What Facebook Told Me

I met Sue (not her real name) about nineteen years ago. We were both actively volunteering for Resolve, the infertility organization. She had a three year old son; I had a one year old daughter.  We both had served in nearly every capacity in Resolve on the state level, counseled hundreds of couples about alternative routes to becoming parents, spoke at dozens of events, run support groups and everything else the organization needed.  Eventually we both sat at the board level, sharing responsibilities. We both loved what we were doing.

We became fast friends.  Once a month, Sue and her husband and son came to my house for dinner, or we would go to hers. One time when we went to her house, she showed me the Internet and instant messaging on AOL.  I was mesmerized by it. I wanted it for my house, too, so I could talk to Sue that way, instead of paying the long distance phone bill, and because it was cool. (Yes, then we had long distance bills. It seems so long ago and yet doesn't seem that long ago at all.) She showed me, even, how she had created fake name profiles so she could spy on other people. She was ahead of her time with this Internet thing. She could see it would be the future.

We lived about thirty minutes apart. We talked on the phone once a day, at least. We shared the joys and tribulations of raising our kids, our luck over being able to parent after infertility, the pain we saw as others went through it. We traveled together across the country to national Resolve events. One Saturday a month, I would get her and drive to our Resolve meeting after picking up bagels for all of the other board members, we chatted the whole way, never running out of things to talk about.

She decided to adopt another child; I was going through infertility treatment once again to have another baby.  She supported me when I went through a heart breaking miscarriage; she'd been through four. I cheered her on as she searched the country for a pregnant woman who would be a match, and helped her steel herself for months of uncertainty when she found a birth mother.  I went to visit her just days after she brought her daughter home.

But something in the friendship started to crack. We were jealous of each other, I think, for different reasons. We began to fight. There were tears and lengthy phone and instant message conversations. We misunderstood each other. We hurt each other. Eventually, one day in late 1998, she hung up on me and never called back. I wasn't sorry. The friendship had taken its toll; her anger at me was seeping into my daily life too much. I had two children by then, a baby who needed to be nursed and a pre schooler who needed my undivided attention.

Over the years, I thought about Sue from time to time. I go to the mall near her house occasionally, eat at some of the restaurants there with various friends. I would wonder if I was going to see her. Would it be awkward if we ran into each other? What would I say? I would think about that for half a minute as I pulled into the parking lot and then forget about it.

Once in a while, what with Google, I would search her name. Nothing would ever come up. It seemed odd, and I would think about that for half a minute, too, knowing how much Sue loved the Internet, understood its power way before anyone else did, and then figure she was probably using some false name, like she had on Instant Messaging. Then I would forget again.

Last week I decided to look her up on Facebook.  She wasn't there. She definitely would be on Facebook, I thought. She would love it. She would love posting pictures of her kids. She would love everything about it. So I typed in her kids' names. I knew those and their birth dates, too.  I found her son but he hid his friend connections from public view.

I found her daughter. The last time I'd seen her, she'd been a baby.  Now she is eighteen, getting ready to graduate high school.  I clicked on her daughter's name and her main page popped on the screen. Her banner shot was of a cemetery, a grave marker bearing my friend's name, her birth date, declaring her as the best sister, wife, mother, and friend, and a date of death.  She died eight years ago at the age of forty six. Her daughter made a reference to her mother being out of pain, at least.

Sue had always been a hypochondriac.  She thought every pain signaled a heart attack or cancer or some other impending doom.  Somehow, I guess, she was ahead of her time not only with the Internet, but with whatever illness killed her, too.

Living through fear

At last night's Seder, I sat with a friend who I hadn't seen in several months. About a year ago, she'd decided to have a form of gastric bypass surgery and since then she's lost about ninety pounds. A couple of weeks ago, she had skin removal surgery to finish off her journey. She said the entire thing was about facing her fear.

That got me to thinking. I am a pretty fearful person and I have let fear stop me from doing things I've thought about, or wanted to do.  And she was right when she said that people who don't do things they know they should, or need, to do, or want to do, don't do so because of fear.

I want to be a more fearless person.  Or at least a person who makes choices less because of fear and more because they sound like good choices.  I'd like to learn to live more through my fear and less because of it.

It's easier said than done.

My daughters are very fearless people. How they got this way, I don't know, because that's the opposite of me.  My older daughter is planning a semester abroad in the fall, choosing a country she's never been to, with people she has never met, to live in and with for four months. On top of that, she's also planning to travel through Europe, to a bunch of countries she's never been to.

My younger daughter decided to take on a new activity this past winter called Winter Guard. It's dancing with flags, rifles, and sabres to music with a group, precisely matching each others steps at the exact same times. She had never danced before. The Winter Guard in our school comes with a very strict, no nonsense, tough coach, as well.  But she wanted to do it. She said she would be sorry if she didn't at least try it.  It wasn't easy, at times, but she hung in there and handled the sport and stress gracefully for four months, and she liked it enough that she thinks she will do it again next year.

So it seems like it might be my turn to learn to live through my fear.  If I'm anything like my friend or my daughters, everything should turn out just fine.

It's Autism Awareness Day!

Today is Autism Awareness day. It's meaningful to me because one of my closest friends has a son who suffers from this condition.

Most people have a general idea of what autism is. They know a person can have trouble with communicating, understanding others' expressions and emotional cues, and other developmental milestones. But most people have never seen the full range of autistic disorders, and some may not realize how devastating a more severe case is.

I like to think of autism as an wide open umbrella.  On one side of the umbrella you may have some individuals or who appear quirky -- they may have serious fascinations with things that most people are not fascinated by, they may not look you in the eye when they speak, or they may be unaware when you're uninterested in what they have to say.

Then there's the whole middle of the umbrella, where individuals may develop language very late and then not speak well or much at all, or may repeat words (echolalia) or not have much meaningful speech. They might not be able to go to regular school or be away from family or progress naturally or easily into adulthood.

Then there are people all the way on the other side of the umbrella, like my friend's son.  He is 22 now, and doesn't speak. He lives in a group home, and during the day he attends a very good program that's teaching him independent living skills and helping to find out what kinds of work he can do, supervised, to contribute to society.  He is sweet and loving, is great at puzzles, and is always happy to watch Thomas the Train videos. He can nod yes. He has epilepsy (a not uncommon byproduct of autism) and tends to be obsessive compulsive and anxious.  He is eager to please and curious, happy to be with his parents, family members, and friends. He's athletic. He's shy.

He's so much more than his autism, but when you see him, that's what you see.  It's hard to miss. He squeezes his fists together and grunts and groans and screeches.  He relies on his caregivers to know his favorite foods, habits, and soothing techniques.  Inside, though, he's a person, like all of us, and he has feelings, like all of us, and I bet, like all of us, he just wants to express them.

In honor of World Autism Day, I hope you'll think about my young friend, and his family, and how much this condition affects everything, every minute, every hour of their day.  I hope you'll remind yourself that autism is not just a quirky little thing.  And then go hug your kids.

Teaching Our Kids to Advocate for Themselves

One of the biggest lessons I hope my kids have learned from me over the years is how to advocate for themselves. This was not something I learned to do as a child -- as a  product of the 70s/80s, my role was to learn to be submissive and silent in classrooms and workplace a like, and over the years, I was sexually harassed, treated unfairly, and paid less than others. I believe much of this could have been avoided if I'd been taught from the beginning to advocate for myself appropriately.

Today I witnessed my sixteen year old doing just that. I won't go into what happened, but I was present as she made a case for herself, presented evidence, relied on notes she had written when she was not in the heat of the moment, looked people in the eye, used humor to diffuse tension, and politely but firmly made her boundaries known.  It was one of the best moments I've had as a parent.

It did not go perfectly smoothly. And the situation is not likely be be remedied exactly as she might like.  But she learned valuable skills -- how can I argue for myself without pushing inappropriate boundaries? How can I persuade someone that what I'm experiencing is true and accurate? What evidence will I need to make my position clear?  But more importantly, she learned: I do matter. What I feel and experience matters.  I am not just making up what happened to me.  And, crucially, even if this does not lead to satisfaction for me, it may for other people.

In sharing my excitement over this morning, a friend expressed concern of what would happen to my daughter because she had spoken up.  I think this is where, sometimes, we get it wrong. We can't always worry about what will happen. Yes, we should take precautions against retribution -- especially physical or mental harm -- but we need to teach our kids that it's okay to stand up against injustice. Yes, sometimes life isn't fair, and we need to accept that, and then sometimes, we need to check in with ourselves, and ask, can I really afford to be silent?  And if the answer is no, then we should not be.

Starting Up the College Search Process...Again

Two years ago, almost exactly at this time, my older daughter was trying to make her college decision. She was a senior in high school, and (I think) we had successfully navigated our first time college admissions process. She had a few choices, and then narrowed it down to two, where it stayed for some weeks before she ultimately decided, nearly at the last moment, and made her final choice.  I'm happy to report she loves her school, and for many reasons, it is the right place for her.

My younger daughter is now coming up behind her. She is a sophomore in high school, a good student, very active in clubs and activities.  Soon she will finish her sophomore year, and we're starting to talk about college.  There is something exciting about this -- though daunting, of course, at the idea of paying for another round of college -- to watch her beginning to make life decisions that will affect her forever.  It's fun to observe her thinking about it.

Yesterday when we got the 2014-15 school calendar, I told her if she wants to look at some colleges during fall or spring break, we can do that.  And in a few weeks, she'll be traveling to visit her sister at college for a few days to see what it's like, up close and personal.  Her sister's even scheduled a tour with other high school students so she can see what that's like.

We're trying to figure out when she can take her SATs next year. She's so busy that it's going to be difficult to find a time when she will have a few weeks to prep before taking them.  And Junior year, of course, can be overwhelming. It's the hardest year, academically, and she's choosing to take a heavy load.

I feel like I've learned a lot about the college admissions process since I went through it with my first daughter, and I hope we will make better, more informed choices this time around. Get ready, get set...a couple of challenging years ahead!

Going Best Seller on Amazon

Saturday started off much as any other day for me. I did my writing, read my email, played around online a little.  And checked my sales for The Opposite of Normal.

Friday I had done a promotion. I'd offered The Opposite of Normal free to anyone who wanted to download it to his or her Kindle.  I'd chosen the date about a week in advance and then sent my free download information to every ebook news outlet I could find, and there were a ton! All in all, I probably sent news of my free download to at least fifty or sixty outlets -- I never counted -- and then waited to see what would happen, fearing that nothing, in fact, would happen.

On Friday, thousands and thousands of people downloaded The Opposite of Normal for free. I was thrilled. I hoped that some of them would tell their friends this book was pretty good, or they would write a review, good or bad, or that they would somehow let me know what they thought of it.  That's where I thought the story would end.

But on Saturday morning, when the free promotion had ended and people had to buy again, I noticed that many, many people were actually buying The Opposite of Normal. And throughout the day, my numbers were not just creeping -- but flying -- upwards. By the end of the day, The Opposite of Normal was best selling in Jewish fiction, Jewish American Fiction, and Family Life Fiction. It also was very high in the overall Fiction category. Child of Mine (my first book) never got so high. (But, it, too feels the bump of The Opposite of Normal, and is being sold once again.)

Every time I logged on to see my number, I got a little nervous. What if it went lower? What if it didn't stay up there?  But indeed, it stayed nice and high all day. I sold more books on Saturday than I sold in the previous month, since The Opposite of Normal was first released.

Sunday things started sliding downward a bit, and since then, as well.  That's to be expected. But I'm still selling every day, and still I'm having quite good days.  Now I just have to hope that people will like it enough to tell someone else, to write a review, to reach out to me.  Ah, the life of an author...we write, we promote, we write, we promote....

That Cruel, Cruel SAT

Yesterday the SAT made the news. It's going to change formats (again) in 2016.  Too late for my kids -- one's in college now, and one will take her SATs next year -- but I paid attention anyway.

I have long felt the SAT to be an unfair test for incoming college students -- and not because I did so badly on it, which I did. (I will not tell you my SAT scores. This should give you an idea of the kind of hold the SAT puts on its test takers even decades later!)

To me, the SAT is not a test based in fairness. I happen to be able to afford the cost of SAT prep for my kids -- my older daughter took a class (at $600) for her prep. She felt it helped, though of course I don't know for sure because she never took the test without it. Still other kids in our very economically and socially diverse town can afford private tutors. Others can't afford anything and go in blind, or with just the ragged SAT prep books in the library.

I know a lot of very smart kids who do very well in school but not so great on their SATs. My older daughter graduated with above a 4.0 GPA, took Honors classes in a challenging school district, and has an incredible,  unmatched work ethic. She did okay but not probably where she should have been given her intelligence and focus.  I don't blame her for that. I blame the test.  Why are the reading passages so impossible? Why are the words ones we will never use in real life? Why is the math focused on math done, by many students, over two years previously? The College Board says it is fixing all of those things. Well, great. But I'm reserving my enthusiasm...because I'm not sure I believe they will be fixed enough.

Back to my daughter...

She wound up going to a very good college. They didn't care so much about SAT scores, seeing them for what they are. And I'm happy to say that two years after her acceptance (and now with a nearly perfect GPA in college), that more and more schools are putting less and less emphasis on this test, some getting rid of it entirely, others making it optional, others promising it will not make or break a decision.  I still see it being used to make scholarship decisions though, which makes me angry, and of course, many colleges still do have a minimum SAT they will take into consideration when making admissions decisions.  The SAT does not determine college ability or creativity or focus or drive.

Are we not putting enough pressure on our teens as it is? The college admissions process is already fraught with pressure most adults couldn't handle -- from taking as many Honors or AP classes -- as young as freshman year -- as possible, to making sure you're well rounded -- don't forget your sport, your clubs, your honor societies, your art or music endeavors, your volunteer work, your AP exams -- 4s and 5s only, please-- that I don't see we need an additional three hour test to decide whether the kids are worthy of admission to ANY college. Since the test has time and again shown to have problems, why do we keep doing it to them?

Who else wants to ban standardized testing -- SAT or ACT or ANY standardized testing -- from being a benchmark of the college admissions process?