How to talk on the telephone

I’m kidding, right? You have to learn how to talk on the telephone?
Well, yes apparently. We talk on the phone all the time, but I’ve noticed people just flow all over the place.

There is a telephone etiquette: Don’t be rude, don’t be abrupt or too fast, don’t give away too much information, don’t ramble.

Answering the phone. In office life, and in countries like Germany and Switzerland, you answer the phone announcing your name, so the caller can immediately identify whether s/he reached the right number. As in, "Dunkel" or "Dunkel residence."

In much of the rest of the world, the phone is answered, Pronto, Bueno, Allo, Hello – which basically indicates: we have a connection, proceed.

Identify yourself. Don’t just start talking, assuming the other person recognizes your voice. You’re not that special. And often, a hello doesn’t register.

If it is a business call you would say, “Hello, this is Elizabeth Dunkel. I’m calling to speak to… about …..”

If it is a personal call, identify yourself as well. I don’t care how well you think the other person knows your voice. There's nothing more annoying than answering the phone and someone says, "Hi," and I'm left wondering, okay, who is this? So I finally say, “Who is this?” and the other person is offended because I don’t recognize them.

Be polite. Don’t just say, “Is Joe there?” Too abrupt. Get out of my way buster.
Chat for a minute. “Hi, this is Elizabeth. How are you?” Chat a bit and then ask for Joe.

Don’t just say, “wrong number” and hang up. The phone will ring five seconds later with the same wrong call and you’ll be bothered again. Ask the person, “What number are you trying to reach?” And when they tell you, you reply, “No, you have reached xxx-xxxx,” and they will understand what they marked incorrectly, or that they simply don’t have the proper number.

Don’t ever start a phone call with, “Who is this?” That is rude and abrupt.
Imagine. Your phone rings. You answer it, only to hear, “Who is this?”
When someone does that to me, I turn the question around. They need to identify themselves first, they’re the ones who called me. So, I say, “The question is, to whom would you like to speak?”


People have lives. Feel free to ask, “Is this a good time to call?” And if not, “When is a good time for me to call?” Feel free to say, “I’d really like to talk to you but this is not a good time for me to talk, can I return your call?

Be concise. Don’t ramble. Say, “I’m on my cell, I’m lost, can you look up a phone number for me?”

Always end your phone call with the words, “Thank you so much for your call.” Or, “Nice talking to you.”

See, that wasn't so painful, was it?

Maligning the Mother

Mothers are the grist for the lifetime mill. Everything begins with Mother. Mother is the source of your life, then the source of your joy. Just look at any baby cooing at her Mother, or any toddler’s face lighting up when Mother comes into the room.

For those precious years, we Mothers are on the pedestal, in the great love affair between Mother and child, and then, floof, our child becomes an adult and we are off the pedestal and into the frying pan of life’s impossible people to deal with.

Is our love that suffocating or awful? Why is it that Mothers morph into the monster, and become the source of our formerly adoring, adult child’s ennui?

Why is it that a friend can give you advice and you can “hear” it, but if your Mother gives you the same advice, you discount it, or, it drives you crazy?

Think of the Mother in literature and the Mother in movies. The larger than life “Mommie Dearest.” The eye rolling, the children suffering their Mother, the Mother as the cause of all root problems. “The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood” was all about the daughter’s inability to live her own authentic life due to a misunderstood conflict in her mother-daughter relationship. In Sean Wilsey’s book, “Oh the Glory of It All” he writes, “When describing my Mother it is impossible to overstate her grandeur, her haughtiness, her generosity, her old Hollywood star power, her immaturity…”

We mothers are quite powerful, it seems. Perhaps it would be better to be… less powerful?

But you are powerful when you are raising your child. And therein lies the problem. You keep your children alive, clean, fed, rested, educated. I’m beginning to think the stamp of that powerful presence you had in their lives always has the power to wound in the most unsuspected ways.

No one wants to be the cause of eye rolling. I certainly don’t want to be the sturm and drang Mother. The demanding Mother. The guilt trip Mother. The needy Mother. The impossible Mother. The loud Mother. The exhausting Mother.

But I’m beginning to think it is part of the Mother “lode.” The power that you once had lingers in the raise of an eyebrow, in a tone of voice. Perhaps, sadly, it helps pave the way for the ultimate separation.

In the meantime, I vow to remain cheerful, light, receptive. That’s what an adult child wants, right? Now that my Mother is gone, I understand, it is certainly how she treated me.

How you heal determines the quality of the rest of your life.

This is not my advice. This advice was given to me by my dear friend Judy, and it has been engraved in my heart and mind forever. Even I have a hard time following it.

I may have touched on this theme in my entry “How to be Sick. Nicely.” But as I have just checked one of my students out of the hospital after a grave illness, it comes to mind ever more strongly. I told him, “How you heal now, can affect the rest of your life.”

We get sick. Our bodies suffer an assault. And then we want to get back to our lives immediately, as they were. When you are recovering from a serious illness, you need to give your body time to heal. You are bored, you are anxious to get back to your life as you knew it, but don’t. Take that extra week or month. If you ignore the healing process, you can compromise the functioning of your body for the rest of your life.

We ask so much of our bodies. We take them for granted. But if the doctor says, don’t drive for a month, or stay in bed for at least a week, or don’t drink milk or alcohol for a month: follow this advice. Don’t suffer the relapse, because then it will take you even longer to heal and you can suffer chronic problems for the rest of your life as a result.

Your health is the only thing that matters in this life. You hear that so often, it's become a cliche. And you only understand it when illness strikes. But it is true. Oh so true.

My little stranger

I have a stranger living under my roof. And she is my lovely 16-year-old daughter.

When she was born and handed to me in the hospital, I looked at her and said, "Who are you?" and spent the next 16 years finding out.

When you are the mother of a baby or later, a small child, you feel you know everything about them. You know what they eat, how they slept, what they did from morning to night. You are there to experience their discoveries and their moods. You are in constant conversation with them.

Then they become teenagers and you have no idea who they are.

They become contemplative. Secretive. They share confidences with their friends, not with you. They disappear for hours on end and don’t tell you a thing. My daughter comes home from her evening French class at the Alliance Francaise and shuts herself in her room to talk to her new boyfriend. She shares her feelings with him.

And so begins another new aspect of parenting. But no one ever told you about this one.

The success of a parent – adult child relationship rests on being able to treat your son or daughter with the exquisite politesse of a new friend about whom you find everything fascinating.

You cannot assume anything or trample on the currency of your former intimacy. You must respect their lives, their boundaries, their new likes and dislikes. As their parent, your new role is to simply support them with unconditional love.

That’s what keeps them coming home, happy to see you, happy to be with you.

Am I an adult yet?

I remember asking myself that question after I graduated college. I got my first job and lived in my own apartment. By all accounts, I had assumed the life of a responsible adult. But I didn’t feel like an adult. I asked my friends, "Are we adults yet?" and "Is this what being an adult feels like?"

I am here to report, that the moment when I truly felt like an adult – was not when I turned 21, 30 or 35, 40 or 50, not when I got married, bought a house, not even when I had children. In the eyes of the world I was an adult, but those things felt rather more like life pulling me along the passages of... life.

I finally felt like an adult when I got a divorce.

That was two years ago. Now, at 57, I can honestly say, yes, I feel like an adult. It was the divorce. Making a serious decision invoking the law, taking responsibility for my life and my past. Something about paying lawyers and going before a judge to get my freedom back.

My divorce was a defining moment in my life in more ways than one. It was not only regaining my freedom, but it was the most adult and scary thing I had ever done.

What about you? When did you feel like an adult?

Learning to talk less

Sigh.

For a parent who has talked to her children all their lives…I now have to stop. It has finally dawned on me: I’m talking too much.

When your kids are little, you are their everything. Remember how your baby smiled and gurgled when you entered the room? You were the source of all their delight.

You talk all the time to young children: You teach, you entertain, you counsel. And now, it is very clear that when I tell my teenagers what I think about something, they don’t want to hear it.

It is a stage in parenting I never considered. No one does. You expect to be the hero of your children’s lives forever. If you don't watch out, you become a bother. It is painful to see my kids’ faces cringe when I talk too much.

“Mother, be quiet,” Nina says. Pablo just tunes out.
Sigh.

I’ve been told your kids come back to you after they break away.

But right now, I need to follow my own advice: (I’m the bank and a vacation destination and a source of pure love and support.)

My job description has changed. Now I need to be their rock. Still. Solid. Silent.

"Enormous Changes at the Last Minute."

It’s the famous title of Grace Paley’s collection of short stories, published in 1974. These six simple words arranged so artfully strike a deep understanding in my heart and have accompanied me for years. You live, and nothing seems to change even though it is changing all the time and suddenly: enormous changes at the last minute.

Pablo graduated high school on Friday evening. He still seemed unripe and unready for college. But the day after he graduated: enormous changes at the last minute. He now seems ripe and ready, as if he matured overnight.

I haven’t written for a few days, because: enormous changes at the last minute. I signed a contract with a builder to begin construction on my “empty nest house.” Then, my house sold. It was as if the universe said, well, she’s moving ahead with her plans, so we will take care of business. Which means I have to rent a house for nine months. Which means, two moves in nine months. Are you exhausted yet? My life right now is filled with lawyers, paperwork of house closing, house rental, house building, garage sales, packing and moving. My mind is too frittered to write lyrically.

Which brings me to a quote about life from my friend, Barbara Dunkel. “You can have it all, but you can’t have it all at the same time.” So right now, I’m busy with houses. And when my housing crisis is done…I will get back to writing. And reading and cooking. But right now, sleepless nights, a bit too much stress, and houses.

Which brings me to Mao Tse-Tung. Now I’m not a big fan of Mao and of what he did to China, but for better or worse, he left his mark on world history. Mao was a sailor and liked to use sailing metaphors when speaking about life. He viewed himself as “The Great Helmsman,” steering China into his vision of the future. He explained to the Chinese people that: sometimes, the way to get to where you want to go is by taking a detour.

The first thing you learn in sailing is, that most of the time, you can’t get to where you want to go in a straight line, because of the ways the fickle wind is blowing in relation to your sails. So you learn to tack. Tacking is when you work with the wind to move forward in a zig zag manner. Sometimes you zig, sometimes you zag, but eventually you’ll get there. Well, life is like that. Sometimes, you can’t just get to the place you want to go directly. You need to do some tacking, some detouring. But you’ll eventually get there if your sights are set strongly and you work with whatever way the wind blows.

Which brings me to another truth that rings deep in my heart. This one from Emily Dickinson. It is how I’m feeling now, about all the enormous changes at the last minute. “To live is so startling, it leaves little time for anything else.”

Thought of the Day

"I will never fully know my mother, any more than I will ever know my father...or myself. I have been missing the point. The point is not knowing another person, or learning to love another person. The point is simply this: how tender can we bear to be? What good manners can we show as we welcome ourselves and others into our hearts?"

-- Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells

Back tomorrow with regular posting. Pablo graduated from high school and I sold my house...so lots going on. But I've been missing you all and want to continue sharing all this good stuff I've got for you!

Helicopter Moms: What have you been doing for the last 18 years?

In the July 2008 issue of Oprah magazine, there is an article on "helicopter moms" -- those moms who hover over their kids when they go to college and beyond, ready to swoop down and "fix" things.

There is a Mother who drives 4 hours to do her college son's laundry. "He's so busy...I'm glad I can help," she says proudly. There is the Mother who checks her child's college assignments online and calls her if she missed class or didn't hand in a paper. There's the Mother who calls her child's friends to ask them how her child is. And then there's the Mother who calls employers and tells them to hire her child. Yet another bargains the compensation package with human resources.

Mothers: what have you been doing for the last 18 years? If you have done your job right -- they will attack life with gusto. The struggle is theirs. Remember when you started out? You struggled, you learned, you made mistakes and fixed them. You grew up. You became an adult.

If you're saying, oh but its a tougher world out there...It's no tougher than when you had at it. Each generation inherits its own world with their new and improved, adapted survival skills.

J.K. Rowling was the invited speaker at Harvard's 2008 Commencement. The title of her speech was: "The Fringe Benefits of Failure and the Importance of Imagination." Bottom line: her failures were better and bigger teachers than her success.

All the prodding I did to my daughter for not studying was to no avail. It was only when she failed several subjects (School in Mexico is very different from school in the U.S. I won't go into it here.) and had to suffer the consequences, did she begin to take responsibility for her education. Now, she's a serious student.

Helicopter moms are raising a bunch of babies. Hovering is not in the best interest of your child. They have to grow up sometime. Maybe...when you're dead?

I've let go already and my son still has 6 weeks left at home. I'm always here to help, but only if he asks for it.

You can read J.K. Rowling's inspirational speech at http://harvardmagazine.com/go/jkrowling.html

Teenagers teach you how to let go.

When your children are young, you often wonder what it will be like when your darlings finally leave home for college. It gives you the shudders. You can't and don't want to even imagine it.

It happens in stages. And if you have done your parenting correctly, one day you will find yourself alone on a Saturday evening.

It will be the beginning of a lifetime of Saturday nights you will now begin to spend without your children, who've been the stars of your life for the past 17 years.

Nina is at a cafe, having an evening chat with friends. Pablo is at the bowling alley with a girlfriend, dancing on the electronic dance machines. He took a change of shirt and a water bottle.

Earlier I cooked, and now there is a pot of pea soup simmering on the stove, for whenever they want it, to make them happy to return home and to remind them that Mother loves them madly.

The wine you buy at this stage in your middle aged life should get progressively finer and more expensive, because although you drink less, you should drink better. Always good to have an animal around, preferably a dog, but a cat at least. My hearth is the television with a good, vintage movie playing and a humming laptop by my side. Cyberspace beckons with huge ideas and life everywhere. Good books and the sensual pleasure of knitting with exquisite Italian wool.

The "children" will call on their cellphones if they need me. Long after I've gone to bed, they will arrive home, socially sated. The idea of my kids in the kitchen, while I'm asleep, comparing their evenings over hot soup and then going to bed... makes me feel I've done my job well and that their home will always be a happy place in their hearts.

Psst....It's all about the accessories...

Before I begin to share my tips for beautiful and easy dressing, culled from a lifetime of mistakes and learning… let me get this off my chest.

Have you noticed how the world looks as though they are walking around in their pajamas, or, coming and going to the gym? If you really look at people in the mall or at the airport it will positively hurt your eyes: sweatshirts, exercise clothes, Bermudas, sweatpants, baggy jeans. Ouch!

You don’t have to sacrifice comfort for elegance, ever. Even on long haul airplane flights. Sleek black yoga pants from Lululemon have a great street cut and are comfortably stretchy for long hours squished into a seat. Layered with t-shirt, sweater, scarf…and you’re looking great and comfortable

Natural fibers are your best friend. Natural fibers breathe and they feel good on your skin. They are always classic and elegant. The basics are: cotton, linen, silk and wool.

The classics are the basics. A great pair of good fitting jeans. Khaki slacks. Black slacks. A white cotton shirt. A white linen shirt. A white t-shirt. A black t-shirt. A denim shirt. A flannel shirt. A black sweater. Black skirt. “Little Black dress” Black shoes. Great sneakers. Solid loafers and flats. A wonderfully cut blazer. A trench coat. A great tank bathing suit.

Which brings me to my major fashion secret, which isn’t a secret at all.

It really is all about the accessories. Once you have the basic classics... great accessories make or break an outfit. Accessories are the things that truly define you and set you apart from others. Here’s the litmus test: two women are wearing the same jeans and a white shirt. One woman has a beautiful watch, nice leather flats and an exquisite leather handbag. The other woman has tatty sneakers and a dirty canvas bag. One looks lovely and elegant. The other looks sloppy and…poor.

Today I’m wearing a simple white t-shirt and a black skirt. The reason you won’t mistake me for a waitress is my huge, red bead multi-strand necklace and my Donald Pliner delicate black gladiator sandals.

I learned about accessories when I lived in France. Sit in a café in Paris and you’ll see every woman has a gorgeous handbag and an excellent watch. Are they all rich? No. French women save up for one fabulous handbag, instead of having a wardrobe of inexpensive ones. One good watch. One great Hermes scarf. And then they wear it.

Shoes tell everything about you. Buy the most expensive, comfortable shoes you can afford. Everyone has their niche when it comes to what’s an expensive shoe. Even if I could afford them, I am not interested in Carrie Bradshaw’s Manolo Blahniks. I have found a comfortable, stylish niche with Donald Pliner and Cole Haan. For sport, Merrill. Expensive shoes do last longer and look better.

Jewelry must-haves. A good, classic watch. One elegant gold ring. Large enough diamond stud earrings. A strand of good pearls. You don’t need a lot, you just need exquisite. After you have the basic pieces, then you can start to play with necklaces, bracelets and rings. Be aware that jewelry is a never-ending lust; you will always see a piece of jewelry that you want. Your taste evolves as your grow older (and richer) as well. Costume jewelry is acceptable if you have great taste and pile it on for effect; not trying to pretend it is something that it isn’t.

Beware your underwear. Life’s too short for stretched out, fugly underwear. Buy it often and throw it out often. When it comes to style, comfort is everything. If you are not comfortable in your underwear…what hope is there for your day? You don’t need to spend a fortune. Good style has trickled down to Calvin Klein, Victoria’s Secret, Banana Republic. Start with natural fibers of course, meaning in this case: cotton. Save the lacy little nothings for when you don’t need such support for long hours at a time.

Handbags. Entirely too complicated to go into here. I can hear you laughing…as some of you know, I have a... love... of handbags. Just start with one good black leather handbag, and one evening bag. A beautiful small evening bag dresses up something as simple as black pants and a black sweater, and also can look great with jeans and a t.

Spend what you probably think is a small fortune on a good wallet. You have purchased correctly, if afterwards you moan and say, “Why…I could have bought xx for the same amount of money!” Wallets are expensive. All that craftsmanship in such a tiny space. But how many times a day do you reach for your wallet? At least 20, if not more. Your wallet is a trusted companion and the years it will last will amortize it to a sensible sum to have spent.

If it’s night, it must be black. I always chuckle when someone asks me “What are you wearing tonight?” After all this time do they even have to ask? Is there any other color?

Black is always perfect, chic, appropriate. Black always looks great. Black is always impeccable. Black can look casual, or dressy. The little black dress can go to work, cocktails, dinner, theatre, a funeral. Black slacks and sweater looks good in almost every situation, day or night. Black is also: slimming. Is it any wonder why the people who work at fashion mags wear black?

Alas, when I moved to the tropics, it became impossible to wear black during the day. The white light of the sun just doesn’t work with black clothing. So, white and khaki have become my new black.

What is the single, greatest fashion accessory? A great body. By “great body” I don’t mean you need to be reed slim. Have your own great body – in shape, a good weight, physically fit and most important, healthy. If you are happy with your body, you look good. Try the jeans test: if you look good in jeans and a white shirt…you’re looking good! Sometimes you don’t need to buy new clothes…you just need to lose a little weight.

Overaccessorizing. This is a great piece of WASP advice I learned in Lisa Birnbach's "The Preppie Handbook" that I think is really good. When women dress for the evening, they err towards over accessorizing. So here it is: When you are finished dressing and ready to leave, stand in front of the mirror and take off one thing. Now you are ready to go out. It never fails.

Underdressed is better than overdressed. This is my personal opinion and you can feel free to disagree. Elegance means: pared down, or as Diana Vreeland said, “Elegance is refusal.” Only if I am invited to meet royalty or going to the Vienna Opera Ball, would I even consider wearing a long gown. Simple clothes and expensive jewelry makes me always dressed correctly.

Your fashion signature. After my first visit to Italy years ago…I have always owned a pair of red flats. I learned this from watching those effortlessly chic Italian women who always have something “tweak” their look. Red flats are my finishing touch; they are a smile. What’s your fashion signature?

The Shirt on your back -or- How to get dressed

What's the big deal? You wake up, you get dressed.

Clothing, like almost everything in life, is a paradox. Clothes can make your life miserable or charming. "Clothes do not make the man," and yet, the right clothes for you, can make you a happier, more confident, comfortable person. Wearing clothing that isn't you can make you feel rotten, affect your experience of an event, or uncomfortable in something too tight or too short.

"Don't judge people by the clothes they wear." And yet, we do. The clothing you choose to wear speaks volumes about you.

There are trillions of choices out there. Who are you and what will you wear? What is your style? Why does something look good on someone else and look terrible on you?

Understanding your personal style is a process that can take years. Your personal style can change in your different careers and lifestyle changes. When I worked in the public affairs department of Exxon Corporation in New York City, I wore the constricting, unimaginative uniform of the 80's career woman: silk blouses, stockings, conservative skirts, tailored jackets. I never felt good about these clothes, or the job. These were not my happiest years. I own none of this clothes today.

A few years later I became a copywriter in an ad agency, and I dressed stylish and creative wearing the high fashion of Comme des Garcons, Issey Miyake, Agnes B. I was much happier. I spent a fortune on clothes, none of which I own today, either.

That's because I became a mother and my style changed again, into quick to put on easy to care for clothes that babies could throw up on. I spent a lot of time on the floor too with the babies. So it was jogging clothes, leggings with big tops, jeans.

Then I moved to the tropics where clothes faded and lost its shape in a matter of months due to the calcified water, bleaching from the sun, extreme heat, and mildew. My friend Jean Cappello came to the rescue. "The secret to tropical dressing is to get yourself to the Gap or Banana Republic and buy some great cotton and linen pieces and wear them for six months, then throw them out and start over." Which is what I do and now I always look fresh and stylish.

Some people don't care what they wear. Others obsess. As in everything, the secret to clothing happiness is moderation. You want to get to the point where you enjoy your clothes, dressing is easy and fun, and shopping is not a bother.

Experiment with clothes. Have fun, try different things on. See what looks good on you, what feels good on you. Of course you'll make mistakes from time to time. To be expected. When you find yourself attracted to the same thing, over and over, you'll know it's you.

Tomorrow: my best clothing tips.

My Defining Moment: The Black Box

A defining moment is one that can change the course of your life, change your thinking, and open the world to you in new ways. If you are perceptive, you might have several defining moments in your life. Often, you don’t realize it is a defining moment until days, weeks, months, or years after.

I wanted to tell you about my first, adult, defining moment. I didn’t know it was a defining moment at the time, it just seemed like an experience.

I was an average student in high school – entirely undistinguished and unformed. I drifted through Tenafly High in a cloud of painful self-consciousness, the typical self-doubting adolescent haze.

Chemistry class was the bane of senior year, with the difficult hurdle of its pass/fail chem labs. The first lab was the famous “Black Box.” Away from our prying eyes, Mr. Colombo, our chem teacher, (in my memory, forever wearing his beige lab coat) put an object into a black wood box and nailed it shut. Using the principles of scientific observation we had to figure out what was inside The Black Box.

For one week we could hold it, weigh it, shake it, smell it, listen to it. We could do anything but throw it, or open it. Among ourselves we talked and talked, in study hall, in the cafeteria, at the football game, at gym, in the library, on the phone, as we walked to school in the mornings and home in the evenings, trying to collectively put our observations together and guess what was inside The Black Box.

After a few days, everyone decided it was an empty film canister. Back in 1969 (!) cameras used film, and the film came on a metal canister.

This didn’t make any sense to me at all. A film canister was even, it was light, and it didn't wobble. Whenever I held the box, the object had an uneven roll and an uneven weight, it tilted and seemed to fall on its heavy side, causing it to wobble.

But who was I to think it could be something else, me, Liza Dunkel, not an honors student, me against 120 classmates.

I tried desperately to imagine what it could be. Then, one day during class, my eyes settled on a row of acid bottles. The glass stopper of an acid, or poison bottle, is thick and rounded on the bottom, with a thin plaque to grip it on top. Placed on its side, it rolled and wobbled unevenly. Bingo.

I told my best friend, Janet Feigelson, the super smart star of the honors classes, about my idea of the acid bottle stopper. I told Sharon Goldstein and Mark Jay and other smart kids. They shook their heads. “No way," they said, "It’s a film canister."

No one heard me because I was “just” Liza Dunkel, a nobody.

Everyone wrote up their labs in the little blue books, laying out the arguments about why it was a film canister. For awhile, I actually considered joining everyone, because I could not believe that I could figure out something so different from 120 other people. I had so little confidence in myself, how could I possibly be right? And what if they were all right and I was the only one in the entire senior class who flunked the first chem lab?

But in the end, I just couldn’t do it. I had heard and felt the object tilt. A film canister doesn’t tilt.

Finally, the big day arrived for the great opening of The Black Box.

I had chemistry first period. Standing beside the stack of graded blue lab books, Mr. Columbo smiled at us and shook his head. “What a bunch of dummies,” he said. Everyone groaned. He proceeded to toy with us, lifting off the top of the Black Box looking inside and replacing the top.

“In all of the senior class, there was only one person who guessed correctly what was in the Black Box.”

My head and heart were pounding. Could I be this person? Could it be me? No! I wasn’t smart. How could I alone have figured it out and no one else? No, it must be someone else.

“And that person…is sitting right here in the front row!” he shouted, pointing at me! I screamed with joy amidst the uproar in the room as he held up the glass stopper of an acid bottle.

After class, the word flew through the halls of Tenafly High. I floated with happiness for the rest of the day as I was congratulated (even by Eddie Harris) and looked at with new eyes.

Maybe I was smart, after all. Could I even be, special? The Black Box was the first lesson I had about the need to believe in myself, to listen to myself, to rely on what I thought was true. The Black Box was a premonition of great things to come. It wouldn’t be until college that I would realize my great potential.

Remember children to seize your defining moments and make them yours. I wish you a lifetime of defining moments.

What's wrong with this equation?

Just some wistful thoughts for you sons and daughters to think about. And also for you Mothers out there too.

When your children are young, you are their hero. Their faces light up when they see you. You can do no wrong. You are their world, their joy, their survival.

Then they get older, and comes the moment when they tolerate you with a smile. They still need you, but you begin to embarrass them. Your sheer existence bugs them.

And then comes the moment I’m in right now. My son can’t wait to leave home. He wants no Mother in his daily life…just a Mother out there – somewhere.

There’s something wrong with this equation. Our children are the beings we love most dearly in our lives. We cherish them, raise them, educate them and then at 18 – after all that loving, which will never stop on our part… we must let go of them, because they want nothing more to do with us!

The only consolation, of course, is that we all felt this way too. Ready to get away from our own Mothers and claim our lives. Ready to live without Mother watching.

It is our turn to let go. It comes with the territory. And if you let go properly, you become the Mother that your kids want to come home to. And after some time passes, you become the Mother who they enjoy being with, again.

Pulitzer Prize-winning author Jhumpa Lahiri, in her new collection of stories “Unaccustomed Earth” writes:

"He remembered his children coming home from college, impatient with him and his wife, enamored of their newfound independence, always wanting to leave. It had tormented his wife and, though he never admitted it, had pained him as well. He couldn’t help thinking, on those occasions, how young they’d once been, how helpless in his nervous arms, needing him for their very survival, knowing no one else. He and his wife were their whole world. But eventually that need dissipated, dwindled to something amorphous, tenuous, something that threatened at times to snap… ...The entire enterprise of having a family, of putting children on this earth, as gratifying as it sometimes felt, was flawed from the start."

No such thing as a late bloomer

You've heard this expression? "She's a late bloomer." Used in an apologetic tone for someone who is taking their time, or not finding their way, or changing their direction in life.

Late bloomer? What is this? I don't like this expression and think it should be banished.

Life is not a contest or a race.

You might be a later bloomer....but you're never late. It's not about who flowers first.

You just take your own sweet time. Flowers bloom at all times of the year. Early spring flowers...late summer flowers...fall flowers. All equally beautiful at their own special time.

Remember that!

Practice makes Perfect

Don't wait for--or look for-- the perfect man, the perfect job, the perfect vacation, the perfect house, the perfect car, the perfect dress, the perfect whatever.

If you wait for perfection, you miss out on life's experiences and waste a lot of time. You'll be sitting on the sidelines while everyone else is living.

Just get yourself into the fray and work your way up to perfection! Get a job and then you'll find a better job. Don't wait for Mr. Right; go out with Mr. Okay. He just might turn into Mr. Right.

It really is practice that makes perfect.

P.S. Perfection doesn't exist. When you do find something that's "perfect," it will be perfect for awhile, until you decide something else is... more perfect.

Life with no regrets

You can't live a life with no regrets. We are human, and there is no such thing as a perfect life.

There are two kinds of regrets in life, those you can do something about, and those you can't.

It is never too late to say I love you or I'm sorry. Depending on your age, it might not be too late to learn or try something new, visit a place, buy a particular thing. If you have the chance to undo a regret, do it!

The regrets that you can't do anything about are the ones that hurt. But don't get stuck! Feel the pain and then move on.

Thinking about your future feeling may help you to think twice before deciding to do -- or not do -- a particular thing. Here's an example: Your friend is in ill health. You are torn about your vacation that you planned with your family -- do you go to the beach with your family, or take some time to see your friend. Ask yourself, "How would I feel if in a year, my friend were gone?" The answer to that guides your decision about what to do. Another question to always ask yourself is, "What would I like to have done to me?" and then act accordingly.

Also, keep in mind the famous saying: "You only regret what you don't do."

You never regret things you have done, because everything - good experiences and bad-- adds to who you are as a person. You never say, for instance, "I regret that I went to Montana where I climbed mountains and rode horses." But you will probably say, "I regret that I never went to Montana."

Here are a few of my gentle regrets. I share them with you, in the hope that perhaps they might help you to think about your lives.

I regret not having started therapy earlier in my life. I went into therapy at age 33. I lived for so many years, unhappy, confused, lost. If I had started earlier, I might have been more in command of my life at an earlier age. Moral: Don't waste time being unhappy. Take control and deal with it. Do whatever it takes to get to th root of your unhappiness, insecurity, whatever.

I regret that I didn't go into the Peace Corps when I was accepted back in 1975. Looking back now...I can't believe I didn't go! What an amazing experience that would have been! I had been accepted to teach English in French speaking Togo. I had the government physical, they pulled my wisdom teeth out getting me all ready for the adventure...and then...I didn't go! Decades later I now understand that it would have sent my life into an entirely different direction. I don't beat myself up about it too much, because, well, my life took other turns. But it is something I think about. Moral: An action not taken can change the course of your life. Only you don't know it at the time! Another moral: Go for it! Take risks!

I regret that I didn't take music more seriously and make it my career. I am tremendously musical. I had a good voice. I played the piano. Most important, I loved music. I'm not saying I would have been a rock star or a concert pianist. Far from it. But I was talented enough to have had a soul satisfying career in music, a music teacher, for instance. Moral: Take your talents seriously.

I regret that I didn't go to medical school. I would have liked to have spent my life in a healing profession. But the fact is, I never took my acadmic achievements or intellect seriously. It never occurred to me that I could become a doctor. I thought it was something other people did. Now I realize, that person could have been me! Moral: Take yourself seriously.

I regret that I didn't have a honeymoon. Not a life shattering regret, but just something to think about. The husband and I didn't have any money for a honeymoon. Or so we thought. We could have at least gone to Atlantic City for a weekend, or something simple like that, to call something a "Honeymoon" and honor the event. As a result, all my life I've said, "I never had a honeymoon." I'm divorced now...and regret not having a honeymoon even more! Moral: You never get a honeymoon again, so do it the first time!

There is one regret you can't win! I'm laughing here! You've all had this experience. It's when you are shopping on vacation and you see something you want to buy. If you don't buy it, thinking, "Oh, I'll see it again, later on, cheaper," I guarantee you, you'll never see it again. And if you buy it then and there, at full price, I guarantee you, you WILL see it again later, cheaper! For some reason this is a no win situation! My advice after a lifetime of this: buy it, enjoy it and carry on!

Celestial Cheesecake

Since I just spent two days talking about gifts...I thought I'd give you one.

Everyone needs at least one WOW dessert recipe in their repertoire. This is mine. I cherish this cheesecake recipe so much, I want to share it with you.

Many years ago, I asked my Mother's grand friend, Betty Kass, to send me a few of her signature recipes. Betty, who raised her kids in Huntington Woods, Michigan, was a masterful cook, and having some of her favorite recipes would be my way of having her spirit with me always.

My Mother passed away almost two years ago, but Betty Kass continues on as I write this, in an Alzheimer's home in Colorado.

This is a masterful recipe because it is foolproof, easy to make, exquisitely delicate and impressive. It is my idea of a perfect cheesecake: light but creamy. Great to serve at any dinner party, no matter how humble the first course. Make it early and forget about it. And if you bring it to a friend, they will know they are cherished.

But mostly, it is a great dessert to welcome kids, friends and family back home.

Betty Kass' Huntington Woods Cheesecake

Graham cracker crust in a 10" springform pan.

5 eggs, divided into whites and yolks
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp cream of tartar
1 cup sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
3 3-ounce packages of cream cheese
1/2 pint sour cream
1 cup milk

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

1. Make a graham cracker crust in a 10" springform pan.

2. Beat to stiff and set aside: 5 egg whites,1 tsp vanilla, 1 tsp cream of tartar.
3. In another bowl, beat 5 egg yolks to pale.
4. Add 1 cup sugar, 2 tablespoons cornstarch. BEAT well.
5. Add 3 3-ounce packages of cream cheese. BEAT well.
6. Add 1/2 pint sour cream. BEAT well.
7. Add 1 cup milk. BEAT 5 minutes.
8. Fold in the egg whites (from #2 above). Don't beat. Just fold in delicately!
9. Turn entire mixture into graham cracker crust.
10. Bake in 350 degree oven for one hour.
11. Here's the secret! TURN OFF OVEN AND LET SET FOR SEVERAL HOURS. DO NOT OPEN THE OVEN DOOR. DO NOT PEEK!
12. Can be served as is, or top with fresh strawberries and glaze if you like.

Share the magic with someone you love.

"I hope you like it!" On giving a gift.

The purest way to give a gift is from your heart, with great joy and love. This is true giving.

Gift giving appears to have no strings attached. At best, it is. But in reality, gift giving is full of strings attached: emotional strings, political strings, hidden agendas. Payback gifts, bribery gifts, impersonal gifts. Interesting once you start to think about it.

Gift giving can be political. People give gifts for many different reasons. They can give gifts out of their own sense of guilt. Or to inspire guilt in you. They give gifts out of fear ("every else is giving one") or out of politeness. Some people give gifts out of obligation. Some people give only because they want one in return. Others give you something to annoy. Some give gifts begrudgingly.

How do you choose a gift?

Do you give something you love? And because you love it so much, you hope the other person will love it too?

Or do you think only of the other person and buy something you know they will love? Your friend collects watermelon folk art and you don't particularly like it. But you see a nice watermelon salt shaker, so even though you don't like it, you select it as the gift.

The best gift giving is when you combine the two: something that the other person will like, that has a little bit of you in it. Your taste, your style.

A few of the finer points...and some stories.

At Christmas, when I was a little girl, my mother would ask me what I would like and I would proceed to tell her. But then she would buy me something only if she liked it. No matter that I liked it. Her gift giving modus operandi was if she didn't like it, I wouldn't get it. Of course this made me feel as if my opinion didn't matter.

As a result, I have always made it a point, ever since my kids were born, to get them things on their lists especially if I don't like them.

Because the whole point is to give pleasure and delight when you give a gift. Your pleasure is my pleasure.

I learned a few things about gift giving as founder of The Merida English Library. Our entire collection of books is donated. Over time, we learned we had to institute a policy on how to receive the book donations because because we learned we were hurting feelings. In the early days, a person would come into the library with a bag of books, only to have the volunteer librarian say, "Oh, we have that book," or, "This is a trashy novel," or, "This is in such bad condition, we'll have to throw it out."

We learned that quite often, people weren't giving us their books to make us feel good. They were giving us their books to make themselves feel good. So, our job was to welcome them, be thrilled no matter what the book or the condition of the book, and to thank them for thinking of us. In private, because we had a book policy, we could dispose of the books anyway we wanted: feature them on our shelves, sell them, throw them out or givie them away. The lesson learned was: if you burn out the giver during the gift process they would never give you another book again.

"You can return it if you don't like it." If someone says this to you while you are opening their gift, never say in front of them, at that moment, that yes, you will return it. Accept the gift, let it delight, and return it privately and quietly on your own time, knowing you have the blessing of the donor.

If someone brings, unrequested, a dessert or an hors d'oeuvres to your dinner party and you already have your menu planned and ready, it is not correct to leave their dish in the kitchen and serve only what you prepared. Put everything out.

However, if you bring a bottle of wine to the dinner party, don't expect that it will be opened. If there isn't any wine, or not enough wine, your bottle might be opened. But if the bottle is put away to be enjoyed at some later date, that is perfectly appropriate.

I don't agree with people who say, "Don't bring flowers to your dinner party hostess, because she doesn't have time to arrange them." Flowers are always a lovely gesture and a delight to receive. However, if you do bring flowers, don't expect the hostess to rush into the kitchen, clean and prep them, find a vase, arrange and display them. She might stick them in a bucket of water in the kitchen and save them to enjoy the next day.

What to do when people keep giving you gifts you don't want or like? Well, the first thing is to remember: it really is the thought that counts!

If the "bad" gift givers are business contacts, you might say, graciously of course, "You are so kind! But my company doesn't allow me to accept gifts. So, thank you for your consideration, but please, no more, because I simply can't accept them." They might even be secretly thrilled.

You can always preface your birthday party invitation with "No gifts please!" I'm laughing here, because...if you say it, you should mean it! I recall one woman who threw herself a 40th birthday party and specified, "No Gifts Please" but it was clear, to all who were invited, that she meant, "If you don't show up with a gift I'll be sad."

A gift that's always appreciated?

When in doubt, give a gift that can be consumed. Sometimes people "have everything" or have difficult tastes and are hard to shop for. In this case: a box of lovely French soaps. A bottle of fine Chardonnay. A box of Swiss chocolates. A beautiful candle. A tin of English tea. A jar of home made jam. A luxury handcream. A cellophane bag of Italian biscotti. A plant. Little luxuries are always in good taste and welcomed. You use it up, and it's gone. Pure delight and no clutter.

And then, there's the issue of "regifting" or gift recycling of gifts that you don't want. Never regift to friends. Only to a charity organization please!

"You shouldn't have!" On receiving a gift.

What's the big deal? Everyone loves receiving a gift. What advice do you need about this?

Well, apparently, a lot. One of my all time disappointments in human nature is a lack of common courtesy. The inability of people to utter a simple, genuine, delighted "thank you" stuns me every time. "Thank you" really is the expression that can make the world go 'round.

Gift giving - and receiving - is actually far more complex than you think. Whenever a gift is involved, there are messages being given and hungers being fed...or frustrated. (Tomorrow's entry will explore all that.) But for today, just know that gift giving and receiving is a human exchange you will participate in all your life. Doing each side of the transaction well adds tremendous enjoyment and satisfaction to your life.

Gift giving is a a social dance with its own choreography. It is a transaction with a beginning, a middle, an end. The giving and receiving of a gift is a cycle that must be completed if both parties are to be satisfied.

The receiver of a gift has a job to do: to acknowledge the giver for his thoughtfulness and generosity.

Not being thanked or acknowledged for giving a gift has killed the joy in gift giving for me. Lately, I haven't been receiving thank you's for wedding and baby shower gifts. I go to the effort to choose something I think the couple will like, or, selected something for which they registered, spend my hard earned money...and then it falls into a black hole! I don't know if they even received the gift, opened the gift, or knew it came from me!

This is low class behavior. I don't care if you have a college degree or are a millionaire. Saying, "Thank you," is priceless and it doesn't cost you a thing.

Always be delighted when someone gives you a gift.
Say "Thank you!"
Ask if you can open the gift right away, because people like having their gifts opened in front of them. Unless of course they say, "Do save it for Christmas morning," or, "Open it at your party tomorrow."
If you love it, then by all means express it! If not, then you must appreciate it. Never show that you don't like it. After all, it really is the thought that counts.
Don't just open it and put it aside. Comment on the gift. Even if you don't like it, there are things you can say: Where did you find it? The color is amazing. It is so exotic. I've never seen anything like it! Tone of voice is everything.
Try to refer to the gift at least once during the course of the time you spend together.
When the person leaves, thank them once again for their thoughtfulness. You just can't overdo, "thank you."
Certain gifts --Christmas, birthday, wedding--deserve a written thank you.

Never say you don't like a gift. Never even show ambivalence about a gift. Even if you have the book, say, "Oh, I adore this book." And you are telling the truth! If it is a particularly close friend, you might be able to utter a geniune groan and say, "Oh dearl...I love this book so much that I already have it!" And they will groan and be disappointed too. And then you'll make the arrangements about who will return the book and get something else.

Tomorrow: on giving!