I’m Thirsty (for good friends).
By Pam Sherman | September 16, 2010
Today was the day my dear friend moved away from our little hamlet. And I couldn’t help but feel sad. It felt like the end of an era. Friends come into our lives for so many reasons. My friend was my neighborhood friend. We met because of proximity. Had she moved somewhere else perhaps we’d never have met at all. But she moved in up the block and our kids were about the same age and I really really liked her - instantly. Friends at first sight.
We have so many categories of friends if you think about it. Work friends. School friends. Neighborhood friends. But good friends have no category.
We’ve had a long goodbye for my friend because we’ve known she was leaving for a long time. Tuesday night there was yet another goodbye party. This time with her book club friends. (Love how women multi-task - we’re going to pick our books and say goodbye to you at the same time, ok?). I was crashing the book club and really getting to know her friends. Toasts were made - this was mine -”I’m going to miss you. You were my daughter’s crafty mother, my son’s favorite baker, my husband loved your witty repartee AND I loved how you returned my phone calls, my emails….wait, you never did that you were awful at keeping in touch and you lived up the block now how are we going to keep in touch?! Yea, I’m not going to miss you at all it will be like you still live here.”
But it won’t.
Because now she will have new every day friends. And I’m a little jealous because they get to have her. I get it now that I’ve moved away from my friends from Washington, D.C. We were young attorneys together and had our kids at the same time and took each other for granted every day just like we should because we lived so close. And then I moved away and realized they were going on with their day to day lives and I knew no one in my new town. But as I look back I realize friends find you wherever you are - every day friends and all your life friends. And this one is a keeper. She’s stuck with this friend forever.
As the night was winding down, she lamented that there was one place she’d never been in town - the unmarked tavern called, Thirsty’s. And I realized I’d never been there either. The next thing I knew it was 11:00 p.m. and her delightful book club friends kidnapped us and brought us to this little white building in our quaint downtown. A non-descript, totally low key old-fashioned, not cool bar. The place smells…just like a bar should. The bartender - friendly. The jukebox loud. And the beer and wine cheap (even the top-shelf vodka is cheap - where has this place been all my life?). And as we reveled into the night and enjoyed her company I realized she may be leaving the neighborhood but what I gained from her friendship will stay with me for a long time…. including her book club friends - they are total keepers.
Surprises in the Cornfield (As seen on www.herrochester.com).
By Pam Sherman | September 5, 2010
Today as we went for a walk into town we decided to take a different path. There is a big circle loop about 4 miles from our house into the quaint town of Pittsford, slightly north of the Erie Canal in Upstate New York (Western New York actually - which I didn’t know even existed before I moved here AND I’m from New York). Instead of going the usual way we went another and it changed the paradigm in so many ways. The huge hill was down not up. We could view the vistas of the nearby Bristol mountains from the front view (usually they are behind us). And then, on the way back home, as we passed by the cornfield I usually run by, we stopped to take pictures of the gorgeous wild flowers. And that’s when I saw a little sign that said “trail.”
We’ve lived here for 8 years and I’d never noticed the sign before. We decided to turn right into the trail through the cornfield. We didn’t know where it would lead but we decided to keep walking letting the trail weave right and left through the woods. It opened onto an expansive field used for local soccer games and football practice and lead right back to our neighborhood.
This trail had been in the cornfield all along. In fact, friends of ours who had moved here from Iowa had found the trail and they’d told me about it and I remember thinking, “I’m not walking into the corn field, there are scary things there.” When I moved here every time I passed by that cornfield I would burst into tears missing the city, my friends, and my former life. My friend from Iowa probably felt the same way, but the opposite way, missing her friends, family and life and cornfields in the Midwest. For me, as a city girl I kept thinking of cornfields in the M. Night Shmylayan way. Mazes and aliens and scary things that rustle the leaves. For her, as a Midwesterner she probably thinks of cornfields in the Kevin Costner, “Field of Dreams” way. All possibilities and sunshine and light.
But as I walked through the cornfield today, I realized how living near a cornfield had changed me in so many ways. I also thought about how much I’d learned from meeting my friend from Iowa. When she first moved here, I remember introducing her to people like she was from France. She was that cool to me. I’ve learned she’s not an alien, she’s funny and cosmopolitan (actually way more sophisticated than I am I think she even speaks French), but most important she’s a good and true friend.
And now she’s moving back to the Midwest and she is thrilled. Me not so much. I’m going to miss her a lot but I’m so glad she’s in my life. Now I have a reason to visit new cornfields, far from here but I’m sure equally as beautiful.
I’m so glad we turned right today. It was a beautiful walk through the cornfield that frightened me so much when we first moved here. Thank goodness for the ability to always turn right…a new/old trail can be right there if you just decide to take it or if you let your new/old friends lead you there.
Climb Every Mountain - As seen on www.herrochester.com
By Pam Sherman | August 30, 2010
Every year as the summer winds down my husband insists that we take our kids on an end of summer road trip. As the kids have gotten older they’ve started to push back. This trip always takes place about a day after they come back from sleep-away camp. This trip always involves a heroic effort by their mother to unpack and wash about 15 loads of musty laundry and repack for three people (I refuse to pack for my husband as he is a grown-up and can pack for himself). AND this trip always involves a climb up a mountain. Yes. A mountain climb with two exhausted and whining kids. A mountain climb with a mother who would much rather sit at the bottom of the mountain with a beer and admire the mountain from afar. A mountain climb with a mother from NYC who would much rather climb her “mountains” proverbially rather than literally or take an elevator up a very high skyscraper and call it a day.
But each year in spite of the protests my husband stoically packs us all into the car (while I whiningly pack us into duffel bags) and off we go. AND wouldn’t you know that each year we climb that mountain and it feels so good. The end of a great summer an the start of a new school year not only for our kids but for us. Back to having a schedule. Back to doing homework. Back to the climb.
Last year our Mt. Tremblant hike took about 3 hours - it felt interminable. We ended up taking the Gondola down because it was so long going up. Two years ago was so steep I climbed down on my bottom. Literally - great white shorts ruined (OK, I know why white?). This year was shorter and steeper and scarier at Blue Mountain, in Collingwood, Canada - but we made it. Sweating, whining, crying, laughing.
And we had a great trip. No internet. No TV. Card games and time together reading. As we drove back we got a call that a friend’s father had passed away. A loved man. A great man. We hurried home to make it to the funeral the next day. We sat listening to tributes to this man. His grandchildren, who loved how he loved them. His children, who live how he taught them. One of them the youngest, choking back tears, told the story about how he and his siblings would go to camp and each summer after returning from their camp sojourn their father insisted they take a family road trip. They argued and complained but they went along for his rides - as a family, together, a ritual to end the summer.
What a gift that man’s life was. His funeral was a celebration of life. A moment of reflection and perspective. And a chance to finally tell my husband….honey, you were right. A road trip and a mountain climb - what a good way to end the summer.
Here’s to the climb.
Summer Musings of a Control Freak: What’s For Dinner? Nothing (also seen on www.herrochester.com)
By Pam Sherman | August 14, 2010
Summer time and the living is easy…especially when the kids are gone for three weeks of summer camp. Yup. Three weeks. This year my husband and I traveled first to Chicago, where I taught Acting Skills for Your Professional Life at the Kellogg School at Northwestern, then off to Florida for a few days of hot heat. Two weeks down and one to go. While we spent almost two weeks on the road, it is amazing how much doing away with the mundane chores of every day life frees your mind to think, create, and breathe (yes, my mind breathes). Too often during the school year I’m a walking to-do list. I also feel like I have to keep track not only of my life but the lives of everyone else in the family - including the dog. I know this will change as my kids get older, but now, they still look at me every day and say, “What’s for dinner, Mom?”
During these three weeks no one asks me that question. In fact, sometimes, we don’t even eat dinner. One of the biggest pleasures of that trip to Chicago was spending time with my nephew and my sister and brother-in-law. I was speechless when I arrived at their house and my nephew, just turned 21, was making dinner. And not just boiling water for pasta - a gourmet dinner of rolled flank steak and summer succotash. I know that my kids will one day make dinner for us…but not if I keep my control freak on and don’t let them just figure it out for themselves.
While structure is the thing that gives me comfort in the busy pace of the school year, perhaps keeping the attitude of “we’ll figure it out when dinner comes” will loosen us up enough to allow my kids to be more creative and even, dare I say it, helpful. I have a feeling we won’t go hungry. “What’s for dinner, Mom?” ”I don’t know. Why don’t you make it tonight?” I’ll cross my fingers for creativity and succotash.
Big Fish, Small Pond, Big Pond, Small Fish (As also seen on www.Herrochester.com
By Pam Sherman | July 13, 2010
I recently wrote an article about an amazing family, the Belascos of Greece New York, who every year since 2007 have put on a concert in their back yard called Jazz on the Pond (www.jazzonthepond.org) to raise money for Eastman School of Music students. I was incredibly moved by their story, a story of family love, connections, giving back and the legacy of their Mom who passed away 29 years ago from cancer. I had the privilege of sharing their story and most important, the privilege of being present at the concert which took place on Cranberry Pond, This year the concert featured jazz trumpet legend Rick Braun, Chaka Kahn and students from the Eastman School of Music wowing us with their virtuosity. It was an amazing event and this year the family raised enough funds to send a student to Eastman for a whole year. They’ve nicknamed the event, Big Fish, Small Pond.
Here is the story behind the story.In March 2009 I met a woman at a wonderful YPO (Young Presidents’ Organization) conference in Miami (chronicled in this blog). She lives in LA across the country. We met again this year in Barcelona and she “friended” me on Facebook. And then she invited me to an event in Greece, New York in July. When I asked her how she even knew where Greece New York was, let alone about an event I’d never heard of in my own city, she told me…now get this, about a friend she met in CHINA who lived in LA but who grew up in Greece, New York and who was committed to giving back to his birth community. That guy, David Belasco, along with his sisters, is the impresario behind the Jazz on the Pond event.
At the event I met a whole host of people who remain committed to the community of their youth from afar, those who had never left, those who had left and moved back to raise their families, and those who spend each summer with their families in the area. I also met people from London, France, and of course LA.My friend arrived in Rochester along with three other friends from around the country, and I had the pleasure of introducing them to all the treasures of Rochester including: a great meal at Two Vine, a trip to the country-side to enjoy the world-famous Mackenzie-Childs, and brunch on the Erie Canal. I was incredibly proud to show off the gems of our community and most of all the generosity that is part of the fabric of Rochester.
But mostly I couldn’t help but think how each of us are small fish in one big pond. The pond connects us all. I flew across a big pond and met a new friend who brought me so many more new friends both at home and afar.
Because of that trip across the pond I was able to share a live intimate concert with my husband who is a huge Rick Braun fan and who, coincidentally on the night of our 25th anniversary this past December pulled over to listen to a Rick Braun song as we drove to our celebration. He told me that listening to this music made him love me even more (you know we all have songs that make our hearts more full right? I do now).
When I moved to Rochester I was well, I’ll say it, I was a big city snob. I had only lived in places that think they are the center of the universe: New York and DC. But now I realize that whether you live in a small city or a big one we are all somehow connected and the center of the universe travels with you. You never know who you are going to meet, and you never know what kind of pond you’ll be flying over or sitting at for a concert the next summer – you just have to remain open to the possibilities and magic will happen. Magic like being a part of the Belasco Family Foundation’s Annual Celebration of Jazz on the Pond for the Eastman School of Music. And did I mention they gave me the honor of the Jazz on the Pond Oar and made me cry? I hope to see you there next year - I know you will cry and laugh and sing and dance with me too - whichever pond you come from.
Summer Lovin’
By Pam Sherman | June 27, 2010
Everyone keeps telling me how much they love summer. The kids are out of school. No schedule. Lazy days. Long days. Summertime - bug bites, too much ice cream, big pores, charred meat, the lovely sounds of my tweenage children: ”Mom I’m Bored,” “Mom can you drive me?” “Mom what am I doing today?” Oh my, when will summer camp begin. I know that I should be breathing a sigh of relief that another school year is done. But, there is something I like about the routine of the school year. Perhaps I will love the routine of the summer time…when I figure out what it is. I’m trying to squeeze in client meetings, work travel, reports, and deadlines and suddenly my children have “nothing” to do. I’m glad they are on vacation - because I am not. I will be on vacation - when I’m on vacation. Managing my children’s non-schedule is harder than managing their actual schedule. During the school year I know where they have to be and where I have to be and it is coded onto an Outlook calendar that would make General Patton proud. During the summer time I don’t know what is happening until I get the phone call that instantly demands wherever I may be (including, in one instance in stirrups at my Doctor) a pick-up to “hang” with someone (needless to say I was late that time). When they were little I arranged the play-dates according to my schedule. Now that they are in-between there is no plan AND worse yet it is a non-plan that I have no control over. I swear the dog is easier to manage. This summer feels different too, as my kids, who are both moving up to new schools - middle and high school respectively - are no longer just little kids satisfied with playing in the sprinkler. No, they are tweenagers with lots of new friends. And these new kids are texting and FaceBooking and e-mailing. AND these “new” kids are kids I don’t know. When my 14 year old said to me, “You don’t get to pick my friends any more,” I knew it was going to be a long summer. Uh, yes I do. I want to proudly be known as the strict mother, who won’t let you stay up all night just because it is summer (because then you are a bear the next day just like when you were little). I want to strut my stuff as the mother with rules about who you hang with and how long you can do it for (just like when I told you couldn’t have a play-date in 2nd grade with the kid who showed you his father’s gun). I want to make you work - even though you are 14 and it is hard to find a job - I’ll help you find a volunteer position to give something back (like when I used to make you work on school days off with your Dad). At least I’m consistent. At least you know who I am. We can laugh about how strict I was when you are in your 40’s and you are successfully paying for my nursing home. Sure, I know that summer time is all about popsicles and calamine lotion and sweating through the long days. But I also know it is also about remembering that you are growing up and Mom and Dad still do know best. I love my kids and I love that summer is here. And fun will be had when they leave for sleep away camp and can choose not to shower or make their bed or follow any rules for three whole weeks. Fun will be had making s’mores at night as a family and hanging in the hammock. Fun will be had with friends (those that I approve of). And fun will be had when we are together as a family on vacation - all of us. After that, it is back to the gulag of growing up. Forget camp - let’s be honest, I can’t wait for the first day of school.
Memorial Day Americana, as seen on www.herrochester.com
By Pam Sherman | June 1, 2010
I walked to the Memorial Day parade in our town with my daughter and our old friend, actually our old nanny who was visiting from Washington, D.C. Years ago, almost ten to be exact, we began sponsoring our nanny for her green card here in America. She came to America from Indonesia in order to earn enough money to help her family back home. She has through hard work and perserverance put two siblings back home through college, one will be an engineer, the other, a psychologist. She taught our family about her part of the world and her religion. And today I taught her about Memorial Day. We stood with the rest of the crowd as the men and women of the armed services walked by. We clapped for what they’ve done for our country. And what they’ve done for her, a new immigrant. While she yearns for the day she can return home to see her family, I know that her family here in America is important and dear to her. She told me that she has 5 children now, my two (almost teenagers) and the three little ones she cares for in D.C. As I stood with my friend, an immigrant to America and watched proud Americans standing and saluting our men and women, I thought about her bravery in coming to this country. At the time she knew no one. She’d been invited by a distant Aunt to come and work in an Embassy in DC and when that fell through she began to care for other people’s children. She moved to Rochester with us, gladly and learned to love the snow and the cold and most of all the people here. We employed her well beyond our means and our need mainly because of our sponsorship of her green card, and hopefully her eventual citizenship. When she earns her green card (very soon we are told) I know that it will be one of the good deeds of my life to have ushered this bright, capable, hard-working young woman to America and to our family. Happy Memorial Day to all Americans, new and old, and in-between.
Don’t you know I’m inspirational? (As seen on www.herrochester.com)
By Pam Sherman | May 14, 2010
Funny, in my work life I support business leaders on how to present themselves and their message with passion using the skills I learned as an actor. I teach them what it means to be authentic and to have presence. I teach that there shouldn’t be a disconnect with who you ARE and how you present yourself. The greatest leaders know this and present themselves with authenticity and energy. I love my work and I love to share my energy with others. And my clients are experiencing great success. But then I come home….to my children. I present my message with passion (clean your room, do your homework, grow up!) and I am certainly authentic (I’m an open book). So why don’t they see how INSPIRATIONAL I AM? I think I am learning more about leadership from my interactions with my grunting teenager and my emotional pre-teen than from any leadership book on my shelf. There are leadership books that get their inspiration from a myriad of topics, the Art of War, the Air Force Academy, Smiley Faces, even the animal kingdom. I’m writing the Leadership Lessons Learned from Living with Teenagers. It is all about motivation, values, discipline, inspiration, passion and most important, listening (getting them to and listening to them). Perhaps we can get Nintendo to integrate some lessons into their X-Box 360 games (not involving killing the enemy)? Or Club Penguin can help inspire our kids to do some good in the world? In the meantime, I will keep sending my message to my kids and hope that like my clients they will find me…inspirational.
When I Grow Up.
By Pam Sherman | April 26, 2010
On future career day my 11 year old daughter decided she was going to dress as an architect, artist, writer, and lawyer. I’m proud to be raising a multi-tasking free spirit. But when she told me that the other job she wanted was “mother,” I couldn’t help but blurt out, “That’s not a job.” Since when did becoming a mother become a career choice instead of a life choice? There is no job description, you don’t get hired, and there is no income potential. Isn’t it a role we play, like wife, sister, and daughter?
One girl only picked being a Mommy for career day. I asked my daughter, “What did she wear?” Really, what does a Mom wear to work (something stained in my experience). My daughter only noticed the accessories - American Girl Bitty Babies. I wanted to ask my daughter how many boys picked being a father for career day.
Another friend of mine pointed out that the word MOTHERHOOD implies something more than a career. We don’t call it lawyerhood or architecthood. To me motherhood - just seems bigger somehow. I would never say my career is being a daughter, wife or a sister.
I love people’s stories and often that includes what they do - not necessarily in their jobs but what they actually do. I always ask women, “Do you work outside the home?” Perhaps if you see a career as a calling motherhood is aptly called a career. But do we negate the generations of mothers who came before us as “less than” because their motherhood wasn’t characterized as a career choice but as something they just did, “naturally.”
If motherhood was listed on Monster.com as a job think of the possibilities. Would you have to interview to see if you were qualified (actually this may not be a bad idea)? And who would do the interviewing? The job descriptions? The salary negotiations? Think of the consultants (actually they already exist don’t they?).
When I was a kid, I never even thought I’d be a mother. I didn’t even like other people’s children. I wasn’t even sure after I got married if I wanted children. But now that I have children in my view they are not something I DO, but a precious relationship and responsibility that I strive to handle with care and with grace (not always realized, but always aspired for). I want my daughter to be anything she wants to be when she grows up. But in my view also want her to recognize that a career is different from a fundamental human relationship. A career may be fundamental to who you are. It may even define you. But it has a different aspect to it than something as primal as being a mother. I’ve done a lot of things, writer, actor, lawyer, professor, consultant. Yet in the end, while I may have touched many individuals in all those aspects of my career, I think the children I am raising will be the most important thing I do. And that may not be my career but in the end it is who I am.
Growth Spurts - “Did that Hurt?”
By Pam Sherman | April 10, 2010
I will never forget asking my nephew as I watched him growing taller and taller (he is now 6′5″), “Did that hurt?” He said he didn’t think so. But it must have. Our children have growth spurts all the time, both physical and emotional. We watch them as they struggle with those changes. Think of their struggle with those first steps, the transition from toddler to school-child, and the even larger transition from little boy or girl to teenager. All these transitions are huge and often they are accompanied by pain for our kids and for us as their parents. I remember having these V-8 moments when my kids were infants wondering why they couldn’t sleep at night when they were sleeping just fine the week before - the answer invariably was, growth spurt. So what happens when we get older? Where are our growth spurts? We may not realize that when we struggle with change we are going through our own personal growth spurts. They don’t end just because we are presumably “fully formed.” In fact, the pain and struggle continues when we get older but it may not be as obvious. And just like our kids, after all that pain and struggle we tend to forget and are just, well, somehow taller. As I travel around the world spreading the EDGE message both in my work as The Suburban Outlaw and in my coaching and training role, I can’t help but think about growth (the G in EDGE). This is on my mind this Spring because I’m seeing live the benefits of going out of my comfort zone last fall. I’ve never been a gardener and this past fall we planted actual bulbs (I know, what’s so hard about that?). Now I’m watching flowers I cannot even name pop up from the dirt. The metaphor of planting something and having it struggle through the dirt to yield color and beauty months later rings true in life. I realize now I needed to live a creative life as an actor and a writer in order to bring my offering back to the business world. Cultivating my personal growth and sometimes even struggling along the path to the Actor’s EDGE has helped me to make a difference in the business world by helping business leaders to connect their hearts to the bottom-line. I struggled with the transition from lawyer to actor. I struggled as I sat writing my play with my partner, weeping sometimes at how hard it was, and I struggle today to constantly refine my EDGE message for the audiences I serve. Of course, we continue to to grow even after we’re all grown-up. But sometimes, we forget to take the leaps that came naturally and seemingly effortlessly when we were younger because now we are aware of the struggle and the pain. G: Grow out of your comfort zone. Plant a flower. Get a little taller. Decide to have a growth spurt. Don’t worry it won’t hurt a bit and if it does, just like my nephew, you’ll eventually forget all about it.
Subscribe to RSS Feed