Jumping in with Both Feet!

Whenever we moved to a new country, my parents would readily send us, (kids) out with money to buy milk or bread etc.. Early on, I remember not being very happy about this and thought it was very unfair since we didn't know the language or even where the stores were. Once the complaining cycle fizzled out, we would then venture out into the new "hostile" world with some weird looking money in our tight fisted hands knowing we couldn't come home empty handed. I remember the fear of not even knowing which direction to walk or how to even ask anyone anything. Once a store was found we would begin the process of emphatic pointing, mumbling English under our breath and other frantic non-verbal motions to help the patient store owners to understand what we needed. They would quickly figure out what we needed, smile, and then help us with the pronunciation of the correct words and we would repeat them back to our new teachers so they could laugh and whisper funny things to each other. We would leave feeling kind of stupid but happy with our transaction. This continued until it became more of a game and I for one actually ended liking it as we got older and more confident.

My parents were so wise to "embed" us quickly into the culture, people and language. They refused the development of any pattern of "non-engagement". It was through their example I learned what it meant to be the "stranger", to be so appreciative of someone else's patience, for willingness of others to help me when they didn't need to, that people are good no matter where they live or what they believe. What began as a simple lesson in new vocabulary would often result in a very fun relationship with new found friends that couldn't wait until we came to buy something each time to hear us repeat those few words they taught us and for the exchange of smiles. Those simple relationships opened many doors to greater mutual understanding, respect and love in my life.

My parents always saw the best in new cultures. Of course they saw the dirt, the grime, the reeking smells of poverty and the beggars in the streets, but never did this cause them to isolate us from all of that. I am so grateful for those lessons. My life is so rich because of those wonderful "engagements" with many cultures and people. I thank my parents every day for their example and for teaching me to jump into new things with both feet!

I hope I can apply this wisdom my own life and remember to continue this tradition with my own kids -- yes, even in Salt Lake City, UT which to me is one of the most "foreign" communities I know...

In Denial....

I found out today that I am actually the very last of the Baby Boomers! I really never knew, or maybe didn't want to know that 1964 was the last year of this group. I never considered myself as one and still even now resist the categorization. Not that they aren't well meaning, beautiful citizens of the world, but rather that I always secretly liked the idea that I was somewhat "in between".....Not really a BBmer and not really Gen X -- A "non-classified" entity! This meant I was special, unique in some way. Ahh, but all ideals must meet their respective realities no? Does it change anything? No, not really. Only that I am grouped with a large body of stats that I really do not relate to at all. I am not sure which group I identify with, but have always felt that I was more of a "world citizen" or a "global villager" if you will instead.

But I am ok with this new knowledge. I will consider myself a "Bridge" that spans between the two. I will take the best of both and walk away with more. So, althought I have enjoyed being in denial, I will simply relish the fact that I can be part of a group and still maintain my individuality and uniqueness.

The classification doesn't define me or who I am, it just tells me when I am supposed to retire......