All posts by Dona

Life is not like in the commercials

Events, Life

I don’t watch that much television — and rarely watch commercial television these days — but when I do watch broadcast TV, I don’t ignore the commercials. My husband switches channels when a commercial comes on or, if we’ve recorded the program, fast forwards through them, but I sort of like the bit of modern-day “culture” I see in TV ads.

There are three commercials that I remember preceding milestones in my life. The first was a diaper commercial. It featured a young family at the zoo looking at the animals. At the end of the commercial the baby (toddler, I think) is picked up by her father and nods her head — possibly in response to an animal nodding its head. This commercial caused my hormones to scream “WANT BABY NOW!”. So we had a baby, and as wonderful as that baby was — she never nodded to the animals at the zoo. And we didn’t use disposable diapers, so that ad was wasted on us as far as the advertising industry was concerned.

The next commercial that I remember using as a benchmark for my role as a mother was for a brand of beverage that I never planned on serving my kids, but liked the whole idea of my kids friends hanging out at our house. I wanted to be like the mother in this commercial:

For several reasons, some unknown to me, but others known, kids never wanted to hang out here. Maybe I should have bought Sunny Delight after all.

The last television advertisement that I felt an emotional response to was one I just saw the other day. This one, though, I suspected would not be true to life since the past year didn’t live up to my expectations. It did make me cry though:

Note: Unfortunately this video is no longer available and I don’t remember what it was.

After taking Clare to college, it turns out that this was the most true to life of the three commercials. We did have a feeling of dismay when we first saw the dorm room but after making the bed and after her roommate’s parents set up some things they’d bought (not at Walmart) it did look a little more cozy than at first glance.

One thing I’ve learned (the hard way) in the past 18 years of being a parent (and a human being, for that matter) is to avoid having set expectations about life events. Life turns out the way it is going to turn out — one cannot know exactly how scenes are going to be played out and one should not expect that everything is going to be exactly like one has planned. Sometimes (usually) it is worse. No set expectations improves the odds that it will be better.

Whaddaya Know?

Musings, People,

When I first noticed actor David Thewlis in Mike Leigh’s Life is Sweet (see it if you can find it), I knew there was something about him I liked. Until recently I thought it was because he resembled Bob, a guy I met in London to whom I was a little attracted.

David Thewlis in Life is Sweet
Bob in London
Bad photo of Bob
Bob again

I’ve seen many films that Thewlis has been in and have always liked his performance when I do. Even Naked. (another good, but disturbing film to watch)

I knew he played the Nazi father in The Boy in the Striped Pajamas and I knew he’d do it well because he is a good actor. It can’t be easy playing someone as hated as a Nazi, especially one who sent so many people to their deaths. I cannot say that I liked the film (I didn’t like the book), but I liked his performance.  He plays a loving but preoccupied (and naïve) father who is also a Nazi death camp commandant. 

A scene from The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

In one scene he asks his children about how they like life at their new home. I kept on looking at the character he played and was sure I’d seen that face before. Yeah, it was David Thewlis, but I finally knew who he reminded me of. No, it wasn’t Bob.

He resembled another man — one of the all time favorite men in my life: Grandpa Green. Of course it is the haircut, and the set of the lips and the chin. Maybe the nose too. I imagine the photo of my grandfather is from around the time of World War II. I’ll have to watch the Harry Potter films again to see if I see Grandpa in Lupin (Hmm, another werewolf).

Grandpa Green walking in Elgin

For Carolyn — a confession that comes too late

Memories,

In 1990 I began working for Fairfax County Public Schools at Rose Hill Elementary School as a special education teacher. I taught students in grades 4 – 6 and worked with many of the “regular” education teachers. One of the 4th grade teachers, Cindy, was also new that year and we, along with Rosanne, another special ed teacher became instant friends.

Cindy often complained to Rosanne and me about the other 4th grade teachers. I don’t recall the content of the complaints, but it seemed to involve her not being welcomed into the 4th grade community. I, being stupidly and blindly loyal to my friends, immediately took her side without seeing any discrimination for myself.

At grade level staff meetings (I had to attend all grade level meetings that involved the grades I taught) I was downright rude to the other 4th grade teachers. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember being cold and abrupt. How dare these women upset my new-found friend? I thought. I’ll show them!

So all year I carried on a private battle with Joyce and Carolyn. Carolyn once confronted me at the copier about my attitude but I denied anything was wrong.

That summer I gave birth to Clare and was on maternity leave until November. I remember walking into Cindy’s room after school on one of my first days back and being shocked to see her and Carolyn laughing together as if they were the best of friends. Something had changed, Cindy no longer disliked Carolyn. In fact, Cindy liked Carolyn. The war was over and no one told me.  Later I asked Cindy when the ceasefire happened and she denied ever being at war with Carolyn.

As the year went on, I got to like Carolyn too, but I always felt uncomfortable with her because of my actions the year before. When another friend, Joan, began teaching 4th grade, she and Carolyn became very close. I too, got to know Carolyn for the warm and kind person she was and the uncomfortableness I’d felt was pretty much gone, but not entirely forgotten by me (and I suspect by Carolyn).

When I started teaching again in the fall of 1995 I worked as a co-teacher with Joan. Two years later I chose to work as a co-teacher alongside Carolyn because she was retiring at the end of the year. I didn’t realize that Carolyn didn’t want the principal to know that she was going to retire, so when asked by the principal why I wanted to work with Carolyn, said because it would be my last chance because she was going to retire.

Not long after my meeting with the principal, Carolyn met with her and came back to the classroom upset. She said that someone told the principal about her retirement plans and that she suspected Laurie, one of the other special ed teachers. I said nothing. Months later when she met with the principal again, she asked her who told her about her retirement. The principal said it was me. Caught red-handed, I admitted that it was, indeed, I who spilled the beans. Carolyn wasn’t upset that I’d told the principal, but because I’d let her think it was Laurie all those months. I apologized and she accepted it and that was that, although I still feel horrible about it.

The next year Carolyn retired and I took leave of absence to pursue a Master’s degree and never went back to teaching. I saw Carolyn several times after we both left Rose Hill, but not a whole lot — mostly with Joan.

In 2002 Carolyn was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly before her 60th birthday. I don’t know much about the stages of the disease, but she was in a stage where she’d have to be on chemotherapy for the rest of her life. We talked occasionally. I heard through the grapevine that she wondered why I didn’t visit more often — was I afraid of the cancer? It wasn’t that. It was another reason — but just as selfish. It was because once when I visited a friend who’d broken her leg after not having seen her in a long time was accused by the friend of simply paying her a pity call. I didn’t want to be accused of paying pity calls.

Carolyn hosted a Christmastime dinner party a couple of years ago and after that I sort of lost contact with Joan — we used to instant message a bit, but I’d all but stopped instant messaging on AIM. In the late winter of 2007  Joan had a Jewelry party that Clare and I attended and Carolyn was there.  That was the last time I saw her.

Recently (last week, in fact) I decided I should do something about my friendship with Joan — call her or write her. I also decided to write Carolyn a note and maybe go see her. I’d even decided to really apologize for my behavior the first year at Rose Hill and for the incident our last year as well.

I found out a couple of days ago that Carolyn died just over a month ago. At first I was angry that I wasn’t told about it so I could go to the funeral, but then the feeling turned to one of numbness. Numb because once again I could have done something and didn’t. That inertia or whatever the hell is wrong with me when it comes to communicating with those that might just appreciate it set in again and I missed a chance to say goodbye.