One and Only New Year’s Resolution

Get organized.

I made only one vow this New Year. That way I figure I would succeed. I started early before the holidays. But it is not going to be easy. My sister, Sue, was born with all the organizing genes in the family, so I got short changed in the tidy up department.

Never mind. I do try. Like the experts suggest, change doesn’t happen overnight. Start simple. Clean one drawer.

I start with the kitchen drawer. What really precipitated the resolution was my husband coming home from work yelling when he sets off the burglar alarm, « Where did you put the alarm deactivator. »

A decade ago, after being burglarized twice, we bought a sensorized sound system. We once had four alarm deactivator buttons the size of erasers ; we now have one. Every time the alarm goes off, DAILY, we conduct a « scream and search. »

My husband says he changed the battery months ago and swears he put it in the kitchen drawer. Thus my quest for self actualization through organization begins there. Most people store eating utensils in kitchen drawers. Not me. I find twenty pens, ten pencils, five highlighters, three board markers, two whistles and one sticky piece of bubble gum. See my priorities. In addition to writing tools, I discover pocket notebooks, Post-Its, a card from my daughter written in 1990, and a party list for my son’s fifth birthday. But that’s not all. I also uncover a Swiss army knife, a bottle opener, a pack of Kleenex, a glue stick, a scissors, a piece of chocolate, band-aides, pain killer, anti acids, matches, a mini flashlight, my cell phone, gym keys and cash in five different currencies.

No need for me to pack a safety kit to store in the car for inclement winter weather, I’ll just carry my kitchen drawer along every time I go out the door.

When my husband comes home from work, he doesn’t say, « Honey, I’m home how was your day ? »

No. When the siren starts screeching, It’s the usual, « Pot ! (Pat in French) WTF did you put the alarm? »

The trouble is that as all women know, one magic drawer exists in every household. Whatever you put in it, disappears. My new year’s resolution is doomed to fail. How can I get organized, whenever I am not looking, the drawer fairy strikes again. Somewhere in the house, my little leprechaun has a stash of treasures.

Yet get this, FYI, the Frenchman found the alarm in his camera bag where he left it after our last trip to the states, so much for tidy kitchen drawers and New Year’s Resolutions!

Anniversary of Human Rights- 7 Billion People Share Our Birthday

Every December 10th, we mark the anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights adopted and proclaimed by the UN in Paris 1948. This defends individuals’ rights such as life, equality, and freedom of expression and includes economic, social and cultural privileges we cherish in western society, but often take for granted.

I live in Geneva, headquarters of the United Nations, World Health Organization, International Labor Organization, Red Cross and dozens of world-renowned humanitarian agencies that fight for equality in workplace and promote health and safety, so I never forget the date. The United Nations Human Rights- Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights works to protect rights through international laws.

Article 1 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights: “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights.”

In her speech addressing the UN General Assembly in Geneva, Hillary Clinton challenged diplomats from around the world by saying “Gay rights are human rights, too” and called on world leaders to stop discrimination against gays. “It should never be a crime to be gay.”

Some of my senior students heard the American Secretary of State’s address at the UN, but not everyone could join in marches, attend celebrations, or hear speeches of global leaders. However, we can each steal a moment from our busy lives to reflect on the millions of people who are not allowed to enjoy their rights and to pay tribute to those who have lost their lives fighting for freedom for others.

The Universal Declarations of Rights, the most translated document in modern history, available in 382 languages, promotes and protects freedoms of individuals or groups across boundaries and civilizations.

Yet we fall short. Actions speak stronger than words. Genocide recurs, oppression continues, violence erupts, women are mistreated, and slavery exists. Human rights are violated. Everyday. Everywhere. We may be powerless as individuals to radically change laws governing countries, but what small step can we take in our own neighborhood to make a difference? Shake hands with someone of another race; stop to chat with an elderly neighbor, slow down to help a handicapped person. Go out of our way to acknowledge human dignity in others, regardless of their religious beliefs, sexual preference, position in society or color of skin.

“By promoting understanding, help us all to celebrate our human rights & in so doing reaffirm your own,” United Nations Human Rights – Office of High Commissioner for Human Rights.

This year, people around the world used social media to help, inform, inspire & mobilize, uniting others in celebration of our birthday. Pay it forward, pass it on.

A New Holiday Song to Lighten the Heart

As the holiday frenzy escalates, and we scurry around gift buying, package wrapping, card writing, and cookie baking, I harbor a secret vice to help keep my sanity. I listen to Christmas music behind closed doors. Why on the sly? Because ironically my bah humbug French husband, a businessman, hates anything commercialized. Consequently I have to curtail my childlike enthusiasm for Christmas, to birthdays to Halloween to a minimum.

But you can bet your booty, as soon as my husband steps out the door, I let the sleigh bells ring, flutes trill, trumpets blare and drums pa rum pum pum pum. I never tire of the old favorites like Silent Night, my grandfather’s favorite, or Oh Tannenbaum and Il Est Né Le Divin Enfant, which remind me of Christmas pasts in Germany and France. The music evokes memories of childhood, family and friends, warm hearths and open hearts.

Though I love the classics, it is always inspiring to add new melodies to the season’s mix. With the holiday magic of modern times, this Christmas gift arrived via Internet from my blogging buddy in Chicago aka The Self-Righteous Housewife http://theselfrighteoushousewife.blogspot.com/. Thanks Judy for sharing your friend’s, Christmas Tide’s Coming Soon by Daniel Fergus and Andrew Lidgus with Kelly Longmire at vocal.

This piece, too beautiful to keep secret, was surely composed to go global. Even the Frenchman gave it the thumbs up!

Enjoy!

Happy Thanksgiving sans Turkey from Cow Country

Though Europeans love a party, Thanksgiving is truly a unique North American celebration. Since it is not a holiday here, it was just another day for me to lecture students, grade papers and attend unproductive meetings.

On T-day, I arrived home from school after eight to an empty house, so no turkey this year, but no pity party for Patty. I am filled with gratitude! With a live in French chef I eat well all year round.

Every November with or without the big bird, I take time to count my blessings.

1. Family – remain loyal for the long haul

2. Friendship- sustains the spirit in hard times

3. Frenchman – my life partner keeps me grounded in reality

4. Freedom- to speak my mind, wear what I want and circulate without restraint

5. Airlines –despite glitches in air travel, flying allows me to soar between worlds

6. Internet- instantly connects me between continents, cultures and time zones

7. Children – offer hope for the future and fill my heart with joy

8. Readers – follow along, offer comments and give my musings meaning

9. Ball games – basketball, football, volleyball, handball, tether-ball, love ‘em all

10. Books- hardcover, paperback, e-books…books in any shape or form

11. Summit Lake- where sacred waters restore my soul

Summit Lake, Wis.

Happy Thanksgiving weekend. Safe travels. Slow down. Reflect in gratitude.

What tops your Blessing List this season?

Happy Memories and Halloween Dreams

countryside by Geneva

Ever a kid at heart, every October 31^st, as the fields turn from emerald to autumn hues of auburn, I watch the bold sun bleed crimson as it sets over the gray-blue Jura Mountains. As the sky changes from gold to pink, purple to black, I can picture witches flying over the treetops, goblins dancing through the apple orchards and ghosts floating out of the mist above the vineyard. Halloween fills even old hearts with a sense of mystery and excitement. It’s a night where even adults can imagine anything is possible.

Every Baby Boomer remembers a favorite Halloween costume of childhood. Mine was the time; I wore a football helmet, shoulder pads and a blue and gold jersey that my dad borrowed from his high school team. I swaggered down East 19^th street ringing doorbells as a proud Sterling Warrior.

When we lived in Paris, I tried to celebrate the American holiday with my children without much success. The kids decided trick or treating at only one house – your own – is not fun. But when we moved to an in Switzerland, the All Saints Eve was celebrated with aplomb. Parents even bussed kids in to trick or treat in my international neighborhood.

Swiss farm with pumpkins

Halloween has always been sacred in my house. Late October, years ago after a full moon, our daughter Nathalie was born. She has long outgrown her nickname “pumpkin,” but I still buy a jack-o-lantern every autumn. A candle in an orange gourd, once thought to frighten evil spirits, now represents my hopes for my Norwegian-Scotch, Franco-American children.

halloween kids

That little girl who once trick or treated disguised as a doctor, now dons a white coat daily as she makes hospital rounds giving baby wellness visits as a pediatrician.

Alas though I never became an American football star, today, truly all things are possible. Wonders never cease. Times do change. My niece became a state rugby champion, not once but twice!

What favorite Halloween memories haunt your household?

Divine Wine in Burgundy

Every October I see migrant workers with baskets laden with fruit strapped to their backs, crouching low to pick grapes. Though Switzerland may boast of some fine crus, nowhere is wine more divine than on the rolling hillside outside of Dijon where we lived for two years.

vines and a village in Burgundy

American children in Illinois, my home state, ,detassle corn as a rights of passage, whereas, French kids in the burgundy region of France pick grapes. Years ago, I accompanied my daughter’s fifth grade class, the day they helped harvest the grapes during the vendange. We weren’t picking just any old grapes – these were the world famous ones on Nuit-St. Georges domaine.

The vineyards on the Côte de Nuits on the outskirts of Dijon extending to Corgolion are 20K long and a few 100 meters wide. This strip of land, known as the Champs Elysées of Burgundy and Nuit-St. Georges, is the la crème de la crème of the Grand Crus Reds.

Originally, the vines grew wild and were pressed into wine by accident before 312 A.D. Image if the knotted ancient vines could talk the stories they would tell ?

Generations of French children will have their own tales of the harvest to pass on. The students skipped along the rows of perfectly aligned green vines that burst out of the dry, sandy soil and spilled down the slope toward the stone walls of the red-roofed village. Their small hands deftly clipped the vines that held the tight bunches of Pinot Noir grapes, while I struggled to bend low with an aching back.

les vendanges !

While the winemaker explains the intricate process, kids couldn’t resist popping the tart, purple grapes into their mouths. Though I love grapes, these were thick skinned and sour and inedible. The wine grape differs form the table grape in that they are smaller and tarter.

Most French wine growers still hire help to pick the grapes by hand. I will certainly never forget my sole back-breaking, grape-picking stint. After spending a sun-kissed autumn day with wine growers, witnessing first hand their art, I will never again carelessly gulp a cheap red. Instead I savored each sip and appreciated the complexity between the vine and land, the wine and the winemaker.

As my French husband likes to remind me, « Life is too short to drink bad wine. »