Love is our cross to bear...

When I was 18 , I lived with my sister Danielle for a month. She was in her last year of college at BYU- Provo and I was getting ready for my first quarter at Utah State in Logan, Being the baby of the family, I had spent the last 6 years at home as a kind of only child battling out the terms and conditions  of my teenage existence with two exhausted but stubborn parents.  I am, and always have been, an introvert while Danielle was a sparkling  social butterfly with a no nonsense form of honesty  that meant you either loved her or thought she was hiding her broomstick somewhere rather uncomfortable.She  had a passion for trying new things and  possessed the confidence to meet strangers and become friends. We were as dissimilar as sisters can be.... except when we laughed.

Danielle and I were drastically different and yet we could,and often did, crack ourselves up laughing over the most ridiculous things. We got that from our mom, I think,  The month I slept on Danielle's couch we  did  a lot of laughing. I remember she would come home from class and I would have been working on a story I was writing at the time and she would make me read her what I had  written that day. She was my cheerleader. I never thought my writing had any real potential other than for my own satisfaction until my big sister  showed me with her love and support that what I had to say was interesting, sometimes even entertaining. While  she saw me as  the smart little sister who had a hard time finishing anything,  I knew she was the    brave one  determined to overcome her learning challenges and make a difference in other people's lives and I knew she had the brains to succeed.

Having  someone  like Danielle in your life was a blessing. Like all blessings it came with a myriad of challenges and frustrations and made you a better person for  loving  and being loved by her.

There is a hauntingly poignant song by John Gorka that  talks about love being a cross to bear.  I didn't fully comprehend what that meant until my sister died. While  the lyrics may be for some lost love I never fail to think of  my big sis Danielle when I listen to these words:

And so it is until we meet again
And I throw my arms around you
You can count the gray hairs in my head
I'll still be thankful that I found you

Claron "Monk" Bailey Obituary

 On June 18, 2015 Claron Everett “Monk” Bailey passed away in his home in Queen Creek AZ after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in March. Monk was born on April 22, 1938 in Los Angeles CA.  He grew up in Moab Utah and graduated from Grand High School where he was a four sport letterman.  He attended and played football (FB/DB) for the University of Utah from 1956-1960 and was an All-Conference selection in 1959.  After college Monk played with the St. Louis Cardinals (1963-1965).  He also played one year (1966) with the Toronto Argonauts (CFL).   After moving to Long Island NY, Monk played for several semi-pro football teams including the Long Island Bulls, Bridgeport Jets, and the Jersey Jays.  After retiring from football, Monk sold medical supplies and later started his own auto top business.  He continued to coach football part-time and was the head football coach at Floral Park HS and Plainview JFK HS in New York.  He was an assistant football coach at Bloomsburg University (PA), Bucknell University, Hofstra University, the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy, New Haven University, C.W. Post University, Maritime SUNY, Southern Virginia University, Weber State University, and Dixie State College.  After moving to Queen Creek AZ he was an assistant football coach at San Tan Valley HS.

After joining the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1966, Monk was an active member until his death.  He had a zeal for missionary work and loved sharing the gospel by befriending and serving others.  He served in several callings in the Church but his favorite was as the Branch President of the Young Single Adult Ward in Plainview NY (1999-2005).  Monk was a kid at heart and loved working with the young adults.  He loved people, his family and the gospel of Jesus Christ.  He is survived by his wife Kristine Soltau and his children, Michell Shane (Mark) of Cody WY, Everett (Robin) of Mesa AZ,  Noel Houghton (Tim) of Aurora IL, Jenielle of Aurora IL, and also by his 12 grandchildren and 3 great-grandchildren.  He was preceded in death by daughter Danielle Gomez, sister Sandra Robinson, and parents Claron and Sue Bailey. 

Someone else's words explain it all....

Final Notations


Adrienne Rich

it will not be simple, it will not be long
 it will take little time, it will take all your thought
it will take all your heart, it will take all your breath 
it will be short, it will not be simple

it will touch through your ribs, it will take all your heart
 it will not be long, it will occupy your thought
 as a city is occupied, as a bed is occupied 
it will take all your flesh, it will not be simple

You are coming into us who cannot withstand you
 you are coming into us who never wanted to withstand you
 you are taking parts of us into places never planned
 you are going far away with pieces of our lives

it will be short, it will take all your breath 
it will not be simple, it will become your will

*********************

Reading poetry has always been a pleasure for me and has become a profound source of comfort during a time of great distress. It has taught me something of the universal nature of sorrow and grief. I know God lives and loves me ; I find great strength in my faith but life is hard and difficult things happen that will break your heart and reshape it into a wholly different organ. While I work on my relationship to my Father and my Savior, who always watch over us, and whose presence I feel in my life, my soul acknowledges and responds to the depth of human emotions found in studying the artistic expressions birthed from the struggle of another on life's journey.

“Those who cannot conceive of Friendship as a substantive love but only as a disguise or elaboration of Eros betray the fact that they have never had a Friend.” ― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Henri J Nouwen wrote: When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.

I have been blessed to spend time  over the past few months with  some of those whom God has bestowed  upon me   as friends. It has been the best gift a loving Father could give for it has offered me love,laughter, and a reminder that it is necessary to make happy memories when we can and that kindness and generosity are not unique to one system of belief

They have sacrificed time and money to be with me and catch up on the good ol' days and reminded me of how over the course of my life God has surrounded me with the people who would help me  be a better person.

They remind me of my roots and why I miss NY so dearly, but when I get homesick for them they also help me focus on my goals. And most importantly they love and accept me for who I am and where I am at and I know that because I have such wonderful people in my life that I am supported and lifted up during life's roughest moments.
I Love being "just friends" with so many loving, caring, generous, open-hearted, and , frankly ,darn funny people.  And although I don't have photos of all the friends who have saved my life in so many ways you are all  embedded in my  life.
Thanks friends!

Happy Loser's Day, Sis.....

Coda

Jason Shinder

And now I know what most deeply

     connects us

after that summer so many years ago,

and it isn't poetry, although it is poetry,

and it isn't illness, although we have that in common,

and it isn't gratitude for every moment, 

even the terrifying ones, even the physical 

     pain,

though we are grateful, and it isn't even death,

though we are halfway through

it, or even the way you describe the magnificence

of being alive, catching a glimpse,

in the store window, of your blowing hair

     and chapped lips,

though it is beautiful, it is; but it is

that you're my friend out here on the far reaches

of what humans can find out about each other

Today I celebrate my family: my parents who have devoted their lives to taking care of us and have the crucible like task of helping their daughter die, my brother who is there for every crisis and keeping us all connected, my sisters who are  not likely to be all together again in this life, and especially my sister Danielle who has taught me how precious life is and that love is what matters most. Happy VD sis!

Doubt not, but be believing: a poetic introduction to a series of posts on faith and becoming...

The Doubter's Prayer 

by Anne Bronte

Eternal Power, of earth and air!
Unseen, yet seen in all around,
Remote, but dwelling everywhere,
Though silent, heard in every sound.
If e'er thine ear in mercy bent,
When wretched mortals cried to Thee,
And if, indeed, Thy Son was sent,
To save lost sinners such as me:

Then hear me now, while, kneeling here,
I lift to thee my heart and eye,
And all my soul ascends in prayer,
Oh, give me -­ give me Faith! I cry.

Without some glimmering in my heart,
I could not raise this fervent prayer;
But, oh! a stronger light impart,
And in Thy mercy fix it there.

While Faith is with me, I am blest;
It turns my darkest night to day;
But while I clasp it to my breast,
I often feel it slide away.

Then, cold and dark, my spirit sinks,
To see my light of life depart;
And every fiend of Hell, methinks,
Enjoys the anguish of my heart.

What shall I do, if all my love,
My hopes, my toil, are cast away,
And if there be no God above,
To hear and bless me when I pray?

If this be vain delusion all,
If death be an eternal sleep,
And none can hear my secret call,
Or see the silent tears I weep!

Oh, help me, God! For thou alone
Canst my distracted soul relieve;
Forsake it not: it is thine own,
Though weak, yet longing to believe.

Oh, drive these cruel doubts away;
And make me know, that Thou art God!
A faith, that shines by night and day,
Will lighten every earthly load.

If I believe that Jesus died,
And, waking, rose to reign above;
Then surely Sorrow, Sin, and Pride,
Must yield to Peace, and Hope, and Love.

And all the blessed words He said
Will strength and holy joy impart:
A shield of safety o'er my head,
A spring of comfort in my heart

Last night I had this dream and it went something like this....

COME live with me and be my Love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks	5
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
There will I make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,	10
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull,
Fair linèd slippers for the cold,	15
With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my Love.	20
Thy silver dishes for thy meat
As precious as the gods do eat,
Shall on an ivory table be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing	25
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love.

There is something  alluring about the imagery provoked by Kit Marlowe in this verdant verse, a bucolic sweetness touching on a deeply felt passion. The gift of poetry lies in its capacity to extract from our innermost chambers  those things which we most long to protect from the eyes of the world. For many years I have believed myself to be too sensible for passion and romance, that a keen mind and fine sense of humor are all that matter, but beautiful poetry has convinced my hard head that I have been hiding that which is most sensitive, protecting it from the mockery of the world because that is so often what the world has offered when I have worn my heart on my sleeve. But the truth I guard so indefatigably  is nothing to be ashamed of, despite what my more practical sarcastic self tries to tell me, I am a romantic.

If I needed you would you come to me, would you come to me and ease my pain? If you needed me I would come to you, I would swim the seas for to ease your pain . ~ Townes Van Zandt

This is the conclusion to the previous post....

When dinner was finished I remained quiet as we moved on to discussing other things and opted to pick up dessert from a nearby bakery. My emotional state at this time was very much like the finch who slammed itself into a window and lay helpless on the cement walkway. My friends were kind enough to notice and accept this. At one point an arm was placed on my shoulder to reinforce  support and awareness of my intensely vulnerable state. I am not one who tends to become quiet during debate and heated discussion, but the dinner conversation had touched on my  innermost heartache, as ee cummings  eloquently described, "the root of the root and the bud of the bud". I attempted to recover my spirits and when we had gotten dessert and decided to watch a dvd I decide I needed to stay and be a part of the world instead of fleeing and retreating into my own.

When we returned to our point of origin, being my friend's house where we would watch any of a number of movies on a regular basis, I split off from our group and went to place my delicious Italian leftovers in my car. It was dark out but for the undependable streetlight and from the corner of my eye I could see something fluttering and struggling in the gutter. All I could muster was a sort of wailing gasp because it was clear that this mysterious object  was not a leaf or really an object at all, but a tiny bird that was unable to properly use its wings to lift off. There was no barrier that could have prevented the flood of grief that burst forth from my lips."Oh, it's dying" I whispered and one of my friends stopped in his tracks. As I watched this little life struggle and feebly attempt to coordinate it's wings in order to take flight my friend  approached me with a look of concern on his face. When he asked me what was wrong,as I was clearly trembling and overwrought, I explained there was a tiny bird flapping around and dying in the street. And when he turned to discover where this helpless creature was the little bird was nowhere to be found. All I could think of was this poor bird, desperate and unable to get off the ground would shortly be devoured by either cat or the tires of an oncoming vehicle and I wept. What happened next I will never forget and will forever love this friend for. Sensing my need for comfort I was blessed with a friend who was able to provide a tender moment when comfort was given and received. Moving closer he embraced me  warmly placing  his hand on my head and gave me the sweet gift of letting me cry on his shoulder. As he spoke words of comfort to me I was able to quickly regain my sensibilities and we moved together towards the house. In that moment I was the bird standing defenseless in the street caught in a maelstrom of sorrows and uncertainties and I was rescued by a brief but pure moment of  affection and solicitous care.

Two birds on a wire /One tries to fly away and the other /Watches him close from that wire/ He says he wants to as well but he is a liar/ I'll believe it all /There's nothing I won't understand /I'll believe it all I won't let go of your hand ~Regina Spektor

The building that I work in has reflective windows on the facade which means when, on  stunningly gorgeous fall days like we have been having in Illinois recently, walking in and out of the building you are captured by the illusion that the azure sky continues on forever. While this is most assuredly an aesthetically enticing  architectural technique it has an unsettling result by one of the main entrances into the facility. Every day for the last week when leaving work I have been stunned by the same phenomenon: the lifeless yet intact frames of  several tiny birds lying  on the cement walkway adjacent to the building. This circumstance was a result of these tiny creatures seeing the reflected sky in the windows of the building and flying head on into their own destruction. While this does bring to mind the significance of illusions and not being deceived by the ephemera and surface reflections the world has to offer, for me the first thing that came to mind each day I walked from the building and saw these poor frail lifeless birds strewn on the pavement was an emotional night  several years ago where I was very much that poor frail bird butting its head against  hard glass.

It was the fall of 2010 and I was basically a hot mess. I was in school full-time, working, and constantly worried about my sister who had recently been diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer. My soul was decidedly  beset by heightened emotions and uncertainty of what I could and should be doing to help my sister. This was a constant spiritual undercurrent  for me back then and it was often present in my interactions with others. Such was the case one fall evening when after classes I went to dinner with friends. We decided on Italian (my comfort food of choice) and opted for a local place (because in NY there are many many local Italian restaurants) that I had never been to. I was myself and yet I was not myself.  As we sat discussing this and that the topic of my sister came up and I felt my nerves pop and my heart quake. I was explaining how I was determined to help my sister raise money to pay for treatment and so I had decided to basically beg and cajole for help through social media. There was a slight pause in the conversation and one of my friends commented on how they had seen my postings and had discussed it with another Facebook friend who had been struck by the vehemence of my recent postings/pleadings. This began a most excruciating philosophical discussion over the "proper" way to get results in such a scenario. It was all very surgical, my heart being cut out quite efficiently in the process of a few general observations made over 3 or 4 minutes by the other member of our party. As the seconds progressed  and the food arrived, my head leaned ever further downward as I played with my food and lost my voice. My eyes fogged up with hurt and uncertainty. In those minutes I felt like a trapped bird whose wings were unable to fulfill their purpose leaving me to look wildly for any means of escape. I could not speak much above a whisper in response to the questions being posed. It became obvious to those I was with that our companionable dinner had evolved into a painful autopsy of all of my recent actions regarding my sister  and they thoughtfully changed conversational courses to ease my discomfort, and I was grateful.....

stay tuned for what happened next and what I learned about tenderness....posting  to follow later this week

Slugs and snails are after me/ DDT keeps me happy/ Now I guess I'll have to tell 'em/ That I got no cerebellum/ Gonna get my Ph.D. I'm a teenage lobotomy

My freshman year of high school was a free fall beginning  to a life long journey to discover the "me"ness of me. 8th grade had  been, and to this date remains, on of the most damaging and painful years of my life. I still have a hard time contemplating being in a room with people who so enthusiastically pushed my sensitive soul the very boundaries of  emotional security. After surviving 7th and 8th grade, 9th grade offered me an opportunity to expand my social circle and escape from the barbarity and insanity of adolescent kill-or-be killed socializing. Many of the girls my age were petty, dishonest, and driven by jealousy, and often those who weren't  made decisions about their loyalty based on social necessity. The girls at church were no exception. And the boys...well let's just say just because they had figured out how to keep their hands to themselves by high school some of their mouths and minds needed to be washed out with good detergent.

Lies were told by and about me within the drama of freshman year survival of the fittest. As my circle of "friends" began to suffocate me I was blessed that  a group of people were drawn to my independent, bull -headed, argumentative, sarcastic teenage self and they were all seniors. They found it curious that I had no interest in smoking or drinking and messing around was not my aim in hanging out with older guys. I was the "Mormon" girl who probably had eight mommies, who argued politics in the library at lunch and had no problem kneeing someone in the proper place to get them away from her. I was brash and angry and desperate to  figure out how to be me without  drawing so much malevolent or inappropriate and unwanted attention. This was the year that birthed within me a natural attraction for nerdy boys who liked to argue ideas and make the librarians threaten to kick us out of the library for being too rowdy and rowdy meant arguing about the Iran Contra hearings or Clarence Thomas confirmation hearings. These were the boys who allowed me to not always think of myself as a girl who was defined by her body but as a person who had a passionate mind and thirst to learn new things and debate ideas and to understand what was going on in the world and why that mattered.  This was the year I joined a club that explored the birth of and philosophy of Marxism and socialism, I sang in the choir and played in the band, I joined Model United Nations, I cut school after my cousin died and became entangled in a mess of my own making. I discovered The Ramones, The Dead Milkmen, Erasure, Depeche Mode, ee cummings, and that hanging out in graveyards after school was something to look forward to. These were the things that made my freshman year worth looking back on and worth remembering. I did have a few girlfriends in my grade that managed to stay out of the drama and with whom I enjoyed a bond of friendship but after my senior friends graduated that year I lost myself until I was able to find true meaningful friends in the grade younger than me....and lost my heart to a boy named....

Words of love: How e.e. cummings taught me the intimacy of love

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]

BY E. E. CUMMINGS

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

                                                      i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

I will follow you into the dark...

Today. I have not been doing a lot of thinking. I

have not been thinking of just the right words 

that would describe what this day is and what

it was 12 years ago. 

I miss my NY. 

Lives have been lost, taken, and

given on and since this day 12 years ago and

today certain songs played on repeat cycle as 

I tried not to remember what I felt 

one beautiful September morning 

and on that day every year since.

I pray for peace and love and comfort for all those who continue to suffer the vacuum of grief left by September 11, 2001

The secret of change is to focus all of your energy,not on fighting the old, but on building the new. ~ Socrates

I have been run to ground this week both physically and emotionally. Sunday, a day I look forward to with an abiding contentment, has been an unusual source of discontentment and discombobulation  for the past two weeks. I haven't been in my right mind (if there is such a thing) for a few weeks with the monster storm of a sinus infection looming while I went about my daily business of working and sleeping. This past Monday physical and mental exhaustion came to a volcanic head when I fled my house in a state of sobbing so enormous I could have swam away. I share this story not to glorify my own woeful condition but to express my deep and abiding faith in the power of wonderful friendships bound by love and affection and the underlying hand of God in my life. I was feeling particularly sorry for myself on Monday, wondering what it is I was doing here in Illinois, so far from my major support and social network and what was I doing with my life that made coming to Illinois so important. I really had no answers in the moment; my head was encumbered by lethargic apathy and my soul was in no state to revive itself. There was no legitimate cause for such anguish other than my peaked state. In retrospect, this emotional eruption had been bubbling beneath the surface for a few months and it was only now with my defenses all but demolished I would burst with an overwhelming sense of grief and uncertainty.

I made a seismic change in my life when I decided to come to Chicago. Before I emigrated I was looking forward to moving toward something, a new adventure perhaps. After settling in, I realized I had also moved away from so much of what has defined me as a person and given me so much joy over the past 13 years. I wasn't just leaving the heartaches and frustrations behind but the weekly lunches, dinners, and movies; the Sunday afternoon walks; the hanging out and laughing; the trips to Dunkin Donuts and delicious Italian food on a Saturday night. My heart overflows with gratitude and longing as I reflect on all the beautiful and good I left behind in New York. It was a midst this drama of illness that I discovered my heart is still in NY, the good , the bad, the ugly. I wept. And I yet weep. I needed to leave I am almost certain of that. Almost. But the knowledge that changes must be made does not make the experience an  easy one.

It was in this state I called upon a friend I love immensely and who has managed to remind me of God's tender mercies at some of the most challenging moments of my adult life. Someone who despite finding his own happiness and hope in a bright future with a woman who loves him the way he deserves to be loved, made time to listen and advise and pray with me. We hadn't spoken in  a while yet it was like we saw each other yesterday. That gave me great comfort. As he listened to my broken heart I remembered what it was like to be in his presence and laugh and talk about books and movies. And my mind slowly grasped this awe inspiring idea that I could still feel close to the people I love despite being thousands of miles away. And in that moment of profound struggle I could feel that person thousands of miles away sitting beside me in my car reminding me of how God is mindful of each one of us in our struggles as well as in our triumphs. That was what I had lost sight of. Through God, all things are possible. In that moment, He made it possible for me to feel the soothing presence of someone who knows and loves me for who I am. That was truly a tender mercy.

As my week has progressed and I have been able to rest and contemplate my experience since settling in Illinois I know I am meant to learn more about myself and particularly to learn to rely on the wisdom, protection, and love of God. That I have been blessed by Him with friends and family in NY that will continue to strengthen and uplift me and distance makes no difference. Maybe in coming to Chicago I will finally build and fortify the most important relationship of all, a divine one.

“Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.” ~ Helen Keller

Sometime late last fall the thought struck me that I had become entrenched in the comfortability (yes I made up that word) of day to day life. Understanding that this stasis I found myself in inherently characterizes certain stages of life, mostly revolving around marriage, family, and career, I realized during this epiphany that I was living in a manner that was disingenuous to my post-graduation goals.  It quickly became evident to me that I was the personification of the hamster running and moving but forever fixed in the same location. I am a self-proclaimed creature of habit and had easily fallen into a form of living that would not cause any real growth or achievement of personal ambitions. But it was comfortable and I was working and contributing to someone else's well-being. Running the same wheel each day, having my basic needs met by the circumstances of my situation offered me a security I find reassuring. This sense of security had lulled me into a state of in-action. I had obtained my goal of finishing my BA after years of hard work and sacrifice. Now what?  It seemed so natural and was indeed quite easy to continue leading the same student lifestyle as when I was in school, hence the rut. In realizing the state I was in, an awareness enhanced by a development of what thankfully ended up being minor health issues, I knew the time had come to summon up my adventurous side, burried way down deep beneath many a layer of ease and continuity, and shift my focus from living to get through school and  this phase of my life to actually moving into the next phase. I passed through the transition phase without any signs of progress and so at the beginning of December 2012 I knew major change and a brand new adventure was what I needed to set my motivational fires ablaze. I needed to get off the wheel and out of the cage of security I lived in for more than 3 years in NY and start living the life I really want for my self. That is what my Chicago adventure is all aboutand Friday March 1 I took a step out of my well fortified comfort zone  and did something I hope will contribute to a new and exciting life here in Illinois....to be continued. ;)

Sociological Reflections on High School: a media analysis of Glee

The following is a paper I wrote for a sociology class and I have been thinking alot about group dynamics and fitting in and the difference a close knit group of friends can make in one person's life...more on that topic to come.

The minority to be analyzed is the subordinate group in the high school environment. More specifically: how can membership in a subordinate group perceived as “bottom of the rung”, enhance the cohesiveness of that socially subordinate group in the adolescent environment, and how does the subgroup attempt to overcome the negative perception imposed on them? The hypothesis being that members of a social group with specific goals, perceived as subordinate and influenced by the social superiority of their peers will bond as a result of common social maltreatment as well as common goals. The results of this study can provide an understanding of the realistic ability for high school aged children to develop healthy relationships despite their subordinate status within their social environment and whether this idea is accurately represented in the media.

Literature Review

            In addressing the concrete definition and study of cohesion, Moody and White explain the ongoing issue of cohesion this way:

                                    “Although questions about social cohesion lie at the core

                                    of our discipline, definitions are often vague and difficult

                                    to operationalize…Structural cohesion is defined as the

                                    minimum number of actors who, if removed from the group

                                    would disconnect the group…” (p. 103).

            In their study of peer relationships amongst high school students the authors “show that network positions predicts school attachment” and that the cohesiveness of such attachments is greatly shaped by the group having a “status beyond any individual group member.” (Moody & White, pp 104,122)

            Other studies look specifically at the influence of group identity within the subordinate group status. In their study of the social significance and cohesiveness of the high school musical groups, researchers Adderley, Benz, & Kennedy found that the subgroups formed by these musical organizations, “form subcultures of their own within the larger school setting and that these subcultures prove to be important vehicles for support and growth.” (Adderley, Benz, & Kennedy, p 191)  Their interviews with students who participated in such groups suggested that these students did so with multiple benefits; most particularly an open classroom with a social environment leading to a group which develops a structured sense of group identity. (p.200-201)

            According to Kinney (1993), studies involving high school, as well as intergroup social interactions, have clearly shown how these social relationships shaped the individuals view not only of themselves, but others as well. Findings have been strong in supporting the belief that those who actively participate in extracurricular activities were defined by a healthier sense of self. (Kinney, 1993, p.22)

Methodology

            Because we are examining the representation of minorities in media, particularly on television, content analysis is the most effective form of research. My study involves the portrayal of the group dynamic within a clearly defined subordinate high school group as represented by the Glee club on Fox’s television show, Glee. Although there are twelve episodes in which a pattern of cohesion becomes well-developed, I have selected the first three episodes to represent the parameters of my research.

Results

            Within the high school world of Glee clear there is a clearly defined social hierarchy as described by the cheerleading coach, Sue Sylvester in the pilot episode.

                        Sue: High school is a caste system, kids fall into certain slots. Your  

                            jocks and your popular kids, up in the penthouse; the invisibles and the

                            kids playing live-action druids and trolls out in the forest, bottom floor.

                        Will Schuester: And where do the Glee kids live?

                        Sue: Sub-basement.

The subgroup represented by the Glee club is slow going at first. It initially collects the socially ostracized misfits: the overeager star, the closet drama queen, the Asian punk rock chick, the paraplegic, and the African-American diva. As the show progresses the viewpoint of the general school population regarding the members of Glee club are evidenced by their blatant ridicule via slushies to the face in the case of Rachel Berry or regular hurling into the dumpster by football players in the case of Kurt. But peer bullying will eventually extend to the more socially accepted students who join, like the football quarterback, Finn Hudson, whose fellow teammates bombard him with paint pellets once they find out he has joined Glee club.

As the make connections through performing together the differences between them take a back seat to their mutual goal. Initially intimidated and a little afraid of Rachel’s aggressive behavior Finn tells her in Episode 2:

Finn: Well, when I first joined I thought you were kind of insane.

     I mean, you talk a lot. More than you should. To be honest with

     you I looked under the bed, made sure you weren’t hanging out

     under there…but then I heard you sing…It touched something in

     me.

            Despite the slushies to the face for Rachel, or being called deep throat by fellow teammates for Finn, as he reveals in Episode 3, the connection they make through music binds the growing Glee club together. Through his membership in Glee, Finn withdraws from the typical high school antics he was previously involved in like in Episode 1 when watches his “buddies” swing Kurt into the dumpster. When Finn finally decides he is committed to Glee at the end of the Pilot Episode he tells the other members, “I don’t want to be the guy that just drives around throwing eggs at people….that isn’t who I am…This is what I want to be doing, with you guys….We’re all here for the same reason, because we want to be good at something.”

            The growing cohesiveness and clear emotional connectedness is clearly evidenced in two incidents in Episode 3. Although much of this episode revolves around the attempts by Sue Sylvester and her cheerleaders to thwart the success of the club by focusing on their need to win at Regionals, the Glee kids rise above the desire to win at all costs when their group dynamic is threatened by the overbearing choreographer they bring in to improve their chances. When he tells Artie he is cut because he isn’t trying hard enough to walk and a wheelchair is depressing, the group seems to crumble. But as Dakota continues to ridicule the individual members for what he perceives as their “flaws”, like Mercedes being too fat or Rachel needing a nose job, the group led by Rachel decides he is unnecessary because, “…we don’t need you…We’re going to win because we’re different, and that’s what makes us special.” Who they are as a musical family is what makes them special

            The second scenario that exemplifies the cohesiveness despite inner and external pressures is the ability Kurt finds to reveal that he is gay to Mercedes. Although, it seems obvious to many in the group, it is not until Mercedes takes an interest in him that Kurt is forced to admit it out loud. Mercedes’s response models the bonds which hold this subordinate group together.

                        Mercedes:  You shouldn’t be ashamed of who you are, Kurt. You

                             should just tell people, especially the kids in Glee. The whole

                             point of the club is about expressing what’s really inside you.

Discussion

            While the show is certainly a generalized as well as hyperbolic representation of the high school experience it allows for a strong representation of what the research claims. That a school sponsored group where teens participate with a shared goal and allowing for sincere personal expression and social development can strengthen the bonds of that subordinate group and allow them to buffer the day-to-day challenges of  being allocated to the “sub-basement.”

"And it came to pass that the God of heaven looked upon the residue of the people, and he wept; and Enoch bore record of it, saying: How is it that the heavens weep, and shed forth their tears as the rain upon the mountains? And Enoch said unto the Lord: How is it that thou canst weep, seeing thou art holy, and from all eternity to all eternity?... The Lord said unto Enoch: Behold these thy brethren..." Moses 7:28-29,32

No words exist to describe the events of December 14, 2012 only tears; God's tears mingled with ours

 

“The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them.” Thomas Merton.

The time has come for a new and personal post. My mind seems to have spent much of the past 6 months blanketed in a haze of uncertainty and indecision. Combine that with the added influence of family conflict and health issues and I guess it would be fair to say I have been mentally and emotionally hibernating. But lying dormant has been this wellspring of curiosity about a fairly common and mysterious virtue: love. Recently, I have been perusing older journal entries and even blog posts and a type of self designed motif suddenly struck me when I came across the quote above.
The unvarnished truth is I am a quantifiable disaster at loving people the way they are in such an open an accepting manner. I like boundaries and rules and mutual respect. The older I get the the clearer it becomes that this is a child's fantasy I have yet to exorcise. And yet I struggle to accept the notion that in order to truly love others we imply an acceptance of how they may treat us no matter how injurious and disrespectful. When one opens one's self up to others  and becomes subject to their whims and capriciousness how far must one go to exemplify love and kindness? At what point does charity for others become more important than respect for self? How does one both love with total acceptance and maintain a sense of value for one's own needs? I will let you know if I ever find the answer....

The Philosophy of the Groundhog...

           What gives life meaning? What makes an individual life meaningful? What is the Good life? How should we treat others? Do we have any control over our own lives or is everything predetermined? What part does time play in all of this? What if there was no tomorrow? All of these are questions which are addressed in some form by director Harold Ramis’ 1993 comedy Groundhog Day.

6:00 am on February 2 comes early and often for weatherman Phil Connors. Sent to Punxsutawney Pennsylvania to report for the 4^th year in a row on what is the country’s oldest Groundhog Day celebration, cynical and snide Phil, played by Bill Murray is surly and unpleasant towards his cameraman, Larry (Chris Elliot),  producer, Rita (Andie MacDowell) and pretty much everyone he comes in contact with. He is constantly acerbic and insincere in his weather reporting as well as his social interactions. Phil is a man who doesn’t like people, telling Rita and Larry on their drive to Punxsutawney, that “People are morons.” After reporting half-heartedly on the Groundhog Day ceremony Phil is desperate to get back to Pittsburg immediately but Mother Nature has other plans. They get caught in an oncoming blizzard that Phil ironically predicted would miss the area altogether and are forced back to Punxsutawney. It is the next morning when Phil wakes up to the same song playing on the radio, I Got You Babe, that he senses something is not quite right. With a sense of déjà vu, asking the owner of the B&B “Do you ever have déjà vu, Mrs. Lancaster?”Phil goes throughout the first day recognizing a sense of familiarity with even the most mundane events. But Phil is the only one aware of this and is clearly the focus of this phenomenon. At the end of each day Phil heads back to his room ad wakes up the next morning at 6:00 am to the same song playing on the radio. While any concept of time progressing is nullified by the repetition of the day there is a clear progression in Phil’s behavior as he begins to rack up the February 2s.  Having been a man who saw himself as in his way to bigger things there is an irony in the fact that he is now caught in this pattern of waking up stuck in the same place. A place he is desperate to escape; or at least he is desperate initially. 

As he accrues Groundhog Days the obviously self-imposed alienated Phil reminds us of the groundhog celebration itself and we are the spectators wondering if he will come out of the hole and see his shadow. It is awkward to watch such a self-satisfied person turn to others to find a solution to his problem. First he sees a medical doctor and then a psychologist to try and understand this sense of helplessness in the face of an unexplained and unyielding time loop. What is the point? And why this day? Exasperated by the inability to find answers Phil looks for solace in the working man’s therapy, drinking at the local bowling alley where he inquires of his fellow patrons “What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same? And nothing that you did mattered?” Is Phil talking about his current circumstance or his life as a whole? We get the idea that Phil’s dilemma is a more universal struggle when one of the men at the bar responds “That about sums it up for me.” When Phil decides these drinking buddies are too drunk to drive themselves home he is inspired to take the first step in his philosophical journey when he asks them what would they do if there was no tomorrow and they point out that if there is no tomorrow there are no consequences and so they would do whatever they felt inclined to do. This strikes a chord with Phil and so begins his life of hedonism. He continues to pay little attention to the feelings and experiences of those around him and decides to throw caution to the wind. When Rita sees him chain smoking and eating a gluttonous meal she asks him why he does not care about his health and quality of life and he responds “I don’t worry about anything, anymore” as he stuffs pastry into his mouth. Rita is disgusted and sums up the state of Phil’s character with a line from a Sir Walter Scott poem:

"The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung"

Phil is a selfish self-centered person who will ultimately live and die alone. 

As the Groundhog Days continue to accrue we have no real sense of how much time conceptually has passed but Phil has become familiar with the people and events of the town and the notion of living a life led by impulse and  satiating desires begins to lose its shine. This is when he focuses his attention on Rita. And yet he is still looking to gain something for himself without really looking to himself for the solution to the problem at hand. He pursues Rita by adapting himself to the type of man she would be attracted to a standard he learns by repeating his interactions with her and extracting more information each time. His purpose becomes wooing her by proving he is a man who meets her criteria. But it is all flash and no substance. As the days continue to repeat themselves Phil finds no real happiness in this façade as he wakes up the next morning to the dreaded tune of I Got You Babe and either the night before had ended with a slap in the face or with Rita gone from his room. It seems in the disingenuousness of his existence has become mechanical even while pursuing something that could ultimately contribute to his happiness, like a meaningful relationship with Rita. Up to this point in Phil’s journey to discover some redeeming kind of meaning and happiness in the mechanical monotony of everyday life he has managed to accomplish the things that fail to do so.

When he wakes up again on February 2^nd at 6:00am after all his hedonistic efforts Phil has moved on to the fatalistic attempts to end this repetitive existence. As Rita and Larry watch in disbelief Phil describes the town festivities for the camera in this way:

This is pitiful. 1,000 people freezing their butts off waiting to worship a rat. What a hype! Groundhog Day used to mean something in this town. They used to pull the hog out and they used to eat it. Your hypocrites, all of you! ...You want a prediction about the weather? You’re asking the wrong Phil I’ll give you a winter prediction. It’s gonna be cold. It’s gonna be gray. And it’s going to last you for the rest of your life.

And the very next scene is a montage of Phil waking up and smashing the clock radio to the sound of Sonny Cher. And his next news report perfectly reflects Phil’s larger existential problem “there is no way this winter is ever going to end as long as this groundhog keeps seeing his shadow. He has to be stopped and I have to stop him”; meaning he cannot take this life anymore and the only solution is to end it all. When Phil’s attempts at ending his life through a variety a ways i.e. driving off a cliff with the groundhog at the wheel, diving off a building, walking into oncoming traffic, and getting into the bath with a toaster he is forced out of this philosophy of ending his existence as the focus of his existence. We get to see the toll Phil’s journey of self-discovery takes on Larry and more frequently Rita in moments shown on-screen by the reactions they have to his behaviors. But the next day it is all fresh. Nothing has happened yet. But not for Phil.

            It is finally when Phil acknowledges the value in learning and improving himself by taking piano lessons, ice sculpting lessons, avid reading, and learning about the people around him in a more sincere and selfless. When he tells Rita that he has killed himself so many times that he doesn’t even exist anymore she tells him that having all this time on his hands could actually be a good thing, how much he could accomplish with “eternity”. Even after he begins to develop a real connection with Rita, it is not until he focuses on developing himself and then using those skills and talents to improve the community i.e. saving an ungrateful kid when he falls from a tree, changing the tire on a car full of elderly women, saving the mayor from choking, and doing all in his power to keep the old homeless man he ignored at the beginning of the film from dying. It is only after Phil takes an active role in his life as well as the life of others that he seems to enjoy life, as repetitive as it is, having made real connections with people and placed a value on his relationships. This is when he finally wakes up the next day with Rita by his side.

            Since this movie came out in 1993 it has been one of my favorites. It is a masterful film that forces us to take a look out the most basic philosophical issues of how to be happy and what makes life worth living in a comedic and almost imperceptible way. The theme of the groundhog seeing his shadow, a signal of 6 more weeks of winter, is parallel to that of our desperate need for Phil to come out of his hole of self-absorption and see that spring is on its way , that there is meaning and happiness to be found in living; and we get that glimpse when in his last Groundhog Day report on scene the once gloomy pessimist states,” When Chekhov saw the long winter he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts I couldn’t imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter.” This Phil has finally discovered what it is to truly live.