Tag: family

The Ramblings of a Mad Woman

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 2 Comments

It’s been a while since I put fingers to keyboard to share my thoughts in this space, with a major reason being that our “muzzle velocity” reality broke my brain — and my heart…just as intended.

Steve Bannon used the term in 2019 about the media — “flood the zone” to overwhelm them so they can’t cover all that’s being done and they’ll “never be able to recover.” But it’s more than that — we’ve lived in nonstop thing-after-thing-after-thing-after-thing-after-thing for over ten years now, and…

…it’s like getting pelted by some sort of jacked-up tennis ball machine that’s firing spiked balls of malevolence at you non-stop…until eventually you crumple into a duck-and-cover heap because all that’s left is the bloody pulp of exhaustion and pain.

It’s debilitating…Just as intended.

And it seems like what the masses can “tolerate” just keeps getting pushed further and further with every passing news cycle. (Don’t get me started on the Cornell 7 and how the sitting president feels bad for them. There’s just so many things not to get me started on…)

Long ago, I wanted to write about how we aren’t even seeing the awfulness in the term “the worst of the worst,” but I couldn’t get myself to focus enough to do so. But let me just say here: You see it, right?

The worst of the worst.

So many people are okay with using that phrase as a satisfactory approach to immigration “reform” — or ICE activities. “Hey — they’re only going after the worst of the worst…As long as they’re just going after the criminals, (which, btw, we know isn’t true) I’m good with that…”

But when you say “worst of the worst,” what you are saying is that…immigrants are the worst…and the worst of them are the criminal immigrants.

Whenever I have this conversation with someone, they are like, “Wow…I never thought of it that way…” I’m not sure why that is the case, but I do know that the desensitization we have all experienced through the thing-after-thing onslaught — and the normalizing of dehumanizing language, and the witnessing of such crazy awful things like putting people in cages and blowing up boats and schools and encouraging American cities to be attacked and the livestreaming of firing squad murders — is horrific for our souls.

And through this overexposure to awful, too many have become too comfortable with nasty vitriol and smug contempt. Yes…both sides have been guilty of it, but I cannot accept that this is an “equal issue” — the stakes are very different. When I watched Fox “News” during my news coverage comparison experiment, I realized that their “news”casters had such condescension and smugness any time they referred to anything left of hard right while omitting facts and curating footage…it is more than disappointing. It is downright dangerous. They feed people diets of hate and lies that have fostered a mindset that helped put those in power who have done the awful I have referenced…and more.

This “new world” has left me nearly devoid of hope…

But…

My son works for a campaign of a young person with a good heart. The campaign is thriving with the strength of young people…And the stories my son tells me about the people still fighting for good…

He — and they — give me hope.

And as we are less than a month away from the midterms, I am trying to gather myself as best I can here to lift my voice and say VOTE.

Vote early if you can so that the lines are shorter for those who can’t — and for many more reasons.

I wrote and originally posted the piece below, “A Crazy Little Fairy Tale…or Is It?” in December 2020… just a few weeks before the Jan 6. It felt like an almost eerie prophecy after that, and — while I don’t want to give myself too much credit — when I revisit it, the prophecy and analogy continue to evolve in meaning — at least to me. It is just more horrific. What was originally a certain level of destruction, debasing of norms, and fraud has grown into concentration camps, the destabilization of the world economy, war, billions in grifted wealth, and the genuine risk of the death of democracy.

I’m not sure if truth can return as a reality and value in this “post truth era”… but I refuse to give up when people like my son and all of the people who are working hard to take care of each other and do what is right are still fighting, too.

So…VOTE…like democracy depends on it.

Because it does.

The ship IS on fire. But we CAN come to the rescue. 

VOTE.

A crazy little fairy tale…or is it?

(Originally posted December 2, 2020)

There was a captain of a ship who was fired from his job and told to—as his contract states—finish his voyage and then leave. Rather than accepting this and behaving professionally, he claims that he was not fired and tells all the passengers that he is being attacked. He threatens to just keep the ship out at sea. The company tells him they can prove that all protocols were followed in his firing, but he dismisses them and continues to tell the passengers he is being attacked. Many of the passengers believe him. Many more don’t. They just want to get back to land safely and return to their lives. Arguments ensue. There are a handful of elite passengers who have enjoyed all the special perks the captain has given them on their voyage, so they go along with his cries of being attacked as they continue to enjoy their VIP privileges.

While all of this is going on, the captain is ransacking the ship and taking whatever he can. He tells the passengers who believe him to fight for him. He tells them that the passengers who don’t agree with them are losers and part of the conspiracy against him. The captain-followers are enraged by this and ask the captain what they should do. He tells them to keep fighting for him and to give him money.

They do.

In the meantime, when he starts to realize that he can’t keep his job unless he stays out at sea…but that he can’t stay out at sea or they will die, he comes up with a plan. Since he will never admit failure, he will instead bring down one of the most glorious ships ever made as a way to show his strength. He reaches out to the elites to coordinate the destruction of the ship. These special few will escape on lifeboats while the masses go down with the ship. Since the captain is letting them take whatever they want with them, they go along with the plan.

So…while the captain-following passengers are busy attacking and fighting the other passengers, the captain goes around starting little fires that he fans into bigger ones. The elites are busy blocking exits and locking doors. The fires catch hold and start to cripple the ship. Some of the captain-following passengers see the fire but the captain just tells them that it will keep them warm and to go on fighting.

They do.

When the other passengers smell smoke, find the fires, and try to put them out, they realize it is too late. They try to run to the lifeboats, but thanks to the elites, they are trapped.

As this horror takes place below deck, the captain and the elites are filling all the extra lifeboats with their stolen goods and launching themselves away from the sinking ship. They watch the ship now fully engulfed in flames. They don’t seem to see it as a tragedy. After all, they made some serious money because of it. How can that be a tragedy? If anything, it is an “unfortunate byproduct” of their newfound additional wealth.  

The captain watches the flames in amazement. “Look at that,” he tells the elites. “Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you have ever seen? No one has ever sunk a ship that big before. No one. I’m the only one.” One of the elites piped up, “Yes, Captain…this has to be the biggest sabotage the world has ever seen.”

“Damn right,” the captain spat. “This will be my legacy.”

A Different Kind of FraGeeLay

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 2 Comments

“Good Lord…she’s not going to make her annual FraGeeLay post political…is she?”

Full disclosure: There’s little I can talk about in any depth that isn’t touched by the impact and turmoil of our days.

Go Bears! Westside Improv!

I think that might be the end of the list…

But no—I’m not going to “be” political—I’m just going to be.

In last year’s post, I was worried…

”…even though this is Christmas Eve…I find it extremely difficult not to feel as though we are on a precipice leading to an even more dire time in our history.”

Huh. Nailed it.

This year…my heart, mind, and soul have been dealt consecutive, concurrent concussions for nearly a year (only a year?) from the tumult of our new reality.

I’m thinking you can relate.

So, this feels like a very different kind of FraGeeLay. If you are like me, you find yourself living a “two track life”—where your heart is breaking every day because of new injustices or hurts, and…you also have to get groceries into the house. Where there is an ongoing, deep tenderness but also a numbness that seems to wash over if the tender is too much—like some sort of weird defense system. It’s all a lot—and all the time.  

These are tough days.

And we all need to take care of ourselves and monitor what we let into our world in order to work on our mental health. But I do have a plea to make, if you are someone who is choosing to shut everything out for this reason: please don’t. Not so that you don’t know what is going on. Don’t stick your head in the sand. You need to know. Take care of yourself, but…you need to know what is going on in our world. Find a way that works to stay healthy—but please…also stay informed…hopefully from fair, unbiased sources. And then act as you are able.

You know…ostriches don’t stick their heads in the sand when afraid or in danger. They are actually tending to their nests when they are poking in the sand! And when they’re afraid? They can run as fast as 40mph and kick hard enough to kill a lion.1 Now that’s how you ostrich, baby.

But I digress.

These FraGeeLay posts are always about being gentle with one another and trying to take a moment to take in the good stuff…and in this 14th (!) one, I still know how important all of that is…even though I’m finding everything harder. Guess that makes it all the more important.

I’m trying. I hope you are, too.

I wish you all the best that the holidays have to offer you and those you love…

And may we all weather the storms of our lives and share in the joy of the sunrise when the storm has finally passed.

Frageelay – A Baker’s Dozen

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ Leave a comment

For the thirteenth Christmas Eve(ish) post in my “Frageelay series,” I find myself at a bit of a loss in what direction to take. Honestly, I’m trying to be in the Christmas spirit, but the state of our world makes it very challenging. I look back on previous Frageelay posts and smile at what was a kind of sweet optimism and faith that–if I still have–must be lost somewhere in a closet I need to reorganize.

Merry Christmas, right?

Sorry–I don’t mean to be bleak at a festive time. I’m grateful for my family and friends and for the love and meaning these relationships bring to my life–and I’m particularly grateful for the love and laughter that comes from spending time in a wonderful community (shoutout Westside!) that continually brings out the best in people.

But even though this is Christmas Eve(ish), I’m not going to sugarcoat the reality that we have either actively created or passively allowed our world to be pretty f’ed up. I find it extremely difficult not to feel as though we are on a precipice leading to an even more dire time in our history. SO…with THAT twinkle of Christmas joy, let me point you back to last year’s more coherent piece that is still true for me today.

And wherever you may be–full of hope or struggling–may your holidays be full of the love and warmth that will give you the strength to strive to make tomorrow a better day.

Frageelay Numero Dodici

What No Longer Serves

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 3 Comments

There is something about a new year that feels “blank slate” and offers up a chance to set lofty goals—at least that’s how I approached 2023 in choosing integrate as my word of the year. Reflecting on it, I have actually made some progress…but have a lifetime of practicing to go.

This year’s word is an intimate glimpse into that practicing, and since vulnerability is a part of the practice, too, here goes…

Everybody has their issues, challenges, and history of hurts, and my personal story includes having a clinically diagnosed narcissist with borderline personality disorder for a mother. She passed a few years ago, and this is by no means an attempt to “disparage the dead” but—let’s just say it didn’t make for a lot of easy laughs and unconditional love. My mom was privately explosive and unkind, which created a hypervigilance in me to do my best not to trip her trigger.

You’re probably thinking, “Good Lord, Lisa…where is this going? It’s a word of the year, for crimony’s sake!” I know, I know. I’m getting there.

My mom lived to a ripe old age, and I was a seasoned professional at walking on eggshells and trying to manage circumstances to appease her. Eventually, I got into therapy and started learning, among other things, that it wasn’t my job to try and make her happy. But intellectually learning something and internally letting go of practices that kept me safe as a kid (but are no longer needed) are two very different things. One is easy…the other…not so much.

I noticed many years ago that I am almost always clenching a muscle somewhere in my body. Subconsciously, I create a physical tension—perhaps part of my hypervigilance to always be ready. It’s exhausting. When I recognize that I’m doing it, I literally make myself stop and let go. And I am now understanding more clearly how I do the same internally, as well. I am coiled and ready to spring into action at any moment to make sure landmines are averted. It, too, is exhausting. But guess what? The landmines are gone—and even if they aren’t—they are not my responsibility.

Which finally brings me to my word of the year…

I see 2024 as a year to add to my practice of trying to be a better human being the discipline of release. The release of actions that no longer serve me or the people I love. I’m not fully sure what that means or how to do it, but I know that when I find myself walking on eggshells or managing landmines, I need to stop and recognize I’ve retired from that job. And I need to let go of the resentment that comes along as part of the package at no extra charge. Just like I do when I tell myself to relax a clenched muscle, I need to release myself from the constraints of well-worn patterns and emotionally “relax.”

As I’ve shared before, my word of the year often falls right into my lap, but this year, as I was reflecting on what my word might be, other synonyms came and went before release settled in…unravel, uncoil, unwind, and unfold all spoke to me in different ways. When “unfold” was speaking up, it of course made me think of Steven Curtis Chapman’s song that has touched me deeply at other times of my life.

No matter what shape your faith life is in or where it falls on the “spiritual spectrum,” I think you will appreciate this video. While it is about a “Glorious Unfolding,” it is also the beautiful gift of a father releasing his daughter from grief and encouraging her to live her life to the fullest. It is just the kind of release I am striving for.

It’s a good thing I love learning because it seems there is always homework to do. But I am grateful to have this life to keep working on all of it.

May your 2024 be a year of practicing release of what isn’t helping, embracing what is, and being able to know the difference between the two.  

Frageelay Numero Dodici

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 2 Comments

For twelve years I’ve been putting out a post around Christmas Eve that speaks to the fragile nature of this season…and life. When I first started writing my annual “frageelay” piece, I was busy juggling being the parent of a young kid, the daughter of a (very demanding) older parent, work that led up to a major crescendo on Christmas Eve, and hosting a decent-sized gathering on the 25th. Add in parties, in-person gift shopping, cookie exchanges, playdates, Christmas cards, school concerts…you get the idea.

And now? Well, let’s just say I have arrived at a different season of life. The kid is no longer young, the parent has passed, work still has a ton going on but it’s different and healthier, and the family gathering has shrunk and moved up on the calendar. Covid did in many of the traditional parties (though thankfully not all!), and my shopping is nearly all online. There are no formal cookie exchanges, my kid takes care of his own “playdates,” and I—like so many of us—have ceased writing Christmas cards.

Some might think this different season sounds sad. The truth is…I love it. Of course, there are some things I miss in the crazy of the earlier years—my little drummer boy banging away in concert, his wobbly but wholehearted voice singing of Jesus’ birth, and of course his delight at seeing what Santa left under the tree. I am grateful for those memories. As I am the laughs and good times shared with family and friends under the glow of Christmas lights.

I love having those memories. But I love making the new memories that come with this different time of life. Our new tradition of a smaller family get-together earlier in the season means that I get to exhale and enjoy so much of what I missed scurrying along trying to get everything done in previous years. I get to be a little.

Years ago, I got hit with a 24-hour stomach bug on Christmas Eve. Because of how Christmas fell on a Saturday that year, I was able to push it to Sunday with everyone still able to attend. Due to my barely having my legs back under me, I was not interested in eating the traditional Italian spread that I make, but I was so glad it could work out and everyone could still be together.

“You, know, Lis…I’m sorry you were sick and all, but yesterday was awesome,” my sister said. “Because it was a last-minute cancelation, all we did was stay in our PJs and order Chinese. It was wonderful.” I think I responded with a sarcastic, “I’m so glad that my sickness worked out for you…,” but the truth was that I wanted that, too. I wanted my PJs and Chinese food Christmas Day, and…flash forward to now…if we choose it, we get it. Last year, we ordered sushi on Christmas Day—wonderful indeed.

Perhaps this season of life will evolve into something different someday. If a grandkid or two or five enters the picture, it will all be a new and wonderful kind of crazy that I will welcome with anticipatory delight. What a blessed season that will be.

But who knows what the future will bring? Life is fragile—and decidedly unfair. My son is only six months younger than I was when I lost my dad. That is crazy for me to think about when I look at him and know how I hope for many more decades for the three of us to have each other in our lives.

I pray for a long and healthy season in this regard.

What I have learned through the years, though, is that there is a way to see to it that the people you love feel loved during this holiday season (and pretty much every day) without killing yourself in the process—in fact they prefer it! And…they would also like you to be able to feel the love right back.

I certainly don’t have a lock on all this, but I am learning. And this is what I hope for you—that you stay on (or find!) the path that’s paved with love that goes both ways—with occasional moments of joy and peace (as much as you can possibly swing!) added in for good measure.

Because life is frageelay…so it’s best if we handle with care.

FraGEElay x 11

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 8 Comments

Over the years—ten previous ones, to be exact—I have written a Christmas Eve fraGEElay* post that reflects on life’s fragilities and how this season is a good time to take care of one another and be mindful of life’s precarious nature.

This year, I want to share a personal reality to help drive this point home.

When I was a kid, a rift in my extended family happened that resulted in my immediate family disconnecting from pretty much everyone else. We kids didn’t really understand or know why, but it happened, and we just had to deal with it. And so we did. For…decades.

My dad died when I was 21 and took his answers with him. My mom—well, that’s a whole other story—but she expected/demanded our loyalty and kept her answers to herself, as well—until she, too, died.

And in the wisdom that sometimes comes with age, my sister and brother and I decided that regardless of what those answers were, we needed to seek reconnection with those we missed out on for so many years.

In our seeking, we have met with family and learned that the origin of the issue was small and petty. And unless there is more to the story that we have yet to learn, this little incident stood—and hurt feelings built up until a wall divided loved ones—and way too many people died with that wall separating us from one another.

My family missed out on decades of relationships and memories with our extended family over a stupid spat. In fact, the people who were the ones with the issue have long since died.

The ripple effect of loss is far-reaching and life-changing. Such fragility.

But now we are working to move forward. We can’t make up for lost time, but we are striving to make new memories together.

But.

There is a plaque that hangs in my kitchen that says,

The clock of life is wound but once,
and no man has the power
to tell just when the hands will stop
at late or early hour.
Now is the only time you own,
Live, love, toil with a will,
Place no faith in “tomorrow,” for
The clock may then be still.

In November, we were fortunate to reconnect with our aunt and several cousins. It was so much fun, and we all were genuinely delighted to spend time together. None of us could even understand why we had fallen away from each other. We felt the love and warmth and knew it was the beginning of a new chapter.

We made plans for another gathering to spend more time with my aunt. To just be with her and listen to her stories. She was the last person from my parents’ generation who could still share memories with us, and I yearned to hear the stories of long ago.

A few days before our get together, my cousin reached out to postpone because a couple people in the family were sick, and she didn’t want her mom to get sick, too.

Eight days after we were supposed to get together, my aunt was gone.

People. Life is fragile.

Yesterday—on a day with ridiculously frigid temps and dangerous winds, not to mention the day before Christmas Eve—was my aunt’s visitation. The place was filled. This was a testament to who she was, as well as the family she raised. While a few minutes outside could result in frostbite, a few minutes inside, and you could feel the warmth and love.

The outpouring of that love was beautiful—but also a stark reminder of what my sister, brother, and I missed out on. Many people shared stories about sitting at my aunt’s table—of her feeding them, sharing stories and laughter…

Had it not been for choices made by people long ago to hang onto slights rather than talk them through, we would have been at that table, too.

And so, my friends, as you gather with family this Christmas and holiday season, remember that life is indeed fraGEElay, but conflicts—big or small—do not have to result in long-lasting brokenness.

If you are dealing with an issue where hurt feelings exist, please consider planting your feet in vulnerability and reaching out. While it does risk more hurt, it also offers the hope of fresh air, warm hearts, and a seat at the table that will leave you full of both delicious food—and love.

I wish you a peaceful, safe, and love-filled Christmas and New Year. Happy Holidays to all—and may we seek and find a way of being better to one another…in our homes, our communities, our nation, and our world.

*If you are unfamiliar with this reference, it comes from the beloved movie “A Christmas Story.” I can no longer see the word “fragile” and pronounce it in any way other than fraGEElay. That must be Italian.