Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Almost 40

20 things I would love to go back and tell my 20 year old self … on my 40th birthday.

1. Skipping meals makes you fat.

2. Perfect families are boring families.

3. You actually make yourself wealthier and more powerful when you can do basic skills such as cooking, car repair, sewing, and cleaning. Ignore the gender implications, saving money when you're young matters more.

4. You may think you have figured out where you stand with your faith, but the struggle never really ends.

5. $10,000 is not a lot of money.

6.  College grades matter much less than experience and connections.

7. Make sure your moisturizer has SPF….and wear it every day.

8.  Hold your best friends tight.  It gets harder and harder to make true friends as you age.

9.  Motivation happens through action, not before.

10.  You look ridiculous riding a razor scooter with your kids when you are (almost) 40.  But do it anyways because it is fun.

11. Less stuff, less stress.

12.  Never waste an otherwise perfect day at the beach worrying about your back-thigh cellulite.

13.  You can't convince love.  So stop wasting your time and find the one who loves you with all of his heart. And (hint) he might be wearing nerdy glasses and a Stanford sweatshirt.

14.  Eat all the ice cream you can.  Because you might turn 40 and not be able to eat it anymore.

15.  Run all the miles you can.  Because you might turn 40 and it might become very painful.

16.  Don't change your name when you marry.  It doesn't make you less devoted to your husband or your family.  Yes, it is purely symbolic.  But symbols are important.

17.  Don't listen to any person or any institution who tells you how to dress or otherwise appear.  It is not okay.

18. The power of compounded interest over time is a real thing. There is nothing you think you need in your twenties that will be worth the compounded savings you will achieve in your forties and beyond.

19. Skinny jeans….not your best look.

20. Be patient with your siblings, they will someday be your very best friends.  For reals.

Friday, October 2, 2015

Duck Island

I'll never forget the day our offer was accepted on our current Seattle home. I was still in Reston, VA with the boys: working, packing up, and selling our NoVA house.  Ed was in Seattle, working a new job by day and running the real estate rat maze by evening, searching for that elusive block of cheese with a six-figure price tag.

Our new house was in a neighborhood that I had visited once and had never stopped thinking about, near a beautiful lake, with the Seattle cityscape rising in its background. I could barely believe that our offer had been accepted in the crazy gold mine that is currently Seattle Real Estate.  The honeymoon is now mostly over as far as my neighborhood is concerned, but it was a day full of possibility and wonder.

When the boys came home from school, I told them the news about the house. I hadn't yet mentioned the possibility of this house to them.  We are careful with our money and I didn't think we really had much of a shot with this particular house in the land of escalating clauses and offer review dates.  By some random stroke of luck, our offer had been accepted.  The boys and I looked at pictures of our new home and maps of the surrounding area. We marveled how close the lake and their school would be to our house. Asher immediately zeroed in on a fine detail from a map of the lake….a small mysterious island. Duck Island.

Duck Island continued to mystify and thrill eight-year-old Asher. Over the past two years, we have Asher has speculated about what kinds of things inhabited the island for many hours at a time….Buried treasure? A native people? Was it like Australia…where they sent all the criminals? (this was probably the most realistic theory, as it faced the Aurora Ave side of the lake).  We have walked around the lake with the island in full view, boated around the island, peeping into it's thick moat of greenery and trees with binoculars, all many many times.  Why I never thought to just dock our boat and go take a look on one of those occasions is it's own mystery.  It just seemed so….Forbidden.

Asher touching landfall
Last July, with Noé at summer school and two hours to kill before he returned, Asher and I kayaked on the lake.  And we did our usual loop around Duck Island.  Asher, once again, asked if we could stop.

Why not?

There wasn't an inviting place to dock our two-seat kayak, so I stayed anchored to the boat while Asher hopped onto land (kind-of reminiscent of Captain Cook setting foot on Hawaii for the first time…or maybe the opposite).  He was eager to claim this unchartered territory, exactly seventy blocks from downtown Seattle, as his own.  I said a quiet prayer that no island natives would tie him up and run him over a fire like a human shish kabob.

It didn't take long for Asher to run back to the boat after circling the island (it's not really a very big island).

He was out of breath, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Mom, guess what?  I think NATIVE AMERICANS live on the island.  There's a teepee and everything!  I took pictures!" He had taken my iPhone on his island tour and began to click through photos.

the sacred site

He had either uncovered North American Indian artifacts worthy of a natural history museum or a hobo hangout.  All bets on the latter.

We rowed back to shore with smiles on our faces, heroic conquerors of tiny urban islands.

Friday, August 21, 2015

One-minute progress report

A super quick list of Noé's progress this summer…..

1.  Spelling simple CVC words on his iPad communication device (hat, cat, car…)
2.  8 mile + elevation hikes (he could probably go much further if he wasn't limited by…us)
3.  Dresses himself independently (still needs to figure out which way to wear his shirt!)
4.  True interaction with his brother and other family members!
5.  Smiles for the camera on cue
6.  Follows directions more precisely and consistently….his receptive language has made a huge leap this summer!
7.  Loves to help me bake in the kitchen….follows instructions well and doesn't make a huge mess with ingredients.

I am SO pleased and sure love this kid!!!

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Common Ground

It's now been more than 10 years since we received Noe's autism diagnosis. In the time since, through four moves and three different jobs, I've wrestled with how best to connect with him. He is my first-born son, and I love him deeply, but there was something that was lost when that diagnosis hit our family like a tsunami wave.

My wife Jen articulated this feeling of loss very eloquently in a post on this blog last year. There have been good days, hopeful days and downright awful days. The feelings of stress and guilt, wondering if there is more you can do, wax and wane depending on the week. Through it all, though, our family's still intact, with Jen and I coming up on 14 years of marriage later this month.

But sometimes I still wonder: am I getting through to Noe? Does he really know I love him?

Don't get me wrong: we've had our moments. They've usually revolved around music (I took him to a Bob Dylan concert when he was 6) or outdoor activities (Surfer's Healing will always be a highlight). And those hopeful days give you the fuel necessary when the less hopeful days inevitably take place.

This summer, we've been fortunate to have extended periods of quality time, and I've seen those familiar themes re-emerging. I got a record player for Christmas last year, and it's been fun adding to and playing our vinyl collection. Noe has his favorites (Amy Winehouse has been on heavy rotation) but he's also picked up on my infatuation with Miles Davis' music. Jen told me the story that after I left to go to work after we had been on vacation for two weeks, he pulled "Kind of Blue" from the shelf and handed it to Jen so she could put it on the record player.

"I think he misses you," Jen texted.

Speaking of Winehouse, I also recently took him to see "Amy," the documentary about her life. Those who know us well know that the movie theater has been a non-starter for Noe. While his younger brother has been to every Pixar movie under the sun, big brother tends to find the movies a giant bore (and for us, an expensive waste of time).

But in my ever-continuing quest to connect, I gambled on a Sunday matinee. Much to my pleasant surprise, he sat patiently and loved it. As the picture below shows, he seemed smitten.

As for outdoor activities, hiking has become the activity of choice for Noe this summer. A four-plus mile hike on something called Damnation Creek Trail? Bring it, dad. About an eight-mile round trip with an elevation change of 2,200 feet on the Beckler Peak Trail? My pulse barely changes, old man.

Noe was our happy hiker, and I was happy to have found more common ground with him. Sure, it was more than 5,000 feet above sea level, but beggars can't be choosers. And to see those smiles on those brothers pictured at the top of this post, it was more than worth it.

A writer of some renown whose work I admire once told me about fatherhood, "There is pain -- there always will be -- but there is hope." And I suppose that's been the lesson for me from this summer. With Noe, challenges remain, the future remains at least partly unknown and in December he'll officially become a teenager. But I remain hopeful (and grateful) for those moments when it looks like we've made a connection, when that common ground feels just a little firmer.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to put some Miles on the turntable...

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

My Brother, the Cop

It is hard to deny that there is a lot that is wrong with policing in America today.  Our system of justice does not serve racial minorities and other outliers of society.  A lot needs to be fixed and righted…and I don't pretend to know where we should even start.  But we certainly need to try.  We owe it to those individuals who have been treated poorly, falsely imprisoned, or even killed at the hands of officers who have misused their power, to start this process of change.

But there is another story of policing in America.  It is one that is much quieter, and not likely to make the front pages.  It is a story of men and women, committed to their careers, to their families, to their country.  They face each work day, having no inclination what it will bring, with courage and dependability and grace. They work in the peripheries and darkest corners to keep us safe.  And they mostly succeed.  

One of these police officers is my brother who works for the Portland Police Department, East Precinct.  I am extremely proud of him and the man he has become.  

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Take 2, Seattle Times: Long Form Interview with Ami Brown

Ami (Niiya) Brown, 1991-92 season (I think!)

My friend Ami doesn't just break glass ceilings, she bashes them in with her fire ax.  I have admired her career journey as a long-time friend and came away with even more respect for her after I interviewed her for this piece published in the Seattle Times on July 8th.  I wanted to record and save the entirety of our conversation for posterity, because she is truly a pioneer in her field.  There is so much good stuff in here!

In Ami's own words...

When did you decide you wanted to become a firefighter?
I remember somewhere between sophomore and junior year deciding I wanted to be a firefighter.  I can't pinpoint an exact reason why, but knew it was what I wanted to do.  I knew for sure by junior year that was my goal.  And I know this because I knew my SAT scores wouldn't really matter for what I wanted to do--go to PCC and get my Fire Science Degree.  I remember not finishing a book report for AP English senior year and not really caring cause I knew it didn't matter. I worked at Pizza Hut with a friend my sophomore summer before we were juniors.  She told me her brother had started at PCC in the Fire Science Program and that he too wanted to be a firefighter.  At some point I spoke to him about it.  Erick was so enthusiastic and excited about the program it made it even more exciting for me.  And (my friend) Carla’s brother Darrell was also a firefighter for Portland.  I remember interviewing him our junior year for a personal finance class.   I  enjoyed watching reruns of Emergency.  I think many of us who are firefighters today enjoyed watching Johnny and Roy save the world back then! That show is known for paving the way for Paramedic programs across the nation.  It was a show that was way ahead of it's time for back in the 70s.  I think it probably contributed to my desire to be a firefighter.  

What was the process to get hired? Take me through the timeline. 
I enrolled at PCC (Portland Community College) and joined the Fire Science Program.  You had to apply and pass a physical agility test of sorts and run a certain amount of miles in a certain time.  You just didn't "get in".  After starting classes everyone in the program said in order to get a job you should be a paramedic. I had never considered this, but if that's what everyone else was doing...then that's what I would do too.  I think it was my 2nd term at PCC I enrolled in the EMT Basic program.  That was my only class I took besides my Firefighter skills class every Saturday for 8 hours.  Skills class were every term on the weekend.   

After getting my EMT Basic certificate (which you need to get your paramedic) I was offered a job at AMR. I received a letter in the mail (it was sent to every Basic in the state) saying they were hiring.  Why not?  I was 18 and got hired at AMR as a Basic.  It was the first step to me getting my foot in the door to the world of Fire and EMS.  Through AMR I met Krista, who was a volunteer firefighter with Clackamas.  We formed a friendship, which led to me becoming a volunteer with her which led me to me moving to Beavercreek to volunteer and live with her and Chuck, who was also a volunteer at Clackamas.  This was in ‘97.  I was hired at AMR in ‘95.  I finished PCC in ‘95 I believe.  And I started Paramedic school in ‘96.  Got my medic in the fall of 1997 and this got me on a 911 ambulance in Multnomah County where I gained tons of experience. I worked at AMR until getting hired by Gresham Fire in January of 2000.  I then got hired by Clackamas in March of 2000.  I was the 3rd woman to be hired.  Currently we have 6 women.  We have approximately 180 line personnel.  6 out of 180 is what .03%.  We are way below the national average of women.  I think the average is 3.7%.  I know part of this is due to the fact we typically test and hire paramedics.  This limits our testing to a lot less people-- both men and women.  But I think it is a good standard since our EMS calls are the majority of our responses.  I was the first female Apparatus Operator (I am now 1 of 2, but the other gal is retiring at the end of this year).  And we currently have no female officers.  One other gal tested this last round and she is #3 on the list.  She will get promoted and be the first female lieutenant at Clackamas which is very exciting.  We could actually have a crew of all females at some point!! I would love to have that happen before I retire.  It would be amazing.    

Who were your biggest supporters and detractors?
Obviously my Mom and Dad were my biggest supporters.  Not one time did they tell me no, or that it might be hard or anything!  I should ask my Mom.  They probably didn't know any more than I did that women "weren't supposed" to be firefighters!  They probably just thought, “Okay!  Have fun!”  Also my friends, especially Angie because I was living with her at the time.  I know my friends were so excited for me and always there.  They were the ones who came to my swearing in ceremony!  I would say there have only been a handful of detractors. Unfortunately they are ones that leave an impression on you.  They were all instructors or paid firefighters somewhere when I was a student.  But there were 10X the amount of instructors and paid firefighters that were SO supportive telling me to not give up and basically not listen to the haters!    

Were you ever discouraged?  Did you ever think about quitting?
I think the only time I was ever really discouraged was when I was living with Angie.  I was at PCC still and part of your degree was to spend time at a station on shift for a term.  I was stationed with a Portland area fire crew.  They had an engine and a truck there and were very busy.  Of course I was so excited.  Looking back now I am sure those guys hated it.  Having an outsider come ride with you is stressful and can be uncomfortable.  You must watch everything you say and act appropriately all day!  And the fact to have a girl come ride had to make it even worse.  These are things I was naive to.  I really didn't understand the views of the guys and not only that but "intruding" on their shift every day for those few weeks.  Everyone is always worried about the big H word. Harassment.  It is such a big deal and once it's out there, it's out there.  People have got demoted for "harassing" people so it can be a sticky situation. 

So there were I think 8-9 guys there.  Three of them were very nice and super welcoming.  One was outright not.  I don't know how many shifts I had been there, but I would switch rigs and go on whoever was going on the call.  We got called to a fire and I was so excited.  I can't remember much, but I know I was sitting in the back of the truck with the guy who didn't like me.  We went and got back and it was nothing.  When we got back to the station he yelled at me and told me that I was in his way and when they were going to a fire I needed to stay out of his way.  Like YELLED at me in the bay in front of everyone.  Two of the other guys came up to me later and told me not to mind him, that he was having a bad day or whatever.  So basically that solidified my thought that he was a jerk and out of line.  But what could I do?  I was upset and heartbroken and embarrassed.  I remember going home that day and not wanting to ever go back.  Angie came home after I was and I was in kitchen and she knew something was wrong. I remember standing in the kitchen bawling and hugging her!  This was my first real world experience with someone who I felt was sexist.   And I still remember the three guys that were supportive there.  I have seen two of them since then and they remembered me and were excited I got hired.  Those are the people I remember and when we get a young rider who is new and excited..I remember all of that.  I want to be remembered as a positive influence and someone who got them excited about it.  
I thought they were going to use this photo for the original story,
but they didn't. We're so dang cute…I had to include it! Go Scots!

Did playing high school sports effect your future life and career?  If so, how? If you had it to do all over again would you play sports in high school?

Yes, playing high school sports had a huge impact on my life including my career!  And I would absolutely do it again!  I think, like you, sports in high school were a highlight and I can’t imagine going through high school without them.  One of the things looking back now that I think it taught me was how to get along with others.  You play with people not in your clique.  People you wouldn’t otherwise hang out with -- people in other grades than you, too.  It makes you get to know others and learn differences and be tolerant.  You work with them as a team, you practice, play, travel, win and lose.  

When we recruit women for the department we specifically think of girls who are involved in sports.  Those girls have he traits that make a good firefighter.  Girls who play sports have a drive others don’t.  Part of that is just being in good physical shape.  Athletes typically work hard and train hard to be at their peak.  As a firefighter you have to be ready to work at any time.  Staying in good physical shape is part of this career and I think more difficult for women.  Men naturally have stronger upper bodies.  We have to work at it.  Some guys don’t - they are just built like trucks!  And they can muscle their way through stuff.  We have to be strong and use good techniques.  

We are a team and work hard together to get a job done.  It doesn’t always go as planned, but we work it out together and try to figure out how to improve next time.  Our practices are our drills.  Game time is when the tones go off.  

High school sports taught me it's not all about you.  You may ride the bench if your team wins, but you are still needed and still a part of it.  We have fires where our crew may be on the scene but not get an assignment, but we are ready if needed - kind of like riding the bench!  

What makes you a good firefighter?
I think what makes me a good firefighter is my attitude.  Your attitude can make or break you, no matter how smart or strong you are.  The guys here who I consider “not good” firefighters are the ones with poor attitudes.  They are negative and don’t care about running calls or doing a good job.  The firefighters  who are “good” are positive.  They have pride in themselves, the station, the department.  They are here to run calls. They want to train and get better.  Failure isn’t an option, but when it happens, they fix it.

Another trait is being trustworthy.  You have to trust the guys you are working with to have your back.  What the other firefighters care about -- can she get me out if I go down? We live together as a family.  You have to be able to trust each other with everything!  I know more about some of the guys I work with than some of my close family and friends!

I recently had a captain tell me a story about when I got hired.  We did a drill where we had to carry a firefighter down a ladder from the second story out of a window.  So we would climb up the ladder and guys inside would help put a simulated down firefighter across your arms and you had to get him down.  He was in full turnouts with an air pack.  So I climbed up and stood on a ladder and locked arms on the beams.  And they placed the guy across my arms so he was laying in them and then I had to climb down the ladder.  They put a guy named “Fred” on me.  Fred is probably 6’3” and 200+ lbs with 60 lbs of gear on him.  I  brought him down no problem.  But I guess that day in his mind and others who were there it was like  --- ok, she’s good.  She’s got this.  

After he told me this I remembered years ago another veteran guy had mentioned that same drill.  And the fact he was impressed that I did it.  They had their doubts.  And I don’t blame them!  I know what I’m capable of, but they didn’t.  So that is what they needed to see.  That I could handle them if I had to.  And over the years as people get to know you and see you on calls and at drills, they know.  She’s good.  She’s got this.  But as a woman you have to prove it.

It’s different for men.  We all assume a man should be able to pull another man out of a building or carry a ladder.  And it doesn’t help that I’m small.  I’m strong but I’m not exactly a big burly Mazama Mama.  I very often get from the public (usually older people), “How are you going to pick me up?”  Or “I hope they send someone bigger than you.”  “Do you do all the cooking?”  If I answer the phone at the station I get, “Can I talk to one of the firemen?”  You have to be able to laugh at all that stuff.

What do you bring to your job as a woman?
This is tricky!  As women, we don’t want to be singled out.  We want to be recognized for being a firefighter.  That is probably the worst thing for us is to be singled out in a way that seems like we are doing a different job because we are female.  

One thing that is helpful but not necessary is on medical calls when there can be a sensitive female issue including pregnancy or abuse.  That same older generation that believes the women are cooking and cleaning and answering phones at the station also seem to sometimes respond better to me than my coworkers.  

We started doing 12-lead EKGs a couple of years ago and for women it requires them to take off their bras.  At first I was mad all the guys wanted me to do it, but then I realized, they are right.  Why wouldn’t I offer to do it?  Why make an 80 year old lady take off her bra and open her shirt to some young guy when I’m standing right there.  I honestly don’t mind anymore and jump at the chance because I think most (of the patients) appreciate it and I KNOW all of the guys absolutely appreciate it.  

I am a Peer Supporter for the department.  There are several of us who went through the training to help our own through tough times.  Because of this and I think the fact that I’m a woman and have a more sensitive side (at least more than the guys I work with), I am the one who talks to family when someone has died.  I think I have empathy and even moreso since my dad died to know what they are going through.  If we are there, it was probably unexpected.  Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely guys here who are great if not better at being the consoler, but on my crew it usually falls to me.  And I like that.  It’s like I’m taking care of my guys and taking care of the family.  

Another thing I think I bring to the department is just the awareness factor of women in the fire service.  As I said earlier I get comments all of the time about it.  And I take that as a positive thing because it's bringing an awareness to people that it isn't just men doing it anymore.  I have been to several schools where the teacher says, "Did you know women could be firefighters?"  And recently I have been hearing more yeses than I used to!  it used to be all nos!  I have even had little girls tell me they want to be a firefighter when they grow up and I think that is the coolest thing.  I hope they remember me and can someday tell a story about how a woman firefighter came to their school when they were little and it made an impression!   As much as we don't want to be singled out as women firefighters, we are all proud.  I am proud to be a firefighter and it just so happens I am a woman. :)

Monday, June 22, 2015

Father's Day

It's been fifteen years since my dad passed away. It is a true statement that time heals and mostly I've accepted that life will have to continue without him.  But there are still moments when I ache for him. More often these are happy moments when we are gathered as a family. Moments when the kids (his grandkids) are playing together at his house and the adults are chatting and laughing.  Sometimes I stop in those moments and just listen, taking in all the sights and sounds around me for him.  And I am so happy, but so sad.