuss the crimes committed by Jerry Sandusky, and it's certainly not the time for armchair philosophers to pontificate on what they would or would not have done if wearing Joe Paterno's shoes.  It's inappropriate, it's callous and it shows a complete lack of sensitivity for a man who most likely died of a broken heart.  Wrap your heads and your hearts around that one.

I recently read an article called "Bureaucracy, Loyalty and Truth" that was written by Eric Silver, a sociology professor, in direct response to the Penn State scandal.  I'd implore all of you to read this article--it was eye opening in ways that were uncomfortable, yet realistic.  The article discussed the statistical likelihood of people truly being whistleblowers, and how the concept of loyalty is a subtle underminer of morality.

Following are two quotes from the article that I cannot shake:

1.  "Everyone likes to think that they would be the whistleblower---they are the ones who would risk their job, their likelihood, their future.  Statistically, you're full of crap.  For every 1,000 people, you're lucky if there are two or three whistleblowers."

 2.  "You like to think of loyalty as a good thing.  Loyalty may be one of the most subtle undermining sources of morality there is.  Loyalty predisposes people to collusion. When a family member is in trouble, what's our first reaction?  We all know that family is about protecting its own."

Those quotes certainly make me think twice about self-righteous indignation and casting stones.  God knows that I've certainly played the "family protecting its own" card more than once. It's very easy and very convenient to think the world is black-and-white...at least for everyone other than ourselves. A black and white world makes us sleep better at night, but that's not what we have.  It is a world colored in complicating shades of gray---for all of us.   

And, make no bones about it--- it's a very gray day.

Rest in peace, Joe Paterno.  You, your contributions and your impact will be sorely missed.  Your legacy will live on.

--Little Miss Sunshine

    

Letters to Sunshine

Little M is a morning person.  This concept is beyond foreign to me.  I'm reasonably pleasant (pleasant enough, anyway) over the course of the day, but I hate virtually everything about the first hour that I'm awake.  Over the years, I've found that trying to be nice in the first 60 zaps me of energy for the whole of the day, so I pretty much stopped trying.  It's best for everyone that way.

Most adults that I've lived with have learned to ignore me entirely in the morning, or to opt for the oh-so-effective reverse psychology approach.  Want me to be nice in the morning?  Be mean to me.  Works like a charm- I become a fetching, if bedraggled, bundle of sunshine, rainbows, puppies, chirping birds and hearts in no time flat.  I'm still learning how to adapt to the little girl living in my house who is constitutionally unable to sleep past 6 AM---with a mouth that is fully operational from the second her feet hit the floor.

Transcript from this morning, circa 5:45 AM.

Little M (at top of lungs):  WAKE UP, MOMMY!!!!!  IT'S MORNING TIME.
LMS (whining):  whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?
Little M opens LMS's eyelids with her fingers.
Little M (screaming):  MOMMMMMMMMMMMMY!   ARE YOU IN THERE?
LMS:  no.
Little M:  GET UP, MOMMY!  ITS MORNING TIME!
LMS:  (grumbling)  Maybe in France.
Little M:  FEED ME, MOMMY!  I'M HUNGRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!  AND I WANT TO DANCE!

(On a side note, I realize that lots of people like to dance.  Some people are good dancers.  Many people magically become good dancers after 3-12 drinks.  I am none of these people.  There is no simply no quantity of wine in this world that I can consume and subsequently think "Wow, I am a GREAT dancer.")

So, I drag my sorry self out of bed and stumble to the kitchen.  Little M informs me that she wants candy bars and sprinkles for breakfast.  She gets the candy bar.  Note that I am not completely unfit as a mother--about a year ago, I had an "aha!!!" moment and told her that the organic cereal bars that were collecting dust in the pantry and more closely resembled paperweights than breakfast food were actually candy bars.  Anyone who tells her anything to the contrary will have some serious hell to pay.

Anyway, I'm awake, so I may as well write.  Recently, I came across a book entitled "Letters to My Younger Self", which is exactly as it sounds.  I did recently say that a guidebook to life would have been  hugely helpful, and I'm fascinated by and wholly supportive of concept of the It Gets Better Project, so here goes.  With no further ado, please welcome the guidance I wish I received when I was 12, 16, 23, 30 and 36....

Dear Tiny Miss Sunshine,

You spend so much time worrying about how to make yourself the kind of person others like that you're going to lose yourself in the process.  The path to conformity is a dead-end and rigidity is going to be the death of you.  While we're on the topic, stop wasting time:  stop wasting time worrying, stop wasting time beating yourself up, stop wasting time trying to re-invent yourself as something that you think others will like.  Just stop.

Forget about money- time is the most precious and finite commodity at your disposal.  Every second you waste trying to fit in is a form of cheating.  You're cheating those people who like who know who you really are and like you, as is, no exceptions.  Most of all, you're cheating yourself and the person you could become if you'd just have enough faith to believe in yourself and follow through.

There will be people in this world who dislike you.  If they dislike you because you are unkind, unmotivated, unreliable--hear the truth and fix it.  Now.  Get better.  If they just don't find you to be their cup of tea--that's fine.  Move on.  You will have more than your fair share of people in your corner, and it's those people who have your back when you're periodically an unloveable pain in the ass that matter.  There's a world of difference between constantly striving to be the best version of you and constantly striving to be someone else.  Know that subtle difference and carefully tread that fine line.

In life, there's a place for pragmatism and responsibility and there's a place for excitement and beauty.  Live within your means, but don't let your means constrain you. Buy beautiful shoes and clothes and experiences---because they're beautiful.  They're not going to change who you are as a person, but if they make you smile, they're worth it.  Appreciate the beauty in things, but realize that at the end of the day, they're just things.  Appreciate the beauty in people more.  Appreciate the beauty in life the most.  Things are nice, but it's people who matter.

Oh, and I know that you like math, but life isn't an equation.  Stop using > and < in defining yourself in your relationships.

By the way, you'll never grow to be a respectable size.  That's okay.  There are certain benefits to being a portable adult--plus, there's usually a great selection of items on the sale rack in small sizes.

I wrote this letter and now I can't find a freaking stamp,

Little Miss Sunshine