As I sat down to string a few words together, some television staples of my childhood came to mind. Imagine my surprise when I realized that it is no longer a week in review happening over there at PBS. Of course, since I stopped watching tv in 1995, I really shouldn’t be surprised that I missed Washington Week’s name change back in 1999.
According to seemingly all school-children’s favorite on-line source, Wikipedia, the name change signifies the current host’s desire to look forward and not just behind. And I can see the marketability of such a move, painting yourself as forward-thinking and all that. But there is also something to be said for reviewing what has just passed. For without reviewing one’s course, how can one ever accurately adjust one’s sails to meet the next headwind?
I woke up today thinking about see-saws.
When I was a kid, playgrounds were filled with items designed to provide lots of laughs and potential injuries. Apparently, cause and effect were still new concepts in the 1970s. The playground at my elementary school had swings, a trapeze bar, all kinds of bars from which to penny-drop, a Giant’s Stride, a merry-go-round, and a see-saw. The number of times I nearly did myself in on that playground is too vast to list. More importantly, I’ve forgotten most of those bloody trips to the school nurse. But, my near-death experiences by see-saw remain with me. Those moments as I see-sawed through life on a dangerous trajectory, still fill my dreams with sensations of both flying and falling.
For me, the passage of time is uneven. It is as if my whole life is a passage of events, as if time travels in a herky-jerky fashion. And what heralds time’s passing are key events, caught in my mind like specimens caught in amber.
Each generation has its moments. Events that are forever caught in the collective memories and that changed who the collective was and would be. My mother told me of her “JFK moment.” That moment in high school chemistry when she learned her President had been shot. I don’t have a JFK moment. But I have others. Other moments that changed my timeline and in doing so, changed me. The moments that I look back and think of as the bits and pieces of my life.
I love music. Like most folks there are snippets of song attached to many parts of my life. Is this a hold-over from being sung and hummed to as a baby? I’m not sure. But I do love music. So much so that I can’t even figure out how to winnow down the list of my “favorites” for this blog. Because the act of picking one leads to another and another. What I do know is that the soundtrack to my life is much like me: a crazy, mixed up assortment of styles and tempos. In other words, one heck of an awesome playlist.
First off, let me just state this simple fact: I have a big butt. We pear-shaped gals have lots going on in the butt-department, and not so much in the boob-department. For me, this has long been a source of major emotional angst. I’m a white girl – white girls are not supposed to have big butts, no matter how much Sir Mix-A-Lot likes them. In my little social circles, a white girl with a big butt is, well, the butt of the jokes.
I have two choices: move to a more ethnic neighborhood, or accept that this is the shape my particular chromosomal arrangement gave me and move on emotionally. Frankly, I like my house. So, perhaps my New Year’s Resolution should be to drop 15 pounds and find a way to be happy with the way I look – including my butt.