Rising to the Occasion of The Choice to Give

Today, on the way home, I pulled into my local Publix parking lot like usual.  It was 40 degrees and damp and cold out.  I had just driven in from Jacksonville.  There at the end of the island was a woman holding a child with a snow suit on.  A man stood beside her with a sign that said, "Help my family and 3 children".  The sign was made with cardboard mounted on styrofoam.  They stood, with him holding the sign and her swaying with the child who looked heavy.  He should have held the child and her the sign.  First doubt.

I proceeded to the parking area where I usually choose to park.  As I exited the car, I turned to look at the family on the island.  I was contemplating buying them a Publix family dinner.  But, after I grabbed my bags, I stood upright just in time to see the adults running and then stopping to click open the van and jump in.  The man ran back to pick up a Publix sack, then back in the van and they squealed off.  I couldn't tell if it was because he Publix staff had just walked out.

I saw a very similar group at the Fresh Market.  A woman holding a child with a sign and the tenish year old sitting in the grass just staring at the parking lot.  Her sign said simply, "Help Please".

I did give the Fresh Market lady $5.00.  But, when I saw the trio at Publix flee the parking lot, another scenario popped into my head.  It was the warning of my friends and many websites: Don't fall prey to the Gypsies!

Lain Mckell photo on modern day gypsies Huffington Post

When we were in Paris, the Gypsies were the pick pockets, the fleecers, the ones that would take what is yours without sound or feeling.  They also have good tricks.  In an earlier blog I described the ring on the ground as the "catch" to get you distracted, interested and then ask you for money - all for the very valuable but too small gold ring.  It was a very good trick.

There was no trick at Publix.  There was no trick at Fresh Market.  And I don't know who these people are or where they went after they disappeared.  They are clearly not the Tallahassee homeless people that I have seen in the past.  Most of the time the men by the interstate have one sign on cardboard and it may say "help a vet" or "why lie, I want a beer."  Before I say anything  that is construed as stereo typing, I know that homeless people come in all varieties single, families and just unlucky.  I also have met two families that thought it was okay to sit in front of the Publix and ask for organic handouts.

I am not judging the decision or desperation or whatever puts people in this situation.  But I am looking at it differently.  The Gypsies and their tricks gave me a new perspective.  People who ask for things or beg are not all crazy.  They are not all destitute.  Though begging is not a life I would want, surely it could be a choice just as much as the life of tricks and petty theft.  For some people it may actually be a choice.  For me, I can tell you it would be a very desperate situation where I would prefer to stand outside holding a child in the freezing cold, when there is a Publix that could provide shelter 100 feet away.

I did not buy the chicken dinner for the three people.  I wanted to though.  I wanted to help, which is precisely what they wanted me to feel.  I am now more skeptical.  More leary.  I am not proud of this, but I am not proud of the people who were taking advantage of those feelings with a child on curb in a parking lot.

I don't feel indifferent, but I do feel like the trick may have made it to America.

Rising to a Name

Tis but thy name that is my enemy;

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!

What's in a name? that which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet;

 William Shakespeare's play Romeo and Juliet

http://www.theroseman.net/

Peggy Louise is my legally assigned name.  As a child of the 50's, it was probably a very normal name.  But, my catholic friends assumed I was really a Margaret.  After all, there was no Saint Peggy, and I am pretty sure there still isn't!

I always thought Margaret was a much more professional name.  If I were named Margaret, I wouldn't have a baptismal name different from my given name.  More importantly, I thought Margaret sounded sophisticated and Peggy sounded just fun.  Flash forward a few years, okay a few more years, I now realize the name is not what builds your character or your professional image.  Especially in the age where the cultures of the world are in every city and Indian, French, Scot, and Spanish names are all in the same room.

Since I started with an unconventional name, I did not tend toward the usual names for those I love.  I had a dog named Useless and a bird named Stitch.  My son is named Corbett, my daughter  a name that was for a car, a gun, and German, my other son, a middle name controversial in history.  Not as crazy as Moon Unit or Axle, but odd enough for their time.

Years later, when my daughter received a cat that was unsanctioned by the apartment owners, I told her she could not name him.  He would be referred to as 302 (similar to an inmate) till he was re-homed. He still is called 302. And not re-homed.

302 and Pitch Dog

302 attacks the feather toy

Recently, we were involved with a dachshund mix that is adorable and again, needed to be re-homed.  I dubbed her shrimpy and my husband named her stumpy, and we ended up calling her wiener - short for wiener dog.  I am still optimistic about the re-home thing.

Dach sun wants home

Our dog Pitch (perfect pitch or pitch black) is a product of a litter from our first family dog, Dixie.  My daughter named her first batch of Labrador puppies after North Florida counties: Bay, Calhoun, Franklin, Leon, etc.......  The second batch was random, but we ended up keeping Pitch - the black male.

So the point is that names do not improve your profession nor can they deter the attraction or affection that one has for pets.  302 was never an inmate, he is just a cat with a number for a name.

Titles are also another expression of names.  It really, truly doesn't matter what your position is, if you don't rise to fill the duties ascribed and do it with conviction.  You can be labeled Queen of First Impressions, but if you are always eating tuna at the reception desk, your title may be an inconsiderate employee.

Many companies reorganize or downsize and change a  person's title. If you are in the situation where your title is changed, (maybe your duties are too, but not always), don't let that affect your contribution and your work efforts.  There were many years in government that I was called "Senior Management Analyst 3" or "Government Operations Consultant Manager II".  What ever do those titles say about what one does?

I choose to use my position and my person-hood to define my job.  Not my title.  For surely, it is obsolete as the work changes and without the redefinition  of my position on a continuous basis, it cannot reflect my efforts.  In lieu of a dynamic working title, I make my pronouncement with certainty and steady embrace of the things that I know I can do; and I try very hard to let go of the things that might be better accomplished by another.  The name isn't what really matters, its your performance and your attitude.

Naming the cat 302 no more made him unloved, than naming me Peggy made me less professional.  Naming Pitch didn't stop the grey from growing into his  black fur.

Security is who you are, what you can do; how you can present that information is all up to you.  Professionally, personally and with your animals.  I wish you a secure and prosperous new year, no matter your name and no matter your title.

Rising to the New Year's Resolve

I awoke this morning ever so thankful that I did not have a headache or other ailments related to over imbibing, as many others will do.  I did actually stay up to see New Year's Day this year.  Usually, I am in bed by ten.  But I stayed up to ponder as the entire neighborhood was launching firecrackers small grenades and sleep would not be forthcoming.

I thought about all the things I want to do this year: renovate the house, plant a new garden, finish the cottage at the farm, save more towards retirement, help the kids with college, travel back to Normandy France and maybe Italy.

cottage being moved to the farm

I thought about the personal goals: lose weight, eat fewer processed foods, drink less, exercise more.  Meet Peggy Ball (there is another one).  Learn something new and get involved with a community group.  Probably one my mother in law would not approve of, League of Women Voters and one she would, the Senior Center (gosh they have a lot of classes to choose from!).  I would really like to keep up my French learning as well.

Put work in perspective.  While work is important, it is not the reason I am here.  My work contributes to the work of others and is supportive.  I am not the rocket scientist, doctor or IT person, but I am the one who makes sure the rocket scientist has the tools they need.  Budget, purchasing, contract management, finance, investments, 401k's, credit cards.  Not the stuff of legends, but the grease that makes legends happen.  I want to contribute, but I don't want to be consumed.

Lunch with family

Lunch with co workers

As usual, my Publix Grocery Store provides opportunities to meet friends and old friends.  Ran into a former co-worker the other day and we chatted up retirement, traveling and getting together for lunch.  I want to do that.  I am going to work on not just saying, let's do lunch, but actually doing it.
My friend Caroline is the best at trying, even when she doesn't get accepted.  Go Caroline!

So, my home, my family, my friends, my self, and my community.

what counts

My goals this year are to take better care of me, so that I can take better care of others.  I think that is simple enough to not overwhelm, keep in mind, and with a little perseverance, actually achieve.