Category Archives: One WORD (Current Events)

October 21, 2009 · 6:00 AM

Stars! They’re Just Like US!

The most startling aspect of the Richard Heene “balloon boy” debacle isn’t that he used his children as pawns, or that he wasted taxpayer dollars so that hundreds of people could look for his not-missing child, or even that he lied.

The most remarkable part of the story is that he did all of this for…a reality TV show.

Way to set that bar high, buddy.

As the story of the hoax broke, people were outraged, and rightfully so, but they should not have been shocked.  Heene is not the first person to shamelessly put his family up for auction to the highest bidder in the name of fame.  If “Octo-Mom” can have networks knocking on her door to give her $50,000 an episode, who can blame mad-scientist Richard Heene for wanting some green?

People used to only have a shot at fame if they were enormously talented and landed that one-in-a-million chance of connecting with the right people, living in the right city, and succeeding on their thousandth audition.  Now, everyone is under the impression that if they put themselves out there, are weird enough, and are OK with being filmed in their home, they will gain national recognition.

Decent behavior and dignity have taken understudy roles, unfortunately.

Example: “The Real Housewives” series.  There is not one ounce of regret or embarrassment for being portrayed as vain, selfish, catty women.  They are proud of it.  But at least the networks know this and play it up to embarrass them.   It’s like the viewers and the producers are in on the same joke at the absurdity of their behavior.  (Full disclosure: I think these women are pathetic…yet I am obsessed with the New York branch.)

But I don’t think this type of behavior is exclusive to those who believe in extra-terrestrials or those who are just extra-fertile.  I think all of us have that same desire for fame, to some degree.

It’s as if most of us crave worship.  We want others to look at our lives, approve, and envy.  We want people to admire us and want to be like us.

If anyone thinks they are above this banal behavior, they should check their Facebook profile.   It’s like our very own non-celebrity People.com or US Weekly.  We post ultra-flattering photos and compose status updates that practically scream, “Look at my fabulous life!”  It’s akin to having a personal PR campaign.  I am utterly guilty of this, and when I think about it, I feel a self-repulsive shiver.

Few people ever post honest struggles or content that would put them in an unfavorable light.  I agree with this to a point; after all, not everyone should enter our dark places, and perhaps Facebook is light-hearted enough that we should keep it positive.

But the point stands:  we seek to be adored.

Cough, cough…this blog…cough, cough.

I mean, honestly.  I am not going to avoid admitting I enjoy that people read Words Become One.   If I were to balk at myself right now, you wouldn’t even buy it.

Besides, blogs are naturally muddy waters because it is not possible for any blogger, however humble, to pretend that their site does not begin and end with him or her.  She is writing from her frame of reference, about her thoughts, in her own life.  Whether it’s a news analysis blog or a mommy blog — it is unavoidably about the writer.

So what to do about it?  How does anyone conquer this need to gather the masses in praise of oneself?  What will convince Richard Heene that he should get a job like any other father, rather than seek fame to his family’s detriment?

Practicing the art of humility would seem most obvious, but it is also quite difficult because as soon as we’ve done it we have the tendency to destroy it by thinking, “Hurray!  I’m being humble!”  If you can avoid that catch-22, please tell me how.  It’s very annoying.

Worshiping God is one weapon in this inner battle.  Through giving honor to Him rather than to myself or others, I realize that He is infinitely deserving of my admiration.  My own flaws and faults, by comparison, make me slightly ill.  And I want to be idolized?  Barf.

For now, I will do one small part by ricocheting this me-me-me blog into new territory.  I am handing Words Become One over to a guest blogger next week.  I will not reveal who this blogger is until next Wednesday, but trust me, you won’t be disappointed.

Neither will I.  After all, I chose the writer.  (Because remember, it’s all about me.)

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October 14, 2009 · 6:00 AM

“…and you must be MRS. Reph.”

Last week I attended a political dinner which concluded a conference Mike helped to organize.  Mike serves as treasurer for the Evergreen Leadership Conference and works all year for this one-day event.

That he participates shouldn’t really be surprising. That I looked forward to attending may be.

You probably wouldn’t know it if you met me now, but I used to have my heart set on being a senator.  I’ve been involved in political activities since high school, and always assumed that I would go to law school, serve privately, and establish a public presence before finally running for senator — and then I’d get married.

Well, that didn’t work out, did it?

It’s nobody’s fault but my own.  I chose other pursuits, realized I had no interest in law school, and that was that.

Still, this dinner last week was a bit of an out of body experience.  As I watched him interact with people and run the event, I couldn’t believe it wasn’t me.  I, too, have lived and worked in Washington, D.C.  I have hob-knobbed with politicians and attended political events.  I have walked the halls of the House of Representatives and the Capitol building as an intern.  How did I end up as the arm piece?  (Not that I am, though I do try to dress to impress.)

Most people expect the uninvolved ladies to be somewhat mindless.   I choose not to be insulted by this.  It’s an opportunity; when a group is discussing health care and I make a thoughtful comment, I can see the tiny eyebrow raises and metaphorical jaws on the floor as if they’re exclaiming, “She reads the paper!  You don’t say!”

Meeting people in this atmosphere is the place where I feel most acutely the “extension” part of marriage — the surreal feeling that people are looking and talking with me not as who I am, but as an extension of my husband.

As much as I love talking politics with the general public, I do have my limits.  For instance, a gentleman seated next to me at dinner the other night was going on and on about how homosexuals shouldn’t be allowed in church until they’re no longer practicing their lifestyle.  I replied that if all people weren’t allowed in church until after they stopped sinning, the place would be empty, but he refused to see my point.  Soon, I was boiling below the surface.

These are the moments when Mike lightly taps my arm in the “it’s not worth it,” gesture, and I simply let the man finish his thought.  I nod politely, and transition by commenting on the approaching dessert.

I think this is where I lose my footing in the political sphere.  You see, I am much more pro-Jesus than I am pro-Republican.  I am loyal to my faith, not my political party.  Jesus is not part of a political group, so I do not want to align myself too strictly with something outside of Him.  However, I can see that this line of thinking can quickly lead to being utterly passive, and that is what keeps me engaged in moral/economical/social issues of the day.

For now formal involvement isn’t my pursuit.  However, it will be a long transition to let go of that part of myself, and realize that this other role, this seeming second-place as wife, is just as valid.  Perhaps more so.

The unexpected blessing is that political events aren’t as hard as when I did them alone.  It’s almost like Mike whacks away at the underbrush and then I just have to walk through.  Since people already know him, by the time I meet them it’s like they already accept me; all I have to do is not ruin that impression.  Previous to marriage, I did all my own bushwhacking.

When Mike and I got together, we both loved that the other was as into politics as we were.  It was such a bonus, because so many people we’d each dated completely didn’t get it.  But we didn’t really dive deep enough to see the obvious:  there may be two senators for each state, but there probably shouldn’t be two senators for each marriage.

Two of the people I respect most in this world, Skip and Cyd Li, assured me that marriage does not mean I fade away, only to be glanced at as an accessory to my mate.

“You are NOT wallpaper,” they said emphatically one night while having dinner at our place.  “We want to see you get your law degree and run for city council and move your way up.  If you don’t want that, fine.  But don’t dismiss it just because Mike has those same interests.”

This advice is only believable because Cyd lives it every day.  Her marriage to Skip, who is partner in a major Seattle law firm, doesn’t stop her from buzzing all over town with her own projects and passions.  She gives to people as much as he does, but uses her own gifts.

I suppose that’s why I’m fine with redefining success for myself.  Mike may decide never to pursue a seat, or he may become even more involved tomorrow.  I have to be at peace with where I am apart from that.

Besides, it’s no secret that I handle criticism about as well as I handle getting lemon juice in my eye.  Mike has thicker skin.  He’ll handle the lemons.

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September 30, 2009 · 6:00 AM

Let’s Go Dutch!

I am cheap.

There.  I said it.

I am not going to dress it up and call it frugal.  I am not going to politicize it and call it fiscally responsible.  Have been, always may be, as cheap as a futon on layaway.

The trouble is, no one likes being associated with this characteristic.  “Cheap” doesn’t align itself with rosy ideals like “conservative,” “responsible,” and “restrained.”  Instead, it RSVPs to parties hosted by the unattractive ogres of greed, selfishness, and shamelessness.

And I hate those parties.  They’re always BYOB.

So why am I cheap?  That’s akin to asking why I’m left-handed.  I feel I had nothing to do with it, and it’s been with me as long as I can remember.

Both sets of my grandparents were/are incredibly tough on themselves about money virtually their entire lives.  Coming out of the Depression, that is not a huge surprise.  But when I see my grandmother fold her used foil to prepare for its next use, it sticks with me.  When I hear my grandfather went to Starbucks every week, not for coffee, but to pick up their grounds for his garden, I reassess the soy latte I am about to purchase.

But that’s not really my type of cheap.  Both sit too high on the labor-scale.  My type of cheap is bringing lunch to work to save five bucks.  My type of cheap is splitting the tab when there’s more than two of us.  I never buy myself clothes.  I only buy cards for people in the $0.99 aisle.  I tell the waiter I’ll stick with water.  I’ll walk a mile to avoid paying for parking.

I used to defend my inability to spend money by backing it up with some sort of righteousness…you know, like “I work, I save money, I don’t need to borrow from anyone, etc..”  But that comes to a rapid halt when someone points out that my parents paid for my college education.

So they weren’t cheap with you, were they, Abby?

My defensive logic also fails when I get a check in the mail from that very grandparent who folds foil.

How’s that stinginess working for you, now, Abbs?   Still can’t buy a friend dinner?

I have come to understand that the opposite of stinginess is generosity.  Those I tease for being cheapest in my family always turn out to be the ones who are most generous.  Look at my parents.   My dad won’t buy himself anything nicer than a Ford pickup (manual shift and windows, mind you), but then he spares no expense for my wedding week in Hawaii.  My mom won’t see movies in the theater (“It’s twelve dollars!  They’re insane!”) but then she takes all six of us on a two week vacation to Europe.

At first glance, it doesn’t make sense.  But when I look closer, when I push aside the coupon clippings and less-than-designer clothes, I realize the center of this is sacrifice.  They are not cheap, they are sacrificial.  They love their children or their grandchildren so intensely that they are willing to go without so they can give lavishly.  And that is righteous.

I was reminded this week of the alternative.  David Brooks wrote in his column in the New York Times that for the first time since its inception, the United States has lost the blessed virtue of restraint.  Americans are in worse debt than they ever have been, they make more money than ever before, and they seem completely unaware that either of those positions is disgraceful.

The key part of the journey is finding middle ground.   How can I be generous with others, show restraint for myself, and still not go into massive debt?  I am 25 and just realizing that this is entirely possible.

Mostly I am finding my footing by following Mike’s example.  He always tips far more than required.  He almost always covers the check when he’s out with a friend.  He spoils me with presents I don’t deserve.  And whenever we go to the movies, he always beelines for the popcorn and orders me a large.  Which to me is like Christmas, it’s so extravagant.

For now, parting with my money requires the effort of The Jaws of Life.  But I’m aware of it.  I’m moving to change it.  Four quotes are getting me there.

My father:  “Money is just a tool.  Use it to get what you need.  You control it; don’t let it control you.”

My mother:  “Don’t be cheap.”

My paternal grandfather:  “Never try to repay me for what I’ve given you.  Instead, do the same for your grandchildren.”

My maternal grandfather:  “Save.  Provide for your family.  Then, buy yourself a Cadillac.  What are you waiting for?”

They provide me with a goal.

For now, please remember not to text me because it’s ten cents a shot.

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