Blood, Sweat and Tears

They are told it will be hard, possibly the most challenging thing they have ever done or will do. They are told it will be long, 12 to 16 hours to be exact. They are told it will be rough, possibly resulting in cuts, bruises, bleeding, even broken bones or a concussion. They might be scared, but they are ready, and they are strong. They are the amazing people who test for a Black Belt in martial arts, who work hard and use all that they have, their strength, skill, determination, discipline, heart, soul, blood, sweat and tears to earn the rank of First Dan. Today, my brother Austin, 15 years old and 7 years of karate strong, earned that impressive rank, and became Sensei Austin. I am beyond proud of him and I know that rest of our family, as well as his karate instructors, feel the same way.

Austin started karate, excited and enthusiastic, wearing his first gi, all white and with a white belt. Over the last seven years, we have seen his natural talent manifest itself, his skills become honed and his confidence, strength, and "inner black belt" shine. He carries himself with the confidence of someone who knows he is strong, mentally and physically and and as his studio's Student Creed says, with a positive attitude. He has developed into not only a student of his chosen art, but a teacher as well, setting an example for other students as well as for others around him in his everyday life.

After a grueling 2 day test of not only his strength and skill , but his discipline, his desire, and his character, Austin is an official Black Belt, proudly the rank of First Dan. His body is bruised and sore and his mind is exhausted, but he stands tall, proud of what he has accomplished at the age of 15. Proud probably doesn't describe what our parents, grandparents, and other brother feel, but whatever it is that we feel for him today, we all show it with huge smiles and lots of hugs for our newest Sensei.

There is another someone special who is also feeling extra proud today, Austin's teacher, Sensei Amy. She is a wonderful woman, someone I am lucky to know. Amy is an amazing karate instructor, but is so much more to many of her students. As she said at the ceremony today, through tears of joy and pride, her students, the other instructors, and so many of us as well, are like family. She supports her students as well as their families as they journey towards their karate goals. She definitely looked proud to present Austin with his Black Belt today, and I know he was proud to have earned it alongside her.

There may have been more bruises and scrapes, rather than blood, but I know both sweat and tears flowed freely over the last 2 days. Sweat from hard work, sweat of anticipation, tears of pain, tears of frustration, tears of pride, tears of exhaustion, tears of joy. I am so proud of Austin and his accomplishments. He is truly strong in so many ways. Here's to you Sensei Austin!

Raise Your Glass

Today I turn 28. Not an exceptionally exciting age. 28 does not bring something new, like the excitement of getting your license at 16, being able to vote at 18,or being able to legally drink at 21, or even something like the cost of car insurance going down at age 25. On the other hand, it does not have a particularly negative connotation, such as how some people feel about turning 30 or 40 or 50. It's just another age, a step that officially moves me from my mid-twenties to my late-twenties. Twenty-eight, does anyone make a huge deal out of age 28? I'm not quite sure to be honest.


Another birthday has come and like many people, I catch myself thinking about what I have accomplished, what I haven't accomplished. Let's see:

          1. I have a college degree (perhaps not one that in an area that is particularly useful right now, but I am educated and that is more than some people can say)

          2. I have a job, a job that I love. (Again, more than a lot of people can say)

          3. I have moved away and lived on my own. (Arizona was quite a distance away from little Springfield, IL, but I went and gave it my best shot. It might not have been the right city for me, but it is an experience I am glad that I had.)

          4. I have traveled. (Most people can't say that their first plane ride was an overseas flight to Europe and I am lucky that I can. I have been lucky enough to travel to several countries, seeing amazing sites and falling in love with the cultures, the people, the languages, the food, the beauty, the experience of travel in general. Now, I just wish to do more of this!)

          5. I have loved and been loved. (I am not talking about a great love with a significant other, but rather the fact that I am loved by family, loved by my dear friends, and love them just as much. I enjoy the connection with others, the warm, fuzzy, happy feeling I get when I tell a good friend how much I miss them or write them that I am thinking of them that day, the feeling I get when my parents or grandparents tell me that they are proud of me, the little kid hugs and kisses from my niece and nephew.)

To many people, these may not seem like big accomplishments, but to me they are just right, they are the things that matter. Perhaps what I have done does not shine like the things others have accomplished by age 28, but you can decide for yourself. By age 28:

          1. The Danish physicist Niels Bohr had published his revolutionary theory of the atom.

          2. County music star Brad Paisley became the youngest member of the Opry.

          3. Tchaikovsky was enjoying fame after composing "Romeo and Juliet."

          4. Speed skater Bonnie Blair had won 3 Olympic Gold Medals.

          5. Mary Shelley had written and published her famous novel, "Frankenstein."

          6. Audrey Hepburn had won the Oscar for "Roman Holiday."

          7. Amelia Earhart became the 16th woman ever to be issued a pilot's license.

These are some amazing feats and have to say that my ambitions, while perhaps not made of things that will be bring me international fame and fortune, are things that are important to me, things that are powered by the things I have already accomplished. I plan to celebrate in a rather low-key way, dinner and drinks with friends and a small family celebration. It is perfect for me, a celebration that will find me surrounded by many of those that hold dear (those of you who are not here in person are definitely with me in spirit). Nothing flashy about it, but you can bet that the soles I wear will be!

As Pink says in her new song, "...raise your glass." Here's to 28, a year that I intend to fill with lots of soul, and plenty of new soles!

Giving Thanks

So, everyone has been writing posts this last week about what they are thankful for and how grateful they are for the people and things in their lives, expressing their joy at being blessed with certain things. I am grateful for many things, for the people in my life, for people who may no longer be a big part of my life, for places, for moments, for opportunities, for the little things, and so on. After much consideration, here is the one thing I felt most thankful for yesterday:

Thanksgiving, the holiday itself. I am thankful for the holidays, for them coming around again each year, for the calculated times to celebrate all that we have, to be together with family and friends, to share food and drink and laughter, stories and a good time. I am of the belief that we should be in the holiday spirit more often, not just those six weeks where we celebrate Thanksgiving, Advent, Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, New Year's, or as new GAP commercials say, "Have a Happy Whatever-you-wanna-kah!" Love it!

So, this year, I am thankful for the holidays, for the times I know I will get to spend with my family, with friends, both the new and the old. Oh, and there is always the fact that I didn't have to cook my own turkey this year...

Yes, I Have a Favorite...

There are many people in my life that have, at times, been my favorite. When I was little these people were my parents, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, family being my main social circle at that point in my life. When I was in school, before high school that is, it was mostly my friends, people who I spent lots of time with, having fun, being silly, sharing secrets, sleepovers, games of 4 Square on the playground. These people, my family and friends, many of them are still some of my favorite people, as are new friends I have made since then (not surprising considering the aforementioned time only accounts for half of my life!). But, there is one person who has been my favorite consistently for the last 13, almost 14 years.

When I was in the 8th grade my brother Austin was born. It was exciting, weird, fun, icky, etc etc etc, all at the same time. As a teenager, it was difficult having a baby in the house at times and well, as my mother says, having a screaming, pooping baby in the house is the best form of birth control you can give a teenager. I think it worked.... That aside, Austin has been my favorite person since the minute I laid eyes on him. He was not a particularly attractive baby when he was born, but boy did he get cute fast! Aside from his cuteness and general good looks, which he maintains to this day, he has always had one heck of a personality. Even as a toddler, we referred to him as "Personality Plus." And, ever since he was little, I have called him "Widdle Man." Corny? Yes. Silly? You bet. Perfect? Absolutely! You see, "Little Man" was not sufficient as it did not refer to his personality or other endearing qualities, simply his size. Therefore, "widdle" was born - cute and perfect at the time, and I am sure if you ask Austin today, perfectly embarrassing as well!

As he has grown up, Austin's personality has stayed much the same, the same sense of humor, same simple ways of showing his love for others and yes, same annoying little brother characteristics, too. I have noticed that, unlike many kids his age, he is incredibly well-spoken when he wants to be and can hold a conversation with adults very well. He has no problem talking respectfully with elderly people and then in the same moment, during around and playing with small children, being a buddy down on their level. He has such interesting opinions on things, social issues even, not just which episode of Family Guy is funniest or which Guitar Hero song has the best solo (though he will gladly tell you these things, too). I wonder sometimes where he gets his ideas and how he forms his opinions on certain things because oftentimes I see them being combinations of opinions of those around him, and yet somehow, completely different. It is these opinions that make him so interesting to talk to.

Austin has a definite style all his own, a sense of humor like no other person I know. He is respectful of his parents, his grandparents, his siblings, other adults in his life, but at the same time, keeps true to himself. We often pick on each other about little things, for example, like his dislike for reading and my deep love for shoes. Yes, there is sibling rivalry, but in our own special way, probably due in part to the 13 year age difference between us, but also because we are just us. As he gets older, I come to enjoy my brother's company more and more. We definitely share a love of sarcasm and we both use it often, which is great since he actually gets it now.

So many people have come into my life and many people are very important to me, but I have no problem saying I have a favorite, and Austin is definitely my favorite person. As I used to tell him when he was little, I love him more than all the stars in the sky, all the sand on all the beaches all over the world, and all the boogers ever picked by all the little boys who ever lives. (I know he would roll his eyes at this today, but I know he loves me, too!) As he inches so close to turning 14, I realize that Austin might be one of the only things that has remained my favorite for so long. He definitely has staying power and I am sure he would say that is "sweet." He may not be little anymore (we do stand about eye to eye these days), but he will always be "widdle" to me.Yes, I have favorite, and that's so okay!

We the People...

What does it mean to be American? To have the freedoms that we are so proud of in this country? No country or government is perfect, but perhaps we are too hard on our own country sometimes. Now, I am not a flag-waver, someone who is bleeds USA pride; in fact I am far from it. I am not saying I am not proud to be American, that is not it at all. I am grateful for the freedoms I have, that were bestowed on me the day I was born in the fine state of Illinois. For some reason, though, I believe that if you really believe in something, you can support it, believe in it without shoving it in the faces of everyone around you. You should live what you believe, show it by the way you live, not with things. For example, people who are proud to be American, so proud that they feel the need to drape the flag on everything they own, be it their car, their clothes, their hats and their décor. I am all for being proud of your country, and will definitely hang a flag when celebrating on the 4^th of July, but I feel that the overboard displays of patriotism are not truly showing pride. I feel that they are somewhat of an embarrassment to our country and what it really stands for. I have never seen people in any other country do what we do as Americans. Of course, all nations are proud when celebrating their national holidays and at events like the Olympics or the World Cup, but only the US seems to wave the flag all day, every day, all over everything. I feel the same way about people who say that they support the troops and do so by covering their cars with those ridiculous magnetic ribbons. In my humble opinion, if you truly want to support our troops, the people who have dedicated their lives protecting us and defending our freedoms, there are much better ways to do it. Send them care packages, write to them, support their families here in your community. But, do you really think that the troops feel your support because you have a magnet on your car? Do you really think that by giving that $3.00 to the gas station on the corner, the troops are seeing that money and your support? Basically, you are just making yourself appear supportive without having to make much effort. And, those magnetic ribbons just look dumb on your car! I know it sounds harsh, but someone needed to say it!

Now, stepping down off my soapbox, back to what it really means to be American. Perhaps those of us who are American by birth take the basic concepts and freedoms for granted. Perhaps people who have to work so hard to become American truly understand what this country is supposed to be all about. Perhaps growing up in another place, under a completely different system of government makes you more aware of the small things that are America. I am thinking particularly of people like my Oma, Louise Michaud. My grandma became a US citizen about a week ago, after living in the US for close to 50 years. She came here, following a new husband, a man she knew only a short time, but knew that she loved. I can’t imagine what it was like for her, leaving her homeland, her family and venturing across the ocean to a new country, to America. She settled in Minnesota, a friendly state and learned English, picking up a great deal of it when my mother, her first child, was learning to talk. She has worked and paid taxes here since 1959 and has been a model citizen since then, but she wasn’t a citizen. She follows the laws, lives a good life, works hard, and supports this country and what it stands for, all while not being a citizen, not being given the same rights as most of the people around her. I would like to believe that she lived this way as an alien (legal mind you) because that is the type of woman she is, a strong, loving person, committed to raising her family, her children and grandchildren, to be good people, good Americans. I would also like to think that she has considered herself an American for a long time, and if you didn’t know she wasn’t a citizen, there really was no way for you to tell, aside from her German passport, tucked securely in my grandpa’s dresser drawer. I think my Oma knows what it means to be American, since she has been here, living as one for so long, without the official papers. She is now a citizen by choice, and I believe that for a person to choose to become a citizen of another country, they must truly believe in the ideals of that country, what is was founded on, what it fundamentally stands for. She has raised a family that is full of proud Americans, and those children have grown and passed that pride and patriotism on to their children. As one of those grandchildren, the oldest of them, I feel that my occasional cynicism towards our country is balanced by the pride I feel for my grandma and her being one of our country’s newest citizens. Perhaps many Americans, myself included, forget what our country is supposed to be about, what the ideals of the founders really were. I know at least one person who won’t forget what it means to be American anytime soon, and I am proud to call her Oma.

This was written in early November 2008, just after my Grandma was sworn in as a citizen.