Why can't I learn?

I consider myself a nice person. I try to be kind, polite, considerate, and help others when I can. Usually, I think most people would agree that I actually am nice, and would say the things I just said are true.

Sometimes, despite my best intentions, I screw up. I say something thoughtless. I write something thoughtless. I am in my own world and I'm rude: stepping in front of someone without ever having seen they were there and about to step that way. If I do something that is hurtful, I always feel terrible. Even the little mistakes make be feel badly, but the ones where I hurt someone's feelings are the worst.

I recently wrote something personal, and shared it, never thinking as I wrote that someone else might take it the wrong way. Although financially conservative, I am socially liberal. Live and let live, it takes all kinds, and everyone has the right to choose the way they want to live as long as it doesn't infringe on someone else's rights. Then I go and say something dumb and thoughtless.

South Florida is very diverse. Many people think that there is a large Cuban population, and there is. But there is also a large Venezuelan, Argentinian, Brazilian, Haitian, Jamaican, Jewish, Gay, Russian, Honduran, Senior Citizen, etc., ... you name it ... population here too. I work with a diverse population too, from around the USA and the world, so every other kind of group, religion, nationality, sexual preference, ethnicity, age, etc., is represented. I embrace it, enjoy it, and have friends representing countless of these groups of people. I can't even keep track, and I don't try. I love them all for who they are inside, and I enjoy their uniqueness.

I envy the young people today who really see all of the diversity as an irrelevant blur. I grew up in a time when fences were falling, but there were still distinctions made, and self-imposed division and social segregation. Equal opportunity meant knowing which group people belonged to so that you could have x number from column A and y number from column B, etc. I guess, try as I might to not let any of that matter, I still see the differences. I note them, even though my choices and actions show that I put that aside, and I see the person more than anything else. I'm not as perfect in this regard as I wish to be.

So if I write something about myself that implies something positive or negative about a group of people, is that letting bias show or is that because the lines have blurred and my level of acceptance is such that I didn't expect anyone to take offense? Or is it just that I wrote it too quickly and didn't think about the implications?

In this most recent case, it was the last one. I didn't think. Did I also let my bias show? I didn't mean it that way. Has political correctness gone too far?

I recognize that we are all human and make mistakes. I'm always trying to improve and to be a better person. These kinds of mistakes happen when I'm rushed or preoccupied, and never on purpose. Why can't I learn from this and avoid the mistakes? Is there a way to avoid being preoccupied or rushed? Is it possible to be completely in the moment, poised and perfect every time? Should I just accept that I'm human, and so is everyone else, and that sometimes I'll fail to meet my high standards? I'll make mistakes, and will need to apologize. Is an apology enough? If I'm such a nice person, why does it happen? Is it because I'm such a nice person that it bothers me and that I care, and feel badly that I've made the mistake? Foremost is the question, why can't I learn and be better? Why must I stumble? What can I do to improve and change?

Ah, Dogs

Anyone who knows me personally knows that I love dogs. They make me happy. They love unconditionally, and they have a joy for life we could all learn from.

I've had three dogs in my life. The first, just after I turned nine was when I lived in Gainesville, Florida. A neighbor had a chihuahua and bred her. We ended up with one of the puppies, Sandy, and never renamed her ourselves. My mother had been terrified of dogs and always resisted my brother and my own pleas for a pet. The day I was offered the puppy, the mother dog, ChiChi followed me home. Sandy fit into the palm of my nine year old hands, and somehow my mother said we could keep her. I was elated.

Sandy and Ricardo in Gainesville, Florida - 1969

I checked out the dog books from the library and taught her to sit on command. Come and walking on a leash were not great successes, but I did what I could. She was "my" dog, but was also very loyal to my mom, since she fed her. When Ricardo, my brother, and then I left for college, she was 100% my mom's dog. She lived to be almost 18 and was her feisty self until the last couple of years.

She might have been a chihuahua, but she thought she was a bigger dog. We had a big scare when we lived in Tuscaloosa, Alabama and she was loose in the large, hilly, unfenced yard. We heard barking, and then a dog scream. The German Shepard behind us had enough of her, had her in its mouth and was shaking her. I don't think he meant to hurt her really. Ricardo was in the wooded vacant lot, chopping wood for our fireplace, and axe in hand, he was the first one there. The Shepard dropped her, and we took her back to the house. An hour later she had a bubble under her skin. She had a punctured lung. The vet had her wrapped in a tight bandage, and she ended up just fine, but it did not teach her any lessons on picking fights when you only weigh 7-8 lbs.

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J.D. in Evansville, Indiana in 1984

When I got out of college I moved to Evansville, Indiana for my first "real" job. The three month old Beagle-Spitz mix I named J.D. (Janet's Dog) was adopted from the humane society. I had a smart, loving, loyal, well behaved friend. She loved people and expected everyone to love her the way I did. I was 23 when I got her, and better able to take action on the dog book advice, and also took her to obedience school. My mother told me if I ever found a man as devoted to me as J.D. was, I should marry him. I'm still single, so maybe that was way too high a bar...

J.D. moved with me to Ann Arbor, Michigan and had an admiration/toleration relationship with Sandy when they were around each other. J.D. did the admiring and Sandy reluctantly tolerated. You know those young upstarts! By that time Sandy was at least 15 and J.D. was one year old. J.D. would not bother me as I slept, but the moment I woke, she'd be on my chest, licking me reluctantly fully awake.

I lived in an apartment when I got J.D., and also when I moved back to Michigan in 1984. Once she "escaped" out the sliding glass door in my Ypsilanti apartment, where there was a parking lot and careless drivers. It had happened before in Evansville, but there it was not as risky. I called her, but she was having too much fun running around the man made lake, and didn't want to come back.

I learned to use the "Death Voice" -- actually, I learned I had one -- and she came right away. I punished her by putting her bed by the front door, which was hidden from the kitchen. I washed dishes or something without letting her join me for maybe five or ten minutes. To J.D. this was a tragedy for me to be mad at her for so long and not let her apologize. The lesson was enough for the rest of her life. Any vocal tone from me anywhere near the "Death Voice" brought her instantly in line.

She moved with me into my first house, which had a big fenced yard perfect for her. I was home sick from work one day and I heard her barking like mad in the yard. I walked outside, a little bleary, and wondering if a school kid from the adjoining elementary school was harassing my sweet, gentle, friendly dog. I couldn't imagine what would make her bark so frantically.

There she was, on top of the picnic table, jumping up and down on her hind legs (she balanced really well, doing her grizzly bear imitation), barking at a squirrel she had trapped in the tree as it chattered loudly at her. This same squirrel taunted her all of the time, but this time, it had no place to go.

I saw her and had two fears: that she would fall off the picnic table as she jumped up and down, or that she would catch the squirrel. I took care of both by grabbing her and putting her on the ground. This gave the squirrel a chance to run down the tree and to the power lines and safety. J.D.'s fun was over though, and she was disappointed. Later I saw the squirrel chattering at her often. Leave it to J.D. to make "friends" with a squirrel.

In 1992 J.D. was diagnosed with lymph cancer. She was being treated by a fine local vet, and a vet at one of the finest vet schools in the US at Michigan State University in East Lansing, Michigan. We did doggie chemo-therapy which is much less aggressive than with people, and has as a goal to preserve quality of life. She lived another year. I had to put her to sleep in April 1993, just shy of being 10 years old. It was a very sad day. There would never be another dog like J.D.

Much as I love dogs, I didn't have another one myself until two years ago.

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I had started thinking about getting another dog, especially when my friends Matt and Andrea started fostering dogs from the Humane Society. I came really close to adopting their first foster puppy, a Jack Russell Terrier mix named Blondie. Blondie was too stubborn though, and I wanted a trainable dog. Filomena was a wonderful sweet, well behaved foster dog, but she was huge - similar to the breed of Marmaduke of cartoon fame - is that Great Dane? I took Filomena on a walk once and when she wanted to play with me, I realized she was too much dog for me.

Fate stepped in on January 26, 2007. I was procrastinating during my morning pre-work routine and was a little on the late side leaving the house, but would still be on time. Then I was behind slow traffic: a driver who decided the school zone went for a mile or so longer than it did, a gardening truck with a trailer of tools being pulled, both when I could not pass, and then I was blocked by two semi-trucks who decided to chat in the middle of the two-lane road, cab-to-cab, not expecting traffic in the empty office park. Everything delayed me.

Then, 2-3 miles from the closest home, a 1/4 mile from a construction site that had no activity for some time, in an almost empty office park, 1/2 mile from my office, a little yellow dog came out of the bushes on my way to work. I stopped my car, not sure what to do, thinking I could not leave the dog where it was, because a car might hit it. There was no one around, and with the location, someone had dumped the dog. There was no collar. It was a little scared, but seemed like a nice dog. I thought it was old because of the white muzzle and wide backside. I put it in my car and thought about what else to do.

It was too late to turn around and leave it at my house, and the place was not puppy-proof, especially if I was going to leave it alone. Thankfully, it was a cool day for South Florida, I could take the dog with me to work and leave it in my car while I went inside and called the Humane Society, thinking I could get the dog fostered. I was job hunting and heavily considering consulting jobs, with lots of travel. Not the best situation for owning a dog. The Humane Society recording said to call Miami-Dade Animal Services for a stray. I did and ended up taking the dog there, putting my name on the list to adopt if the owners were not found. (Note: never again! Taking her to Animal Services was a big mistake.)

Before I drove her there I decided I should see if the dog was male or female -- the answer was "Pregnant". Making an even longer story a little shorter, she got kennel cough immediately, no one claimed her within the 5 day window, they wouldn't let me adopt her because she was pregnant, then they aborted her puppies, almost euthanized her (remember I was on the adoption list), and a rescue organization that tagged her and saved her life helped me get her out of doggie jail. The day I found her, everything put me in her path. I named the corgi-mix Destine (des-teen), making her name a modified version of the French for fate and destiny, and making it feminine. I never realized how difficult a name that is for most people. She and I like it just fine.

Destine, the day I brought her home, February 4, 2007 - Doral, Florida

I was trying not to become too attached to her, since I knew I probably could not keep her, but when I brought the groggy, hacking, belly shaven, stitched up little girl home, how could I not become attached? She needed gentle care.

I accepted a job offer, for one of the consulting roles I was considering, and really needed to find her a home. We both got lucky when friends from my synagogue let me know they were considering getting a companion for their Shiba Inu mix, Dora. Both dogs were about the same age, with Dora being 2 and Destine's age estimated at between 1 and 2. We ended up with a co-ownership arrangement, where I am primary owner, paying the bills and getting dibs on her when I'm home, but she is part of their family when I travel. When I am home longer, we arrange play dates for the dogs, and I sometimes let her stay there overnight so they can enjoy her.

Destine is not like the other dogs I've had or known. She is sweet, loving, faithful, affectionate, and smart, but she also worries. She has a sadness in her eyes. She is a little afraid of new people, especially men. She follows me from room to room and is seldom not in the same room as me when I'm home. She loves to be in the yard, but only with me. I bought a doggie door and she learned to use it, but until recently, she would not use it unless I went outside too.

At Dora's house they were painting and sanding. Dora is very sensitive to dust and has allergies and skin conditions. To keep the dogs out of trouble, and healthy, they stayed at my place by themselves during the day for about a week or so. I was traveling. Matthew (Dora's owner) would come by and check on them, feed them, and sometimes work from my house instead of his so that they were not alone too much. Being alone together is always better for the two dogs than just being alone. Dora did not need a person around to enjoy being in the yard. After she learned to use the doggie door, Destine didn't mind using it even when I'm not going out with her. She loves going out in the yard and lying in the sun.

Destine is playful, smart, loyal, and listens to me. I can walk her without a leash in my gated community if not too many people or dogs are around. Other dogs distract her; she wants to greet every one. She is less trusting with people and is imperfectly obeying me and not chasing kids on skateboards, ripsticks, bikes, skates, etc., or the joggers and others that move quickly through the community. When I take her places, she enjoys the car ride, is thrilled to be there, but within a short time, she wants to leave. She is worried about being left behind. She gets a little scared and overwhelmed when I have a lot of people over, and will sit close to me for protection. She'll lay quietly at my feet under the table as we eat.

With those she loves and trusts, she is a sweet, gentle companion. She loves interacting with people. In contrast, her "sister" Dora is not as personable. In Destine's other family she lays by Matthew's feet when he works in his upstairs office, and by his mother-in-law's when she watches TV down stairs. She goes to Janet (her other dog-mommy is also named Janet) for love and petting, and oh yes, she plays with Dora.

Dora and Destine, December 31, 2008 - Doral, Florida

There is nothing like watching them play, and watching Destine run, pure joy on her face. When I walk her in the morning she prances around, running here, running there, checking on me. When she is on leash she has learned not to pull, to sit when I stop, and to wait for me to release her verbally if I remove the leash, but she'll never walk like an obedient dog right next to me unless forced. I've had her almost two years now. I hope she'll learn to be more trusting and relaxed. If she didn't occasionally lunge at people when I walk her and if I could get the sad look out of her eyes 100% of the time, she'd be a perfect dog, sweet, smart, well behaved, not to mention as cute as can be.

Traveling After Living in Paradise

I have two assignments coming up (Yeah!), both in northern climates, with potential for the second one to be meaty and keep me busy for quite some time (Yeah, again!).

I've become a Miami wimp as far as cold weather, being here almost 11 years (in February). I noticed it when I was working in Memphis for a project in November 2008 and the weather was colder than I expected that week. I had a coat, but not my warmer winter coat. It's much easier to ease into colder weather than it is to come from sunshine, green grass, and 80 degree (F) days and lows in the 60's during a cold snap to gray skies, brown grass, and lows in the 30's. That just ends up being a bit of a shock. It does make coming home sweeter.

I guess I'll be getting a real dose of winter this year, traveling to the Northeast and to Canada beginning in about a week. I should see which sweaters fit and are ok for wearing to work, and scotchguard the winter boots I haven't worn in 10 years since they are bulky for travel (and gym shoes work pretty well as long as the snow isn't deep). I'll have to use the bigger suitcase to fit the bulky winter clothes.

Maybe I'll get to ski, throw a snowball, enjoy the crisp air on my face, practice taking photos of sun on snow and icicles on trees. I hope that any gliding on ice is something I initiate, and not a surprise (oooohhhh... splat).

The thing about being in Miami is that you don't even think about a coat. The week after being a little chilly in Memphis with the wrong coat, I almost left my coat at home when I was headed to the airport. I was 2-3 miles from home when I realized I had left it in the laundry room at home. We don't have coat closets here, and I hung it there to keep blonde dog hair off my black wool coat.

So I'm in the car debating, do I really need it? Do I have to go back to get it? The answer was Yes, I do need it. I'm not going to shop for another one in Memphis the way I might if I realized I left my hairbrush at home and I'm going to be very unhappy without it. It's good I usually leave early, with lots of time ,when I head to the airport.

I keep a light jacket in the car in case a movie theater or restaurant is over-air conditioned. Other than that, you just don't need them most of the year here. I took Destine for a walk this morning and didn't realize it was in the 50's, so I was outside in just a thin shirt. I thought about going inside and getting a jacket or something, but decided I better start to get a little hardened to cold.

If I lived in Michigan right now, I'd be thinking it was balmy... It's a matter of perspective. It's perfect weather for jogging - just cool enough to make it nice and not get too hot and sweaty. I should go put on sneakers and take advantage of that. I like to open all of the windows in the house and give it a good airing when the weather cools down like this, especially since the house gets stuffy with no air movement when the air conditioner isn't on.

As I hear of winter storms across the country and my Michigan friends shoveling constantly, I look at my green grass, blooming Bougainvilliea, palm trees, and blue sunny skies, and sigh. It's nice to be able to enjoy this at home. I may miss it when I'm traveling for work, but at least I get to come home to it every weekend. When I first moved here and was diving off boats in Fort Lauderdale, I saw people parasailing on the beach, sailboats and other pleasure boats out, etc., as we ran parallel to the beach and back to the marina. All I could do was grin and say to myself, "I really live here!"

On Blogging and Reunions

I've been inspired by a former high school classmate, Kevin Mittleman, to start a blog. Since this is January, it seems an appropriate time of year. Why keep a blog? Well, there have been a number of moments in my life when I wished I'd had a diary to go back and see what I was thinking back then. A blog is that diary, isn't it?

I joined Facebook a few months ago, ahead of the curve of most of my friends and colleagues by a few weeks or more. Although compared to the initial demographic for social networking, I am "old", it's been fun reconnecting with former classmates and co-workers. Some classmates I have not seen since graduation, and since I joined leading up to my 30 year reunion in November 2008, that was not only a long time ago, but also made for a nice "pre-reunion".

In fact, it made me feel like going to the reunion, even though the timing and location were not ideal. The reunion was in the Detroit area, over Thanksgiving weekend, when I have no family in Detroit and always visit Seattle, Washington and my brother over Thanksgiving. I decided to do a "fly-by" and spent about 24 hours in Detroit - just long enough to attend the reunion before heading home to Miami.

Only a couple of the friends I was closest to in high school were at the reunion, but it was fun hearing what they'd been up to since I lost track of them around the time of college graduation. What I realize is that I really needed much more time, because a good sit down and catch up was not really possible when you were trying to say hi to a lot of people. One former classmate asked what I'd been doing in the last 30 years, and slightly tired of repeating it, and not very good at it anyway, I said, "Absolutely nothing." We both chuckled, but I never did get a chance to tell him anything.

I'm getting a little off track here, because I wanted to write about blogging. Kevin Mittleman was not someone I knew well in high school. I was on yearbook staff, and sometmes think I know someone when I really never did. Kevin was probably not in any of my classes, and we weren't friends. We just didn't really know each other at all. I was the shy, bookish, nerdy girl in all of the advanced classes, and he was in another crowd. He wasn't one of the guys who teased me in Junior High or High School, so all I can say is that he was probably a little nicer than some of the folks who made me pretty miserable, especially in Junior High, because he left me alone.

Before I moved to Miami 11 years ago, I was beginning to help plan the 20 year reunion, and had a chance to meet some former classmates. It was nice. I've never been the same as anyone I've ever met, and was the outsider in those school days in Oak Park, but I did have a common base with those people, maybe more than anyone else I'm likely to meet in my life. After being away from that for so long, there was an element of "coming home" to seeing them again.

When we started gathering on Facebook, I decided to befriend some former classmates and use it as a way to not only re-connect with some of the people I knew, but to connect with some I did not really know. Kevin was one of them. Kevin has a blog.

I feel I've gotten to know Kevin more from his blog than anything, and I hope that is okay with him. He's a good writer, and he thinks about a lot of the kinds of things I think about: esoteric, philosphical things; things rooted in childhood, and how they've shaped adulthood; painful things that are happening to him, and also silly things that make him smile.

I've enjoyed his insights and wish to capture my own. I want a place in which to describe my ideas - no matter how crazy. For example, I never understood the dot-com boom, and was not surprised to see it go bust. Similarly, the housing boom, and my own rising property values, seemed out of proportion, so I am not surprised to see that implode. I think things are sometimes made to be more complicated than they need to be -- or is it just something I can see that others can't or won't? I'll start my "how to fix the housing bust and it's reverberations" entry some other time, but writing that down is a reason for blogging.

Will anyone care to read my new blog? Hard to say. I might send the link to a few people and see what they think. If I'm totally inane or boring, well, maybe this will be just for me. If my human experience and thoughts engage someone else, so be it. I can only hope that somewhere along the line what I have to say is of interest to someone and more than that, the place I take in the world produces something that matters.

I used to think my writing might be a legacy, but other than technical articles I have not written much, and I have not tried to be published often. I have a scuba article or photo here or there, but no legacy, no great american novel. My IT work is high quality, but not legacy worthy. I don't expect people to say about me "she was one of the finest data warehouse architects I've ever met." Well, I'd love that in a job recommendation, but not as a eulogy.

As a eulogy what would people say right now? I think they would say that I'm kind. I'm a friend when they really need one. I'm compassionate. Whether it was teaching them something new, or helping when they needed a hand with something, I was there. I think that is about as good a legacy as any, and sometimes I think it is the reason I had a lonely childhood - ever the outsider - to learn compassion and forgiveness. Sometimes I think it is why I have not found the love of my life and had a houseful of kids. I'm "free" to help family and friends when they need it, and otherwise I wouldn't be.

It does make me happy to be able to help others, to listen when friends need someone to talk to, but I do hope that someday I meet my soulmate, and he and I can both take care of each other and those we care about. Will it be my turn someday? Soulmate, are you out there?