A thousand acts of kindness
When were you last moved by a stranger’s kindness? Maybe it was something small, like someone letting you merge onto the freeway. But you still took note and thought, “Wow, that was really kind.”
In my case, I had to think back quite a ways.
So imagine my delight when I read today about an unusual campaign in Elk River, Minnesota: Before the end of the month, the small city’s residents have pledged to commit 1,000 Acts of Random Kindness.
Elk River mayor Stephanie Klinzing started the campaign. Inspired by her constituents’ actions after a devastating fire, she decided to officially honor kindness in her community.
I wish there were a way to quantify the effect that this little experiment will likely have on the population at large.
After all, kindness is transformative. It fundamentally changes us—and it changes those around us, too. And it takes so very little effort to be kind.
Inspired by the folks in Elk River, I’ve decided to try an experiment of my own. For the next week, I’ll do at least one kind thing for a stranger every day.
Check back for the results!
We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.
— Winston Churchill
Filed under: Psychology | Leave a Comment
Tags: Random Acts of Kindness
Watch and wait
This is one in a series of occasional posts about life with a newly-diagnosed brain tumor. If you’re new to HeatherBlog, you can get the back-story here.
Yesterday I met with a third neurosurgeon to discuss my treatment options. Dr. N concurred with the Mayo docs’ recommendation: watch and wait.
The longer the idea sinks in, the more it makes sense.
As the neuro-oncologist at the Mayo explained, right now I’m asymptomatic and neurologically “perfect.” But doing surgery—whether for a biopsy or a full excision—would almost certainly damage my vision, and perhaps cause other deficits. Why risk that to fix something that isn’t causing me problems?
Although I’m at peace with my decision, I’ll admit that the uncertainty is a tiny bit uncomfortable. But then I remind myself that I could be squished by a meteor tomorrow. We build our lives around an illusion of safety and permanence, but it really is just an illusion.
Anyway … I’m relieved that there will be no surgery, chemo or radiation for now. We’ll see what the MRI shows in May. I’m placing my bets on great news.
Filed under: Brain tumor, Psychology | Leave a Comment
Tags: Brain tumor, Mayo Clinic
A Prairie Home primer
Yesterday evening Steve and I had the incredible (good) luck of attending the first-ever live cinecast of the Prairie Home Companion. I’ve been a fan of the show for some 20 years, but I’d never crossed the Mississippi to see it live until last night. It was fantastic.
Aside from Elvis Costello, the thing I most enjoyed was watching a small group of consummate professionals do what they do best. The show ran like clockwork, with nary a dropped line or missed cue. And they all seemed to be having such fun.
Steve and I held hands and cried our eyes out when Heather Masse sang My Life. We were blown away by the Steele sisters, and we were awed by Tom Keith’s and Fred Newman’s sound effects. We laughed convulsively as Garrison Keillor relayed The News from Lake Wobegon. (Among his advice last night [paraphrased]: “Don’t talk about your problems. Talking about your problems only makes you discover new ones.”) And of course, we were honored to see Elvis Costello perform. What a treat.
As we drove home I told Steve that, by attending the show, I’d fulfilled another of my Minnesota Musn’t Misses.
Up next? A trip to the top of the Foshay Tower—and dinner on top of the IDS Center.
In the meantime, here are some parting shots from last night’s show:
Filed under: Attempted humor, Minnesota | Leave a Comment
Tags: Elvis Costello, Garrison Keillor, Lake Wobegon, Prairie Home Companion
A little tumor humor
This is one in a series of occasional posts about life with a newly-diagnosed brain tumor. If you’re new to HeatherBlog, you can get the back-story here.
I love my friend Pam for lots of reasons: She’s incredibly intelligent, kind, and level-headed. She’s a gifted writer and an accomplished editor. But tonight I especially love her because she’s hilarious.
I came home from work a little bedraggled, so I didn’t pay much attention to the mail—until I recognized her handwriting. Tucked among the bills and Netflix® offers was her beautiful card, filled with lovely sentiments.
Then I turned the card on its side to read P.S. #2:
I told my dear Uncle E about your brain tumor and he said, “That’s it! OK. I’ll tell you where the morels are.”
Finally my brain tumor proves useful for something! Maybe Pam and I will fare better in this year’s mushroom hunt than we did in 2009.
Enclosed with the card was also a little pad of Ann Taintor sticky notes that read simply #%&@!!!!!. I couldn’t have said it better myself.
Thanks, Pam, for brightening yet another day.
Filed under: Attempted humor, Brain tumor, Psychology | 2 Comments
In observance of a long-standing Sunday-afternoon tradition, Steve just read me last week’s News of the Weird. Among the usual stupidity was a brief about a momentous decision the Wisconsin legislature is facing: whether to designate Lactococcus lactis as the state’s official bacterium. The Weird News column went on to say that,
If approved, the bacterium would join two dozen other state symbols: coat of arms, seal, motto, flag, song, flower, bird, tree, fish, state animal, wildlife animal, domestic animal, mineral, rock, symbol of peace, insect, soil, fossil, dog, beverage, grain, dance, ballad, waltz, fruit and tartan.
Yup, the legislators in Wisconsin have apparently been very busy dubbing official symbols. Anyone care to guess what the official fossil of the state of Wisconsin might be? It’s the trilobite. Yeah, I know it was on the tip of your tongue.
Anyway … I was planning on poking a bit of good-natured fun at the cheeseheads next door—until I looked up the official symbols for my adopted state. Imagine my horror when I discovered that in 1988 my elected officials almost designated the Giant Beaver (Castoroides ohioensis) as the Minnesota state fossil. We never would have lived that one down.
There are lots more “also rans,” too: a frog, two beers, an amusement ride, a book, a bug, and a parasite. Who would name an official parasite? Apparently we leech-loving Minnesotans, that’s who.
There’s a lot to be said for celebrating an area’s history and folklore, and for acknowledging its natural splendors. But naming an official soup, dog or parasite? Surely our legislators jest!
Filed under: Attempted humor, Weird news | Leave a Comment
Tags: News of the weird, Wisconsin state bacterium
Introducing the new iCringe
After months of fervent speculation, on Wednesday the rumors became fact when Apple officially introduced its new tablet computer. But no sooner did the excitement and “I told you so’s” quiet down than you could almost hear a collective “Huh?” over the name of the device.
Meet the iPad, Apple’s most absorbent product yet.
I’m not alone in making the leap from tech gadget to feminine hygiene product. (And lest you think it’s a Venus vs. Mars thing, the guys at work went there right away too.)
Still, I think the snickering will wear off once this thing hits the street. At least I hope this product will manage to transcend its bungled marketing.
The iPad got me thinking about the Apple products that haven’t quite made it. There’s a nifty tour of iFlops at mainstreet.com.
It also got me thinking about how tremendously difficult it is to name something—especially a product. In fewer than three syllables, you have to convey what the product does and elicit an emotional response.
From that perspective, I guess “iPad” really isn’t so bad. At least they didn’t go for a nonsense name, like the morphemes that are so in vogue. Care to buy an iVaaze, Hatnox, or Certh, anyone?
Filed under: Attempted humor, Psychology | Leave a Comment
Farewell to a fugitive from fame
J.D. Salinger died today at 91. I was surprised to read the news; I was sure he’d been gone for years.
In a deft portrait of the author’s complex personality, Hillel Italie wrote that “decades after publication, [The Catcher in the Rye] remains a defining expression of that most American of dreams: to never grow up.”
Perhaps that’s why the book didn’t resonate when I last tackled it.
A student in an “enriched” American Studies course, I was 15—and desperate to grow up. In a single semester I read The Red Badge of Courage, The Jungle, The Scarlet Letter, My Antonia, The Red Pony, and 1984. I also recall reading Poe and Wilde and Ibsen and Twain. But I don’t remember much about The Catcher in the Rye. Maybe I was too old to appreciate it?
Maybe I should find an old copy and give it another read.
Anyway, I wonder what new gems will emerge after the reclusive author’s death. One of Salinger’s neighbors “said the author had told him years earlier that he had written at least 15 unpublished books kept locked in a safe at his home,” according to the AP story.
“I love to write and I assure you I write regularly,” Salinger said. “But I write for myself, for my own pleasure. And I want to be left alone to do it.”
My sentiments exactly.
Filed under: On this day in history, Writing | Leave a Comment
Tags: Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger
Trying to quiet the mind
After a freak accident last week, a routine test revealed that I have a brain tumor. I’ve been keeping a journal of my unexpected journey. Here’s what’s on my mind today:
One of the things I’ve been struggling with most over the past few days is the endless internal process of ruminating the facts and considering the unknowns. I’ve had to muster all of my self-discipline to stop thinking about the “what ifs.”
Over the past few days, I’ve also been ashamed of my narcissistic self-absorption. I find myself talking about it over and over with pretty much anyone who will listen. I suppose it’s helped me to internalize the news. But I worry that my colleagues and friends will soon tire of the topic and start to shut me out.
Still, I almost can’t help myself. Every day presents a new emotional roller coaster.
When I heard the news last Monday, I was optimistic that it would end up being nothing. But after consulting with Dr. A on Thursday, I was terrified that I’d end up with cognitive deficits and perhaps lose some of my senses. Then, after talking to Dr. R on Friday I felt better about getting good care.
This morning, I’m in the bargaining phase. “Maybe if I give up beer, and if I eat a really clean diet, it will shrink and never grow back,” I’m telling myself. “Maybe by the time I have the next MRI it will be gone.” Maybe if I eat more yogurt and avoid inhaling hairspray and switch to organic skin cream, and avoid fluoride, maybe, maybe … maybe.
But I know I’m not being rational.
If anything, it’s more likely that I’ve had the tumor for a while—and it’s even possible that it’s the result of an old injury. One of the working (but far-fetched) theories is that at some point I suffered a minor stroke. After all, I did fall three stories as a kid …
I’m hopeful we’ll have more answers within the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, it’s “chin up and forward march.”
Just in case, though, I’m giving up the beer.
Filed under: Brain tumor | Leave a Comment
A perfect date
This evening Steve and I made an impulsive decision to head out for a movie. “What’s at the Heights?” I asked him. “Up in the Air,” he half-shouted from the living room.
We were surprised to pull into the parking lot and find that we were the only ones there. “Oh yeah … the Vikings are playing tonight,” Steve said. “All the more popcorn for us,” I joked.
Never before have we had an entire movie theater to ourselves. We had a blast talking back to the trailers, à la Mystery Science Theater 3000. And we laughed out loud when I made a noisy show of pulling the cellophane off our Dots.
But we barely said a word once the movie started. To me, it was poetry.
Over the past week I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what really matters, and about where the boundary lies between merely existing and truly living. In a quiet, understated way this gem of a movie touched on those very topics.
As I held Steve’s hand in that cavernous space, I was once again reminded of what really matters to me and of how very, very lucky I’ve been. It was a perfect moment … thanks to my perfect date.
Filed under: Psychology | Leave a Comment
Tags: George Clooney, Heights Theater, Up in the Air
A somnolent sage—or a sophist?
In my email this afternoon was a link to the Sleep Talkin’ Man blog. (Warning: coarse language. For a more PG-13 option, try this MSNBC video instead.)
Some of his somnolent poetry is admittedly hilarious:
“I can’t control the kittens. Too many whiskers. Too many whiskers!”
“Skipping to work makes everything better.”
“No, not the cats. Don’t trust them. Their eyes. Their eyes. They know too much.”
Here’s what I’m wondering, though: Is this just another balloon-boy publicity stunt?
I’ve known a couple of active sleep-talkers in my day, and none of them used complex syntax—nor did they string concepts together à la Steven Wright (“I haven’t put on weight. Your eyes are fat.”).
Oh, well … who cares? It was good for a much-needed laugh.
Thanks for the link, Punky!
Filed under: Attempted humor, Psychology | Leave a Comment
