Dear Girlfriends,

What are the secrets to living an honorable life? The advice is endless. You can read about them in books or in magazines. You can watch the discussions on Oprah. You can go to a psychologist, hire a coach, or learn about them online. You can even chime in on the topic on blogs, like mine. But have you ever seen what the attributes of an honorable life look like?

On December 7, 2007, I fell in love for the first time in 18 years, and I fell hard. Tears flooded my eyes and my mind raced as I looked upon the precious face of my first grandchild, Ava, and considered all she would behold in her lifetime and the important lessons she would learn. My role as her grandmother (I'm coaching her to call me Sugar) seemed a daunting one as I considered all my grandmother had been to me: my teacher; my playmate; my confidant; my spiritual advisor; my role model. How would I compare to the greatest Mammaw of all time? (But don't call me Mammaw - I'm way too hip.)

For the next several weeks after Ava's birth, I kept a list of the things that I hoped she would see in her lifetime. Although the list is long, it doesn't include Disney World, Miley Cyrus, or the shoe department at Niemen's. No. My list includes intangibles; intangibles that due to a change in our social fabric, our busy family lifestyles, or our lack of mindfulness or creativity, we fail to model for our children and grandchildren. And, unfortunately, due to the fact that many of us were raised in not-so-perfect households, these are some of the same intangibles that were not modeled for us. 

So what are some of the things on my list that I want Ava to see?

Timeless Honor
Selfless Devotion
Genuine Respect
Work/life Balance
Considerate Inclusion
Meaningful Traditions
Mindful Appreciation
Working Friendships
Marriage Partnerships
Successful Divorce

Successful divorce? Yep. There's a lesson here for all of us.

Because children are always watching (and because teenagers never listen), we know for a fact that our actions speak louder than words. So let's begin the important discussion as to how we, as sisters, aunts, godmothers, mothers, grandmothers, and great-grandmothers, can model an honorable life for our next generation.

Standing in some very big Mammaw shoes,
Ellen, a.k.a. Sugar

Posted by Ellen on May 21, 2008 11:32 AM  |  Category: What Does It Look Like?

Dear Girlfriend,

Lying by omission. Skirting the rules. Shirking our responsibilities. Failing to admit fault. These are only a very few of the more benign characteristics of a disgraceful life we have seen modeled for us. The list is long and gets ugly, and it has become mostly acceptable in today's society. So acceptable that unfortunately many of us have modeled these negative traits to our own children and grandchildren. Disgrace - yes, we've seen it. But honor? Do we know what it looks like?

At a conference last summer, I heard General Colin Powell speak about his concern for our country and our role on the world stage. As he discussed this topic and other societal issues, he said that bringing dishonor to his family was not an option. He and his cousins were raised with the concept that disgrace is not a personal thing - it's a family matter. This got me thinking: how do you instill the concept of honor in a child?

Over the years you've read about the struggles we've experienced with our son, Scott. I can be honest after 27 years of denial. Disgrace pretty much sums up his situation - a pathological liar, a methamphetamine addict, a manipulator. Today, he's working hard to overcome his challenges but as for the concept of honor, I don't think he has a clue. On the flip side. . .

Our daughter Shauna was born a truth-teller. I would just crack up at the things she would volunteer; at the innocent age of three, she would "fess up" just to get those sins off her chest! She was born a person of integrity; but I didn't teach her that, any more than I taught Scott to lie. I can no more take credit for the honorable life and high moral standards our daughter lives by than I can shoulder the blame for our son's failure to live by a code of ethics. So did I miss something in my own personal modeling and explanations of expectation when it comes to honor? I think maybe I did.

You see, I know exactly what honor looks like. Honor sat at the dining room table with me celebrating his 80^th birthday last month. There, in flesh and blood, was a man of profound integrity. My second cousin Jerry, and his wife of 56 years, have lived a life of such dignity that I was literally bursting with pride at the mere thought of being related to them. And let me tell you, their living example of a life without compromise has worked - you should meet their two sons, their spouses, and their grandchildren; absolutely amazing people, and children, of character. But this isn't an anomaly; the two preceding generations of the Wilson family lived equally honorable lives. I think that we should turn the whole clan into a lab test so we can study them in order to repeat this success of generations of exceptional human beings. Do you know a family like this? If so, you know what I'm talking about. This is not the rule in our society today, but the rare exception.

So . . . back to the rest of us. How do we, who were not modeled an honorable life or have made grievous mistakes, right the wrongs for our next generation? I would like to propose an equal balance of family pride and shame. Let's start with the unpopular topic of shame.

Shame is a feeling that some generations of our society will have no concept of. A word so ugly we have purged it from our vocabulary. A tool in building a life of character that has been buried for the sake of building Susie's self-esteem. Sure, you can shame someone to the point of damaging her self-confidence or psyche. But have we gone overboard? Have we failed to define and explain honor because the opposite - the teaching tool of shame - is out of vogue?

In lieu of shame, my parents indulged me with a glossy version of high-level scolding so as to not damage my self-esteem. And as my parents modeled for me, I, along with millions of other mothers of my generation, continued this same example of forfeiting the discussion of shame - both personal and family - for the building of our children's confidence.

On the flip slide of shame is a sense of family pride. And this is what I believe my cousins Jerry and Betty have probably modeled and taught - that we have an obligation to our family and out of that obligation comes a desire to be a person of distinction; a person who lives above the fray.

So as I think about my granddaughter Ava and what I want her to see - I want her to see what honor looks like. I can't right my past wrongs, but I can sure be mindful of my examples and teachings today. I will assist her parents as they balance the teaching of shame with stories of generations of honorable ancestors. We will model for her that a life of honor is developed one important decision at a time. And following Jerry and Betty's example, Steve and I hope that Ava will feel the same sense of family pride as she, one day, looks across the dining room table at us.
 

Hoping to re-start an old-fashioned trend,
Ellen, a.k.a. Sugar

Posted by Ellen on May 29, 2008 10:07 AM  |  Category: What Does It Look Like?

Dear Girlfriends, 

A few weeks ago my sleep-deprived daughter, sporting spit-up on her blouse, looked me straight in the eye and said, "No one told me it was going to be this hard." I just looked at her and blinked. The "no one" she was referring to was me. Uh-oh.

After she left I basked in my self-pride of making motherhood and selfless devotion look so easy. But then I became confused. Wait . . .how could she not know this is sometimes very hard? Had she not seen selfless devotion for these past 30 years?

Well, of course she had - but like most of us, she didn't know what she was looking at.

Our recognition of selfless devotion is like our relationship with the sun: it comes up every morning without our doing a single thing. We take it for granted, enjoying its light and relishing its warmth. But even though it's a constant in our life, we rarely really "see" it. Only the occasional spectacular sunrise or sunset gets our attention. And we certainly don't appreciate what's going on in the background. Few of us understand the way our solar system hangs together. No, we give little thought to what it takes for Mr. Sunshine to smile on us every day. It's the same with selfless devotion.

My friend BJ didn't know what it looked like, either; not because she took it for granted, but because she had never laid eyes on it. Ever.

When she was a baby, BJ's biological mom gave her to a woman who worked in a bar, who - when BJ was only 15 years old - left BJ alone to raise herself. At the age of 46, prior to a major surgery, BJ began looking for someone to hire to take care of her as she recuperated at home. But a precious friend, who had invited BJ into her family, volunteered her mom, Genny, for the job, insisting that this was the solution to BJ's convalescence needs. Little did BJ know that this would be a close encounter of the selfless kind.

One night, after BJ got up to go to the restroom, she returned to her bed - but the bed was not as she had left it. BJ held her breath; she was in awe. While BJ was up, Genny had quietly crept into her room to straighten her sheets and blankets . . . and Genny had fluffed her pillow. In all her life, BJ had never had anyone fluff her pillows. As BJ told me the story, I could just see this precious little woman padding across the floor to deliver selfless devotion under the cover of night. But unlike the rest of us who have had our pillows fluffed, BJ knew what she was looking at. It was like looking at the sun for the very first time.

I know that many of you, my girlfriends, are young mothers who are just learning the ropes - and I'm sure there are days when you're overwhelmed (as we all were). As you sacrifice your physical, material, and emotional needs for those of your child, I hope you will take time to think about and thank your own mom. As imperfect as she might have been, she also sacrificed for you - even if you didn't notice all that was going on in her solar system, behind her eyes . . . and in her heart. There were sacrifices I'm sure she made, even if you didn't know what you were seeing. And so it will be for your child.

Shauna will make mothering look easy; so much so, that Ava probably won't know it's selfless devotion that she's looking at, either. And one day, thirty years from now, Shauna can think of her own good answer when Ava says, "No one told me it was going to be this hard."
 

Fluffing pillows for the next generation,
Ellen, a.k.a. Sugar

Posted by Ellen on June 11, 2008 9:23 AM  |  Category: What Does It Look Like?

Dear Girlfriends,

"Don't use that tone with me, young lady." If there's a female child in your life, and she's talking, there's a good chance you've had the opportunity to use this line. If you haven't - well, clearly she has not yet entered puberty.

Respect. Most of us expect our children to respect us. But can they define it? Do our children know what it means because we've showed them, or because we've simply demanded it?

I define respect as an attitude of gratitude and the discipline of self-control. With the exception of a couple of hormonal outbursts when she was a pre-teen, our daughter Shauna has always been respectful. And now it's my turn to return the favor. You see, genuine respect is a two-way street, and the respect I want Ava to see is the attitude of gratitude I have toward her parents. I had a good role model for this one; I know what it looks like because my Mammaw showed me.

As I've shared with you in previous Truth Nuggets, my Mom struggled with substance abuse as the result of mental illness. As a child I idolized her but as I grew older, her issues became a source of embarrassment for me. By the age of 15, my respect-o-meter had hit an all-time low.

Taking my grievances to my grandmother, I ranted and raved. But not once, not once, in all my years of Mom-bashing would Mammaw join in. My beautiful gray-haired grandmother would quietly listen, and then remind me how much my mother loved me, as she gently turned the conversation to a more positive topic. Mammaw modeled for me that respect is not only something a mother hopes to receive from her child, but is something a mother also returns.

This topic cuts close to the bone for those of you who have been on the receiving end of negative comments made by a parent or an in-law. You know first-hand the pain this inflicts and how confusing it was for your child; how it totally undermines the philosophy of respect. Because you were hurt, you understand this intangible of genuine respect at a gut level, and most likely model it well for the children you influence.

Others, who have not lived through such an experience, might not fully grasp that every word out of their mouth has an impact on the child in their life. Snide comments, hurtful teasing, and unreasonable criticism can paint a picture for a child that their parent is undeserving of their respect. We so often forget that every word said and every tone used is either positive or negative. Nothing is neutral. Especially to a child and regardless of their age.

At the Sugar Pop (which is wherever Sugar and Pop live at the moment), we have begun to model genuine respect for Ava. As we feed her and rock her and play with her, we share with her the many charming characteristics of her Mommy and Daddy. Yes, she's only six months old, but she will learn this one cold: She's a blessed child to have these two awesome human beings as her parents. There will be no mom- or dad-bashing at our house, either.

Learning the ropes of parenting an adult child is not much different from parenting a newborn; it's all trial and error. We make it up as we go along, sometimes without thinking of the greater consequences of our actions. But today, I am thinking. And I'm thinking that what I say or don't say will have a lasting impact on Ava Lynn's understanding of genuine respect. And because I have something good to say, I'm going to take the time to say it.

Respectfully yours,
Ellen, a.k.a. Sugar

Posted by Ellen on June 25, 2008 3:11 PM  |  Category: What Does It Look Like?

Dear Girlfriends,

I write to you this morning completely overwhelmed. Standing in the middle of my three-ring circus of family, work, and personal pursuits, I have moved from my favorite role of ringmaster (I love being in charge) to the lady riding bareback on the white pony (preparing for a huge client presentation). . .while performing a courageous act with the tigers (completing the manuscript for my book). . . in my clown suit (while babysitting Ava). Before noon today I will have performed every role in my personal crazy circus. And I love it.

Loving the fact that I'm overwhelmed probably seems counterintuitive - or just sick. But for those of us who have learned what work/life balance is, it makes perfect sense. And this is what I want Ava to see: that work/life balance doesn't mean sacrificing things as much as it means loving all the acts we're allowed to play. Work/life balance is not something you do or don't do; it's about the enthusiasm with which you greet your roles.

Shauna was six and her brother Scott was three when I worked two part-time jobs and took 16-hour semester loads in college. My schedule was as perfectly timed as the finest trapeze artists, up at 5:00 a.m. and to bed at midnight. In between school and my two jobs we carpooled, did homework and housework, cooked all meals from scratch, and often entertained ourselves with our family trampoline act (literally). Yes, I was a walking, talking lunatic. But I wouldn't trade one minute of that exhausting life stage. Why? Because I had something to be enthusiastic about. I spent more time celebrating my life at that moment than I did lamenting how hard tomorrow would be. Work/life balance? I wouldn't understand the concept or conflict until years later.

Fast forward eleven years. Balancing a long commute with two teenagers and a demanding career in a Fortune 500 company wasn't that hard either - until I lost my wonder for it all. Spending nearly three hours in the car every day, becoming less important to my children, and realizing that the top rung of the ladder was not where I wanted to be - my excitement for all things from work to family began to wane. And with waning comes complaining. Not because my circus performance was any more difficult, but because I failed to be entertained by any of my own acts. Work/life balance? It didn't take me long to understand that I needed an attitude adjustment; I realized for me, work/life balance was more about what was in my head than what was on my to-do list.

As Ava grows, she'll watch her Sugar run a company, craft Truth Nuggets, write books, travel to faraway countries, love her Pop, and play with her each Monday. I will show her that work/life balance is not as much about the number of rings in our circus as it is about the pure rush of climbing on that pony.

 
We act as though comfort and luxury are the chief requirements in life, when all that we need to make us really happy is something to be enthusiastic about. - Charles Kingsley

Giddy up,
Ellen, a.k.a. Sugar

Posted by Ellen on July 8, 2008 5:03 PM  |  Category: What Does It Look Like?

Dear Girlfriends,

Every Saturday morning, Steve and I hop on our bikes for our ten-mile ride around White Rock Lake. The small city lake and her parks are a Dallas treasure. It's a fabulous place. Lots of trees, picnic areas, running and biking trails, squirrels, ducks, sailboats, and people. Lots of people.

People in cars. People on foot. People with strollers. People on bikes. People on skates. Alone. Together. Sometimes with kids. Sometimes with dogs. Sometimes with dogs and kids, and on skates. It's a fabulous place.

People in good moods and people who are fussy. Everyone is accepted. The friendly people take the as*h*les in stride and the cranky people (usually on fast bikes) somehow manage to pull every ounce of patience together in order to get around the lake without running over anyone.

I hear people speaking languages I've never heard, walking along in brightly colored sarongs and plastic flip flops. The women are laughing; I don't get the joke but I get the joy.

I smell fajitas being grilled as people celebrate the weekend with their families. They're cheering, in Spanish, as a little fellow finally takes off on his two-wheeled bike, for the first time. I remember the jubilation.

I watch twenty-something women in teensey-weensy shorts and halter tops, jogging (without sweating) as they look for tonight's date. They laugh together at something a young hunk-of-a- man just said in passing. I remember flirting.

I marvel at the seventy-something people, lean and tan, looking like they've run a thousand miles. They laugh at everything because they know something we don't. I remember that laugh from my grandmother.

I barely see the Lance Armstrong wanna-be's as they whiz by on their bikes like a bullet train. They're not all as*h*les. As they pass me on my left, I hear them laugh, as they share a story about something that happened at the office. I think of my office mates and smile.

People of all ages - newborn to nearly dead. People of all ethnicities - plain white to midnight and every shade in between. People of all orientations - gay and straight; some probably confused. People of all sizes: short, tall, thin, very thin, heavy, very heavy. It's a fabulous place.

And this is what I want Ava to see. A world where everyone is welcome to laugh, to love, and to be loved.

I want Ava to see that considerate inclusion is the opposite of isolation; considerate inclusion means meeting people on common ground where we all experience life. It's learning to belong to the human race by engaging in life alongside others - even if we're not involved in their conversation. It's learning, through the expression of respectful interest, about those whose cultures and religions are different from our own; and it's learning to put aside our prejudices if our value systems don't perfectly align. Considerate inclusion is forgetting about what makes us different and remembering those things we have in common.
 

We may have all come on different ships, but we're in the same boat now.
- Martin Luther King, Jr.

 
For the most part, in Dallas, like most towns and cities across the country, we still localize and live amongst our own. But on Saturday morning at White Rock Lake, we come together. Everyone is welcome. And I can't wait to take Ava. It's a fabulous place.   

That will be us laughing - passing on your left,
Ellen, a.k.a. Sugar

Posted by Ellen on July 23, 2008 2:17 PM  |  Category: What Does It Look Like?

Dear Girlfriends,
 

I knew I belonged to the public and to the world not because I was talented or even beautiful, but because I had never belonged to anything or anyone else. - Marilyn Monroe

Belonging. Some of us read that word and feel connected and safe. We know we are a member of a tribe - either family or community (for some folks, their friends are their family), and our participation in traditions comes naturally. But for others of us, the word "belonging" conjures up nothing but aloneness and vulnerability, resulting in a state of desire to break the cycle in order to establish family traditions for our future generations.

I'll be the first to admit that when it came to developing family traditions, I wasn't the most creative cat in the barn. What few traditions we established when the kids were young mostly centered around food: tamales and chili on Christmas Eve (after church), Saturday morning McMillers (our much-improved family version of the Egg McMuffin), sausage balls on Thanksgiving morning (Shauna has picked up this torch, and carries it nicely), and herb-crusted beef tenderloin on Christmas Day (you can count on it). But as I think about our family traditions and about creating a haven for Ava where she knows she belongs - I know in my heart that food alone will not sustain her.

My Jewish friends have modeled this for me, through the celebration of the Bar Mitzvah and Bat Mitzvah; their experience has enlightened me to the fact that many of us fail to use traditions as an important teaching tool in communicating our family's social values, a sense of family identity, a historical understanding of our family heritage, and our spiritual significance.

My friends Gary and Linda invited Steve and me to attend their son Alex's Bar Mitzvah a few years ago. We were in total awe at the poise and grace this gangly 13-year-old demonstrated as he led his congregation through the service, speaking and singing in Hebrew. I didn't understand a word of what he said, but I sure understood the significance at the end: Alex knew he belonged to something much greater than just Alex. Oh, to teach that critical lesson to all our children!

I visited with a friend of mine a few weeks ago on the topic of his sons' Bar Mitzvahs to better understand the meaning, commitment, investment, and preparation required behind this religious, cultural, and family tradition. Stephen said, "At the core, we want our children to understand what it means to be Jewish and to recognize their responsibilities to the faith, their rich history, and the culture." As he shared the story of his younger son's struggle during his study, his eyes welled with tears of pride when he said, "But his presentation and d'rash were perfect. It made me almost want to have another kid". Now, that's a powerful experience when your 13-year-old son makes you so proud, you want to start over!

Which led me to ask myself, what family traditions do we have that challenge our children to think, to learn, to lead, and to reflect? What are the experiences we share with them to explore our family heritage and the connection to our belief system? As a society, we must do better.

We're not Jewish, but I want Ava to have that same sense of confidence and security in her faith, her family, and her culture. In addition to sharing vacations as an extended family and eating an occasional McMiller, I have invested the time and mental energy to create other family traditions that I hope will help her better understand who we are, where we came from, what we believe in, and why. All with the hope that one day she will know that she is connected to something much greater than just herself.

So what do I want Ava to see? That without a doubt, she belongs to our tribe.
 

Planning some cool traditions,
Ellen a.k.a. Sugar

Posted by Ellen on August 6, 2008 3:56 PM  |  Category: What Does It Look Like?

Dear Girlfriends,

The economy stinks; our grocery and gas prices are up, and our stocks are down.

The world is at war; children are starving; our ice caps are melting. Things have gotten so bad I feel like I need an antidepressant just to turn on the world news.

But allowing myself to be negatively influenced by what's wrong in the world is not the message I want to communicate to Ava. When it comes to mindful appreciation, I want Ava to see that the things that we should be most grateful for, the things that bring us the most joy, have nothing to do with the economy, our jobs, crime, or even the weather. I was reminded of this lesson last year by two little sweethearts in California.

While I was visiting with my girlfriend Stacie and her husband Lewis, we sat down for a beautifully prepared dinner. The children sat patiently waiting for their dad, to come to the table, to ask the discussion question of the evening. Tonight's question was: "Girls, what are you most thankful for today?" Caroline, age 6, and Samantha, age 4, both exclaimed that they were most thankful that Aunt E had come to visit them. As they went on to ask the blessing for the food, they extended mindful appreciation for the people, not the things, in their lives.

Out of the mouth of babes I was reminded that we can't buy happiness - we can't even rent it. So why do we allow the negativity of the world or work or life situations to rob us of appreciation for the things that really do bring us personal joy? Inspired by those two giggly cherubs, I started my personal joy list on the plane ride home:

1. Being with Steve
2. Spending time with our kids
3. Riding my bike
4. Listening to music
5. Sitting outside (when it's not 106 degrees)
6. Crocheting a gift
7. Laughing with my friends
8. Writing a Truth Nugget
9. Watching the sun set
10. A delicious glass of ice tea

And the list goes on. . .

Because there is so much in our world that's not right, I believe we must be extra diligent to observe all the things in our lives that are right. And to acknowledge those things and people that bring us true joy.

Who and what we love defines us. - Alexandra Stoddard

So what will mindful appreciation look like to Ava? A long list of blessings that Sugar adds to every day. And what do you think my blessing number 199 is?
 

Holding Ava while she sleeps,
Ellen, a.k.a. Sugar

Posted by Ellen on August 19, 2008 1:37 PM  |  Category: What Does It Look Like?

Dear Girlfriends,

I look forward to being older, when what you look like becomes less and less an issue

 and what you are is the point. - Susan Sarandon

For over 25 years, my grandmother and eight other silver-haired women gathered at one another's homes every other Saturday night for an evening of Forty-Two. For those who are unfamiliar, Forty-Two is a domino game played much like a card game that includes winning bids and tricks. Only an occasional ice storm, every three to five years, would deter the gathering of the Forty-Two Club. Or death.

From my youth through my teenage years, I was called upon every ninth week to help Mammaw in the serving of finger sandwiches, Fritos and onion dip, Creek Water ice tea, and her homemade lemon ice box pie. This role provided me the opportunity to hone my hostess skills, but more importantly, it allowed me to observe what it takes to build lasting friendships.

Mammaw and the gals demonstrated that in order for the game of friendship to work, you had to be willing to play both sides of the table or the friendship would become superficial and lack the depth required to persevere. Mammaw and her girlfriends showed me that to have a network that works, you must be willing to invest a generous portion of give and take.

Every two months, until I left home, I heard the side-splitting laughter as one of the gals told a joke. Even if it wasn't funny or if they heard it two weeks before, they roared with laughter. I saw the twinkle in their eyes as they ribbed a partner when someone made a bad play, but I don't remember ever hearing anything that resembled sarcasm or ridicule.

I remember hearing them celebrate for one another, and their families, at a simple life win. Not a self-centered one in the bunch, these nine women expressed great interest in the lives of others.

And you know, for nine women to meet together 26 times a year for 25 years, all of them going through menopause, there must have been a whole lot of forgiving and forgetting.

I watched them age - the salt and pepper turning all salt; the buttermilk skin slowly becoming etched with beautiful laugh lines. But it didn't matter to the Forty-Two Club. What they looked like was never the issue, because who they were was the point.

Over the years, canes and walkers became their companions to the event. As I grew older, I saw them comfort one another as they attended funerals together; first husbands, then - one by one - the members of the Forty-Two Club themselves. They are all gone now, but their legacy lives on.

My girlfriends and I don't play Forty-Two (although if one if them has her way, we're going to have game night!) and if we're gray - you'll never know it. As long as Avalon Salon is open, most of us will die blonde. But we will be women of purpose and character; we will be women who laugh, celebrate, banter, and mourn with one another. And like the Forty-Two Club, we will forgive and move on. And we will age. Together.

And that's what I want Ava to see: a network of girlfriends - that works.

Mixing my lemon ice box pie,

Ellen, a.k.a. Sugar

Posted by Ellen on September 3, 2008 9:12 AM  |  Category: What Does It Look Like?

Dear Girlfriends,

Many of you write and ask me where my inspiration for Truth Nuggets comes from. Most of the time, I'm either running or biking and a thought comes to me. But often, someone will say something or ask me a question that makes me catch my breath. The title of this series, What Does It Look Like? came from a brief encounter with a total stranger.

A woman in her early 40's took the seat next to mine for a flight from Dallas to Orange County, California. She was on her mobile phone as she walked up the aisle and stayed on it until we took off. Once in the air, I was digging into my work, when without introduction she pointed to my left hand and said, "I like your ring. I used to have one of those." I glanced at her naked left hand and knew that, for whatever reason, she needed to talk. To me.

I asked her about her lost love and she shared the sad tale. As she concluded, she asked about my marriage - "how is it going?" When I told her I was married to my best friend and that I was still on my honeymoon after 18 years, she said,

"I don't know what that looks like."

My seatmate went on to share with me that her parents were married, miserably, for over 40 years. Distant bitterness, manipulation, and verbal abuse seemed to be the primary themes of her parents' marriage. She had never seen a healthy relationship.

I caught my breath. With 39 minutes left in flight, I was unsure if I could paint a picture of a healthy marriage for her, but having learned that she was a successful executive in the business world, I tried to give her a picture of something I thought she could relate to:

A good marriage moves to a great marriage when each person agrees to an equal partnership. There is no Alpha Dog in a marriage partnership that works, and there are no victims. Virginia Satir, in her book The New People Making, said it best; ". . . anyone who gives up their power and survival dooms a marriage." Both parties must agree that their opinions are equal in value - and neither should ever forfeit their right to be heard.

As in a strong business partnership, each person brings their own gifts and talents to complement and augment the other. My personal theory is that successful relationships, in work or marriage, occur when a "how" person teams up with a "what" person. In our marriage and in our business, I'm the "what" person; I come up with the ideas. Steve is operationally excellent to me - a "how" person, he figures out a) if the "what" can be done and then, importantly, b) how to do it. Two "whats" or two "hows" often struggle in business or love.

A business will not thrive if one person is left to carry the workload - physically, mentally, or emotionally. Sometimes one of the business partners will be "off his or her game," so the other partner picks up the slack until the distracted partner gets their second wind. It's never a 50/50 work load, in business or in marriage. Sometimes you carry the load; sometimes you are the load.

An enthusiastic business partner with a vision for the future makes it stronger. So it is in marriage. Each person should appreciate the other's vision and dreams, knowing that a highly engaged partner makes the business (or marriage, in this case) stronger. Without growth and enthusiasm for individual goals, partnerships atrophy.

Lastly, in the healthiest business environments, each person dignifies the other with their tone of speech and attitude of respect. Barking orders, ridiculing, and the silent treatment are not usually condoned in the workplace (at least not mine). A marriage partnership might survive, but will never flourish under these circumstances.

When I finished, my new girlfriend looked at me skeptically. I'm not sure if she got the picture or not. But Ava will. Because at 26,000 feet, a total stranger pointed out to me that it is important for us, as children, to see our philosophies and value system in action, to believe them.

Partnering with Pop,

Ellen, a.k.a. Sugar

Posted by Ellen on September 25, 2008 4:59 PM  |  Category: What Does It Look Like?

Dear Girlfriends,

As I close this series on the things I want Ava to see, my heart is full because of the beautiful examples others have lived out for me. The intangibles that contribute to living intentionally are not mystic philosophies; most have been modeled for me with brilliance. I have even seen a successful divorce.

My husband, Steve, was raised by two of the most exceptional human beings I have ever met. I am among the most blessed to have in-laws who are not only highly honorable individuals, but who truly consider me as their own daughter. You'll never hear an ugly in-law joke from me; I couldn't be more loved or accepted.

But unfortunately, two excellent people do not always make for an excellent union. And so it was for Harriett and Al; they divorced when Steve was 13 years old.

The separation could have ended the family unit - and for a while, it did. But Harriett and Al realized something few parents get: even though they separated from each other, they understood that neither should punish Steve by separating from him. For nearly 19 years, I have seen what a successful divorce looks like because Harriett and Al live it out for me around our dining room table.

At every holiday I set places for Al, Harriett, and Harriett's husband Dean. Harriett and Al, always kind, thoughtful, and respectful, carry on conversations and "ribbing" like old friends. Steve's step-father, Dean, is equally gracious in this allowance and in his exchange as the three of them stroll down Memory Lane. No tension. No judgment. No passive-aggressive behavior. Just joy for the here and now and a respectful remembrance of yesterday. Time does heal - if we will just allow it.

We can't fall off the face of the earth or destroy or get away from all we had yesterday.

We need to include and integrate the things that belong to yesterday.

- Virginia Satir, The New People Making

Harriett and Al, with remarkable class and style, have taught me that parts of yesterday really do belong to today. And that divorcing from everything in the past cheats the child. They've shown me that maturity and selflessness must trump past hurts and disappointments if we're to model a successful divorce for our children and grandchildren.

And this is what I want Ava to see as her grandparents (all six of us) gather at her dining room table: Maturity. Selflessness. Respect. And joy for the here and now.

Integrating yesterday,

Ellen, a.k.a., Sugar

Posted by Ellen on October 6, 2008 10:29 AM  |  Category: What Does It Look Like?