For you news junkies out there, you may have heard about the 180-lb tumor that was removed from a 32-year-old Vietnamese man, Nguyen Duy Hai, in Ho Chi Minh City. If you saw it, you probably had an “oh my god,” “gross,” “wow that’s incredible” or a “can you imagine?” moment. I’ve had those moments too. I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve also had the “I’m so glad it isn’t me” reaction. I think all these reactions are perfectly normal. It’s one way that we remind ourselves that despite all our complaints, there are still many, many people who have it worse than we do in some way, shape or form.
But for me, this story was an unpleasant reminder of what could happen to my little girl. Just six short weeks ago, I talked about the struggle for calm in the face of my daughter’s neurofibromatosis (NF type 1). Because it turns out that this Vietnamese man also has NF1.
A couple weeks ago, I talked a bit about the NF Symposium I attended a few weekends ago and how I was struck by the conflicting agendas of the program participants. That was the cerebral side of things. In this post, I’ll be talking about the emotional aspects.
When I was growing up in LA, I loved basketball so much that my dream in life was to be Chick Hearn.
I used to use a tape recorder similar to this one.
(Even then, you can tell that my athletic ability was non-existent, since I was dreaming of being an announcer, not a player.) Somewhere in the bowels of my mom’s house are hidden a few audio tapes of a 12-year-old girl vainly attempting to provide the play-by-play for a Lakers game. I used to watch the game, turn down the sound and use an old tape recorder to practice.
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
Okay, I admit it. I’m a sucker for a really good Hallmark card. I’m easily influenced by a certain type of sappy, thoughtful and pseudo-thoughtful quotes/sayings. Case in point, I really love the quote attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson about success. You know, this one:
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.
You’ll recall that a few months ago, I highlighted a blog I found interesting that focused on the author’s son and the outrage they encountered over his chosen Halloween costume.
In a continuation of the theme around gender stereotypes, I found this quite interesting: