The "me" in "team"

There is a popular saying that goes "There is no 'I' in team." Maybe not, but there is an "m" and an "e," and together they spell "me," which is just as bad.

For the past two years at her dance studio, my daughter has been part of two "teams"; an advanced gymnastics team and a non-competitive performance team that does community events (shows at senior centers, nursing homes, parades, etc.). This year, she upped her game and made the competitive "team," actually learning a solo and a group routine and taking it on the road to compete against other studios.

It has been a mostly good experience. She's done very well for it being her first year and only being 10 years old. She's grown in skill and confidence, and it showed at her last recital. At 10, she knows who she is, and has a good sense of herself. And that is good.

But you'll notice something. I put the word "team" in quotations marks in the above paragraph. That's because she belongs to a "team" only in the loosest sense of the word. In fact, another mother recently call this "the most dysfunctional team" she's ever known.

And she's right.

Stop for a moment and think. Have you ever been part of a team? If you have, you know teams have rules. You will wear this uniform. You will be at practice. You will be at the game at a certain time. You will stay for the entire game, which includes congratulations at the end (either receiving or giving). You will ride the team bus to remote events (sports games, academic competitions, whatever). If you go someplace and stay overnight, you will stay in the hotel designated by the school or sponsoring organization.

Period. End of story. Don't like it? There's the door. Don't let it hit you on the way out. Because if you can't live with those rules, the team will find someone who can.

None of that exists with my daughter's dance team. Girls showed up at competitions the bare minimum of time before they were scheduled to compete, and left as soon as humanly possible afterwards, in some cases not even staying for awards. One girl's mother yanked her out of the group less than 3 weeks before the recital, and a month and a half before our National competition, necessitating choreography changes in a routine that these girls have been doing since January (fortunately, another girl agreed to step in, so the changes have been minimal).

Girls (and parents) are complaining that they have to rehearse through July to get ready for Nationals. Parents don't want to buy uniform warm-up gear (they have a black and white warm up suit, but it is NOT suitable for July - way too warm).

Our Nationals are being held in Lancaster. One of the moms proposed renting a bus so we all don't have to drive. People didn't want to travel together. They wanted to arrive on their schedule and leave on their schedule. Some asked if they really needed to be present for the entire 4 days.

We were told that the group would be taking a day trip to Hershey Park. Over half the team has not turned in their forms or money. It was due June 1.

We were told that we would all be staying at the same hotel. Half the team has not turned in their hotel reservation sheets. They were due June 1. The resort is now booked, and many of the surrounding hotels are similarly booked. If I have to sleep in my car, I'll be ticked.

Are you sensing a pattern here?

The irony is that many of these same parents have looked at other studios and said, "Gee, they're so together. We should be like that."

Um, that requires a bit more effort on your part than what I'm seeing.

It's sad, in a way. What my daughter should be learning is the benefit of being part of a group of people with a shared goal - working, learning, and growing together. What she's seeing is a group of people who are primarily concerned with "me," and the group comes second. It's about what they want, not about what's best for the group.

The bottom line is that if you want to belong to a team, you have to make sacrifices. Time, treasure or talent - all usually must be contributed. And that means that maybe you have to defer your movie night to go to practice. Maybe your family can't go on vacation this weekend, you have to go next weekend. Maybe you can't sleep in on Saturday, because you have to be at the pool, or the gym, or the dance studio. Whatever.

The bottom line is that you make these sacrifices because you want to be part of the team. And it's not about you, it's about something bigger.

And that's good training for life. I'd really like to not get up at 6:30 in the morning and go to work. But I do it because I want certain things for my family and that requires money. At work, there are things I don't particularly enjoy or like doing. But I do them because it's not about me, it's about what's good for the company or the client.

Life is all about checking your ego at the door. It's about recognizing that the universe does not revolved around you. And all too often, I see parents leading by the wrong example. Why should we be surprised if we are raising self-indulgent children? Children only sometimes learn from our words, but they frequently learn from our actions. If we act only in our own interest, how can we expect them to learn anything different?

Our studio owner, unfortunately, can't say anything any more because she's damned if she does and damned if she doesn't. But I can, and I say this.

If you want to be part of the team, leave your ego behind. Make it about the team, not about you. Be a part of something bigger than yourself. And if you can't handle it, don't join the team.

In other words, "Shut up and dance - or go home."

Reunion Reflection

Last weekend, I attended my 15-year reunion at St. Bonaventure University in Olean, NY. I was excited. It had been five years since I had been on campus. There were people coming I had not seen in five years, like my first friend at Bona's, Mike. I was going to see Jay, who I have not seen since my wedding day, almost 14 years ago. I was going to see Moritz, who I have not seen since graduation 15 years ago. I was pumped.

The weekend was everything I could have hoped for and more. St. Francis himself must have smiled down, as warm, bright sunshine bathed a verdant campus, instead of the thunderstorms that were in the forecast. Jay, his wife Diane (not a Bona grad) and I took the walking tour led by a personable young man from the student body. Ooohs and aaahs were made.

Campus has both changed and not changed, which I find reassuring. All the buildings are there, comforting in their red-brick solidness, inspiring in the fresh paint and renovations. The massive study tables in the library are still there (oh, the hours I spent there), but the long couches in the back are gone, replaced by a bank of new computers. Plassmann Hall, where I spent countless hours, still houses the arts and humanities departments, but a new Starbucks kiosk lives on the first floor, and the 1950s desk-n-chair combos have been replaced by more group-oriented furniture. De La Roche sports a shiny new annex - and the lion's head fountain in front, which was completely non-functional when I was a student, pours water into a clean basin housing several fish. Butler Gym has been cleaned up, a state-of-the-art fitness center lives next to the Riley Center (complete with climbing-wall), the hallway between Robinson and Falconio halls has been replaced by a brick courtyard, Hickey Dining Hall has been totally renovated, and a lovely little cafe, Cafe La Verna has been added on to the back. Good thing it didn't exist back in the early 90s; I might never have made it to class.

As we walked, we reminisced. The old post office, the first year the Quick Arts Center opened (I was part of the inaugural performance in the Rigas Theater, a student-led production of "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown"). Jay and I marveled at the size of rooms in Dev; we swore they had gotten bigger - or at least cleaner. We wandered down Third Doyle, remembering who had lived where, and what we had done in each room.

Saturday night at dinner, Moritz led me down more lanes of memory. I had forgotten the night she and I had scared the pants off most of the BonaVenture newspaper staff by going into the RC gym and screaming at the top of our lungs (hey, we'd had six consecutive page layout proposals rejected, and it was 2:00 in the morning - we were a little punchy). We remembered the basketball games. Jay swears they all blur together, but I clearly remember the two of us clutching each other in the stands when SBU beat Temple University in double-overtime, the first win over the Owls in over a decade, praying that the Temple players would miss their free throws and preserve our lead.

Friday and Saturday nights Jay, Mike and I did what we'd done for so many nights; we grabbed something to drink and retired to Jay's room to talk. Past, present, and future, it was no-holds-barred. It was wonderful. The years melted away nearly as fast as the night. I stayed up later and consumed more alcohol that weekend than I have in a long time.

And I saw the friars - Fr. Dan Riley, and Fr. Peter Schneible, still wonderful men, who exemplify what it means to be truly caring. Older, perhaps, but reassuring in their brown and white habits, still interested in us and our lives. Fr. Bernie, still toting the 35mm camera on a strap over his shoulder. I have no idea what he took pictures of, but I never saw him without his camera when I was a student. I smiled at the vision.

The weekend was not without its sorrow. We remembered, with a pang of regret, Fr. Dan Hurley, OFM, who passed away in May of this year. Hurls was a part of Bonaventure for so many years. Old when I was a student, it seemed as though he would always be there, even if intellectually I knew he wouldn't be. His gentle presence pervaded the weekend. I learned with great sorrow about the death of Joy Kwasniak, a member of the women's basketball team and a 1995 grad. She had died several years ago of a rare eye cancer. Moritz put it best; Joy's name fit her perfectly. Not one of the best basketball players, and not a top scorer, she was nevertheless a fantastic player who could be counted on to give her all, both on and off the court. As a student reporter on the women's basketball beat, I could count on Joy for a solid interview, regardless of the results on the court.

And as I stood in the University Chapel on Sunday, the place where I had first come to feel God's love in my life, singing a hymn based on Francis's "Canticle," I felt a sharp pang of longing, a twinge of envy for the current student body, and a tear in my eye. Although impossible, for a moment I longed to go back to a simpler time, when my most stressful problem was getting up in time for my 8:00 class.

Standing on the lawn behind Friedsam Memorial Library on Saturday afternoon, the RC on my left, Plassmann on my right, it all flooded back. It seemed like no time at all had passed between the day I was pronounced a daughter of Bonaventure forever, and that moment in the sun. Looking up into the green lushness of Merton's Heart, far up in the mountains, I realized that the "Magic Mountains" really were magic.

Everybody has a place that is a touchstone, a place that left an indelible mark on your soul. The place that cast the mold of your life, and where you go back to touch the foundation, not only to remember what has been, but to dream of what is to come. That is St. Bonaventure.

"Bonaventure," means "good journey," and that is what the University calls our path when we set foot on campus as freshmen. It is a journey that does not end at graduation, but the Bona staff hopes that your "good journey" in college, prepares you for the "good journey" of life.

My "good journey" continues. I do not know where it will take me tomorrow. But it is comforting to know that if I ever feel lost, Bonaventure will be that touchstone, that guide post on the journey, to help set my feet to the path again.

To all current and future Bonaventure grads, I wish you the same. May your "good journey," fill you with joy, peace, and strength.

Pax et Bonum.

Please, Mr. Jobs, may I have an iPhone?

About 3 months ago, I bought an iPod Touch with this year's bonus money. I didn't need one; I had a very nice Nano that worked just fine. But my daughter wanted to upgrade her Shuffle (which was having trouble holding a charge anyway) to something that did video, and quite frankly, I'm a tech geek. I wanted a cool new toy. The only reason I hadn't bought the Touch years ago (when I bought my Nano - the square one, the first that did video) was price. I didn't have the money at the time. Now I did, especially when Apple gave me the trade-in discount for the semi-functioning Shuffle. So since I can't afford an iPad (and it's a little big to carry in my purse anyway), I got my Touch.

You may ask, why a Touch anyway? Well, a couple reasons. One, they have a bigger storage capacity than the Nano (I've got 32GB), and two, most of the applications in the App store run on the Touch. Really, the Touch is the iPhone, but without the phone part. It has WiFi. It plays games; I've purchased several, and haven't touched my Nintendo DS since I bought the Touch. I set it up to access my Gmail account. I got the Facebook app, a bunch of reader apps (which I wrote about here), a grocery list app, and a couple others. All of which will work on the iPhone, and some on the iPad, if and when I ever get those devices. It has already mostly replaced my laptop at home. Just want to check my Gmail and Facebook? Use the Touch. Want to look up directions? Use the Touch (it even supports printing to my wireless printer from some apps). Want to check on that actor from Babylon 5? IMDb app on the Touch. The only things the laptop gets broken out for is Quicken, my novel writing, and my Comcast email address, which I access through Outlook (and if I could figure out how to set up multiple email accounts on the Touch, I wouldn't do that either).

All of this is why I would really like an iPad. But I digress.

A friend of mine at work, who has an iPhone, said the Touch would quickly make me realize that the touch interface on my phone (a Samsung Omnia running Windows Mobile Pro 6.0) was not as slick. And he was right. It's not that I hate the phone now, but it is definitely more finicky than Apple's touch interface. I have to touch it in exactly the right place, and it's a pressure-based touch, whereas Apple's is electrostatic. And then there's just the quirks of Windows to deal with (For example, every so often my text messages refuse to type. I'm typing, but no letters are showing. The fix is easy; kill the text message "application," restart, and there you go, but still - really?).

I have long thought the iPhone was pretty cool. The one thorn in my side, however, continues to be one simple fact: it only works with AT&T. I do not have AT&T. I have cell service through Verizon, and I'm very happy with it, thankyouverymuch. It doesn't cost an arm and a leg, most of my family has Verizon (meaning it's free to talk to them), and I've always had excellent service, both in terms of signal and customer.

In contrast, I know several folks, including those with iPhones (and who are very happy with their iPhones) who are less than enamored of AT&T. In fact, one guy I know recently ditched his iPhone for a Droid. Did he hate the iPhone? No - he just didn't like the service from AT&T. So my motivation to leave Verizon for AT&T is, well, very low (to put it mildly).

In the grand tradition of tech and Apple, rumors abound about the iPhone coming to Verizon specifically, and a CDMA version coming in general. But according to this report from CNM News Network (which references a story from TheStreet.com), a Verizon executive recently said that a Verizon version of the iPhone was not coming "in the near future." And although there are multiple rumors of Apple contacting manufacturers and a CDMA version available by Christmas, everything I have found also says that Apple's exclusivity deal with AT&T does not expire until 2012, not this summer as I had believed. That kind of squashes my hopes that my next phone will be an iPhone.

Of course, I've also read that Apple is moving away from exclusivity agreements in other countries, so it only makes sense it would do the same in the US. Frankly, I know a lot of people say the type of cell service used by AT&T (as opposed to CDMA) is superior. Okay, well, I don't know about that. I do know that I've never had a reason to complain about coverage, service, or call quality in the 8 years I've been with Verizon.

It will be unfortunate if Verizon still doesn't have the iPhone by next fall (October 2011), which is when I'll be eligible for a new phone. I generally only upgrade every other year because I can't afford the full cost of a new phone. Now, I don't think AT&T or Apple ever offered a discount on the iPhone, so it may not matter; the phone may cost what it costs with no discounts. However, if Verizon decides to apply the "New Every Two" credit to the iPhone, and they don't have one available next October, it will be October 2013 before I can get my hands on one. And that sucks, because I really, REALLY want one. Heck, even my husband wants one and he's not a tech geek.

So if all this is true, and it will indeed be 2013 before there is a CDMA iPhone, if ever, (and I can't believe that Apple would not want access to the millions of Verizon cell customers in the US. Steve Jobs wants to make money, and he would sell an awful lot of iPhones if Verizon suddenly offered that option) I will most likely be looking for a Droid as my next phone. Don't get me wrong; the Droid looks very nice, and I know folks who have them, and who are very happy. But it's not the iPhone.

And for all the rampant speculation, CNM News is correct in saying "Nothing from the Cupertino, California based company exists until Steve Jobs himself says so."

So please, Mr. Jobs, may I have an iPhone?

Crossroads, finale

For those who have been tracking this saga...

I am staying put. For now. They are looking for an Information Design person, which I am not. Maybe someday they will also be looking for a writer and I can re-evaluate.

In the meantime, the boss and I will touch base at least monthly to address any issues I have.

And I will continue to write my novel.

And I will be content.

At least for now.

Crossroads, part 3

So I talked to my boss. She gave me more to think about.

Shit. Why can't things be easy?

The fact is that the writing job has changed, and I have some reading to do before I can determine whether I really want to go back, or whether this is a knee-jerk reaction to a stressful situation. Sort of like a child reaching for a favorite stuffed animal after a bad dream, or grabbing a pint of Ben & Jerry's after a bad day.

The good news, perhaps the best news, is that my boss was pretty clear that she would support whatever makes me happy, and not dreading coming to work. The decent news is that she has no doubts about my ability to do the job, and is willing to work with me to help me gain the confidence/skills/knowledge, whatever I think I need should I decide to stay where I am. That support alone is a serious factor to consider. It's not often you get a boss that is that understanding and supportive.

And finally, perhaps the best personal news, is that I have defined who I am. It's similar to a concept my friend Moritz wrote about; defining yourself in terms of what you are, not what you are not. I am a writer. Maybe I'm a little like Superman, playing one role to the world, but my real person is something else. Project manager by day, novelist by night.

I often tell folks that you must choose to be happy. Circumstances may suck, but happiness is always within your grasp.

Why is that always so much easier to believe when you're telling someone else?

Why does life always have to be so damn hard?

Crossroads, Part 2

Crossroads, Part 2

A few weeks ago, I wrote about being at a crossroads in my career. Do I continue forward, turn left, or turn right. But yesterday, it occurred to me that a crossroads does not contain only three possible directions. There is a fourth - going back the way you came.

For a few months now, I have had the feeling that perhaps I made a mistake when I left my career as a technical writer. Yes, the job had become slightly routine and mundane, but at least I understood it. I knew what I had to do to be successful - and I felt successful. For at least the past two years, I've not felt particular successful at work. As I told a friend of mine, I don't even know what the definition of "success" is anymore, much less if I can meet it.

But the option to go back was not there. We had a technical writer; I hired him. We had a second one at one point, but we had to lay him off, and we weren't hiring that position right now.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, a fellow project manager informed me that person had resigned. A wonderful possibility opened up. Perhaps I could go back. I pondered a bit. I talked to my husband. I talked to the other project manager, and another friend at work. They all agreed that it seemed like a good opportunity, just what I'd been hoping and praying for these past months. They agreed that they could see me being successful at that job, and acknowledged that I'd been so in the past.

So I rolled the dice. I emailed my manager. I want out.

It is amazing how the peace, and calm, and "lightness" of spirit feels when you've made a decision that you've been putting off for a long time, a decision that is "right." Today was the first time in a long time that I drove to work enjoying the bring spring sunshine, instead of dreading my arrival at the office. The first day in a long time where I woke up thinking, "Today is a day of opportunity," instead of "yay, another day of getting my ass chewed."

It feels good.

I do not know what will come of my email. I meet with my boss this afternoon. I am hopeful that she will support me, but ultimately I don't need that support - I can apply directly to HR for the writing position. But she's not just my boss, she's a friend, so I'd rather go with her blessing, so to speak.

Meanwhile, I will enjoy the spiritual "lightness" that comes of knowing what I am professionally. I am a writer, and I am taking steps to get back to that place.

As Bon Jovi said, "Who says you can't go home?"

Finding your inner Gypsy - and feeding her

If you live in Pittsburgh, and are looking for new places to eat, read on. If you are a foodie, and are interested in reading about good places to eat, read on. If you are neither of those things, well, stop right here because this post will probably bore you to tears.

If you go down to Pittsburgh's South Side, turn off Carson onto 13th St., and turn again onto Bingham St., you will see City Theatre (also a good spot, but a topic for another post). Next door to City Theatre, you will see a quiet, unassuming restaurant called The Gypsy Cafe. Gypsy is owned by a former co-worker of mine, Melanie, and her husband. And if you are looking for a local place with good food and a great atmosphere, well, Gypsy is your place.

Gypsy advertises itself as "offering an eclectic selection of homestyle dishes" and "real food, real people, real entertainment, and real atmosphere." The menu is a selection of pan-European dishes, heavily influenced by the ethnic background of the owners and also a Mediterranean flavor. Sound off-putting to meat-and-potatoes American? Not hardly.

We first went to Gypsy several years ago because a) we had theater tickets and Gypsy was right next door, and b) to support my friend in her culinary career path. We have continued to go back multiple times over the years because yes, it's that good.

First, the atmosphere. I'm not sure what the space was used for before. I know Gypsy's website says it is a reclaimed church. There must have been something requiring glass cases at one point because next to the bar is a case that reminds me of a deli case, tastefully draped in a Mediterranean-style throw. The restaurant is not big; it holds maybe 30 tables that generally seat 2-4, although I have seen them pushed together to accommodate parties of 8-12 people. The decor is the colors of the Med, rich reds, golds, greens, very warm and inviting. There are a number of prints on the walls, including some that look like Greek-inspired icons. It's a very warm, cosy place to eat. Now that it is summer, I noticed one cafe-style table on the sidewalk, although nobody was seated there. They did have the door open, so we got a nice spring breeze, without the crushing cold of over-worked A/C like some places I've been, where you turn into a popsicle before your dinner even arrives.

The wait staff are, without fail, friendly and inviting, willing to share their opinions of the food and to help you select something you will truly enjoy. And if you happen to be there on a night when Melanie is out mingling with the dinner crowd, you get to enjoy her gregarious, friendly banter.

Entertainment varies, but if you like jazz, I highly recommend checking out nights when Don Aliquo and his jazz group are performing. Fantastic. They also have performances by The Gypsy Strings, another local group. I've never done Readings by Rebecca, but if you're into that sort of thing, give it a shot. Gypsy has also participated in the South Side Soup Walk, a tour of soup offerings by South Side restaurants - proceeds benefit charity. They've done special "ghost story" events involving local buildings, and host Dr. Sketchy art events. And if you just want to enjoy a good meal, hey, you can do that too. Something for everyone.

Speaking of the food, well, that's what you go to a restaurant for, right? I've had some great meals - in fact, I've never had a bad one. We went last Sunday with friends of ours, and they agreed the meal was all we promised it would be. My hubby had the Szekaly Gulyas, a Transylvanian stew with Hungarian spices, slow-cooked pork, in a cream sauce over buttered egg noodles. It's one of his favorites. One of our friends had the Spice-dusted Rack of lamb served with roasted red potatoes in a spring pesto sauce. I was torn between the Apricot-Glazed Pork Loin and the Scallion Gnocchi, and eventually settled on the pork. The glaze was perfect, sweet, but not too sweet. After I finished, I found the serrated knife they had given me, but I hadn't needed it; the pork was so tender I cut it with my butter knife.

Gypsy also offers a selection of appetizers. Someday, I swear I am going to try the Saganaki, which is Greek-cheese bread doused with Ouzo, flamed, and then extinguished with fresh-squeezed lemon juice. On Sunday, I went for the Roasted Garlic Hummus with triangles of fresh pita bread. One time, they had a trio of hummus, including one with smoked salmon, which I wasn't sure I'd really like. I would not have called myself a hummus fan, but I like the hummus at Gypsy - it must be prepared right. It actually has flavor, instead of being a bland mush of chickpeas. The smoked salmon hummus that night was my favorite; pity I haven't seen it on the menu since.

While you can order a la cart at Gypsy, my favorite way to order is from the "prix fixe" menu. For $20 you get one appetizer, a house or special salad selection (and the dressings are all lovely, I had the pomegranate vinaigrette on a house salad), and an entrée from the list. But whatever you choose, the menu is fresh and seasonal - and delicious.

So if you and your spouse/significant other/best friend are looking for a truly special, local dining experience, pop on over to the Gypsy Cafe:

1330 Bingham St.

412-381-GYPSY (4977)

http://www.gypsycafe.net/

And tell Melanie "hi."