We Are Family

Close your eyes. Picture a family. What does it look like? If you’re like most people, regardless of your religion, politics or beliefs, you’re probably thinking about a mom, a dad and some kids, maybe a shaggy looking dog that followed them home one day.

This image, of course, is a very traditional idea of family, one made famous by the post-World War II, Leave It to Beaver era of the 1950’s. Of course, this image is increasingly rare these days. Single parents, unmarried parents, divorced parents, gay and lesbian parents – they’re all changing the way we define a family and while many conservatives love to bemoan the loss of the traditional family, these so-called nontraditional families are just as important and just as worthy as any other incarnation of the thing we call “family.”

Unfortunately, Catholic Church mucky-mucks in Colorado didn’t get that memo. A Catholic lesbian couple who had enrolled their daughters in a local Catholic school were told that their daughters would no longer be welcome at the Catholic school. Many of the other parents at the school have rallied in support of these women, but the parish priest and local church administrators can’t seem to give a reasonable answer as to why these little girls were being kicked out of there school now (since they had already been attending for a few years).

I really don’t want to get into a debate about Catholic teachings on sexuality, though I do understand what they are, but kicking these girls out of school, because their family doesn’t fit the Catholic Church’s idea of “normal,” absolutely drives me crazy.

Just what is normal anyway? By Catholic standards, families with divorced parents shouldn’t be accommodated either, but my parents are divorced and my mother still took me to church when I was growing up. I don’t think I’m going to hell just because my own family wasn’t “normal.”

Conservatives keep talking about how “families are under attack.” I would agree; families are under attack - from conservatives. Instead of supporting families in all of their forms, they criticize and demonize that which doesn’t fit into their definition of “normal.” They make people feel bad for the choices they make simply because some families don’t look like the Cleavers.

We should be celebrating the fact that there is no cookie cutter for a family. We should rejoice when any group of people come together to support and nurture each other, whether that means a single mother and her children; parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and grandchildren living under one roof; divorced parents and stepparents coming together for the best interests of the children; or a family with two mothers, who are simply trying to give their daughters the very best life they can.

Maybe the Catholic Church officials in Colorado will ultimately cave the pressure and reverse their decision. And maybe one day the mothers won’t feel targeted or harshly judged for the family they’ve worked to create. In the meantime, there are two little girls who have had to learn, at a far too early age, how to stay strong when someone says you’re not “normal.”

Weekly Gratitude, Birthday Edition

Yep, it's my birthday and no, I'm definitely not telling you how old I am. I know most people would still consider me young, but I'm quickly approaching a birthday-of-no-return and I'm feeling like I just need more time to do all the things I wanted to do before the aforementioned birthday.

At any rate, there's still quite a bit to be grateful for.

This week, I was grateful for...

• Another year of life and a pretty great year at that; so much has happened over the past 12 months and while it does seem like time is flying by, I can also say that I'm enjoying it;
• The love from all my friends and family on this day of my birth, reminding me that I'm never alone and all I have to do is look around to see how many people are there for me;
• The chance to do whatever I want for the day, even if what I want to do is absolutely nothing;
• A successful work event that reminded me in a very powerful way why, exactly, I love my job (and the chance to share what I do with my mother); and
  
• Pie, because I'm a geek and my birthday falls on National Pi Day. (It's a play on words! Get it?)

What are you grateful for?

A Small World After All

[Fair warning to my few and faithful readers: I'm going to talk about PBS' Faces of America program again. I know, I'm getting annoying, but I really loved this show and think it raised a number of important questions to consider. Still, if you're sick and tired of reading about it, you might want to read something else today and come back to Ordinary Mer later.)

We're all different. It's a fact we celebrate every day. We rejoice in our own uniqueness, playing up the parts of ourselves that separate us from the person next to us. We like being ourselves, intrinsically and wholly our own person. No one wants to think of themselves as indistinguishable from someone else. Even when we don't want to stand out, we don't necessarily want to become faceless automatons.

Sometimes, though, the very things that make us different lead to conflict. Boy A doesn't like that Boy B is taller, while Girl B hates the fact that Girl A has curly hair. Time and again throughout history, violence can be traced back to the fact that one group of people doesn't like that another group of people because of their differences.

So perhaps it's good to know that we're all much more alike than we may realize.

The PBS Faces of America program made us question our assumptions about people's ancestry, but it also revealed some surprising connections between the show's guests. Using fancy science techniques and DNA testing, the show's researchers and host, Dr. Henry Louis Gates, were able to discover common ancestry between unlikely pairs of people. Poet Elizabeth Alexander shares an ancestor with Stephan Colbert, as does celebrity chef Mario Batali with Queen Noor of Jordan. And maybe most surprising of all, according to their DNA, Eva Longoria and cellist Yo-Yo Ma have an ancestor in common. (When presented with that finding by Dr. Gates, the quick-witted Longoria quipped, "He's Mexican?")

Despite our certainty of our uniqueness and the physical differences we present to the world, humans truly are connected and related in profound and startling ways.

One of the concepts introduced by the program was that of the haplogroup. Haplogroups are, in simple terms, large, ancient branches of the family tree of humanity (or, in scientific terms, of homo sapiens). Scientists believe that all humans are descended from a handful of core haplogroups, which eventually broke down into several smaller branches over the course of history.

We all belong to at least one haplogroup, which means that on some small, microscopic, genetic level, we share ancient ancestral connections with millions of other people. And while we are all different in our own ways, we are also far more alike and more connected to the people around us. It turns out Walt Disney was right - it really is a small world after all.

It may seem silly to be preoccupied with such minute details that don't necessarily have much of an impact on our everyday lives. We are, of course, so much more than just our DNA. But in this current world, where wars and conflicts rage across the globe in the name of our differences, it can't hurt to be reminded that there's more that unites us than divides us.

For instance, for years, and indeed centuries, the relationship between the Jews and Muslims has been fraught with tension, violence and fragility. Some mind even say it dates all the way back to the Book of Genesis and Abraham's sons, Issac and Ishmael. It's a seemingly endless conflict based on politics, religion and perceived differences - differences that might not be so different after all.

When studying the haplogroups of the Faces of America participants, Dr. Gates and the researchers found something surprising - and hopeful. Dr. Mehmet, who has Turkish Muslim ancestry, and Mike Nichols, who has Eastern European Jewish ancestry, share the exact same paternal haplogroup. It's scientific evidence that suggests that Muslims and Jews - two groups that have spent years trying to kill each other - share a common ancestry dating back to the very beginnings of human life.

I know this fact won't magically erase years of tensions, violence and volatile relations. It's probably not going to bring about world peace. But it is a powerful reminder that, no matter what makes us different from the person standing next to us, we are all, at our very core, human. And maybe, just maybe, this simple fact will make even one person pause and reconsider how he or she looks at the person who has been labeled his or her enemy.

"It's maybe best to think of who we are as a mosaic: a whole made from bits of all that has gone before, not only our ancestors' genomes, but their life choices and their fortunes, good and bad." - Dr. Henry Louis Gates

All That We Perceive

Perception.

It is "the act or faculty of apprehending by means of the senses or of the mind," at least, according to the dictionary. When we taste, touch, see, smell or hear, we are perceiving. Every day, our perceptions lead us to make certain conclusions: she has brown eyes, he is bald, the water is cold, the traffic is noisy, the ice cream is sweet. We trust our perceptions because we trust our senses and our mind. We believe in what we perceive.

But perception isn't always the truth and more often than not, our mind and our senses can play tricks on us, coaxing us into believing one thing when the truth is something much different.

Last week, PBS aired the final episode of Faces of America, a series in which historians and researchers traced the family histories of 12 prominent Americans. For many of the guests, documents and records provided an extensive amount of material. Eventually though, no matter how well recorded our histories are, the paper trail does run out.

When that happened, the researchers of this series then turned to DNA, to see what each guest's genes could reveal about their ancestry and ethnicity. In some cases, the results were predictable, but in others, the outcomes were surprising - and were enough to make even the guest themselves question their perceptions.

Elizabeth Alexander is a poet and college professor, the chair of the African-American Studies Department at Yale University and recited a poem at President Obama's inauguration. By all outward appearances (and by her own self-identification), Alexander is African-American. When she was presented with the results of her genetic admixture test, however, she - and the viewers - were surprised to discover that her ancestry is 66% European / White (in fact, she is directly descended from King John I of England through his mistress). Likewise, Eva Longoria, who self-identifies as Mexican, has 70% European / White ancestry (most likely Spanish) and not, as she often thought, a majority of indigenous Mexican ancestry.

If we based our perceptions of Alexander and Longoria solely on their outward appearance, we would come to one conclusion. But their DNA, the very stuff that dictates what they look like on the outside, tells a far greater - and much more complicated - story.

It's a profound lesson in perception - and of the assumptions we make based on those perceptions. We are often so certain that we know, without a doubt, that x means this and y means that. The larger, often unseen and unknown truth tells us that there is quite a bit we don't know, that perceptions cannot possibly tell the whole story and that there's a very good chance we're wrong more often than we're right.

We're so quick to judge based on what we see visually on the outside. The historical idea of race developed, in part, because of perceived differences in physical appearance. History is littered with stories and reports of discrimination, marginalization and violence - many of which came about because one person didn't look like another.

We trust our perceptions more than we should sometimes. We willingly accept the literal face value of someone or something with little thought to what may lie beneath. We take in someone's physical appearance, we read his or her last name, we hear his or her voice - and we make assumptions. But there is always so much more to know.

The perceptions we gather from our senses only tell one side of the story. As the PBS series demonstrated, our DNA can hold some surprising truths about who we think we are - and who we think other people are. And this idea applies far beyond physical appearance as well. Perceptions about personality, belief, opinions, behavior - all of these are aspects that make us who we are and all are much more complicated than our perceptions would have us believe.

Our senses are what ties us to reality. We use the things we smell, taste, touch, hear and see to orient ourselves and place ourselves in this place, at this time. Most of us assume our senses are infallible, that they will always tell us what we need to know, but the truth is much greater. All that we perceive is not the final story - there still is and always will be so much more to know.

Weekly Gratitude

Happy March! The weather has been gorgeous here in Boston all weekend long, which makes me very happy. Spring is almost here. Of course, this being New England, it's entirely likely that we get a huge snowstorm in the next day or two.

This week, I was grateful for...

• My friend, L and her birthday dinner night out with the girls; I never realize how much I miss my friends until I see them after a long time;
• My RI family members for coming together for an early birthday dinner of my own;
• The beautiful weather this weekend - I broke out the flip-flops for the first time since last fall (in New England, if it hits 50, that's good enough for flip-flops);
• My friend D, for bringing me back a birthday present from Israel. I so very much wanted to be there with her, but this is the next best thing; and
  
• The wonders and awakening powers of caffeine, for getting me through the week.
  

What are you grateful for?

Phenomenal Women, Part Two

Now, Part Two of the phenomenal women in my life. The women here may not be family, but they are just as important as anyone I'm actually related to. And while the women in my family played a part in my personal life, the women I honor in this post were instrumental in other parts of my life.

• My best and closest friends: A, A and D - More than a decade ago, I met these three women when we all started high school together. I would have never guessed that nearly 15 years later, we're still friends. These three women probably know me better than anyone else (except, perhaps, my mom) and I really should have included them in the family post because they are like family to me. We've all been through so much together that it's incredibly hard to imagine life without any one of them. They all bring a different personality and different type of friendship and, at any given moment, I'll need to rely on at least one of them. Most importantly, they seem to like me, just as I am, despite having no obligation to do so.
• Former music instructor, J - For five years, I attempted to stake my claim on musical greatness, with the help of a private music instructor. Though I never really progressed much farther than average, I gained something much better: a lifelong friend. Throughout the years of my lessons, J became less of a teacher and more of a true friend, the ones who only want the very best for you. She never hesitated to welcome me into her home and family without question, often playing the role of second mother. I learned a lot more than just notes and scales during those five years and I have J to thank for that.
  
• Female High School Teachers - I realized recently that this year marks my 10 year high school reunion, a fact which makes me feel unbearably old. Ordinarily, I might single out a specific teacher, but I honestly have to give a lot of credit to the majority of my high school teachers. Having attended an all-girls school, they were charged not only with educating us students, but also helping us develop a strong sense of self as women and as people. At the time, I hated high school and didn't give much thought to how it would help shape me, but now that I'm able to look back with some sense of perspective, I can see just how much of an impact my all-girls high school and its teachers had on me. And if anyone ever tells my parents that, I'll deny it to the grave!
• College Professor, Dr. E - I've had the good fortune to study with a number of great college professors, both at the undergraduate and graduate level. I'm singling out Dr. E because she was the professor who inspired and ultimately advised me when I wrote my senior thesis. She specialized in women's literature and I remember admiring her career and the way she taught her classes. To this day, I'm convinced the only reason I survived writing my senior thesis was because I had Dr. E encouraging me. I can only hope that my efforts since college would meet with her approval.
  
• Former bosses J and M - After a less-than-ideal experience with my first "real" boss post-college, I admit to being wary when I started my new job at a local community foundation. I was floundering a bit career-wise and I wanted a job I could love as well as some sense of where I was headed. J and M provided both. Fair-minded and encouraging, I found myself in a position that challenged and excited me. Through my work with them, I found the graduate program I eventually attended and much of my grad school work and career choices can be traced back to their influence. Throughout it all, they were there to cheer me on and wish me luck, even though it meant leaving the job working with them.
  

There are so many people who change us, challenge us and make us better. I'm so incredibly fortunate that I have had so many people in my life willing and ready to help me. Like so many others, women often have to fight for what they want, but nothing is ever truly accomplished unless we can help others and give them a hand up as well.

Who are the women in your life who have made a difference? Consider honoring them in some small way this March.

Phenomenal Women, Part One

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

- Maya Angelou

It's officially March, which for me means two very different things: first, the celebration of my birthday (only 12 more shopping days left!) and second, the celebration of Women's History Month.

The inspiration behind the month is simple: recognize and honor the contributions women have made to American history. There are certainly many women who have helped shape history and many who I looked up to when I was growing up. As an adult, though, I feel like I have a bit more perspective and have a greater appreciation for the women in my own life.

They may not grace the pages of history books, but they’ve certainly contributed to my own personal history in significant ways. Though I hope they already know how highly I regard them, it never hurts to make sure the rest of the world knows as well. (Plus, it’s my blog, so I get to write about whatever – or whomever – I want.)

• My mom – perhaps an obvious choice (we all have mothers, after all), but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to truly articulate how important my mom is to me, no matter how hard I try. Lord knows I made it difficult for her to like me when I growing up, so I can only hope to redeem myself as an adult by making sure everyone knows how much I love and appreciate her. She is, hands down, the strongest and best person I know.
• My stepmother, A – we’ve come a long way, baby. A has been a part of my life since I was a toddler, but it wasn’t always easy. The stepparent/stepchild relationship is always somewhat tenuous, especially at first. In the interest of saving space and time, let’s just say A put up with a lot. And for that, I'm truly grateful because it gave me the chance to grow up, get over myself and make up for my childhood follies. A is a great listener and a good person to have in your corner when you need someone to talk to. She also refuses to take any of my crap, which is probably good for my ego.
  
• My sister, C - I wanted a little sister, but that wasn't going to happen. Instead, I get a big sister and when I was younger, there was nothing cooler than an older, teenage sister who got to do all sorts of magical things like pick out her own clothes, drive a car and go to high school. One of the things I love best about my sister is how we can pick up where we left off, even when we don't see each other for awhile (and since we live on opposite coasts, it always awhile). I was in awe of her as a child and most days, I'm still in awe of her - she is always unapologetic about herself and has such an impressive strength of character. I wish I had her self-confidence.
  
• My aunt, C - In college, I almost never got along with my roommates, but I didn't always have the opportunity to go home. So whenever I needed to escape, my aunt C would welcome me to her house, no questions asked. She was never quite like my other aunts - they all seemed so prim and proper in comparison. Meanwhile, C would make crazy jokes, put me to work like I was little orphan Annie and always challenged me to rise to the occasion. She's always been one of my favorite people, but the grace and courage she showed when fighting - and beating - breast cancer made me feel like I had been blessed by having her in my life.
  
• My aunt, A - It's not always easy being the youngest. It sort of feels like I'm always trying to catch up. Despite their best intentions, my parents couldn't relate because they were both the oldest. So thank God for my aunt A - the youngest herself, she and I had a special bond from the very beginning. She always understood me in a way others couldn't and she was always there for me, willing to accept me for who I was, even when I wasn't being a very good me. Even with the many additions our family has seen over the years, we've remained close. And even though we tease good-naturedly, I know she's always on my side.
  

Who are the women in your families that have helped shape and inspire you? Women's History Month is a good time to honor them.

Check back later this week for Part Two of the Phenomenal Women in my life. You might also like my Women's History Month series on my book blog, The Librarian Next Door. Over there, I'm writing about the female authors and characters that have been most memorable in my personal reading history.

Weekly Gratitude

I can't believe that February is essentially over. Time is literally just flying. However, with the start of March tomorrow, that means there are only two more shopping weeks until my birthday! In the meantime...

This week, I was grateful for:

• My friend D, for being fabulous, fun and fantastic; for always being there for me and for always accepting me for who I am, flaws and all; and for having a birthday this week
• A very good, wind-proof umbrella during a week in which the East Coast got pounded, once again and for being in the slim region of MA that got hit with rain and not snow;
• The Powers That Be, for finally cracking my writer's block and inspiring me with a few good ideas, at least for this week anyway; and
  
• A relatively quiet, drama-free week at work, with my friends and with my family. Life's about to get busy, so I appreciate the calm before the storm.

What are you grateful for?

Obsession: Olympics

I live a fairly ordinary life (hence the name of this blog). I don't really frequent bars or clubs, I've never posted pictures of myself drunk (probably because I don't really drink much at all) and most evenings, after work, I'm at home, quietly reading or watching television. In fact, I'm so much of a bookworm that the only sports I follow with any interest at all are baseball (go Sox!) and tennis.

For the last two weeks, however, I have been glued to my Ikea Poang chair, indulging in my obsession for all things Olympic. I'm not sure why I'm so interested this year when I haven't been in years past. All I know is that I can't get enough. Even Bob Costa, with his slightly smarmy asides and oddly shaped head are starting to grow on me. If my TV were sentient, it would probably begin to think that NBC (and its affiliates) were the only channels it was capable of receiving.

Part of my obsession most likely stems from my fervent belief that the Winter Games are far superior to the Summer Games. Just last week, Kim offered up the same opinion, so I know I'm not alone. For starters, the Summer Games are just too much: too many sports, too many athletes, too many everything. In comparison, the Winter Games are downright intimate, with a mere 80 countries competing. And with less sports and events, you actually get a chance to see the weird and "that's an Olympic sport?" sports on TV (unlike the Summer Games, where you never get to see the sailing or equestrian stuff).

Of course, the Winter Games gives me the usual fare: figure skating, snowboarding and skiing. But it also introduces me to lesser-known wonders like Nordic combined and biathlon (special shout-out to Wikipedia for helping me figure out the difference between the two), skeleton and curling.

Can we just talk about curling for a minute? Seriously - where has it been all my life?! I have no idea how you actually win or score points or play a game (match?) but I'm told curling is like chess on ice. And you apparently can do it while pregnant. From my highly observant watching, I deduced that you don't need athletic ability to play, just patience, balance and mad strategy skills. And while Alternative Universe Mer can totally whip out a triple toe loop or a backside 720 no problem, Reality Mer will never be mistaken for a person with athletic ability. Which makes curling perfect for me. Otherwise I'll never fulfill my ridiculously far-fetched dream of winning Olympic gold.

But aside from the random sports and the living vicariously through the athletes on my TV screen, the real attraction of the Olympics - aside from fun uniforms, costumes and glitter (thank you, Johnny Weir!) - is the drama.

Oh, the drama, drama, drama. Besides the endless number of athlete "sob stories," there's all the rivalries that simmer just beneath the surface any time certain people get around each other. It's like a soap opera, only with a lot more snow and a lot less sex (I'm assuming; I could be wrong about that): the Canadian hockey team versus the American hockey team (men or women, take your pick)! Apolo Ohno versus the South Koreans! Lindsay versus Julia! The Russians versus just about everyone else! At any given moment, I half expect the entire event to break out with a WWE-style all-out rumble in the snow.

Sadly for me (and perhaps fortunately for my sanity and social life), the Olympics will end this weekend and I'll have to wait four years for another chance to reveal in all of my Olympic adoration. Thank God for the Internet, where nearly every event is helpfully available via online video. That way, I can just watch my favorite moments over and over again until the next time we celebrate the "Quadrennial Cold Weather Athletic Competition."

Seeking the Past

Whenever my mom wants me to move on and move forward, she gets fond of quoting The Lion King and specifically, Rafiki, by saying, "It doesn't matter. It's in the past!" While she might be right most of the time, so was George Santayana, best known for the varying versions of "those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

The ideas of the past and history - most especially own our pasts and histories - have been running through my head for the past few weeks, as I've been watching the PBS series Faces of America every Wednesday night. In this four-part special, historian Henry Louis Gates explores the family trees and histories of 12 famous Americans, including Meryl Streep, Malcolm Gladwell, Queen Noor, Stephen Colbert, Kristi Yamaguchi and others. The series is focused primarily on the immigrant experience and how these individuals' families came to the U.S., but it also explores the idea that our pasts and our ancestors play an important role in shaping who we become, even if we don't always realize it.

Growing up, I often felt like the black sheep of my family. I was convinced I didn't quite fit in: an introvert surrounded by extroverts, bookish and intellectual in a sea of social butterflies, musically inclined with two parents who could barely carry a tune. That feeling of being different has developed into a real curiosity to figure out just where my abilities and personality traits came from since it isn't glaringly obvious. But more than that, I want to learn more about the unique confluence of events that led to me being me.

When we think about all of the things that had to happen first in order for any of us to be here today, it's pretty overwhelming. Both of my grandfathers fought in World War II. One was a prisoner of war. What if he hadn't been rescued? What if he hadn't survived? Thinking back even further to any one of my immigrant ancestors, what if they had decided to stay in their home country? What if their ship sank? They could have contracted some kind of illness or disease. Any one small change at any moment in history and I wouldn't be here - or, at least, I wouldn't be here as I am today.

Dwelling on the past and forgetting to live in the present doesn't work out so well. But learning from the past can help inform the present (and the future). After years of immigrants deliberately shedding any ethnic identity to fully assimilate into American society, we now celebrate those differences and embrace them. Digging through the past is a way of reclaiming our histories and making sure that the unique attributes that make us who we are aren't lost for future generations.

It's also, for me, a way to connecting to my family, the family that always felt so different from me. My paternal grandfather passed away several years ago before I really had a chance to get to know him and I didn't want to lose the opportunity with my other grandparents. I even composed a series of questions for them, asking them to tell me as much as they could about their own parents and grandparents. As unique as their own lives are, it's been enlightening to find tiny pieces of myself in them and to see how those tiny pieces eventually add up to me.

There's still so much I don't know, so much I still want to know. In some ways, it seems like an endless journey and it would be easy to get caught up in chasing the past at the expense of the here and now. At the same time, I think there's merit in learning from our ancestors so that we have the insight we need to make we don't, as Santayana warns, repeat the mistakes of our past.

Plus, on a purely selfish and superficial level, I'd really like to know who to blame for my ridiculously bad myopia.