Humiliation Gives Way to Strength

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Working on a novel when a memory from my days in tech surfaced.  A peon I was in a coveted internal training class.

I desperately wanted to be taken seriously, wanted to have the tech company I was working for while taking college classes at night invest in me.

By Your Command

Battlestar Galactica reference.

For days our instructor wrote command codes on a white board after which we typed them in and watched the WizyWig results.

What You See Is What You Get.

My Friend Friday

As it happens on the last day of class – before lunch break – our instructor wrote out a rather lengthy command code.  Exhausted and on autopilot I typed it in, hit Enter.

Oh My

Everything went down.  My initial reaction was confusion.  Then – as if the hounds of hell were in the room laughing – the instructor said, “But don’t hit this command unless you need to do an emergency hard shutdown because it will take the whole system down.”

Cheeks aflame – I’m not exaggerating – I stared out the window thinking I just ended my career.

My boss would hear about it and I’d never be sent to training again and without training I couldn’t advance let alone get any credibility leading to a promotion.

Humiliation Personified

I will never forget 

  • The look of confusion on the instructor’s face when the system didn’t respond
  • The sound of my tablemate’s voice when he leaned close and said “I know what you did.”
  • The instructor from another classroom who came running in to ask “Did you lose -?”

Sink or Swim

I had a decision to make.  Own up to what I did or slink away with the rest of the group as we were told the class was abruptly and irreparably ended.

I could feel the eyes of the my tablemate boring a hole in the left side of my head.

Did I mention I was the only woman in the class and younger than everyone by about 15 years?  Oh, and my boss had to get a special waiver to get me into the class.

My heart thumping hard enough to leap out of my petrified chest I tentatively raised my hand after which I said, “I thought it was another one of your commands so I typed it then hit enter.”

I will never forget the look on her face – like Seriously?

As humiliating as that career moment was it added a bit of rebar in the building of being comfortable – when it comes to career and life mistakes – in my own skin.

I can be proud of the person I see in the mirror in the morning because I know that person tries their best.

And – regardless of mistakes – always has.

Be well

Note: When I told my tech mentor? He roared with laughter then shared moments of career humiliation so I wouldn’t feel quite so awful.

One Writer’s Path

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As I’m starting work on the first fiction project in over a year a few happy memories surfaced.

Writers Are Born

I’ve been telling stories since I could talk.  One of the fonder memories is a neighbor giving me a prayer book for my 1st Communion that had an inscription

To the little girl with a gift for gab.

Backstory

Larry (neighbor) would spend hours playing basketball with me, teaching me to toss it up since I was too young to throw overhand.

Marie (his sister who lived with them) spent hours while I painted her toenails telling me the virtues of reading and how it can enrich your life – discussing such classics as Welcome to the Monkey House.

She paid me for the pedicure.

Pat – a nurse – was at my bedside when I was coming out of the coma after a subdural hematoma.

Apparently, I snapped, “Don’t touch me your hands are cold!”

She later showed me their family room that had multiple bookshelves lined with books.

She invited me to come over and borrow any book any time and to talk about the book.

Ginsu Moment

There was another neighbor who picked up on my passion for reading.

When I was 6.

She invited me to her living room where several bookshelves lined with books awaited.

Thank You 

I took every one of them up on the offer and so have an incredible rich early exposure to reading.

Fiction and non.

Psst – Pass It On

One of the best pieces of advice I ever got was my mom passing on a nugget of wisdom her mom gave to her.  Start reading to your kids when they’re in your tummy.  Move on to children’s books but introduce the love of reading from day one.

As someone who spent close to a year volunteering helping kids learn to read …  I left one of my more challenging students with this response when he questioned why it was worth the effort

“Because once you know how to read you’ll never be lonely again.”

Open Letter to Athletes

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I want to thank athletes – high school – collegiate – professional – from the bottom of my heart for making life better.

I was in line to be a US Olympic gymnast til a freak accident did away with that path.

Two years ago I hit a health wall.

Mental physical emotional.

A big part of what got me through was watching sports.

No one wants to see a player injured but every time I see someone hurt, read about an Olympic hopeful looking down the lens of a life changed by a freak accident?** I’m filled with appreciation for the people – including those other than athletes (coaches, assistants, ball boys/girls, medical personnel, refs) – that make it so I have that moment of peace.

Note:  I went to high school with a beautiful woman who ended up working as a cheerleader for the Lions.  When I saw her on TV?  On the sidelines?  A lot came into focus.

Her talking of her dream as we sat next to each other in US Government class. Watching her freezing on the sidelines at high school football games as she twirled a baton. Talking to her the following Monday about how she stood the bitter Michigan cold. All for her dream – a dream realized I witnessed on TV years later.

Numerous times in the past two years I was able to pick myself up because of interviews with athletes telling their stories.

Of overcoming adversity.

Just wanted you to know someone you’ve never met appreciates you in ways you can’t imagine.

Be well.

** Perspective available in The Lover

Validation – Later Better Than Never

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Couple of days ago I read about the effects of EMFs on the San Francisco 49ers.  

Something I’ve lived, ate, slept and drank since winter 2000.

They interviewed someone who says he’s studied it.  

Did he live it?

I spent close to 3 decades doing the devil’s dance with the hell of being affected by EMF Sensitivity.  It changes you to the point you no longer recognize the person you see in the mirror.

Validation

Months back reconnected with a guy I reached out to before publishing my work. A fellow PhD I consulted on the angle of chem V physics.

Chem ain’t my strong suit.

 Thanks to the time he gave as I paced my lawn and driveway – sick as a dog – mere feet from a fault line?  

Riding the Waves was born.

Aaron and I sat with him – he and I acknowledging life can kick you to the curb as my mentor would say.  

I’ll never forget meeting his gaze – this EMF Sensitivity mentor – validating I’d been run over by a truck I didn’t get the plate of.

Telling me in his way he’d been there too.

When I saw the articles on the effects of EMFs on NFL athletes?  

Yep.

Been there.  Done that.

Lived it.

As opposed to studying something you never experienced.

And you call yourself an expert.

Revisiting Joy

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Taking a music break after 5 plus hours on a manuscript.  Mentioned before but I prefer the sound quality of YouTube Videos over Apple iTunes mp3s.

Yo Apple – wake up.

I rotate through depending on mood. The one I was watching is special.  

Note:  I have a photographic memory so even as I watch and enjoy the video there is a visual overlay of my younger self along with reliving the moment psychologically and emotionally.

I was in a skirted suit, stocking’d leg tucked beneath a knee while I ate room service burger and pickle.

Perspective

Is Everything

An international supply chain and network interoperability expert, I spent years flying around, often getting to a hotel long past dinner. By the time I got to my hotel at night – with early morning meetings scheduled? – I was exhausted and flipping through channels to see what might serve.  In this case?  Electric Dreams.

Better than when I rolled into DC during the Tanya Harding and Lorena Bobbitt hoopla.

The plot was so-so but I loved the music and certain scenes wherein the music was played.

What makes it of value is the light-hearted back view of a time that was incredibly stressful.

Sometimes it’s better to look back and smile than look forward and frown.

Because of the unknown.

Find the joy wherever it is which doesn’t have to be in the present moment.

A Broken Dream Will Find a Way

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I was born a writer with music in my heart.

Won my first fiction award in 1st grade.

The Path of the Creative Soul

Ginsu Moment

In 4th grade we were given a piccolo, taught scales.  Not long after a woman came to ask if any of us were interested in playing an instrument.  

Was music in our soul?

Ah music.

As a kid I watched my dad play drums while marching in Detroit in a St. Patrick’s Day parade, held the trophy he earned for excellence in piano, listened to the album of him singing and dancing on the Dany Kaye show.

I wanted to play drums.

The beat of my heart.

We were too poor to afford even renting so he got a practice pad and two drumsticks – plopped it on the sofa back and began teaching me.  

Eventually we were able to rent a snare which came in a black plastic case that weighed as much as I did.  Given I lived a haul from school carrying this along with all my heavy textbooks – I wasn’t in a good space.

Nuns on Broomsticks

Need I say more?  Really?  Okay…

I asked the principal (nun on a broomstick) if I could keep my drum in the office so I didn’t have to haul it back and forth every day.  

Given the hyena response you’d think she was in the audience of an SNL live opening.

“Girls have no business playing drums.”

Tell that to Cindy Lauper.

I did NOT want to give up drums.  The beat was in my heart, my soul.

My younger brother tried carrying it for me but it was too much.

Thanks for trying.  Thanks for seeing the music in me as I see the music in you.

I begged my dad to drive it back and forth but his job didn’t allow for it and we only had one working vehicle.

Two months later he handed a small black case to me.

Music is Music

It was a rented b-flat clarinet.

“Dad, I don’t want to play clarinet.  I want to play drums.”

He put a finger to ribs behind which a heart was beating. “You want to play music.”

I played clarinet for 13 years including a wonderful stint in orchestra.

I also played piano and tenor sax.

The Dream Breaks to be Born?

Is this what creativity is about?  

Highlander and the R in It

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Happy New Year Peeps of the Earth!  Ready to share a bit of fun immersed in reality.

After 5 consecutive hours working on a fiction project I decided to do some music time.

For what it’s worth I tend to watch my favorite music on YouTube because due to the compression rate iTunes just doesn’t cut it.  Hoping they get their act together soon.

I was “listening to” Who Wants to Live Forever from Highlander.

Queen.

New Boss Same as the Old Boss

In 1992 I went to a Detroit Area Harmony House to get the soundtrack for the movie. I learned two very important details for my music lover life:

  • There is the orchestral soundtrack and there’s the QUEEN Soundtrack
  • Tariffs and other BS meant all Brit musicians (Queen, David Bowie, Rolling Stones) were no longer allowed to sell in the US

As I learned from a Harmony House manager who took pity on me and pulled a cassette from the back room – they’d been instructed to put all material from British musicians in some closet or other and were forbidden to sell to customers.

He puled a cassette of Queen’s It’s a Kind of Magic – likely because he saw I was on the verge of tears – and sold it to me.

What’s that saying about business? It’s about the people?

In watching the video something caught my eye.

To Give Context

I grew up a 30-minute drive from Canada. I grew up listening to French Canadian radio, watching French Canadian TV.  When it came time to choose a language to study in high school – French made more sense for me than Spanish.

The Easy Way isn’t ALWAYS the Easy Way

Most of my classmates took Spanish. When I asked them why – given we lived closer to French Canada than Mexico they told me- consistently – “Because it’s easy.”

Thanks to a benefactor I had the good fortune to do a working trip to Europe with a group of some 63 souls all of whom – with the exception of me – took Spanish in high school.

I also took Latin – won Magna Cum Laude in the National exam.

As It Happened

We were in Paris and something about the food tasted off to me.

I’d had a recent run-in with food poisoning thanks to a trip with my divorced dad to Tijuana Mexico.

Facing ridicule I nonetheless went to a Burger King for dinner.

Long story short I translated for the Parisian doctor called in to treat over 50 people for severe food poisoning.

One of whom had to be flown to New York to be admitted to a hospital.

Ginsu Knife

But wait!  There’s More!

When we were in the French Swiss Alps?  Everyone starving?  None of the people making sandwiches spoke English and I was the only one who spoke French.

Bad as my American accent was.

“What is JAM bon?”

“JambOn ? Ham.”

I translated for over 50 people so they could get lunch.

Translation

As it happens I was fortunate to have a French II teacher who was born and raised in Paris.  One of the skills she tried to translate was the role of the roll – pun intended – of the tongue in producing the R sound in French.

I got it though I’m more “hear it – translate it” type of language student.

Back to Front.

Pun intended.

I am a passionate Highlander fan.  So much so I read about Christopher Lambert – a Frenchman – having to learn to speak English for the role.  Just now?  Watching this video?  When he calls out “Heather!” ???

You can see the back of his tongue hitting the roof of his mouth for the R sound – normal to his native language – even as he’s calling out in English.

Classic.  

Like him and the movie.

I hope 2026 brings joy laughter love and much more to my readers.

Elizabeth

Corporate Life Before Me Too

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Happy Holidays! 

Short post today.  

After sending holiday greetings to a former colleague – and ensuing back and forth – had a hilarious memory come up.

Funny now though not then.

Context

This is my tech cubicle days in Silicon Valley.  

I got along famously with a woman from the Philippines who had the cube next to me.  

A fly in the ointment.

The guy in the cube to her right was an interesting cat.  

He was a jerk.

To put it bluntly he was condescending to us both.

The irony?  I dealt with much worse while with the same company in Detroit.  

It was easy to face off with him after which he’d go slinking back to his cube.  I was always puzzled but honestly too busy to deal with it whereas my friend was upset by it.  

Until…

The Postman Rings

One day my colleague grabbed my wrist – pretty much forced me into a little side room.  I couldn’t recall ever seeing her so excited.

“He ordered a bride!”

????

“He ordered a bride – from a catalogue!”

“A catalogue?”

There was such a thing?!

Like hogs at a market?

“They print them – pictures and little write-ups.”

I didn’t bother to ask how she knew this.

After the dust of her enthusiasm – another piece I never asked about – WHY was she so happy about this?  I approached him.

“I heard you got married.  Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“How’d you guys meet?”

A romance writer I’m constantly asking people how they met their other halfs.

“A mail order catalogue.”

He made a point to tell me it was specific to Asian brides.

“Why?”

I was truly baffled – about all of it but especially about a region specific approach.

“So she’ll be obedient.”

Before Me Too

I don’t think I need to elaborate but I do remember my conversation.

My walk through corporate was certainly an adventure.

Nature V Nurture: The Holistic Approach

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Does nature or nurture have more sway over the path we choose?

And how we turn out?

A good friend and I debated this throughout the years.

Often switching sides.

We listened respectfully while walking on lunch hours or after work and made arguments for our beliefs.

Was it that we were taught good manners or that we have a passion for understanding that drove this cooperation for a potentially contentious subject?

At the end of the day I think we were saying the same thing in different ways but in debating we gained knowledge and perspective.

We learned of a world neither knew existed.  

A world forged by experience and while that suggests nurture whatever was in our nature enabled us to navigate that experience in a way that shaped who we became.

What’s New?

I came across an article today that had me considering

  • I was ahead of my time 
  • I had such an innate feeling it was the right way I walked the holistic path in the face of incredible criticism and among a large circle of influence that went in the opposite direction

Was I born to follow the holistic [read natural/traditional] way or was I shaped by my experiences?

Nurture

As I discuss in my podcasts I witnessed what happens when individuals follow a certain philosophy of healing and yes, this entrenched my natural proclivity to go Mother Nature’s route.

The route that got us this far.

It was heartbreaking to watch loved ones who put their faith in the allopathic way suffer.

Nature

For as long as I can remember – going back to 4 years of age I instinctively knew when someone was sad, tired, hurting.  I frequently approached these individuals to see how I could help.

Though I have a memory of this behavior going back before kindergarten there’s a story related to me by my mom that illustrates it started much earlier.

I discuss in a podcast

My parents lost many classmates to the Vietnam War and many of the men who returned weren’t in a good space.  One afternoon my mom took me to a local park.  I was just walking and talking.  We ran into a gentleman in a wheelchair.  Apparently I approached and asked, “Where are your legs?”  

Worrying I’d rubbed salt in a wound my mom was quick to apologize.  His response is the nature part of this equation.

“This is the first time I’ve laughed and smiled since coming home.”

Nature and Nurture Meet

When I read the article, one bit stood out.

“Meditation was all this ‘woo-woo stuff’ but now, seeing all these advances in neuroscience and showing changes in brain waves from functional magnetic resonance imaging, which we couldn’t do before – actually being able to trace the pathways that lead to changes in health measurements – I think this is really, really exciting,” she says.”

Nurture

This information was known and studied in the late 70s if not before.  My dad and I would watch various pieces from 60 Minutes to documentaries on the subject.

Nature

It’s in my nature to want to understand the science and research behind Mother Nature’s gifts.  This need to understand inspired me to go back to school to study what I’d been living:  Holistic healing.  As a result I learned in class that in the 90s Tibetan monks – some of the world’s superior meditators – had been hooked up to EEGs and undergone brain scans and all sorts of what I’m guessing were invasive medical tests – all in the name of research into the health benefits of meditation.  

I read the research papers as part of my class work.

A Real-Life Twist

Readers know that when I was 10 I fell off a diving board and had a brain bleed that left me blind paralyzed on my left side and in a coma.  Over the course of my recovery – and likely due to my nature – I forged a beautiful friendship with the neurosurgeon who saved my life.  

Whenever I visit Michigan I make a point to stop by and say hi.

On a recent trip I brought my family with me.  After a bit of small talk he mentioned something I’d written in one of the letters I’ve been sending since I was 12 and my family moved out of state.

Meditation.

He told me of the science behind why meditation is so good for the brain after which he encouraged me to keep on the holistic path.  

A man of science I also know him as a man of faith and a man who understands the role of traditional healing.

As my story illustrates Nature and Nurture are not an either or but part of a circular dance that has been going on for centuries with plenty of enlightened individuals on both sides of the equation.

Be well.

Note: I’ve been using homeopathy successfully for decades, trained by a British ENT surgeon.

Career – Making Your Way

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Listening to Woman by John Lennon and thinking of one of those transformational moments in life.

Career life.

A total neophyte I was part of a district that supported Automotive OEMs and their supply chains. 

After years of experience and education I became an international supply chain expert.

 Regarding the OEM I was part of what became known as the GM C4 program.

This was back in the day of beepers.

As part of the effort to prove my mettle I was handed my very first beeper on a Friday afternoon and told there was a good chance it would go off in the middle of the night after which

I had to call the number

I probably had to follow instructions lest millions of dollars per hour would be lost – by our customer.

Oh – and if I had to go on-site?  Bad part of town.

Leroy Brown anyone?

The irony – unlike my colleagues who tended to be 15 – 25 years older – I’d spent a good deal of my childhood in the “bad part of town.”

Wasn’t so bad “back then.”  Those days came after Colman Young chased everyone – including the job providing corporations – to the suburbs – which happened when I was 4 – 6 years old. A witness.

My Heart – Detroit

Unlike my colleagues I wasn’t afraid to go to Detroit.  Still – stupid to send me there at 2 – 3 in the morning to walk by myself to the parking lot GM reserved for “Vendors.”

Surprised they didn’t put us in the dumpster.

It was a 2 – 3 block walk in the dark.

In the “bad” part of town.

There’s a WRIF Drew and Mike go round about this that is insightful – about needing tennis shoes so you could run from your car to your office in a manner that gave you a chance to outrun the muggers.

Sure Enough

As the moon was dark.

My beeper went off at 2am.

I was 22.

I rolled from bed, called the number, confirmed the system was down.

They would lose – as I understood it – $100 million an hour for every hour they were down.

This is global supply chain.

I promised I would be on-site as soon as I got dressed – they knew I’d been asleep – confirmed with my colleague who would meet me at “the parking lot.”

Asphalt patch of space 2 – 3 blocks from GM HQ downtown Detroit.

It was raining.

Typical Michigan March.

The colleague who was to meet me beeped so I called – agreed to the location.  He was adamant I understood the exact location which meant at 2:35 am I had to explain why I knew downtown Detroit better than any of my older suburbian coworkers.

Including him – who lived in Milford and had just cleared a bunch of trees from his newly purchased lot to build his McMansion.

Made It

Though I brought my own umbrella – it was pouring – he showed up on the asphalt with an umbrella – escorted me to the GM building.

The Elevator

We shut our umbrellas – checked in with the guard who seemed antsy – about me.  When we got on the elevator my coworker instructed me to look up at the corner.  Apparently there was a camera.  He said, “It’s so if someone on the elevator assaults you…”

Oh just yay.

The Lab

He walks me to a chair – I’m … a mental confusion mess – asks if he can bring me coffee.

Coffee?  I don’t drink coffee.

Not until after I became a sleep deprived parent decades later.

I only started to feel human once I recognized the “stuff” on the VJ290.

That’s a computer monitor from the past for those of you just joining us.  Before WYZYWYG.

I don’t think the decision makers in terms of my career thought I had what it took before that night and they’ve moved on but I can be proud because I did good.