Just Because We're "Friends", Doesn't Mean We're Friends

     Someone from my past found me on Facebook.  It hasn't been pretty.  

     Twenty-three years ago, I was 27 years old. I was putting myself through college, living on my own, working three jobs to support myself. One of these jobs was a waitressing job at a small family-owned 300-bed hotel near Disneyland, in Anaheim, California. It was a tiny, 10-table cafe inside the hotel, where during the busiest shifts had only 3 waitresses working together. I met my wonderful friend Penny at this time. She and I worked together and became very close. We have not only stayed in touch through the years, but she was my maid of honor and I was her matron of honor. Although geography keeps us apart, we stay in touch through Christmas and birthdays, and now, Facebook and Twitter.

     One of our other former co-workers was a woman I'll call "Monica" whom Penny and I had worked with for a few years and we had loads of fun together. I do remember lots of fun times. Dressing up in costume for Halloween, serving lots of tourists and making fun of them, eating lots of ice cream, dealing with "CHEF", this crazy old man who ran the kitchen. That's about it. My recollections of that time are minimal. It was one of my three jobs, and I was a full-time college student, on my own, involved with a jealous and abusive man who I'd nearly forgotten about, thank you.

   I was fighting with my parents, I was trying to find out who I was. I cheated on my boyfriend to release the stranglehold he had on me. The job was a job. I had fun while I was there but it wasn't my life. I graduated college in May 1988, left behind all the drama and moved to LA to start a new life for myself. I was free and happy.

     As with all of us, a lot has obviously changed with me in those 23 years since I last saw that co-worker.

     About three weeks ago, I got a friend request from "Monica", and initially I was amused and happy to have been "found".  I thought to myself, "WOW! She looks good! Has it really been 27 years?! "   What I had remembered about her was that she was divorced, had re-married, became religious, and was older than me. That's about it. I knew she had kids but I think they were already grown when we worked together; I really don't remember.  I haven't seen nor spoken to her since 1988.

      I planned on checking out her profile and reading her wall to get to know her better after all this time, but I hadn't had a chance. In the meantime, I gathered that she was retired, had at least one adorable granddaughter, and maybe more free time than me as she was commenting a lot on things on my page. I thought it was nice and vowed to make time to respond as soon as I was able.

     Everyone has what I call "Facebook Personalities". I have one friend who posts every little thing that happens to her, including finding noodles up her kids' noses. I love her posts. I have another friend who when she's between jobs, practically lives on FB and is on 24/7 and posts constantly not just on my profile but all her friends' profiles too. It's wonderful. I also have friends who rarely post updates or comments at all. They are either too busy or not interested. I don't take it personally.

     And I like to think I'm like most people on FB---most days I check my FB primarily from my iPhone while I'm waiting to pick up my kids from school, or in the bathroom (it's true! It's quiet time for a mom). I rarely just sit there and read people's profiles, comb through their photos, or stalk them. I'm really just too involved in my own life to have much time and energy for everyone else's. I try to post things I think everyone can relate to. I do enjoy everyone's status updates--I quickly scroll through them when I get a chance and that's how I stay in touch with my friends and family who are on FB.

     (Just for the record, I'm not one of those who collects "friends"--I only add people I know and have met personally.)

      Without meaning to,  I somehow offended my long-lost friend by not responding to her comments often enough to suit her. She felt I'd snubbed her, and she de-friended me. She was irritated that she'd posted something to me about a memory she had, and I hadn't mentioned it, but rather had posted a status update about the same time something that had nothing to do with what she'd written. This led her to believe that I had "issues" and needed mental help or something like that. I was not only shocked but infuriated. And sad.

     People, if you're going to suddenly show up 23 years later in someone's life, as if dropped by a helicopter on top of a mountain to ski, think about why you want to connect with this person. Think about what is going on in their life. Maybe you want them back in your life, but why would they want you back in theirs? Do you have anything in common right now, other than you're both on Facebook?


     Maybe her friend request stirred up something in me I didn't want to deal with. I do know that everytime she posted something, I had to stop and process it more than if someone I knew better thad said it. She was always positive, it wasn't anything negative, but it was coming from a virtual stranger. I had to try to put her comments into some sort of context that was unknown to me and therefore I wasn't responding quickly enough to make her feel appreciated. I feel bad about that, but that was unintentional. Maybe I don't want to think about who I was back then, and the jerk I was dating whom you will undoubtedly bring up in conversation. Why?  Because all we have in common now is who we used to be. 

This woman and I had a marvelous working relationship 23 years ago, and we should've left it at that.

HolliandMichael SwingShoI don't know about you, but I don't have enough time for everything and everyone in my life. I've got 2 kids. 7 pets. A husband, a house, a job, a life. I just moved 1500 miles and left behind everything familiar to start over. I've got 30 boxes of stuff that still needs to be unpacked. Where's the empathy? Where's the common sense? What is this, high school? Come on, we're supposed to be grown-ups. When we give expecting to get, it loses it's value. If she'd given me a chance, I'd have responded the way she wanted me to. I just couldn't do it in her time frame. How selfless is that?People, if you're going to suddenly show up 23 years later in someone's life, as if dropped by a helicopter on top of a mountain to ski, think about why you want to connect with this person. Think about what is going on in their life. Maybe you want them back in your life, but why would they want you back in theirs? Maybe I don't want to think about who I was back then, and the jerk I was dating whom you will undoubtedly bring up in conversation. Why?  Because all we have in common now is who we used to be.This woman and I had a marvelous working relationship 23 years ago, and we should've left it at that.

The Meaning Behind the Music

Green Day wasn't always my favorite band. When their "Dookie" album came out in 1994, I thought "Longview" and "Basketcase" were fun songs but nothing earth-shatteringly amazing to me. I was a newlywed then, and pregnant with our first child, so rock and roll wasn't a big part of my life then. It wasn't long till I was mostly listening to "Barney" in the car, along with "Donald Duck" and other children's CD's. I know the 90's had some great bands and tunes, but I was, for the most part, oblivious.

Five years later, Jennifer was born, and the children's music played on. And on. And on. Everything I listened to and watched for at least a decade was rated G. Whatever the kids wanted, I obliged. It never really occurred to me to listen to rock music, although when I was pregnant with the kids, I always put earphones to my belly and pumped in Pearl Jam, Van Halen, Mozart and Beethoven to expose them early. I do remember hearing, "Longview" once with the kids in the car, and my "mommy arm" over-extended faster than a lightning flash to grab the volume control to turn down the "bad" words.

Things changed slowly when Ian started kindergarten. Suddenly I had only one child at home, and often, Jennifer fell asleep in her car seat to various "Disney Princess" tunes. I mostly listened to the Jewish-motherly advice of Dr. Laura, as her show seemed to resonate with my own values at the time. Flash-forward to 2005, with a now-10 year-old and 6-year old, who had grown annoyed with "baby" music. I was sooo thankful, because to this day, Tim and I STILL know all the words to the "I Love You" song sung by the purple dinosaur himself.
                                                                      *******

It was during this period of my mommy-hood that for the first time, I had two kids in school full-time. I was lost at first, didn't know WHAT to do with myself all day. It's funny how when your kids are babies, you fantasize about this over and over during those awful all-nighters, the sick days, the long bouts of crying (the babies' as well). The last person I wanted to listen to was Dr. Laura--this was MY time and kid-friendly shows were off-limits! I was lucky I didn't have to work--my wonderful husband Tim worked so I could stay home with the kids. Here was my reward for 10 years with no day off---weekdays to myself, from 8 am to 3 pm.  What was my role now? Who was I without children clinging to me all day long? My life revolved primarily around them. I volunteered at their school, and I was there as much as they were. I was probably a little frumpy, and I know I wasn't into running then. I think I'd pretty much put myself on the back burner, as many moms do. But I relished uninterrupted hot showers, the occasional lunch or Starbucks with a friend, along with the laundry and housecleaning and grocery shopping.  No one knocked on my bathroom door yelling, "MOMMY!!" It was phenomenally freeing.

Not having children in the car for a few hours a day was like serendipity. I could listen to all the bad words I wanted to! Yay! I didn't have to explain myself, I didn't have to talk to anyone. I could just sing along to whatever station I wanted to listen to. No mommy guilt. It felt weird. It felt good. It was during this time that I was driving alone, probably running mommy errands, when a song came on that made me stop and pay attention. The haunting guitar chords and sexy-voiced male lead beckoned to me. I had goosebumps.  My heart was pounding as if I'd had a religious experience.  Much like love-at-first-sight. "My shadow's the only one that walks beside me, my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating, sometimes I wish someone out there will find me, till then I walk alone...." I had tingles.. When the song ended, I gripped the steering wheel, praying the DJ would say the name of the song and band. Sure enough, he did. It was "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by, yes, Green Day. I felt a little ashamed I didn't recognize the band, but hey, 10 years of "Barney" and "Mickey Mouse" convoluted my musical perspective.

I had to have the album, "American Idiot". I immediately drove to Best Buy and bought two copies, a CD for me and one for Tim, so he could listen to it driving back and forth to work.  Somehow, it spoke to us. I listened to it beginning to end, straight through, never stopping.  I listened intently to each song, one after another, the way a mother listens to her new baby breathe--you're so mesmerized you can't pull yourself away. "Wake Me When September Ends" gave me more goosebumps and I KNEW it was going to be a huge hit post-9/11.  Song after song, somehow, it spoke to me. "Jesus of Suburbia" was mind-blowing. Sometimes it takes a little kick in the behind to jolt us out of our stupor, even if it's a happy stupor. I didn't realize something was missing from my life, but the song slapped me in the face and woke up something inside of me.

The most fun part of my transformation was that it was happening to Tim, too.

                                                                  *******

I don't remember how it happened, but before I knew it, Tim and I had tattoos. We started dressing differently. We felt younger, we looked younger, and we felt more in love than ever. I bought Tim an electric guitar for Father's Day, as I'd remembered he was in a band in high school. He relished it, and I encouraged him to join a band to "blow off steam" from the stress of his job. I started walking, then running, and I dropped 20 pounds I didn't realize I'd gained. I got a new hairstylist and cut and colored my hair shades of purple and pink. We felt alive and happy, and thankfully, our kids loved the changes in us. I was still the devoted mom, and Tim the busy executive, but something exciting was happening.

Tim got us 11th row seats to see Green Day when they came to Fresno. We've been to a hundred concerts, but this one was like none other. To see Billie Joe Armstrong and his two best friends, in the flesh, for over 3 hours, I felt like I'd been baptized.  It was a magical night, one I'll never forget. (Tim even got us Meet-and-Greet backstage passes, but Billie Joe didn't show; the drummer Tre Cool did but we couldn't get near him. Damn!) We weren't alone in our passion for this record album. It has sold 14 million copies world-wide, and subsequently won nearly 25 awards, ranging from best album, to best singles ("American Idiot", "Boulevard of Broken Dreams", "When September Ends"), to best rock band. Clearly, the Oakland-based trio touched a nerve in our collective consciousness.

                                                               *******

The lead singer of Tim's band couldn't make it to practice one night, and the bass player asked me to sit in for him since I knew all the songs. Without the pressure of being an actual band member, I hammed it up and belted out the songs as if it were Karaoke night at the local tavern. The band was so impressed with me, we actually formed a new band with me as lead singer! And for the next year and a half, we performed many times in local clubs and even recorded a demo CD.  Every performance was an opportunity to honor my hero's music. How lucky was I to be singing Green Day's music?! It was always thrilling to stand up there and cover their songs. In all, we sing about 20, and Tim's always working on more.

                                                             

Never having been to a Broadway play, and never having been to New York City, I really didn't know what to expect from "American Idiot" the play. My wonderful husband of nearly 17 years surprised me with 3rd row orchestra seats as my 50th birthday present! I screamed even louder when he told me Billie Joe was in it as the character, "St. Jimmy".  To say I was excited would be an extreme understatement.

The St. James Theatre on Broadway is a beautiful theater, with balcony seating and deep plush plum seats; much like you'd expect. One huge difference was the crowd. Many were young people, dressed in skinny jeans and studded belts and multi-colored hair and piercings. Many were your average middle-aged Mom and Brad. It was a packed house.

From where we were sitting, it turned out that Billie Joe spent much of his time onstage literally 15 feet away. He was so close, but I couldn't take a picture of him! (NOT allowed. I got yelled at for taking pictures of the theater before the curtain even went up. I didn't want to chance getting thrown out.....or did I? It was a hard decision...) He looked like Beetlejuice, his long hair gelled standing straight up. He had on his famous black jeans and studded belt and chains; a black T-shirt with a white suitcoat with black hanky in the front pocket. He was thin and good-looking, and belted out the songs while acting out the role of St. Jimmy, a kind of devil-on-your-shoulder character to the lead role of Johnny played by John Gallagher, Jr., an amazing talent who sang lead to most of the Green Day album with as much snark and snarl and tenderness as Billie did on the album. The whole cast sang along to various songs; it was a collaborative effort of dancing and singing the album straight through, just as I had listened to it that very day I brought it home with me from Best Buy. Tim and I were blown away.

Watching the actors and listening to the words of the songs I know so well, I was aware that I was learning what "American Idiot" meant to my hero, Billie Joe Armstrong. Those were words he'd written, music he'd written, painstakingly and lovingly created by that five-foot-nine man standing right there. The chords and melodies and words that cried out to me were his, and the play was basically his heart, outside of his body. "American Idiot" is a complicated story of a young man who is trying to find himself amidst the chaos of 9/11 and the war in Iraq. He uses drugs to numb the pain. He falls in love; she gives him an ultimatum. He sees his best friends go off to war, one loses his leg. He tries to conform, but where is the meaning in it all? The play exposes not only Billie Joe's contempt for our governments' reaction to 9/11 but our own.

As the character Johnny stumbles and finds his way, I realize that we all have our own journey of self-discovery. We all have our own story to tell. We all were once idealistic teenagers, and some of us conformed and became good citizens, while suppressing our rage at the same time for the establishment. Many of us are lucky to have found a balance between being wicked and being good, and being happy.
We can't just sit around and party forever--sooner or later we all have to grow up and be functional members of society. The people we hang around with help us achieve our goals or get in the way; we all have tough choices to make.

Green Day took their record and in transforming it into a play, it became a better version of itself. Just like the album did for me. Thank you, Billie Joe, and thank you my dear Timmy. I will be forever grateful.

Dr. Laura Goes Off the Deep End With Marriage Charade Advice

Talk Radio has always been a love-hate thing with me. I go through phases where I get fixated on a particular talk-show host and listen, listen, listen, every time I get in the car. Then I'll hear something on their show that will get me SO disgusted I stop listening and go back to channel-switching again. I just heard something on Dr. Laura's show that angered me SO much I am done with her. Forever. Well, OK, until I get sick of someone else's show and decide to go back and listen to her again.

If you've never heard of Dr. Laura or her radio show, let me sum her up in one word---ZEALOUS. She is extremely opinionated and is pro-life, anti-feminist, and does not believe in divorce (and she's not even Catholic).  She's a big believer that divorce is bad for kids, but this really crosses the line.

So this guy calls in today, says he's been married for 16 years, the last eight with the knowledge that his wife cheats on him regularly. They made a deal when he first found out about her infidelity 8 years ago that they'd stay together for the sake of their son, then 8 years old. They'd "co-parent", so he wouldn't have to be the child of a divorce. This got a huge round of "atta-boys" from Dr. Laura.

The man was calling because although this arrangement has "worked well", the son is now 13 and asking a lot of questions. He presented Dad with his suspicions that Mom is cheating on him, to which Dad lied and answered with some sort of gibberish about, "well, things aren't always as they seem", yadda yadda yadda. I guess Mom has a boyfriend she met on the Internet, and has regular trips across the country to go see him. Dad's question for Dr. Laura is, do you think I should encourage her to stay another 5 years till the son is 18 so they can finally divorce then? YES, she answers, all-too-quickly. They PRAY she will play along. As I'm panting with rage, I can hear Dad nodding his head, feeling very smug, as he tells the listening audience,  "to all you out there listening, I wouldn't have chosen any other solution." He's Dad the Martyr, out to save his son from........what exactly?????

I'm floored. I know Dr. Laura's a kook but that's why she's fun to listen to. Occasionally I agree with her, but give me a break here!!! Dr. Laura applauds all this in the name of marriage???? Let me get the facts straight. Dad can't stand Mom. She's been sleeping with other men (dangerous men too, Dad says). They have put on a charade for 8 years to their son that they are happily married?? Where's the affection?? What are they teaching their son?? He's obviously not stupid here. He already gets that something's amiss. I can't imagine what dinnertime in their household is like. The man sounds like he's about to go "postal" at any minute, he's got so much pent-up anger at his wife.

Tim and I are always cuddling on the couch, he kisses me hello after he comes home from work, we go out on dates every now and then. We are best friends. We share parenting duties with laughter, affeciton, and love. Our kids see that we have a REAL marriage, not a hostile "pretend" marriage like this guy and his "wife".  Does Dr. Laura really think that living an honest life separately is really soooo bad for this 13 year old boy that the parents have to put on a charade in front of him? Come on!! I'm insulted for this boy. Seriously. He is figuring it out and will have no respect for either of his parents as the truth WILL come out.

I really really really don't get how this could be in any way good for the son. He's learning #1) His parents are liars and cannot be trusted. #2) Marriage is about martyring yourself. It is not the union of two people who've joined together to love, trust and honor one another. Where's the friendship? Where's the affection? Is there any laughter in this household? What a joke. (pun not intended)

We all know divorce is hard on kids. We all know that no one marries thinking they'll get divorced. But sometimes it's in EVERYONE'S best interest to do so.  If they divorced, both Mom and Dad could live a more honest life, heal from the pain they've inflicted on one another, and maybe find new spouses that would enhance their son's life as well. I know lots of step-moms and step-dads that are every bit as loving and caring as the biological parent, some more so. How can this not be considered an option?

This son would benefit from not being lied to, as if HE's the one who's crazy, seeing things as they really are and being told it's not true. Then finding out later, that he was right all along. The son will also be free of being manipulated by the two people he trusts most--his parents. If the father really loves his son, he'll tell him the truth, and teach him that a man deserves to be loved and treated with respect and dignity. Why would anyone put up with the nonsense this "wife" is doing to this family? How dare the husband/Dad inflict such dishonesty on the sacred home of this child? I'm furious. Absolutely blood-boiling mad. But the worst part is---Dr. Laura is applauding it!!

Dr. Laura has said in the past that the best gift a husband can give his children is simply, love their mother. This is not love. This is pathetic.

Readers? What do YOU think?