The President and Sportsmanship

"It's unbelievable," FD says, "this guy elbowing the President.  You don't just elbow a guard, especially if the guard is the President of the United States."

"He said he was sorry," I offer.

"I just don't get it."

The President, playing basketball with friends and family, walks away from the fun braced for twelve stitches to the lip. If you have ever had twelve stitches in the lip, and most people cannot say that they have, all I can say is, it hurts.  The stitching, the healing, none of this feels good. You don't want to know what I did to be awarded mine, only that it was not due to the usual suspects, domestic or intimate partner abuse.  That  would leave falling, tripping, or stray rocks.

But this is not about me. Rey Decerega, director of programs for the Congressional Hispanic Caucus Institute, accidentally elbowed President Obama. Decerega tells us the game was all in good fun,

"I learned today the President is both a tough competitor and a good sport. I enjoyed playing basketball with him this morning. I'm sure he'll be back out on the court again soon."

I sure hope not. This is likely a minority opinion, but Michelle might agree, and there have to be others, too, who are upset that of all places, our Commander in Chief has been injured on a basketball court, playing a game of hoops.

A person should be more careful playing basketball.  Whenever FD leaves the house to play alumni basketball for a school that he never attended,  I shout, "Be careful!"  It comes out more like, "You're old. You shouldn't be playing basketball."

He goes anyway, because he loves the game.  And it is a wonderful game, as only those who of us who run back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, or once did, gasping, drenching our shirts, purging the poisons, could possibly know.

I mainly worry about crunched digits.  FD plays the piano.

It is the emotion of the game responsible for our leader's split lip, the drive of adrenaline, not even his adrenaline, is the irony.  It belonged to a director of one of his programs.  The director's competitive spirit is responsible for the trouble the President will have next week talking to diplomats of other nations. 

"I'm good," is probably what the President said, after the injury.  He won't plot revenge or jail the fellow.

Can we do that in this country? Can a President jail someone for a foul? No, of course not. But he might have a long memory.

The ultimate lesson of all this should be directed to the children, and the President should be the messenger, for he really shines when he talks to the kids.  (See his first day of school speech).  He might say something along these lines, but more eloquently,

It's just a game! Save a little of that aggression, that competitive attitude, for your homework.  You're going to need it, too, when you have jobs, when you ultimately move into the workforce.  The point of sports is control, precision, moving the body gracefully to reach a goal.  You shouldn't have to poke, gauge, or gash anyone to be a valuable player. 

Is that so naive, telling them to work at skill and avoid brutality?

While you're talking to them, Mr. President, when you have recovered the gift of painless speech that is, tell them to pass the advice along to their parents.


therapydoc

A New Leader

We need them. Leaders.

Highlights of the inauguration:

Truckloads, busloads, trains full of people descending upon Washington. Two million Americans on the mall this morning. That's a lot of people.

The First Lady's dress. Her shoes. Perfect.

I loved Rick Warren's invocation. He said the Hebrew prayer, the Shma'h. The Lord our God, The Lord is One. What could be more wonderful.

And Arethra Franklin singing one of my favorite songs, and it wasn't Respect, although no doubt, Respect is a contender. She sang America. And for sure she wore the best hat I have EVER seen, a hat that not many women can pull off, but she did it spectacularly.

My country tis of thee, sweet land of liberty. Of thee I sing.

John Paul Stevens and the oath for the V.P., Joseph Biden, on the biggest Bible you ever want to see.

Air and Simple Gifts, a classical composition by John Williams, performed by Yo-Yo Ma, Itzhak Perlman, Anthony McGill, and Gabriela Montere. It had to have been even more wonderful live.

Dianne Feinstein introducing Barack Obama, the 44th President of the United States.

Barack giggling, for just a second, as he stands to take the oath of office.

Two million people shouting collective joy, waving Old Glory, the American flag, never looking better, either. The one above, the one you see hanging in my window, is tired.

Cannons.

The President reminding us that we are at war and that the economy has failed us, that we have failed the economy, our confidence, too, has declined.

On this day, we gather hope over fear, he tells us. The time has come to reaffirm our noble spirit:

All are equal, all are free, all have an equal chance to pursue their full measure of happiness

Our President, the Prozac of a struggling nation.

Elizabeth Alexander's poem, brimming with optimism.

Joseph E. Lowry's benediction: Will all those who love justice and mercy, say Amen.

Amen

George hugging Michelle a warm goodbye, they look like best friends; he and Barbara are about to board an olive green and white Marine helicopter.

Oe'r the land of the free. The home of the brave. The national anthem.

A good day to take a couple of hours to watch history, to be a part of it.

Please G-d, we're on the mend.

therapydoc

Blowing Kisses

It's been a great biking summer, but tough on the bike. Yesterday I had a flat tire two blocks from the office. Two new inner tubes later, life is good again, but you never know what tomorrow will bring.

I left for work early hoping to make it there well-ahead of a new patient, not wanting his first impression of me to be

me shlepping my bicycle through the waiting room, looking like I need therapy bad.

And flats happen and school is in session, meaning there will be unusually heavy traffic, more buses, more pedestrians, many more shapes and sizes of young people walking in pairs, three and four across on the sidewalk, unlikely to make room perchance I hop a curb to avoid colliding with a truck.

In the summer the sidewalks by schools are virtually pedestrian-free. But not anymore.

This is boring, isn't it? You don't need to know about bike traffic. You want to know about blowing kisses, the title of this post, not blowing tires and dodging silly children who don't smile. (They weren't smiling yesterday).

The Story

Maybe it's because my granddaughter threw huge kisses to us on Skype last night that this is on my mind. She's two years old and famous for her one-liners.

"What's that in your hair, honey?"

"Oh, that's just tomato sauce."

I'd share more, but it's stealing material.

Or maybe it's because of the smacker Barack Obama gave Nancy Pelosi at the convention. To be fair, he kissed all of the women within reach after his speech (maybe the men, too) and I'm pretty sure that John McCain will be in an amorous mood, as well. But that public display of affection feels a little extreme to me and unnecessary. My ethnic-cultural bias, for sure.

So this morning on my bike, about a mile away from home, I reach my first traffic-congested intersection and am seeking eye contact before crossing in front of a car. It's a good idea to do that because most drivers won't intentionally run over people if they've made eye contact first. I get the nod and flash a smile even as she's creeping closer and closer towards me.

And moments later, there's an encounter with my first school bus; the poor driver is really working to make it through traffic. He's not giving me any green-light looks, no looks at all, communicating that if I cut ahead of him, it may be my last conscious decision. I wait, edge up carefully. And then, out of nowhere, he looks down condescendingly and waves me on.

This is going to be a super day, if you believe in omens. I wave back.

Finally, at the most congested intersection ever, one without any stop signs or traffic lights, another driver sees me waiting at the curb for a break in the traffic, stops on a dime and waves me forward as if to say, 'Go! We're good!'

This is so unusual. This driver doesn't have to do this. She's got the right of way and I'm waiting patiently, not daring to expect a courtesy from anyone. She (maybe it's a he, must it matter?) doesn't mind at all, has literally stopped traffic for miles! For me.

What do I do?

Overcome with emotion, I throw a huge kiss, delivering it by my hand, drawing an invisible forcefield, a one hundred eighty-degree arc in the air that says, I love you.

Then I die of embarrassment. Did I just do that? Throw a total stranger a kiss? Isn't flashing a smile enough? What's this world coming to when total strangers throw kisses?

A few blocks away from the high school an African American policewoman is directing pedestrian traffic at the cross walk by the gas station. I stop and smile, take in the traffic signals, then say under my breath, "Do I go or do I stay?"*

She's heard me. "What?"

"Aw nothing. I'm just waiting for a green."

She smiles and warns, "This is the worst corner. You better be careful. The cars will ignore the pedestrians right here, right where we're standing, because of the curb cut. They'll mow you down just to get to the gas station to avoid the light."

"You better be careful, too," I say.

"Oh, I am. I am," she nods, seriously.

"I've never seen you before. But then I'm never this early for work. Do you work this corner every day?"

"Oh, I'm here three years. Replaced the last lady. She died." She lowers her voice. "Cancer."

I sneak a glance at the stoplight, the Walk sign is flashing, but decide to wait a minute longer.

"Wow, that must have been bad."

"It was. It was. But life goes on, you know?"

"I know. It sure does."

And I get the craziest urge, such a strong one, but I can resist it, I don't throw her that kiss of appreciation as I take off. It just feels way too loose to me.

"See you around!" I cry.

therapydoc

*Do I go or do I stay is a recurring theme in family therapy.

The Family On-Line Together, Stays Together

Every once in awhile something happens that breaks you up in the GOOD way,
meaning you laugh until the tears are rolling down your cheeks.

So last night I'm on-line, reading email. I get an email from Michelle.

You know Michelle. Michelle Obama.

She wants me to see Barack's new video on YouTube, Yes We Can. The video is truly slick, a wonderful example of how a confluence of art, politics, entertainment, and emotion can produce something that will probably be the next President of the United States.

But this isn't a political blog, as one astute reader has assiduously reminded me, so I'm not going there. It's just a part of the story.

Michelle writes to me, and Barack does, too, for the record. Today he reminds me to vote, and while I'm on the way to the polls, to grab a friend to come along.

Go out for a sandwich.

Anyway, our immediate family emails as a group. I realize that there are better ways to communicate these days, Skype conference calls, Face Book, Twitter, etc., but we've managed to get a charge out of old fashioned email. I started this thread going with the following:

Subject: Well, I think it's funny

http://health-in-action.blogspot.com/2008/02/jeder-braucht-therapie-whlen-eine.htmlHow to Choose a Therapist in. . .German????

All I sent was the link. A blogger translated my post, How to Choose a Therapist, into German. I thought it was pretty cool.

Son #1 chimes in with:

Wha? Wha? What does it mean???

I write back:

I'm telling you. I think it's a direct translation of a post I did just the other day on how to choose a good therapist. But since I don't know German, so I'm not sure. But the paragraphs look the same, and I saw the word OY! which I used in the post

Son #1:

Gut een hemmil!

Me:

I just got an email from Michelle, Michelle Obama, of course, who sent me to the
following link. If this is what we get the next 4 years, man, o man. Can you
imagine?

http://www.blogger.com/I

Son #1:

Does Michelle read your blog?

Son # 2:

Anyone else notice that Israeli girl at 1:46 who says “Anu Y’Cholim”?

Son # 2:

Okay, let’s play I Spy…

John Legend
“Michael” from Lost
Scarlett Johansen
“Ashley” from Fresh Prince
Xena Warrior Princess
I think one of the guys from Black-eyed Peas

Anyone else?

(These are the performers on the video.)

Son #1:

B-actress Aisha Tyler
Annoying actress Kate Walsh
Kareem Abdul Jabar (I
think)
Barack Obama (I think)

Me: Should I be afraid?

Then, the coup de gras', from we're not sure whom, but we know his name. He shares the very same name as a son who HASN'T joined the conversation.

Jonathan:

who are you people? and why are you putting me on your email list?

I apparently spelled Son #3's name wrong when I sent out the original group email . So this OTHER Jonathan got it by mistake. Son #3's name isn't really Jonathan, but I felt that I should change it for our purposes here and keep the family anonymity.

Before I can correct the situation, Empath Daught has posted:

Jon, all you have to say is YES WE CAN!
(Oh!)
YES WE CAN
(hmm!)
YES WE CAN
(we can, we can)...

I quickly write to the other Jonathan, the one who is not in our family:

Sorry Jonathan. We have a Jonathan (last name) in our family with a gmail account, and I mistook you for him. Forget you ever met us. If that's possible.

Son #1:

Truth is, I'm so sick of the candidates, I'd vote for King Abdullah before ...

I've corrected the addresses so that Son #3, our Jonathan, is now on the list. I write to all, since all of us get all of this,

Do you believe this? Someone ELSE named Jonathan (last name) got this entire
thread by mistake! I am capable of worse, but not sure how. There are great
things lying ahead for you people. I think I've corrected the error.

Son #1:

OMG that is hilarious!

I vote we just keep sending him our (stuff).

And Rac chimes in:

LOL I think it's very funny! Poor Jonathan. LOL

And Empath Daught:

OH MY OH MY OH MY .
That is the funniest thing EVVVVER. Did you guys see what I wrote back to him?!

And Cham:

LOLOL oh man good stuff

#2 son:

I second #1's motion in adopting a second Jonathan. If you read his email
carefully, he clearly seems interested in being part of our family. Empath's
response was hysterical.

Okay. I should stop here. I really should.

IS THIS A GREAT WAY TO KEEP FAMILY TOGETHER OR WHAT?

Oh, they'll be so mad at me for posting this, I just know it. So perhaps not.

I have to get to the polls. There's for sure an extra beat in my step. Yes We Can?

NOT A POLITICAL BLOG, NOT A POLITICAL BLOG, NOT A POLITICAL BLOG. Honest.

It's a free country. Go out and vote.

therapydoc