THREESOME! JOHN BOY, NELLIE OLSON, AND ME

I never intended for these essays to be a confessional, a lurid tell-all, but I do feel I am among friends here.

(Sigh)

When I do not have an early morning appointment, I will rise early, get the family off to work and school, grab my coffee and watch back-to back episodes of The Waltons and Little House on the Prairie.

There. It’s all out in the open. I now feel that a weight has been lifted.

Now let me be clear. I like the early Waltons where Momma was still healthy and not in the sanatorium, when Grandpa was alive, before Grandma had a stroke, and before Elizabeth had any love interests. Yes, life was as it should be on Walton’s Mountain.

The same goes for Little House. My favorites are before Mary’s blindness and the addition of kids to Pa and Ma’s family. And before Nellie reached puberty.

This morning, cheating was the topic on Little House. Nellie Olsen was tutoring the schoolteacher’s son, Andy, who was struggling in his subjects. And who better than Nellie? She was the top student in her class.

The problem, however, was that Nellie was cheating her way through school and she quickly found a lackey who would continue to keep up this wayward behavior. As the drama unfolded and teetered between right and wrong, our heroine, Half-Pint, confronted Andy, then blew the whistle on Nellie and once again, good triumphed over evil. Boy, that Michael Landon knew how to tell a story.

So why do I watch? I watch The Waltons because I remember watching the episodes while I was growing up. I never watched the first-run episodes of Little House, maybe because I thought they were “girly” and my pre-pubescent ego could not tolerate that. But today I watch both shows because there is a clear, well-defined beginning, middle and end. I watch both shows because there is hope in those final 5 or 6 minutes. I watch both shows, because in our post-9/11 realities, it’s nice to snuggle up in a comfy chair, with a cup of hot coffee and lose myself in a very different, yet not entirely easier world.

As we struggle today to keep our families together, as we struggle to define exactly what a family is, I look to Walton’s Mountain and Walnut Grove to remind me that we can still achieve what they had. We may be of different political/social persuasions. We may be living in different parts of the country and the world, but in those 40-50 minutes each week, we continue to learn from Charles and Caroline and Olivia and John (courtesy of The Hallmark Channel): if we work hard enough and don’t look for the quick-fix, our marriages, our relationships, our children will certainly have the lives we were all intended to have.

Happy Thanksgiving.

PARDON ME, BUT YOUR HOPE IS SHOWING

Obtaining mental health services in Manhattan is pretty easy--basically all you need to do is follow a group of very serious-looking, intense people into a non-descript office building--like mine in Chelsea--these people are probably psychotherapists.

I have discovered that “they” (I don’t know who they are--they won’t tell me) tend to crowd the mental health practitioners together into these spaces--comeraderie? marginalization of the mental health professionals? fear of spreading too many good feeling throughout the streets? I don’t know.

So, on the day after THE ELECTION, I was waiting for the elevator in my non-descript office building and an attractive, middle-aged woman sizes me up and in an “only in New York” manner says to me,”So-you a shrink?”

I looks at her and says--I mean I looked at her and said--”I guess I am.”

We spent a very slow 6-floor ride with her telling me about the poor state of affairs as it relates to our young people in this city--the cursing, the lack of direction, blah, blah, blah. I gazed at her blankly, thanking my Higher Power that she was not my patient, and when the elevator door opened on my floor, I replied, “Well, we can only hope now that we have a new President that he will give young people something to latch onto.”

She looked at me with utter disgust--”What kind of shrink ARE you?”

I looked back at her and replied, “One with hope.”

Forgive me, but WTF????

Why are we so afraid to have a little hope? I don’t know if you had the pleasure, but on November 12th, the “YES MEN” pulled off a brilliant coup. They circulated over 1 million copies of The (fake) New York Times in New York, LA and, I believe, Chicago. On the front page: IRAQ WAR ENDS, plus a bunch of other hopeful news and happenings.

That was pretty cool. And even though all of this news was untrue, it gave me a little hope. This war will end, this economy will rebound, we will regain our status in the world, and we will begin to be good to one another. As I and my other New Yorkers took our copies, we read, we re-read, we tried to absorb this news, we stared at one other, and we smiled.

That was a good day.

O, MAVERICK!

So, I was going to do a blog entry immediately following the election, but I held back for a while —I wanted to keep that peaceful feeling to myself for just a bit longer—but the air DID smell differently that Wednesday morning, didn’t it? One of our papers here in NJ exclaimed that next morning, “Obama Reaches the Mountaintop!” Wow- if that doesn’t tear a citizen up…

I am an avid reader of the Huffington Post (My Progressive DSMIV), and a recent headline --“Oprah to Palin: You’re Now Welcome Any Time,” caught my eye.

Well, gosh, Oprah—how very generous of you!

I understand that this election dragged on forever. I understand that it was ugly, divisive and mean-spirited. And I can understand, emotionally, why O would not want The Maverick in her space. TM was saying so many bizarre things about Her America and Our America, that O could not fathom that TM could survive in her studio audience, comprised mostly of O’s (and My) America. So now that O (Obama) has won, does that change the messages that TM has delivered to Her America? I mean, does O (Oprah) now forget/forgive the divisive nature of TM’s rants, simply because Our America is in power? I need some help here.

In a weird sort of way, I felt a bit of that post 9/11 feeling—before we attacked Iraq. We were all in this together—hurting, healing, and supporting each other. Yes, there were still differences among us—party lines, race and ethnicity, gender and sexual preferences—but they were not as pronounced as they have been recently. Were we nicer back then? Were we more tolerant and appreciative of differences? Maybe.

Wow—so many Americas. And now, so many Americas jockeying for position. Which America are you hoping gets Obama’s attention? Which America are you hoping gets Oprah’s attention? Which America are you hoping gets Palin’s attention? There is only one correct answer—and I am not going to tell you.

I do hope that Obama gets a pay increase—if he has to lead all of these Americas, he should get a bump up in his salary. I would pay higher taxes for that.

SUPER-SIZE ME

Hey! Is the noise getting to you? Maybe I'm allowing my age to show, or my impatience, but I so look forward to the 5th of November.

The roar of wardrobe costs, robocalls, and Socialism will quietly fade away for a year or 2.

And we will then be left with....

The knowledge of "now we know." No more polls, no more pundits, a little less pandering. Welcome to your new normal.

Will it be quieter? Maybe, maybe not. But this election process, to me, has been an agonizing endeavor in its attempt to make us feel small.

And I've done small before. Didn't like it then, certainly cannot stomach it now.

So, how do we rid ourselves of small? Here's my list--feel free to add to it if you wish:

1. Don't talk down to me.

2. Don't try to scare me.

3. Don't throw God and Jesus in my face--I have my belief system that works for me.

4. Don't lie to me.

5. Have the balls to say "I don't know."

6. Don't feel the need to yell to get your point across.

7. Treat me the way you would want to be treated.

8. Leave your historical baggage out in the car--I don't need to be a part of it.

9. Don't tell me I don't love my country.

10. Respect our differences.

I'm sure there's more, but these are the ones that come to my mind in this moment.

Yeah, small works on Halloween when Mrs. Smith says, "Oh, you look so cute dressed as that bunny--here's another Tootsie Roll!"

Other than that, I can't think of a good use for small.

By the way, I never dressed as a bunny.

MAKING THE MANTRA STICK

I have a wall-hanging in my office. It is a quote from Thoreau and reads: “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.”

This is strategically (and decoratively) placed near the door, so when a client leaves my office it could be the words, that resonate with them as they step back into their world. At least, that is the hope.

So how do we make this mantra stick? And I am speaking not just for those who sit on my couch, but for myself, my friends, my family, the citizens of the world.

God knows, it is quite the challenge given the current political/social/economic climate throughout the planet. And God knows it is difficult given the self-induced stress, pain and guilt that many of us carry on our backs each and every day.

I guess I could playfully punch them in the arm, give them a robust Sarah Palin wink and send ‘em on their way! You betcha!

Or perhaps not.

No, I think perhaps the best approach is one that is quiet, thoughtful, and supportive. Because of the fast-paced nature of this city and our daily lives, we often run from task to task, from meeting to meeting, without taking a deep breath, taking a look in the mirror and asking “How are you doing right now?”

So your homework today: " How are you doing right now?"