NEW YEAR’S REVOLUTION by Kathryn Merrifield

Some people think “misery loves company.”

Personally I think misery doesn’t like anyone.

Also certain that it’s not the first ingredient in anything that won’t incite puking or self-destruction.

Unless you’re a writer – then you write the shit out of that until Misery feels so overloved that it runs out of the room like a used up whore.

Or try this… if a pervert hugs you – hug back harder.  It won’t ever happen again.

Pervert prevention.  I’ve tried it.  Perversion is misery the way fanaticism is scary.

That leads me to the year 2016 reevaluation #1:  Overlove misery.  That bitch won’t see it coming.

My new year’s revolution.

"CHEER CAMP" – HOW TO LIVE WHILST DYING by Kathryn Merrifield

Cheer camp is something I experienced – because seeking revenge on blond girls who made your fat, buck-toothed, four-eyed life hell… is fun.  And why I can never be blond.  I have olive skin.  Olives can only be eaten with vegetables like the innocuous lettuce.  Lettuce is like being blond.  It’s a filler that doesn’t last long among other substantial fats and proteins.  Which is why I was born with a head of black hair – chubby babies get a reprieve.

Considering all of this one should (me, I’m the only ONE) make clear that this morning I’ve been through taking my boredom and self-destructive tendencies out on my hair.  Bangs (it always sounds like date rape or guns, both terribly untimely to be dropped into any verbal purge) or a fringe that always curls up around an unruly cowlick and thwarts my greater purpose to be my only asset (hair that has thinned since three pregnancies wherein I had no idea that hair loss was part of that plan or how badly I’d need it for all the fancy hairstyles offered in The Hunger Games movies or Facebook Hairstyle How-To posts).  My (once) only asset has been demoted to THE ONLY THING I SEEM ABLE TO CONTROL because Women’s Rogaine works to make hair grow fast but not back to my Aquanet days… decade, really, and allowing my hair to grow so long that eventually I’d be able to claim the Guinness Book of World’s Records as the woman who sat in a chair the longest getting a full head of highlights.  Apart from the aggressive expense, the thought of sitting in a chair long enough to get a full head of highlights deters me from doing it as does the thought of regrowth, because then both time and Rogaine are then poised to be in conflict.

You can’t do both.

My goals conflict with each other.  Even if they're not real goals.

Spending so much time in a chair, of course, makes me think about how on earth capital punishment doesn’t have much of a lead-in – I mean, the torture isn’t the death – it’s the anticipation of the death that is the torture (and torture is frowned upon so I don't much get it... as I expect you won't either).  So, you make John Doe sentenced to death sit in the electric chair or just get one or two false alarm shocks or placebo injections – so, surprise – you get to live a little longer.

Of course, that’s just a metaphor for life.  That is also a book cover for “How to Live Whilst Dying” by me.

And it starts with the topic of cheerleading.  Remember that.

Remember that, and remember hair.  Take photos.  You'll never believe it was you.

"ARE YOU HAPPY NEW YEAR?" by Kathryn Merrifield

When I was in a freshman in college, I was assigned a final paper for my Philosophy 101, class.  We could choose any topic to wrap our heads and words around, but I chose this one.  Somehow I was granted an A+, probably because, even then, I had a different understanding of it. 

I’ve always been anxious – and happy isn’t typically a word associated with anxiety. You can’t very much be happy while waiting for something else to go wrong or waiting for the world to fall out from under you, the carpet ripped…  whatever.  The best cure for anxiety, in my professional opinion, is the continuous proof that no matter how anxious you are about one thing, something entirely different will occur, and prove that pinning down a particular doomsday outcome is a waste of time.  Still, I do it.  It seems part of my DNA – DNA that can explain the shit out of something but be profoundly afraid of it.

Why do we say Merry Christmas instead of Happy Christmas?  Perhaps to be happy is to be merry.  And to be disingenuous about being merry is a lie.

Yet, Honest Christmas isn’t very catchy.  So fuck that.  It’s a holiday for kids and a huge stressor for relationships of all kinds.  Perhaps this is why we need to make it happy.  I regret to tell you that Santa Claus was, in fact, invented by Macy’s.  Rudolph too.  It’s documented.  Got ahead and look it up, but go ahead and give and get the shit out of year end deductions too.

I’ve never been a fan of forced fun or holidays, mostly because I was shuttled between two households, the daughter of divorced parents, I witnessed a lot of alcoholic and narcissistic bad behavior from the adults in my life.  For some reason, these occasions overshadow the good ones, which leads me to…  Are You Happy New Year?

Facebook feeds are filled with all kinds of spiritual, philosophical, empowering quotes.  There’s the enumerated gratitude posts, the non-profit, pleading posts, and the social networking apps response prompted by algorithms that misdiagnose your priorities, the chain letters that mandate a copy and paste to raise consciousness… if… you… really… care.  There are ads for online learning meditation, psychological counseling,accredited athletic training, and doing bigger, better, faster, more in your chosen field of employ.  There are angry political posts that make no certain impact but deregulated venting of platforms that ultimately unfriend.  Oh, and the passive-aggressive quotes about karma that assure your nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine friends, that someone will get theirs…  “Theirs” will not be new shoes or a puppy.

It’s both “look what I’m doing” and “let me see what you’re doing.”  That said, it’s also “look what I’m doing.”  A photography exhibit on my recent trip to the New York City Public Library, created an entrance of a large, overhead, angled mirror that stretched the width of the wide doorway opening.  Words on the adjacent entrance wall read, “Never before have we ever wanted more to see and to be seen.” 

This makes us happy.

Super.

I don’t like being asked if I’m happy.  Grateful, yes.  Happy is some forced fun vacation that insists I demand, Vaseline smile glee proven by each time in the course of one year that I change my profile picture to reflect my mood.  My family “happy” posts.  My “posts.” 

My “likes.”

Ewww.  It’s true though.

I’m grateful for my children, my friends, the people who stick around for what’s easy and not easy.  The people who test me to be better and the people who understand that love isn’t about passing a test.

And the people who know me won’t ask me if I’m happy because it’s a really stupid question.  They ask, “Do you like what you’re doing?”  They listen to me complain at times.  They ask, “What are you doing about your anxiety?”

Mostly, they don’t ask.  A lot of the time they just tell me what to do and watch me do otherwise. 

They’ve seen me fail toward success because they… are… friends.  Success or not.

Friends – good friends – don’t wait around for you to be perfect and whole and to love yourself.  If we all loved ourselves so avidly without any need for others, our species would have been extinct long ago.  Whole is not without need.  Anyone who tells you that is wrong.  It’s the wrong way our society is headed and there’s evidence of it everywhere in the world where the expectation that happy is custom made. 

Happy is not custom made.  Happy is not perfect.  Happy is the struggle.  Happy is the enjoyment of small moments.  Of quiet.  Of finding connection with people who seem to speak the same language.  Of failing miserably and succeeding in the same way, mixed.

My language is one of no platforms other than my own.  Looking out from the One World Observatory and atop the Empire State Building, I think it’s an expansive perspective, and while it may seem arrogant, it’s not intended to be.  Atop, there are certain points amid all the lights and buildings, let’s say for the visual, that I’m happy about some things.  The Empire State Building is lit up in Christmas red and green, the weather is far too warm, but my family is close.  Am I happy about the segments where I struggle but only when I see a small success, and I barely breathe to appreciate it because there’s more to do?  Sort of.  I’m warm but I’m sad all at once:  for the moment I experience comfort but for the long run, I fear extinction.

Super!

To say, “Yes!  Oh, dear Jesus.  I am so happy!” would be a load of shit that not one person I know would accept from me.  It’s not me.  And, it’s not me because I’m rudderless or hopeless or Eeyore, but it’s me because it’s not the whole story.  The whole story isn’t simple, because life isn’t that way.  Am I happy for the plight of Syrian refugees or the all-world perspective where some find love and wonder in excess while others commit suicide because that seemed like the only option amid the happiness oppression that left them alone and misunderstood, the task of being happy too out-of-reach?  They are the same people, excess or lack.  Love or no love.  Stuff or no stuff.

I am grateful for the struggle and for what it teaches me, even when my face tells another story that won’t lie when I will it.  I’m grateful for an always-evolving sense of self that isn’t always happy because it’s difficult and not without failure.  Not without a lot of failure.  With little grace but a lot of trying.

Do I like all of the aspects of myself that are tied into my life?  No.  I drive myself into anxious knots being who I am.  Most people need a platform to stand on.  Platforms make me nervous (for more information see: wake surfing, skiing, any kind of boarding, balance-while-body-in-motion-anything).  My only platform is words and hoping to connect with people with unique ideas and ways of viewing a world that is anything but myopic.

THAT makes me happy.  That and three little faces who are presently (as of three days ago when I started writing this) driving me nuts with their custom-made needs.

Even the Ellis Island of children living in tenements didn’t jar the sense of entitlement of our country.  Did they say, “Are you happy?  Did their parents ask them, ‘Are you happy?’  Did their fellow immigrants as them, ‘Are you happy?’”

What they did is take a moment upon the event of footing on common, new ground, to hug and rejoice and cry and laugh and smile, amazed at their new freedom. 

Were they happy?

Shit makes stuff grow.  Those kids from the Ellis Island Museum photography collection did not look happy but rather dirty and unkempt.  There were a few moments, I’m sure, that captured their smiles.  I found one.  It’s delicious but it’s very, very dirty.  As in, dirt.  The stuff that platforms growth.  For food.

For life.

To grow.

Happy” is a moment.  “Grateful” is another thing.  I am grateful for the opportunity to struggle and work and enjoy simplicity, most.

Happy is a word.  So is dirt.

And I love words.

And I love dirt.

GET ON THE BUS by Kathryn Merrifield

           October is Children’s Health Month, and the ability to give them clean air is our challenge and something attainable with the implementation of both bussing and clean diesel programs.

Clean air is uncontaminated with pollutants from emissions. Pollutants exacerbate conditions such as asthma, already triggered by allergens which increase with the change of seasons:  fall foliage, indoor dust, outdoor cold to dry, heated air - all asthma triggers.

            One would think bussing could solve this problem – I thought so, but emissions from diesel fuel are far more damaging than those emitted from a standard car.  While bussing mitigates other problems, it does not eliminate the problem of air pollution.

Bussing has never been an option in the Rye Neck School District, despite the congestion along Boston Post Road at both drop off and pick up times. Staggered patches of commuting cars could be much less stagnate with the implementation of bussing within a school district.  Fewer cars equal a smoother flow of traffic. 

            For Rye Neck, the qualifying standard to bus children is to live within a one and-a-half mile radius. The school district officials claim that because all children live in walking distance of the school, they can’t be bussed.

            Perhaps that justification was valid when dual incomes or rigorous schedules of children were not as commonplace, when emissions weren’t seen as an imminent threat to our planet and its inhabitants.  Of course, in order to address the emissions issue, you have to adopt a clean diesel program, like one offered by the EPA that offers rebates to participants.  It’s the only way to make it work the way it should work.

            What doesn’t work?  This:

            Instead of implementing a clean diesel bussing plan, school programs stress awareness of emission control.  Hence, the “No idling” signs at student pick-up spots.  During a “No Idling”-themed week, I found an e-mail like this in my inbox:

Why is it important to prevent your car from idling?  Fact #1 - Children are more vulnerable to health problems like asthma and other respiratory illnesses. Emissions from idling vehicles exacerbate these conditions  Fact #2 - Idling increases emissions by 13 percent.  Fact #3 - Every gallon of gas produces 20.4 pounds of carbon dioxide.  Fact #4 –Idling affects outdoor air quality at the local and community level.  What should you do?  Turn off your engine when waiting longer than 30 seconds.  Reduce vehicle warm-up idling to 30 seconds, even in cold weather.  Take public transportation, walk, jog, or ride a bike.  TELL YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY TO DO THE SAME!

            Yet, still no bussing.   No real solution.

 “Take public transportation…” is not an option.  And a mile and a half is not a realistic walking distance.  Not everyone lives a stone’s throw from school, so not everyone can walk.  And, assuming that everyone could walk is an inherent violation of laws considering the American with Disabilities Act and could, under some circumstances, further require litigation to obtain bussing.  And, a twenty degree and below winter morning isn’t walking weather for anyone, which is why most parents that don’t live around the corner from their school, drive! 

            It’s noble to think it’s an option, but it is impossible not to idle.   Once you’ve been in a pick up line, you realize that cars move too slowly to keep moving forward and too quickly to turn the engine off at every stop.

“No idling” has good intentions, but it’s merely a prophylactic for a real solution.

            Furthermore, taking children to and from school is an acute source of stress for parents:  parents who need to work are hard-pressed to find childcare at 8 am and 3 pm every day.  For some, that’s all that is needed to fulfill work obligations.  For others, that means not having to secure childcare when one child is sick and paying out large sums of money to rig an otherwise logistical mess.

            When researching the topic, I don’t come up with much.  There are no estimated  costs publicly available that detail what would be required to implement a bussing program, and during environmental or health week, no one mentioned putting a clean diesel bussing program in place.  Not once.

            In the Glenville School District of Greenwich where I have since relocated, a bus arrives twice a day at my block’s end.  For me, that’s an extra hour and a half of work I get done from my home office, and an regular play date among the kids on the bus – kids that live next door to each other, develop a bond, and then play with each other - old-fashioned, maybe, but so much easier.  It’s a counter-intuitive argument to think that there are more opportunities for spontaneous activity and exercise because of bussing.  My kids live in a bussing district and thus, spend more time playing and running from house-to-house with their friends.

            In Greenwich, busses are contracted out by the district to Student Transportation of America (STA) which abides by a clean diesel.  Maribel Mantia, Terminal Manager of STA, explained to me that the buses follow clean diesel guidelines and welcomed information on the rebate program offered by the EPA.  He also spoke about the district-wide five-minute idling limit.

            Apart from environmental and health impact, think about the friendships that could be saved without the conflict of that illegal left turn into the parking lot, or that car that cut in line because someone either had to or didn’t know better.  By accident or not, minor errors create another “brick in the wall,” to effective human relationships.  I’d like everyone to have one less issue over which to fight.  I need to like my “mom” friends.  I don’t want to argue with them.

            There are still parents who opt to drive and that’s fine.  But if clean bussing is offered, we should set a good example for our kids.  When mine ask why bussing is better, I tell them that if I can focus on work when they’re at school, I do better at giving them my undivided attention when they’re not.  I tell them that public transportation keeps our planet safe for the future by helping to keep the air clean by reducing emissions.  It’s two-fold:  bussing and the EPA’s clean diesel program:  http://www2.epa.gov/cleandiesel

            The October 11^th, Sunday Review of The New York Times ran an article on taking care of our planet and teaching our children how to do so.  It states, “Children today stand to inherit a climate severely changed by the actions of previous generations. They need to understand how those changes came about, how to mitigate them and how to prevent more damage to the planet. “ 

            When I told my daughter that I finally wrote this piece on the topic, she said, “Oh… finally.”  Under her advice, I wrote it after living two months in a bussing district.

            I hope there are a few more “Oh, finallys” in my future.

            Children live what they learn.                                                                                           .           My daughter also knows that I miss that time with them but I don’t miss the chaos.  The implementation of clean diesel bussing is the right thing to do.

For more information on emissions, go to:

http://www.anr.state.vt.us/air/mobilesources/htm/Diesel.htm