all of the selves we Have ever been
Dear Readers, I have added a new page to this website, "Shelf Life." You can access it from the drop down menu. On this new page, I will be sharing the books I am reading, and the ways in which I and my thinking have been changed by what I am reading and learning. I invite you to read along with me and to share the books that are influencing your life. As always, I value your insights and feedback. Keep reading! Lilli-ann
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![]() My mind needs something new to chew on. I am weary of the political apocalypse, and I am running out of baked goods. I turn to life’s other big questions. For starters, what causes a name to come into or go out of style? At what stage does the child-version of a name give way to the grown-up version, Tommy to Tom, Billy to Bill? Why do some names seem so right for a youth but so wrong for an adult? And why do some names seem so old and so wrong for a youngster? Bertha seems just fine for a grandmother, but somehow out-of-place on a toddler. And Herbert? How do some names become classics like Mary or John while others become a perpetual punchline? When I was growing up the name Barney was reserved for bumbling sidekicks like Barney Fife, the deputy sheriff of Mayberry on the Andy Griffith Show, or Barney Rubble on The Flintstones. Years later, the name Barney was made child-friendly by a beloved purple dinosaur, but still the name did not seem to catch on with parents. Inquiring minds occupy themselves with research instead of cake, and so I turn to the tree of knowledge and find that Barney can be a shortened form of Bernard, Barnett, Barnim, Barnabas, Barnaby. Mm-hmm. Despite the lack of familiarity, there is honor in the meanings of some of these names. Barnim comes from the Slavic and means “defender.” The name Barney was once popular in Poland and means “son of comfort,” and in Hebrew, “son of consolation.” Somehow the name Barney has been done an injustice by the media. It turns out that Barney was once a popular name in the United States in the years 1880 through 1914 when it suffered a plunge in the ratings. And that was before TV. I was surprised to learn that Barney has been a hip name in London since 2012, but I then again, I don’t travel much. On a website, Behind the Name, 60% of those surveyed thought that Barney was a bad name; 75% thought it was a comedic one. From a list of 28 real and famous people named Barney, I recognized one name, but on the list of fictional characters named Barney, I recognized all of them including the aforementioned Barney Fife, Barney Rubble, and Barney the Dinosaur. Add to that list Barney Miller, Barney Stinson, and Barney Bear. If you love the name Barney, I say go for it. You might be the one to change the course of history. When I was growing up, the only other Lilli I knew was my Aunt Lillie for whom I was named. My mother gave my name an unusual spelling which has been a lifelong headache, but the name Lilli is back with many spellings. If you know the reason(s) some names come into and go out of style, drop me a line. Right now, I am at work on the next big question: Why do people save twisty-ties? ![]() It is an anxious time. News of the world gnaws at my soul. Worry gnaws at my mind. I am hungry. I wear a path to the refrigerator. But it’s a trick. The hunger I have isn’t for food, but all of that nervous energy leaves me restless and depleted. It propels my feet into the kitchen. Unfortunately, my mind is never satisfied with broccoli or Brussel sprouts. Oh, no! My mind screams for sweets. I am not the first to turn to baked goods in the face of a revolution. History provides precedent. Marie Antoinette is credited with saying, “Let them eat cake.” Perhaps she understood that cake calms shattered nerves. In the meantime, I fear we are in for the long haul. Revolutions take time to gain momentum and time to quell. Man may not live by bread alone, but this gal is thinking of giving it a try. I will be wedged into my apartment like a Macy’s Day Parade balloon by the time the revolution is over. What to do? I turn to sliver theory: calories fall out of baked goods when baked goods are sliced. This vital information was passed down to me from my ancestors. My mother grew up with six sisters, and I grew up listening to these sisters endlessly converse about weight and diets. This frequent topic of conversation usually took place in a busy kitchen full of women stirring, baking, and tasting. It is where I learned a corollary to the sliver theory: tastes are calorie-free. By the time all of the cooking was done and the main course devoured, the proper response to an offer of dessert was, “Just a sliver.” It was a way to earn self-esteem and actual brownie points for a place in heaven. Baked goods are the only foods that can be divided into slivers. How much is a sliver? That can lead to some disagreements because a sliver is a concept, not a specific measurement. How much is a sliver? The answer remains in the eye of the beholder. Too large, it allows the recipient to say, “Oh, no! That’s too much for me.” (This could make it awkward for the ones who really wanted a slab and not a sliver.) Offer a sliver too small, and that might be interpreted by a sister as an insult, an indirect commentary on her figure. I have been known to use the ancient and debunked sliver theory to convince myself that I am in charge of my appetite. I typically call upon the sliver strategy when under duress. I once ate an entire Snackin’ Cake during work on an important graduate school assignment. Or should I say, while avoiding an important graduate school assignment. I got myself so worked up about the project that I was convinced I was starving. I mixed up and baked a yellow Snackin’ Cake. When it was out of the oven, I told myself I would have “just a sliver” and get back to work. Each time I re-approached the assignment, I returned for another sliver. Pretty soon I had finished the entire cake, but not the assignment. I will never forget John Maynard Keynes. Or Snackin’ Cake. Turning troubling events over in my mind is strenuous exercise. It requires carbohydrate loading and a mood elevator to get me to the next floor. When I think about what to eat next, those thoughts give my mind something other than my worries to chew on. In our current circumstances, I am hoping that I am burning a lot of calories by walking back and forth to the kitchen, standing to eat over the sink, and all of that opening and closing of refrigerator and cupboard doors. I fear that I will be in a diabetic coma by Inauguration Day. If I am, someone please… tell the National Guard to throw cupcakes at the mob. ![]() This is a week of reckoning, not only in Georgia, or the U.S. House of Representatives, or the Senate, or even the White House. This is a time of reckoning for the American people, a day to ask, “What is happening to us?” All of us. When I was a child, there was a saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” but, of course, some words did hurt. That saying was a child’s feeble response to bullying. We also tried the “I’m rubber, you’re glue; everything bounces off me and sticks to you” defense. It was something a victim might say in the moment, but, again, the words didn’t bounce; they stung. Nothing stuck to the bully, however; his damaged heart was coated in Teflon. Later, when I was a teenager opening my eyes to a wider world and to history, I studied the Holocaust in high school. I watched films and read books. How, I wondered, how could such a thing happen? The horrors were so grave, human behavior so atrocious. I could not grasp how an average citizen could become so monstrous in the treatment of neighbors, friends, and relatives. How could a leader convince an average person, a previously law-abiding person, to abandon his conscience and turn on his countrymen? As an adult social worker and therapist, I had the privilege of meeting European and Russian survivors of the Holocaust. The survivors I met were remarkable people. All of them shared how they once found the rumors of atrocities in their homelands to be unfathomable. All of them had believed that if they kept their heads down and obeyed the rules, did not draw attention to themselves, did what was asked, then right and decency would triumph. Except that it didn’t. Evil prevailed. After years of torment, the survivors were grateful to the Americans who saved them. When World War II ended, Americans settled on a belief that Hitler’s brand of evil was an anomaly, a thing of the past, “it can’t happen here” people said. In the weeks since the United States 2020 presidential election, I have felt paralyzed by the realization that it is happening here, here in the United States of America, the country that once saved the world for democracy. Prior to yesterday’s riots in the Capitol, I fretted over the bloodshed I feared was coming. My friends were more optimistic believing the worst was over. My fears this week have been informed by years of observation and study. There is a growing percentage of the population with a troubling personality type characterized by rigid thinking, an inability to consider opposing points of view, limited capacity for insight, impulsive behavior and poor self-regulation, people with only two settings--adulation or retaliation. As the need for adulation grows, the degree of retaliation escalates. These are people who become intoxicated by demeaning others. They become incapable of empathy. When psychiatrists and mental health professionals studied the imprisoned Nazi guards and elites awaiting trial at Nuremberg, the professionals determined that the guards and Nazi officials were incapable of empathy. That missing ingredient made all manner of horror possible--no shame, no regrets. No amount of facts, no album of photos, no film footage, no eyewitness report could get these prisoners to re-evaluate their actions. Their minds were rigid, their hearts impenetrable. They were made of Teflon and rubber—everything bounced off and stuck to someone else. Today, Twitter has replaced the millions of propaganda-filled leaflets that the Nazi’s once dropped from the sky like snow—the alternative news of that day. Social media has become a place where people can demean and destroy others, turn on their neighbors, and delight in mob rule. People are seduced by gossip and alternative facts on this contagious and intoxicating medium. Without direct eye contact, people lose the capacity to experience the emotional consequences of their words and actions. A light keystroke doesn’t have the same hard impact of throwing a punch to someone’s head, but it can have the same or worse effect. We are all complicit when we view, and share, and like, and tweet, and post these troubling words. It is not just the social media companies that need to police their platforms. Each of us needs to police ourselves. What goes on privately in the windmills of a person’s mind needs to stay there until properly evaluated. We need to consider the people we elevate to stardom and leadership. Social media has made it possible for people to become wealthy and powerful simply by being outrageous, liked, and viewed. At a time when educated, experienced experts are being denigrated, radio shock-jocks, and porn stars are sought for their opinions because they are “influencers” and have followers. We glue ourselves to television shows and celebrities that model degrading behavior in the kitchen, in the boardroom, or in the marriage proposal game. How did this become entertainment? What’s next? Humans being torn apart by hungry lions while we sit in the stands laughing and drinking beer? We are habituating ourselves to images, words, and behaviors that are re-shaping the human psyche and destroying our ability to feel empathy for others. People who complain about demeaning behavior on the team, in the workplace, or in social circles are often told to “let it go,” or “toughen up,” or “there’s nothing you can do.” Our parents once advised us to keep our hands and our words to ourselves. The defense, “she started it” was not acceptable. We were expected to find an exit ramp to the high road or seek appropriate help. Words do hurt. Words can be weapons. That is one of the reasons the pen is mightier than the sword. Words can cut and tear leading to a loss of limbs, a loss of life, bloodshed. Some people can shrug off the hateful words of another. Others seethe with anger and hurt and eventually use all of that negative emotion as rocket fuel on a galactic mission of destruction. We instruct preschoolers to use their words, but there is more to it than that. Choose your words before you use them. Speak truth to power and truth to evil. Avoid the temptation to join in the chatter, to like, to post, to tweet…if doing so demeans your own character or that of someone else. Hold leaders accountable for the character revealed by their words. Even a policy genius is not a worthy candidate if he or she has no conscience. If you would not want their worst behavior directed at you, don’t elect, pick, or hire them to be responsible for others. I hear from people that the situation is hopeless…”Oh, well,” they say. “There’s nothing you can do,” they say. “It’s hopeless,” they say. Hopeless cannot be the last word. The hopeless cannot have the last word. There are other words. Better words. If you are lost for words, start with these: Love your neighbor. |
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January 2025
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