An American Sunset, October 29, 2012

So, a little over two weeks ago, I sat against a wall of windows that looked out over an airfield of giant planes, all fueling up for different destinations. We were in one of the Aer Lingus terminals, and surrounded by Irish folk waiting to return home.

As we sat there in the late afternoon, something funny happened. About half a dozen burly Irishmen stood up and pulled out camera phones and their other photographic "weaponry." They began shooting pictures of the New York skyline as the sun was setting. I couldn't help but chuckle. And then it occurred to me--maybe I was missing something. So, I popped out my iPhone and snapped a couple of pics myself.

It was a beautiful sunset. And without the excitement of these enthusiastic photogs, I would have ignored it, in favor of surfing the net or flipping through a magazine or guidebook.

I couldn't see things the way they were seeing them--through an outsider's eyes.

It wasn't the only time during our recent travels that an outsider shed light on a world that I think most of us in America are too disillusioned, and downhearted to see.

On our flight from Chicago to New York, I overheard a young Italian woman discussing her future, and the hopes and dreams she has for herself. She was traveling home after spending time in the Midwest studying. She very much hoped she would be returning to the U.S. for her collegiate studies, and the man she was talking to seemed surprised to hear about her eagerness.

She explained that there are no jobs for her back home, and the freedom she might have to explore career opportunities at home is very limited. I found her account a little surprising myself. The young woman said she wasn't sure what course of study she wanted to follow, and back home the educational structure requires students to select a specific course of study. In America, she would have the opportunity to study with a much broader approach, so she could discover the right career path and avoid having to take a job she didn't like.

As an American, I always took for granted the educational opportunities I had, and while I know that many Americans struggle to have an opportunity for higher education, at least if they get there, they can choose their own path, or even change it.

I know that in the current economic situation, millions of Americans are unemployed, or find themselves in low-paying jobs that are barely making ends meet. It's a tough time. In times like this, it's hard for us to care much about how the rest of the world is doing. But the Irishmen with the cameras, and the young Italian woman reminded me that sometimes we need to look at our situations through different eyes.

We had the opportunity to watch a lot of news while overseas, and we were shocked to learn that unemployment in Ireland is at about fifteen percent. That's nearly double the current unemployment rate of the U.S. Ireland, along with Greece, Spain and Italy, has found itself in the news in recent years for their serious levels of debt, and the fabric of the European Union threatens to unravel as the more economically powerful and successful countries try to keep it afloat.

Along with watching a lot of news, we road in several taxis. And as fantastic as the anchors of RTE' and the BBC are, nobody has the pulse of a nation better than an Irish cabby. On our ride from the Dublin airport to the town center, we had the opportunity to talk to Tony. We try very hard not to be the brash, hurried and impatient Americans that we often see traveling around us. Jeph usually cracks a few jokes about whatever travel dilemmas we "dumb Americans" have found ourselves in, and self-deprecates to the max. In our thirty minute drive, Tony revealed his view of how Ireland got into such dire straits. In the EU, immigration is pretty easy, and in most countries, the government provides for you if you don't have a job. It's expected. The Irish economy is teeny tiny, by comparison to many of its neighbors, and obviously miniscule compared to that of the United States. But he made a point of saying that unlike Las Vegas, what happens in the U.S. economy doesn't stay in the U.S. economy. When we nosedive, the world nosedives. They're all watching the U.S. Presidential Election with concerned and baited breath.

So, when it comes down to it, we may not care about the rest of the world, or our impact on it, but rest assured, the rest of the world still looks to us as a beacon. We're the country that still shines a light of hope for the rest of the world--whether we want to be or not. They view our success or failure as their potential success or failure.

I'm not naive, and I know many of my friends and associates look at the current economy, and want to point fingers of blame. I haven't made my political views a secret, but regardless of what I believe, I'm not so certain that I'm right, and everyone else is wrong, that I would even begin to pontificate about who people should vote for, or what they should think.

A New York Sunset

But a week before our nation peacefully elects the leader who will try to steer this ship for the next four years, I think it's work sharing that while we may be looking at ourselves, and we may be thinking about how bad everything is, there are people everywhere else still seeing America as the place to be. They still see the best hope of change, vitality and greatness on our shores.

Having a positive outlook doesn't create jobs. It doesn't bring down the costs of health care. Positivity isn't going to save Social Security or Medicare. But looking at everything through the mucky, filthy, gray glasses of hopelessness and negativity isn't going to get us anywhere either.

And at the end of the day, we may not care about each other, and we may despise each others' views, but ultimately, just like all of the people who came to this country with hope, we are each other.  And we still are the hope of the world.

In God's Country--U2

Rings Around Fingers, October 28, 2012

So, I have this little, silver ring I wear on my right ring finger. It has Jeph's name engraved on it in the ancient Irish alphabet called ogham. When I put it on, I try to make sure I face the letters up and down so when I look at it, his name is read right to left by me. I bought it for myself about ten years after we got married. It was inexpensive, and by now it is all scratched up and has definitely seen better days.

Since I bought the ring, I occasionally see advertisements in magazines for jewelers selling flashy, bejeweled rings designed for a woman's right hand. These rings are supposed to be a statement about the owner's personal independence and freedom to live her life. Like a lot of women, I'm enamored of the right hand rings in those pictures. I'm a little bit of a jewelry nut, so why wouldn't I be attracted to a little bling?

When Jeph and I first started talking about the prospect of getting married nearly 17 years ago, I was just graduating from college, and he had his first job out of grad school. Paying rent was more important than saving a couple months' salary for a big rock to put on my left hand. We picked a marquis diamond solitaire that he could afford to make payments on, and I picked out a wrap in which I could have our birthstones set. I didn't know much about picking out a ring. I didn't know what to look for in the way of durability. I just picked out something I thought was pretty, and that I could turn into something meaningful.

Sadly, my lack of knowledge netted me a ring that wouldn't hold up. I repeated lost stones out of my wrap, and had to have it repaired multiple times, and even replaced. Over several years of battling this infernally beautiful ring that wouldn't last, I gave up. I stashed the wrap out of sight in a box, because I couldn't wear it, and I couldn't bear to see it sitting around and not on my left hand.

Eventually, Jeph and I agreed that we would get the ring replaced, and I found a fantastic jeweler to work with. We designed something really special that reflected my Celtic sensibility, and I was assured that this ring would be built to withstand the type of work I do on a day to day basis. A year or so after I got my new ring, Jeph took it in to have it cleaned and he had an oft used phrase engraved on the inside of it for me: "Nation of two."

Over the years of our marriage, we had come to realize that in times of struggle and in times of joy, we were together. We would get through those tough times, and enjoy those fantastic times together. Sure, we have friends and family, but at the end of the day, our life together is ours. We are a "nation of two."

When I bought that little, silver ring with Jeph's name on it, it was another ring I chose. And I wear it on the finger those magazine ads suggest should be the one signifying that I still have my freedom and independence--as if to say that the one I wear on my left hand is the one I wear signifying my sense of being tied to my husband.

I suppose it depends on how you look at it. And I suppose that there are as many different kinds of marriages as there are rings to be worn. Over the weekend, I was thinking about my ring fingers and what the rings I wear mean to me. I am very fortunate. The marriage I find myself in is one based on partnership and commonalities, but it is also based on a knowledge that we are two equal and separate individuals. I grew up watching my mother's first marriage--specifically the struggle of her husband to control her, and her struggle not to be controlled.

Those struggles are not a part of my reality. For that I am grateful. In my jewelry box, there is a tiny little ring with two entwined hearts. Each heart has a tiny little diamond chip. This was the promise ring my mother's first husband gave to her. This pretty little ring I fell in love with as a girl, is now a symbol of promises broken--a ring that was intended to be a symbol of my mother's submission to a man who needed to feel he was in control. I still think it's pretty, but I am wise enough to understand that even the most visually beautiful things can be dark and deceptive.

Love, and the symbols we use to mark each other, should always be like those rings in the right ring finger ads. Love shouldn't bind us. Yes, it makes us responsible to each other, but only because we want to be. It should make us hope for each other and the happiness of one another. It should be an opportunity to share a lifetime, but also to support and work toward each others' dreams. Love should understand that when we commit to each other, we do not discard ourselves.

When I look at the rings on both of my hands, I know that I have a fortune that not everyone gets to realize. I have two rings that are just like those right hand ring ads, and so much more. They're symbols of my chosen partner in life, and symbols of the freedom I feel in loving him.

Everyone should be able to look at the rings on their fingers and feel so lucky.

The Book of Love--A cover by Peter Gabriel