Thursday, October 11, 2012

Signatures



SIGH.  I am starting with a sigh.  An all caps sigh.  I work in academia.  Say “academia” while lifting your chin and looking down your nose.  (Actually, looking down my nose is something I do frequently if I forget to change glasses when I play the piano, and I can only make out the notes on the page if I hold my head exactly so and look through a tiny sweet spot on the lower third of my graduated lenses.  TMI, I know.)
In this economy I am grateful to have a job that puts milk, honey and bread on the table and keeps four warm walls and a roof around those I love and am responsible for.  I sigh because some days I can hardly bear the snobbery of higher education.  Today is one of those days.  I got an email from a colleague who does basically the same job that I do at this institution, semester after semester, year after year.  I know the person, and this person whom I will call Colleague Q for convenience is very upbeat.  Although I do not work closely with Q, I have observed that Q is kind and thoughtful and competent.
So why am I sighing?  Q’s email invited me and everyone else on Q’s list to a training event.  The email was clearly, correctly and not overly worded.  The problem was the signature.  First of all, the signature was in a different color.  Okay, maybe black is boring.  I can live with green or purple or blue, although red usually indicates some bureaucratic order that if disobeyed will result in dire consequences.   While any person of normal logic already complies with the ethical principles behind said order without red lettering.  Unfortunately this email came with a red notice also, but that’s not what made me sigh.
Back to the signature.  I am sighing over letters.  Fourteen letters and all caps that follow Q’s name in, I suppose, every email Q sends.  Q, MPA, JSP, CWDP, GCDF. 
I know what MPA stands for.  I even considered this degree once upon a time for a few minutes.  But I haven’t a clue as to what JSP, CWDP, and GCDF stand for.  I know I am posting my ignorance for all to see and ridicule.   Why did Q put all those letters behind Q’s signature?  Am I hopelessly last century because I don’t know and don’t care what all those letters mean? They mean something to Q.  What advantage does Q get from signing fourteen letters?  Does Q hope to intimidate me because I can only put two academic letters behind my signature if I wanted to, and I never do, want to, that is.
Last week I got a personal email from the president of the institution I work for.  He didn’t sign his full name preceded by title and followed by a plethora of letters.  He signed it with his abbreviated first name.  The name I would guess his family and friends use. Maybe that is part of the reason he is the president.

Friday, May 11, 2012

The joy of being a parent

I went to watch Daniel compete in the DanceSport Championships in March.  I love watching dancing.  For one thing, it is exercise set to music, and everything is better set to music, don’t you agree?  Ballroom is exercise with another person.  That is also a wonderful thing.  But dance is more:  it is graceful, energetic and beautiful.  The other delicious thing was that I took time off from my job in the middle of the day to go watch the individual competition.  Even if you love your job, it is fun to take time off, when you usually don’t expect to have time off.
As I was watching Daniel and his partner, Miranda, dance, I could not have felt happier.  Daniel loves to dance.  It didn’t matter to me that he and Miranda were not going to win first place; they were doing their best and they were happy.  Dancers and spectators shared a love of life, of creativity.
Maybe Heavenly Father feels like I do.  He just wants us to do our best and to be happy.  Is Daniel a lot better dancer than he was two or three years ago?  Absolutely!  Will he be even better in two years if he keeps practicing?  Absolutely!  Will he have even more joy in his dancing then?  Absolutely!  Will I have more joy in watching him?  I don’t know.   I was totally happy that day at that time.  I will be happy again when he gets to his new place. 
As a parent I feel great joy to see where my children are now.  I went with Kate to a voice competition.  I am so happy to hear Kate sing.  Her voice has improved so much in the past two years.  On the other hand, I also felt great joy hearing her sing when she was four, or eight, or twelve. I felt amazing joy at Elise’s first step at ten months of age, and when seven year old Tom borrowed Farmer Boy and finished it on his own.  I felt joy when Arwen graduated with her Master’s degree, and when Jani got her private pilot certificate, and when Joanie gave her senior recital and ever so many quiet and ordinary moments when my children have done good things.  When my children do their best in ordinary and extraordinary ways, they fill the measure of their creation, and the heavens and I rejoice.