Why We Shake Hands

After the Sixers' playoff run came to an end when they lost to the Celtics, Joel Embiid walked off the court without shaking hands with the winning team.  Bad sport.  I immediately remembered when Isiah Thomas and the Pistons turned their backs. The Bulls had finally defeated them after so many tries.  He and his team were criticized for being such bad sports.  I never liked Isiah again.

So, I was disturbed when one of my favorite sportscasters, Jemille Hill, defended Imbiid and the ESPN colleagues she was discussing it with seemed to agree. "He was showing his passion for winning.  Showing that he was serious."

Yes, of course we root for our favorites.  But we understand that both sides are serious.  Both sides are passionate.  We shake hands to acknowledge the beauty of engagement.  The winning is sweet because this time it's your turn.  Next time maybe not.

Pointless Points

My bridge playing friends know what the expression "Points Schmoints" means:  there is more than one way to evaluate a hand.  I was thinking about this as my friend David lamented that a computer breakdown had prevented him from getting the "points" he needs for a free donut.

Then I went home, opened my email, and found out that because one vendor considers me a "VIP Customer",  I am entitled to "points(!)" which I can use at times and for purchases that are too complicated to describe.

Walgreens is a little more straightforward.  Seniors get 20% off on the first Tuesday of the month.  Of course, you have to remember the date. But, like bridge, they say memory games are good for your brain.

Target gives 5% discount on everything as long as you use their "Red Card."  I'm sure there is profit in there somewhere.

Facebook probably wishes they were giving "points" for your VIP identity.

Another Way

My friend Marilyn recently posted a moving depiction of grief.  It showed how grief's intensity may fade over time, only to be punctured by moments of vivid memory.  We never escape but learn to endure.

The Japanese have added another approach to life's promise of despair.  In this country and culture, you can hire an actor to assume the role of a departed family member.  One man hired a woman to take the place of his wife.  It wasn't a sexual arrangement.  He just wanted his "wife" to be waiting for him when he came home from work.

A distraught mother hired a man to "be" the husband who had deserted the family leaving the daughter behind.  The miserable young girl blossomed after her "father" returned occasionally to care for her.

Japanese weddings are often populated by guests who are hired "members of the family."  The same goes for boyfriends and girlfriends when the need arrises.

Too cold and pragmatic for you?  Too unsatisfying?  Or maybe creative enough to merit another thought.

Natalie Marched

I am so proud of my granddaughter Natalie and her dad who joined the 800,000 at the March for our Lives last weekend.  Here, Natalie talks about her experience.

Q:  Natalie, you participated in what I think and hope was an historic event in American history.  What made you decide you wanted to actually be there with the other students?

  A: I wanted to be part of the March for Our Lives because I really agree that it’s time for a change in our policy, and I know we need as many people as possible to come together to make this change happen. 

Q:  What was it like being part of the crowd?  Could you see and hear?

A:  On the main street the crowd was very tightly packed in the center, and more scattered on the sidewalks. Being in the middle of the crowd was very intense, with barely any room to move.  Since I was taking photos it wasn’t the ideal place to be. There were large screens that were  broadcasting everything going on on the main stage, and being in between two screens caused the audio to become distorted and sound like a continuous echo. Unfortunately my dad and I were in a spot where the voices of the speakers sounded that way for a while, but eventually we moved. As for being able to see, it was surprisingly easy for me considering I’m a little more than five feet tall!

Q:  What were the people around you doing?

A:  Most people were listening intently to the speakers or chanting “ VOTE THEM OUT!”.

Q:  What speaker or speakers grabbed your attention?  Left  the most lasting impression?  Thrilled you the most?

I loved Yolanda Renee King, the granddaughter of Martin Luther King Jr. She is such a mighty little girl, and watching her speak was so powerful. Of course everyone rejoiced when Emma Gonzales came out on stage, including me! Her speech was brilliant and unforgettable, and experiencing the minutes of silence in-person was amazing. Every speaker there had a key role to play in spreading the message that gun violence is a serious problem that must be changed, so really I liked all of them.  

Q:  What about your school in upstate New York?  

A:  My school had a 17 minute long walkout, where about one hundred kids participated. In order to show your support, we were told to wear orange. It was interesting to see which teachers strategically chose to wear an orange scarf or tie. Many teachers in my school supported it, but as a policy they were not allowed to discuss it with the students. After the walkout was over and we all returned to our classes, one of my teachers addressed the class and said “To all of you guys who walked out... I’m proud of you, and to all those who didn’t walk out.. I’m proud of you as well.” Overall it was a very inclusive and safe environment to express your thoughts on current events. 

Q:  Most of the people who read my blog are oldsters. And many marched against wars in the past.  They are hurting now and want some hope.  What can you say to us?

A:  Don’t lose hope! Use your vote to change these policies! Change does not happen in a single day, it happens step by step. Only you can help this country take this journey to a safer future. 

Pictures from Natalie's phone.

Henrietta and Mark

Remember the story of Henrietta Lacks?  She was the african american woman whose cells became an important tool in developing modern medicine.  She was never informed about her cells' use and certainly never shared in their enormous worth.  When her story was unearthed it became a celebrated book and movie.  Maybe a myth for our times.

Mark Zuckerberg is another person whose life has a tinge of myth attached.  Facebook tapped deep into the human spirit where the need to be connected was ready to be explored.  If we bothered to figure out how Facebook made billions by selling our profiles, we didn't seem to mind.

My friend David and I were talking about TV shows. . . and the zombies that frequently appear.  "What is a zombie?"  I asked.  He said it was an undead creature who needs to eat our brains to survive.

That sounded like another modern myth to me.

I've Been Reading for This

Many of my friends know that my favorite author is Dick Francis.  I cried when I turned the last page of the last book (there were more than 40 of them).  But, of course, after a little time away, I started reading my favorites all over again.

Why such devotion?  I connected to his heroes who were mostly the same in a different story each time.  Difficult childhood.  Time spent alone.  Mental agility in chaotic situations.  A stoic approach to life.

The Dick Francis stories take place in the world of British horse racing.  Many of the heroes are jockeys.  When they fall and need lots of stitches and are covered in black and blue, they pick themselves up and go on solving crimes.

Bonecrack sounds like a good title to start reading again.

A Knock on the Head

Yesterday, after a lovely afternoon at the Chicago Symphony, I was walking down Wabash Avenue by the Palmer House when I tripped and fell.  Here's one sound I've never heard before:  my head hitting the sidewalk.  My friend Gerry was helping me when two young men rushed over.  A few seconds later, one of them was handing me a bunch of napkins to press against my face and stop the blood.
And, right after that the security person from the hotel came out.  He called an ambulance.  How did you know I fell and need help I asked him.  "A young man came and found me."

So now I am home with six stitches and a big bruise over my eye.  And because my mind goes there, I am thinking about the randomness of life.  The fall was painful and cruel.  The two young men were beautiful.  And that is the essence of the unexpected.