Who Writes This Stuff?

I am Supermom! Or at least Supermom's wimpy, out-of-shape sidekick with an opinion on everything from noisy obnoxious trucks to finding a bra that doesn't lead to that dastardly bra fat. Hang around to find out what my next rant or even an accidental insight into life will be!

Sunday, March 11, 2012

What American Dream?


               The Statue of Liberty.  Just for a moment, picture it in your head.  She’s tall, regal, and slightly green.  Yet, some of us, as born Americans, have lost the true meaning of this Iron Lady, an iconic figure symbolizing the American dream.  What used to bring immigrants to tears is now a tourist trap and a great photo op.  When and where did we lose our sense of WORKING for our American Dream?
                Let me tell you a story.  No, it’s not about enchiladas (see “Once Upon an Enchilada).  It’s about the strongest woman I’ve ever known.  My grandma Helen.  She was born in 1920 in Strassburg, Russia, near the Black Sea.  Her childhood was a normal childhood until WWII wreaked havoc on everything she knew.  My grandma and her mother and two sisters (along with all the German inhabitants of the little village) were forced to leave their homes.  Without any means of transportation, they WALKED from Strassburg, Russia to Poland!  WALKED.  Their journey was fraught with disease, intermittent air attacks, and Mother Nature.  My grandma not only lost her home, she also lost her only brother and her husband who were forced to enlist to fight for something they didn’t even necessarily believe in.  My grandma worked as a servant for many years, trying to support her young daughter.  It was then that she got word of a Catholic Church in Hague, North Dakota, who was willing to sponsor German Russian refugees.  This decision would affect the rest of her life.  She signed up and soon found herself standing on the deck of a ship, watching her mother wave to her.  She and her young daughter were leaving their country…forever. 
Upon reaching this country, The Statue of Liberty greeted her and sent her a message.  A message of hope.  A message of a dream.  Did this message promise instant gratification?  No.  Did this mute Lady promise a good paying job on the first try?  Nope.  Did my grandma get in writing that no matter what, happiness would fall in her lap?  I highly doubt it.  Here’s the message:  If you are willing to work and work hard, the American Dream is yours.  And you know something?  My grandma worked her fingers to the bone.  She never asked for anything or complained because she didn’t have what the “Jones’” had or that her life was rough and hard or that life had treated her unfairly.  Instead, she raised her seven children, respected and loved her husband, kept her household in order, loved God, and possibly loved her grandchildren more!  Her reward?  A legacy that will never end.  And a huge mansion in Heaven. 
So, what’s the moral of the story?  Simple.  The Statue of Liberty isn’t for people coming into this country.  Most of these newcomers understand the value of a strong work ethic.  Look at the jobs they’re willing to do just to live in this country!  The Statue of Liberty is for natural-born American citizens.  We are a spoiled, pampered, and whiney group.  Some of us don’t think we have to work for our bread and butter.  We simply think that we should hold out our hand and POOF…there’s a Big Mac and super-sized fries sitting in our palm.  Look at your grandparents, great-grandparents, and all the great greats.  Look what they had to do so you are able to have what you do now.  So, I think it’s time we get our hands dirty.  Ever pick acres and acres of lettuce to pay for food for your family?  Maybe you should.  That food you buy might taste a little better.  Next time you buy fruit, think about who picked it.  I’d bet it’s someone who’s just working to make the American Dream a reality for himself/herself and his/her family.  So my question to you is this…what are you doing to make your American Dream a reality?

Sunday, March 4, 2012

What’s Worse Then Getting Older?


If I had wanted to (which I secretly did, by the way), I could have walked out of Wal-Mart the other day with hundreds of skin care products promising to erase my wrinkles and make me appear youthfully radiant.  I then came home and turned the television on only to be barraged by makeup and skincare product commercials promising the same youthful appearance.  Upon hearing Ellen DeGeneres quote, “Hey wrinkle-face…”  I run to the bathroom and peer at my own face.  With a critical eye, I locate and place each wrinkle on my black list.  Making a vow to purchase the miracle foundation Ellen promised would hide all my aging blemishes, I turn away from my image and get back to life. 
                Isn’t that like most of us though?  We break the bank and break a sweat in the vain attempt to look ten, even twenty years younger.  Because of our seemingly endless infatuation with our youth, the beauty industry milks billions of dollars from people around the globe.  All because of our fear.  Our fear of getting older and being…OLD!!!!!  Sadly we waste our lives living in this self-induced nightmare.  Do you know the alternative to getting older?????  Being dead.  Harsh?  Maybe.  I mean to be. 
                Today I turned thirty-one years old.  I didn’t drown myself in alcohol or eat an entire container of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream (although, I could because calories don’t count on birthdays!).  I don’t feel any older, and my body didn’t grown another wrinkle.  I distinctly remember in my later twenties stating, “I’m going to need to be sedated on my thirtieth birthday!  I want to be twenty-nine forever.”  Something then happened that changed my perspective on aging forever.  I happen to share a birthday with a young man who will be fifteen forever.  Today as I celebrate my birthday, this young man’s family is mourning his.  He would have been seventeen today.  So did I mind turning thirty last year?  No.  At least I was turning thirty.  Will I mind turning forty in nine years if God grants me that time on this Earth?  No.  At least I’ll be turning forty.  Will I mind someday being eighty and watching my grandchildren grow into young adults?  I think you know the answer to that. 
                Sharing a birthday with this young man is a blessing in a way.  For the rest of my life, I’ll never be able to take life for granted.  With every wrinkle that spreads across my face, with every dark spot that appears on my skin, with every millimeter of sagging, with every year I get to spend on this Earth, I will carry this young man’s memory with me.  I hope you take this blog to heart.  This young man’s family, friends, and the people who were impacted by his smile have had to learn the hard way that growing old is NOT a curse…it’s life, and it’s one we should treasure.  So the next time you reach for that anti-aging crème to erase those dastardly wrinkles, STOP!  They are simply a road map showcasing where you’ve been; now it’s up to you to figure out where YOU want to end up.