On why I am not posting Facebook's version of my year

It's Christmas morning. The end of 2014. Thankfully. 

It's been a year that I will not let be repeated.

We lost Brian this year. I lost a whole lot of faith in family but gained a whole lot of faith in my network of friends. My posse. Without whom I never could have pushed forward through all of this. 

I found out that I have another great professional project in me and 2015 will be the year that I can make that happen.

My son Elliott continues to grow and to give back in a significant way. His choice to teach and his commitment to his students is remarkable. His commitment to his relationship with Vicki gives me so much pride.

Facebook's version of my year seems to trivialize the lessons that I have learned. So instead I offer this version.

Happy 2015 and beyond to all. 

To quote the great sage Jay-Z:

 "May the best of your todays be the worst of your tomorrows."

On living in a Facebook world

Brian would have been 59 today. There are folks wishing him happy birthday on his Facebook page. 

I really miss him.

On good days and bad

Thursday was a good day. So was Friday. Good stuff happening with work, Mitzvah the Dog is jumping up and down like a puppy and the hideous Miami humidity and downright hotness not as hideous as usual. And some other stuff.

So what's the bad? After a really cool meeting the other day I picked up the phone and dialed Brian. I wanted to tell him my good stories. Especially the ones that involved his friends and mine and represented victory over the green meanies that sometimes surround me.

Gosh I miss my brother.

But the good days will eventually outnumber the bad. I'll always have to resist picking up the phone and calling him. Cause he can't answer any more. He'd sure like some of the funny stories.

But I made a donation to Elliott's classroom project in his memory and made my appointments for my annual checkups. It's how I can honor my brother.

Maybe this week will be better.

On challenges much greater than just an icebucket

I shared an office space with Nanci Ryder a whole long time ago in West Hollywood. We were young and one of the incredibly cool things about her was that Michael J. Fox was her client so he hung out in our space a whole lot. But as you'll learn, she is all of that and so much more.

Over the years we lost touch with one another, except for the inevitable Facebook friendship. 

Yesterday I read this article. Nanci has been diagnosed with ALS. Thanks to the Ice Bucket Challenge, pretty much everyone on the planet Earth, including even Alabama, now knows about this insidious disease.

So many of the bright lights in my life have been shut down too soon. My heart breaks for Nanci. Please read this article and keep her in your prayers as she bravely faces the future. 

On tattoos and dreams

Last night I had a whole bunch of very odd dreams. Nothing specific. Just odd. But I kept waking up and the dreams were over.

This morning I realized that for the past 20 months my life has felt like one odd and unpleasant dream but somehow I can't seem to wake up.

Sorry that's all for today. More self indulgant than usual. In a couple of hours I will be enjoying one of Miami Beach's coolest attractions the Wallcast at the New World Symphony.

My tattoo turned two last Monday. I guess it's safe to give blood. 

On grief and moving on

Today is Yom Kippur. Yom Kippur means "Day of Atonement," and that pretty much explains what this day is. It is a day set aside to atone for the sins of the past year. For me it is a day when I am finally allowing myself to reflect on this past year and all that has happened and to wonder exactly what sins I have to atone for that bring me to this Yom Kippur. Because all I am really feeling is sadness and grief and loss. And frankly a whole lot of anger.

This picture is me and my brother Brian back in May 2008. It was, if I recall, the day that Meredith graduated from medical school at Nova. It was certainly a happy time. Before we lost Dad, before we lost Brian, before my professional world turned upside down. Before my personal world turned right side up and then upside down. Elliott was about to graduate from high school. Yes it was a happy time. And if my memory serves me correctly I didn't appreciate how much happiness I took for granted back in 2008. Maybe that is the sin I am finally having to atone for.

Now, 6+ years later I find myself wondering exactly how I move on from this past year or two. As I write this I realize that I don't know the answer but that I have to figure it out.

I read a New Year's greeting on some random person's Facebook page "may the best of this past year be the worst of your next year" or words to that effect. 

Hope that is true and as I atone for what ever sin or sins, real or imagined, that I may have committed over these past years, I do wish that will be enough to make this coming year a little better.

On technology and saying good bye

Today Brian Arthur Knofsky, son, brother, husband, father, father-in-law, grandfather, fraternity brother, trusted business associate and loyal friend was laid to rest in Youngstown, Ohio. 

Not far from where he was born and not far from where we grew up together.

He would probably find humor in the fact that some of us tried to listen to his service on our cell phones. 

Brian was an early tech geek. He plunged into technologies that none of us understood. He built me my first Windows machine. Remember floppy disks? 

If he could have heard us he would have stopped the service, annoyed that the signal was breaking up and that we couldn't make out all of the words. In fact he would probably have stopped the proceedings to adjust the phones, retest the sound and make sure to provide technical support. Then he would have insisted he was a software not a hardware guy. And he would have not been happy that I missed hearing pretty much all of it and would have told me to switch to Verizon.

Unfortunately he didn't and couldn't and I suppose that's what this is all about.

Mom you still have five kids. I still have two brothers. The head count is just a little different. Elliott and Vicki and I are heading to Sharpsville on Friday. We're still a family and we still care about each other.

Sleep in peace, Brian Arthur Knofsky. I miss you already.

On losing my brother and the Bozos on the bus

My brother Brian lost his last brave fight with cancer today. As is our custom he will be remembered and buried tomorrow in Ohio where we all lived so much of our lives. 

When he started to get really sick he decided to digitize all of the Firesign Theater albums for me. Firesign was one of the first cultural peculiarities that Brian and I shared. I was in California and he was maybe in college in Cincinnati when we discovered we both enjoyed stoner comedy.

Brian left many many things behind but I realized today that one of the great gifts that his cancer gave me and Elliott was the chance to become closer to and to know better his wonderful children and their mother Kim. 

We have lived far apart for many years but his illness really made me look at the distance between all of us and to make sure that we didn't let it get in the way of being more of a family than we ever have been. My Elliott and Vicki got to know the cousins and their kids and to know my brother Brian and to appreciate his amazing value as a man and as an uncle. I am grateful for that.

So I won't be there to say goodbye to you my dear brother. So it's really not goodbye. You live in each of us and you have left us too soon. I will sure miss you. 

And by the way I do think that we are ALL Bozos on this bus!

On FML and other urban dictionary terms

I never knew what FML really meant. Now I do and you are welcome to look it up Urban Dictionary.

So if you've been reading this blog you may have figured out that the past few months have been challenging. Let's add today's adventure to the mix - identity theft.

Over the weekend I filed my 2013 tax return (yes I know it was late but I was on a legitimate extension). It was rejected. Nothing like a rejection from the IRS to make one feel unloved.

Turns out someone stole my social security number and filed a tax return using it. Now it's nearly 3 hours, I am on hold for the third time at the IRS and the day shows no signs of getting anymore uplifting. It's far more difficult to prove I am me than for someone else to pretend to be me. And the IRS will not give me any information on this criminal person.

FML. Look it up. And send out a good vibe that my week gets better.

On being alone and the meaning of Beany

I am all alone this weekend. Sometimes that's OK but sometimes alone really means lonely. I am particularly lonely today and it got me to thinking.

When my brother Brian was young - maybe 4 or 5 or 6 - he had a Beany doll that looked a little like this one. He had two older sisters who didn't particularly like being saddled with this boy-child-brother so we weren't very nice to him and I think maybe Beany made him feel a little less lonely. 

So as family legend has it, Mom left Beany at the Jack and Jill Shoe Store in the hopes that Brian wouldn't play with dolls any more. After all what self-respecting boy in the late 50's - early 60's played with dolls? So predictably Beany was never found. Remember I said family legend. There are, like with most stories, varying versions of this one.

I found this picture of a Beany doll online and posted it on Facebook one November 9 which is Brian's birthday. Brian may not have as many more birthdays as we'd all like but the good news is that he isn't alone and he's not lonely. He has his Kim and his kids and his grandkids with one more on the way and our mom and our other brother with him. He is a brave and strong man and is surrounded by so much love. I guess that's what really counts.

It's good that Brian is neither alone nor lonely. All weekend his wonderful children have been posting their favorite pictures of him on Facebook and so did I. It's below and it's my cover photo. And I will work on finding my own Beany.

On expectations and their management

No cool photos today or even anything terribly profound. But I have been thinking along with working this morning about our expectations and the expectations others may have for us.

A few years ago a colleague commented about a particular work relationship that was teetering into a negative and non-productive space that I - in her words - expected too much of people. At that time I recall I didn't respond well or take it as constructive feedback. Now as I reflect I realize that might really be my biggest weakness. I've had to rethink the oft-used phrase managing expectations.

I have taken that to mean an external management. Managing the expectations of others so that I don't make promises I can't keep and making sure not to overpromise. But what I need it to mean for now is what my colleague said in her wisdom. I need to learn to manage what I expect of others.

Not everyone can see things in my way or the way that I often do. That doesn't make them wrong. Just different.

But - and here's the real question. How can I work harder on not letting my expectations set me up for disappointment? 

Right now I am managing the expectations that I have of a couple of friends and a couple of colleagues. My best advice to myself is to bookmark this blog and remind myself to do better at this particular management.

It has been a busy week and it shows every sign of being busier. 

Something bigger than us all

Today I was humbled and inspired to attend the local celebration of the 20th anniversary of AmeriCorps. OK so what's that?

In 1993, the Corporation for National and Community Service (CNCS) was established to connect Americans of all ages and backgrounds with opportunities to give back to their communities and their nation. It merged the work and staffs of two predecessor agencies, ACTION and the Commission on National and Community Service.

OK so why do I care?

I have been lucky to have learned that you can not only do well but you can do good. 

If you are reading this then you probably know me well enough to know that Elliott and I have been able to find joy and success in service to our communities - first for us both in Miami and now for Elliott in Philadelphia while I keep the home fires burning. 

Today as AmeriCorps celebrated its 20th birthday (next year they can order alcohol in a bar!) I was more moved than I thought I would be as folks committed to service, both young and old, took an oath to serve. In 50 states and at the White House.

President Clinton launched the first class of AmeriCorps volunteers 20 years ago today. Since then, more than 900,000 people have contributed more than 1.2 billion hours on service projects at nonprofits, schools, public agencies, and community and religious-based groups nationwide.

My son Elliott is one of those 900,000. He served two years with City Year and has begun his career as a teacher with Teach for America. I was proud to hang out with my City Year and Teach for America friends today as a double AmeriCorps mom. I am also working on bringing an AmeriCorps program to Miami-Dade that could be a game changer. Stay tuned on that one.

Enjoy this White House posting about the celebration. Probably time to savor some good news.

Have a great weekend!

Bye Bye Miss American Pie

Jodie and Elliott around 2000 or so. New York City

I was never sure until today what the lyric "the day the music died" in the Don McLean song referred to. I had to look it up - it's about the day that Buddy Holly died.

It was good not knowing cause it always meant whatever I wanted it to mean.

13 years ago today I suppose something more than the music died for a whole lot of people.

It's an odd Bar or Bat Mitzvah of sorts for an event that did so much to shape the future for anyone old enough to recall where they were on 9/11/01. 

I was in Raul's office in Allapattah - then the South Florida headquarters for the After School All Stars/Inner City Games. Fredi the controller and I watched on a tiny portable TV, not really knowing or realizing what we were seeing. Elliott was in 6th grade and I called his school (remember no texts, not real internet to speak of and of course our kids didn't all have cell phones) and heard the headmaster's voice on a recording letting me know that the school was on lockdown and we weren't supposed to pick our kids up until later on. Scary.

Ask any 23 or 24 or 25 year old that you know about 9/11 and I suppose they will tell you that their memories of that day, like our memories of the days that Jack or Martin or Bobby were assassinated or maybe the day that the students were killed at Kent State, shaped a whole lot about how they live and work and love and trust.

Maybe the music dies all of the time and is somehow magically reincarnated to give us hope?

Take a moment if you can to reflect on how fleeting life can be and how events large and small impact who we are and what we feel. 

On losing glasses and keys and sometimes cars in parking garages

These past few years have caused me to reflect on loss and what it means to lose something or someone. I was just walking Mitzvah the Dog and knowing that his time with me may be shorter than I expected, I got to thinking about what loss really means.

I've lost earrings and weight and dogs. I've lost houses and opportunities and my father and even an iPad one time. Elliott and I have lost loved ones and friends to diseases like cancer and AIDS and accidents and senseless suicide. More than once I've lost money in a casino. Blackjack was always my guilty pleasure. 

And as I get older I've lost keys and my glasses and even my car in large parking lots.

But what is loss really? I always seem to find the keys and the glasses and the car. And sadly the weight.

I now believe that loss really means gone. If it's lost then it doesn't come back. A couple of years ago I lost my house in the ugly housing crash. I know where it is and can almost see its roof from the elevator lobby of the building where I live. But it's really lost. It's not coming back. We lost Dad last summer after a series of illnesses real and imagined. He's really not coming back. We lost our dog Lucky 10 years ago and will lose our dear Mitzvah sometime in the foreseeable future. They're not coming back either. 

Lately I have been sad about the loss of a friendship. It was special and endearing and I though enduring. It may be chalked up in the lost column. Or maybe not.

Mitzvah is still with me and somehow I cannot let myself give up on him. Neither can I give up on my lost friendships - somehow I feel, like cars and glasses and keys - they are meant to be found. Because they are important and each in their own way special. 

There must be a word between lost and found. Now I need to figure out what it is.

On being five

From Robert Fulghum's All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

• Share everything.
• Play fair.
• Don't hit people.
• Put thngs back where you found them.
• CLEAN UP YOUR OWN MESS.
• Don't take things that aren't yours.
• Say you're SORRY when you HURT somebody.
• Wash your hands before you eat.
• Flush.
• Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
• Live a balanced life - learn some and drink some and draw some and paint some and sing and dance and play and work everyday some.
• Take a nap every afternoon.
• When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.
• Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Stryrofoam cup: The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
• Goldfish and hamster and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we.
• And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned - the biggest word of all - LOOK.

There were 40 students in Ruth N. Bell's first grade classroom at Garfield Elementary. She couldn't have been more than 5 feet tall but ruled with an iron hand and a ping pong paddle. I only remember her really using it once. Imagine that happening now. Poor Miss Bell would have been suspended pending an investigation of child abuse.

If we went to Kindergarten at all we didn't have to take tests to find out if we could read at 5. We took naps, had snacks, got messy with paint and went home at lunch time. Life was simple. 

Life gets complicated if we let it. Today I need to remember those things I learned in Kindergarten and remember the simpler things and most of all remember to find simpler solutions. It might make things easier to manage and not so strange.

All about grown ups who are young

Had a great experience tonight. A friend's daughter - just a year or two younger than my son - is working in a bright and shiny new non-profit. One of those fashionable, social entrepreneurial groups that are sprouting like wildflowers all over Miami. In places like the LAB and Pipeline and the Center for Social Change (shameless plug - sorry).

But the greatness of the experience was listening to a friend's daughter's passion about her work with AmeriCorps as a VISTA and making the work that she does for almost no money relevant for the underserved in our community.

Good on you Jennifer and all of the new generation of idealists with lots of piercings and multiple tattoos and great optimism for this world. So happy to share a glass of wine and some gnocchi and your enthusiasm.

Like this sunset you inspire me.

First Day Of School

This will be short. Today is my son Elliott Knofsky McCarthy's first day as a full time teacher. As I am writing this he is preparing to welcome his very first class of 6th grade young men to his classroom at Boy's Latin of Philadelphia Middle School. 

I have always been proud of Elliott. He is a remarkable young man who has dealt with so many personal challenges in his life and has come out of each one a better and wiser person. Fortunately.

It seems that he has the resilience that I still strive for.and as I go about my day and weeks and months ahead I could take some lessons from him.

Carpe diem! They fly by so quickly.

Flying the Flag for Dad

Dad was very patriotic. He always flew the flag on every national holiday. Today, as he does on every holiday, my brother Rex flew the flag over the door at our parents' house.

Dad loved our country and took great exception to those who didn't. He also took great exception to anyone who didn't feel the same way that he did about anything. You can read that to mean he didn't like liberals, progressives, Democrats, hippies, the homeless, MSNBC, and President Obama and wasn't quite sure how he felt about anyone that didn't think, act or look like him. Somehow our generation and our children didn't all inherit that particular gene. Thank heavens.

Dad would have been 87 today. He passed away in July of 2013. I like to think he is in a better place but sometimes my wicked sense of humor thinks that maybe, just maybe, he is in the same place as the great liberals that he was so disdainful of. Hopefully he's having some really great arguments with them. And maybe they are helping him to see the error of his ways.

Happy birthday Dad. Believe it or not you are missed.

Reflections on friends and family and people that fall in between

I grew up in Warren, Ohio and I come from a large, noisy and often dysfunctional family.

Now there is a statement that probably most of us who grew up in the Mad Men 50s and 60s share. Gas was cheap, TV was opening our world to people and places and ideas that we never would have imagined. We hung out with Gail and Ellen and Daryl and Kay and Bonnie and Betsy and they all lived nearby. Boys had cooties and eventually raging hormones that sometimes matched ours and sometimes didn't. We went to school together from Kindergarten til we walked together at graduation. Back then there were no seat belts in our cars, no bike helmets on our heads, and we didn't always lock our doors at night. We ate processed food without really caring if it was good for us or not. Vegetables and pasta came in cans.

And for many of us the constant was family. We were really the first generation that collectively moved away to go to college, that took those first jobs in far distant lands like California. We left in color coordinated Villager outfits with matching socks and came back to visit in impossibly large bell-bottoms, without our bras and without our inhibitions.

We didn't have Skype or smartphones or fax machines. We called home (collect) and were often comforted in difficult times by very distant family voices. We never learned until much later that family doesn't always mean friend, that friend can often be better than family and that there are lots of combinations that exist in between. Some of us knew this from the beginning but I have observed that many of us learned these things much later in life. If at all.

No matter how old we are when we learn some of life's lessons it isn't simple.

Plus there are always dogs

So I came home today to a slightly dysfunctional air conditioner (hey it's Miami in August that's a big issue), looking down at a long holiday weekend filled with personal challenges and came across this picture, posted by a friend from college on Facebook:

Yes there are bad days. There sure are mean people. Lately I have lost my belief in good days and kind people but am continually reminded of the amazing goodness of my friends, of my son and his beautiful and lovely Vicki, of the good folks that work so hard to make Miami a better place that I am lucky to count as colleagues. Plus there are always dogs.

Enjoy a safe and sane holiday weekend y'all.

Never-Never Land

I have always loved Peter Pan. Everything about the story. If you are old enough to remember the 1955 TV production (or want to see what TV looked like back then) check this link Peter Pan Kinescope. For most of us, you might want to look up Kinescope.

Anyway, today on Facebook I saw this post from my friends at the Children's Movement of Florida. Really great folks doing really important stuff. The lesson from my old friend Peter Pan was particularly important for me today. So I wanted to share it.

I hope your day was wonderful and empty of doubts.

I'm Blogging

For those of you who know me, you know I have toyed with this for a very long time. While I don't always agree, you all tell me I'm funny and should share my crazy life - mi vida loca. I have always smiled and thought "who would care?" But the more folks who end up in what my friend Max calls the orbit of Jodie the more I think well maybe my ramblings and reinventions of the past few decades may be interesting to someone other than Mitzvah the Dog. 

So here goes.

I've called the blog Nick of Time. If you're a Bonnie Raitt fan (and if you aren't why not?) you may know the song. If you don't then you need to give it a listen Nick of Time. Oddly it's not on YouTube. Topic perhaps for a blog: why are the classics not all on YouTube?

Anyway there's a particular lyric that has resonated for me a lot over the last few years: Life gets mighty precious when there's less of it to waste. 

You know what I like about this thought? It's relevant regardless of the stage of your life. A friend reminded me of the song and the lyric a few years back and it has come to mean more and more as time has passed.

So readers I will try to keep up with this, try not to be too self indulgent or to share too much. Welcome aboard.