Wednesday July 30, 2008 
Wednesday July 30, 2008
Last March we got the news – my mom's breast cancer had returned and metastasized to her bones. She's dying, and it's not a matter of if but of when.
My mom is the kind of person who, up to when this happened, would say to me in wonder, “I know I'm 86 years old, but honestly, Terry....I feel as though I'm 36, and I'm so shocked when I see myself in the mirror.” She acted like she was 36, too. A million girlfriends, three or four bridge games a week, the Cleveland Orchestra Women's Guild, supporting the Case Western Reserve Medical School where my dad went – my mom never stopped.
Happy when the sun was out and she was busy, depressed when it was gloomy and she was alone, there's no mistaking how my mom felt on any given day. But now? Now her life is a constant stream of incidents, and pain, and problems. Dreaded visits to the doctor. Waiting for results. More doctor visits. She said to me last weekend that she doesn't understand why people can't just drop dead when they're feeling great and miss all this misery at the end.
When my phone rings and I see my sister's name come up, I immediately take the call. Joan lives in Cleveland, across town from my mom, and she is much closer to the situation than am I. We've taken to starting our conversations with, “Don't worry, there's nothing wrong,” unless, of course, there is.
So I was sitting in an intense weeklong training session today when Joan's name came up on my cell. I grabbed the phone and left the meeting. My mom had just been hospitalized with a blood clot in her leg, and while on her way to admitting, fell. Is her wrist broken or just sprained? Will more surgery be required? Is the blood clot from the cancer medications? Was she dizzy from the treatments and did that contribute to the fall? How long will she be in the hospital? Should I jump on a plane and get myself to Cleveland immediately? Am I worrying more about logistics than about my mother?
Needless to say, getting my mind back to the training was nearly impossible for me today.
And now I sit here, past my bedtime, with an ache in my heart and fear in my soul. Because I know that while we may get past this crisis, eventually there will be a crisis that will be the last one. And it will be over. And the world will be a colder, lonelier place for me and my sister.
The price of a great mom is the great pain at her loss. It's a fair enough trade, and my mom has lived a long time. But as my friend Betty said, it's never the right time, and it's always a shock.
Monday July 28, 2008
Here's
the blog I wanted to write today:
Alas, poor me. Last week was miserable. Stuff going on in the company brought out my less-than-sweet side. I was irritable, cranky and no fun to be around. I didn't hold my temper as well as I should have. People were mean to me. I was mean right back. And none of it was my fault! If only I ruled the world...
There. That felt so good. And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming...
When our children were toddlers and given to full blown, screaming, throw-yourself-to-the-ground temper tantrums, my husband and I would comment on how great it would be to indulge in that behavior as an adult. Consider:
Provocation: You don't get the
promotion you deserved.
Spoken
words: “I HATE you!! You always loved (fill in the name)
more!”
Behavior:
Fling yourself into the corner. Throw your toys. Refuse to be
comforted.
or,
Provocation: Someone says
something mean about you or your team.
Spoken
words: “You're a big doo doo head! You stink!”
Behavior:
Bright red face. Arms akimbo. Defiant glare. Snot running
from nose.
or,
Provocation: One of the other kids
“steals” your toys.
Spoken
words: “Mommmmmmyyyyy! Make him stop!!”
Behavior:
Windmills of despair. Out of control sobbing. Pounding the
ground with hands and feet
It
really is a shame that these kinds of exhibits are frowned upon once
one passes age four. Because there are days when it would just plain
feel so good to let it all hang out. Alas, years of parental
admonitions have modified what we feel comfortable doing, and so
we're left to harrumph to ourselves, dream of elaborate revenges that
we won't execute, and complain to anyone who will listen to us.
Hmmm. Come to think of it, the temper tantrum would be faster and more satisfying. So if you'll excuse me, I need to go practice my windmills of despair out in the courtyard. I'll be back shortly, grumpiness exorcised, dignity forgotten.
Ahhhhh....
Monday July 21, 2008 I want it. I want it fully loaded, and I want it right now. I would have preferred red or orange but it only comes in black. Well, what the heck - it's what on the inside that counts, right? This isn't just a whim (OK, I admit to "whim weakness," like Wii fitness, which I just had to have but never bothered to hook up, earning me an eye roll from my husband). Honest. I've wanted this for several months and was trying to see if I could wait for the winter holidays, giving my husband the perfect gift idea. But let's face it - I'm impatient and besides... what if they were sold out? So I finally ordered it, and am now a little mad at myself for not springing for express delivery.
I'm talking about my new Kindle, of course. It can hold 200 books. TWO HUNDRED books! That means I can give up carrying four books with me on any trip (one I'm in the middle of, two I have great hopes for, and one a long-shot) - and give my back a break. And speaking as the Great Impatient One, it means that I don't have to wait for best sellers to come out as paperbacks - for $9.99, they're mine. Today.
This just might be the perfect gadget for those of us with no ability to postpone gratification.
Not to mention those of us who (ahem) just spent hours cleaning out storage and making numerous runs to the Goodwill with stuff that seemed to procreate in the back of our closets. So limiting at least one source of stuff is a big benefit to me. Even when that stuff is a book. (Plus I'm spared those arguments with my husband who wants me to hang onto every book that is in our possession - including cheap novels that were picked up in foreign airports out of desperation.)
One more plus - the Kindle was programmed in Java, and our Sun team helped with the engineering services to make it happen. How cool is that? I get to indulge myself and support a Sun-supported product at the same time.
I'm no stranger to e-books. I was one of the early adopters when they rolled out, what, 8 years ago or so? Which meant I was one of the early losers when they became non-functioning, with all kinds of different book formats making it impossible to use. And I can tell you - I loved that e-book reader. And have been waiting for technology to catch up.
Yes, I know. This is another blow to bookstores, and that does make me sad. But it's not a blow to writers - it's a new outlet and one that should lower the threshold to get materials published. No concerns about overruns, no shipping costs.
Speaking of endangered businesses, you can also get your daily newspaper downloaded (I hope they charge for the subscription - I'm not looking for a free ride, just less paper. And the convenience of reading my hometown paper wherever I happen to be...).
So technology is my leisure life friend. It provides me with endless entertainment, from books to movies (we're big TIVO fans and have subscribed to the top 100 American Film Institute movies - for free. So far we've watched, well, four. Uh oh - 96 more to go!). And it could provide me with exercise, too, if I figured out Wii fitness. I don't think technology has stolen my soul. I do think it has enriched my life. As long as we keep exploring the non-cyber world and take time to smell the real roses...
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Jul 21 2008, 09:30:40 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [0]
Monday July 14, 2008 I'm the youngest of two children, and my role in the family was that of peacemaker. My poor sister fought all the fights, battled for all the rights. And because these were bloody, screaming battles, I was the one who would plead, "Can we please, please just get along?"
Because my parents were yellers - at us, at each other, I grew to really, really dislike screaming arguments. So when I get mad - red sheet of anger dropping over my eyes mad - I tend to go in the opposite direction. Quiet. Icy. But not withdrawn - just trying to use quiet space to figure out my next move.
So in reading the many posts last week to both internal and external venues, I had the same childhood reaction - "Can we please, please just get along?" My sister would shrug and tell me to get over it - families fight, and sometimes it's unpleasant but it's all part of the dynamic.
And I get that. I know how tough last week was. Miserable barely starts to describe it. Walking around MPK10 and seeing people crying in each other's arms. Hearing about yet another friend who lost his or her job. Having to deliver bad news myself. And watching the stock continue to drop. Anyone who doesn't get how bad last week was... Well, that I don't get.
But back to those posts. Talk about venting. Wow. There was a lot of it. And I think some of it reflected the disappointment and frustration many of us feel. How can this be happening to us - AGAIN? But some of the postings were so nasty, so slanderous, so over-the-top, that reading them made me feel worse - and eventually upset. Does my bad reaction to much of what I read relate to my hatred of screaming? Maybe. But I just don't see much good coming out of ethnic slurs, accusations of unethical behavior, and saliva-speckled bursts of venom.
A number of writers complained that they had to vent externally because there's no place to do it internally. Oh, please. Yes, we do. Sun employees can provide anonymous feedback in a variety of internal places, typically in comment areas on articles, playbooks and videocasts. But I really wish we didn't allow it. Because reading last week's anonymous comments reinforced my belief that anonymity is a bad thing, not a good thing.*
I know this is a minority position, because some people are genuinely afraid to speak up. But I believe owning your opinion is the right thing to do because signing your name to something lends credibility to your opinion. It also introduces dialog and says you're willing to engage in discussion of the issue (rather than just sling mud).
One of the sad ironies I found in the ugly exchange last week was that so many posters complained that Jonathan et al would never respond to these comments. Well, now let's get real. What could Jonathan - or anyone, for that matter - say in response to those attacks? Let's see, maybe he could say, "Oh yeah? Am not!" Constructive dialog requires the right behavior on both sides of the equation.
Let the conversation - not the hurling of insults - begin. Because I, like most of us, believe we have something worth fighting for here at Sun. And that solutions worked together and civilly give us a chance, whereas divisive techniques poison us from within.
*Of course, if you have a problem with the ethics/behavior of your manager or any part of the company, I support 100 percent your need and right for anonymity. That's why we provide anonymous feedback and complaints to our Business Conduct Office.
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Jul 14 2008, 08:00:00 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [1]
Thursday July 10, 2008 No wisdom, no wisecracks today.
Just a sad farewell to many friends and colleagues. I appreciate everything you've done for us and wish you all the best.
Terry
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Jul 10 2008, 08:41:34 AM PDT ) Permalink Comments [0]
Wednesday July 02, 2008 Lemon Skies Against a Carved Landscape
Atacama is a land of textures and sounds and sights. To really appreciate it, you need to be fully present, in the moment. One minute the wind is rushing around you, roaring past the mountains. The next you are sheltered by huge rocks, and silence surrounds you. You look up at a perfectly blue sky, and 30 minutes later the sky has turned lemon yellow and the clouds deep pink and purple as the sun sets. You make your way through 7 foot tall groves of cutting grass, with their wheat-like tips bending gently with the breeze, and a small Andes-fed creek is running at your feet. The next day you climb huge sand dunes, with the sand rippled like a lake all around you. You turn the corner and find stark carved rock sculptures. The shadows play games with you - that rock looks like a gargoyle, and the one just past like a horse...until you get closer and see your eye was fooling you.
Words fall short of describing the landscape. I hope these photos help capture the experience for you...
and yes, clicking on each image will enlarge them.
The skies of Atacama...
The textures of Atacama...
The wildlife of Atacama...
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Jul 02 2008, 02:42:03 PM PDT ) Permalink Comments [1]
