On Facebook today, I was pointed to a great article in a local blog about a high school commencement speech from Friday, which was, in a word, fantastic. But before I get into why, let’s take a step back.
I frequently have conversations with friends where we lament the inability of “the younger generation” (shudder. I can’t believe I just said that.) to fend for themselves. The sense of entitlement seems currently to be out of all proportion with reality. Virtually an entire generation has been raised to be praised, petted and catered upon. We give awards for showing up, and tell our children that they are smart, when they’re merely being average; that all that matters is that you tried your best even though we know that the wider world cares about results than it does about effort.
Even with my own generation, I’ve often commented (before the recession) that my generation seems to think that we’re entitled to be fulfilled by our job. That we deserve to find a job that not only pays us well, but that fulfills us as people and our desire to do good in the world (two things, sadly, that are usually mutually exclusive).
There’s a funny thing that happens to some people when they become parents. I’m sorry to say that I’m one of them. And let’s face it – after some of my confessions, you, dear reader, aren’t really that surprised when I go all sappy and analytical on you, are you?
A champagne-soaked Tim Wakefield
Anyway, this week Tim Wakefield, a 45-year-old knuckleball pitcher on the Red Sox, recorded his 200th win. This was a cause for much celebration. Wake is beloved by Red Sox Nation, and rightly so. He’s been with the Red Sox for 17 years, and while his pitch might be unpredictable, the man is not. And while I was rejoicing in his win on Tuesday night, after six long weeks and eight failed attempts, it occurred to me that there are a number of life lessons that Tim Wakefield could teach my daughter: Continue reading
One of the many things I like about living in Boston is that there’s a relative shortage of natural disasters – though you wouldn’t know it if you watched our local meteorologists. My childhood state of California was like that too – there was always the possibility of earthquake or fire, but I never worried about it the way other parts of the country worried about their disasters. I guess it’s a question of what you’re used to.
I was doing so well for a while, posting twice a week. Ah well.
I meant to post this last week for Easter, but life got in the way. I admire the inclusive, entrepreneurial spirit embodied by the Japanese restaurant that had this in the window. In case you can’t quite make it out, there’s a Buddha through the window.
After living in Brookline for 6+years, we finally made our way to Larz Anderson Park (Great park, P.S.). We’re always talking about having a picnic, but we never get around to it, so this time we were determined to make it work. Looks like K enjoyed it, don’t you think? (see below for pics)
We all know the drill – we spend so much time going through our daily lives that we often miss the truly remarkable. As a result, there’s something strangely satisfying about a mass of people taking time off to appreciate something that could just as easily be missed because life is going too fast.