Baby Ballerina

Years and years of my youth were spent in ballet classes, recitals and miscellaneous productions. I still can't believe my parents went through endless rehearsals and driving me around.

I was not talented enough to really be a ballerina. I was marginally talented -- enough that let it me dance in some big venues in our town.

My friend, Lucy Burk, is in dance classes. I see her pose. I see her working it. She'll probably grow up to be a neurosurgeon but for this moment in time, she is a ballerina.

I Pick Kind

Throughout my life thus far, I have been surrounded by brilliant people. Some are phenomenally talented. Some have multiple degrees. Others have great common sense and what we used to call street smarts.

I'm awed by smart people. I want to bask in their aura and hope some of their brain cells and talents get absorbed through osmosis. I'm infinitely curious about how they became who they are. I'm not impressed with money, the huge house or the Ivy League school. I'm impressed with people who take their lot in life and use it to improve themselves and hopefully, the world.

Mostly, I am in awe of people who choose kindness. That doesn't seem to be in favor these days. We're all justifiably frightened of sexual predators, car jackers, rapists, serial killers, etc. We turn our heads and look the other way. We lock our doors and turn on the alarm. Blame the media or the Internet but I think a lot of this is blown out of proportion. We just know more now because we have access to it.

It's kind of like being struck by lightning. Yeah, it might happen but the odds are in your favor.

I crave learning and I love it when someone thinks I'm smart. But, in the end, the world would be a better place if we chose to be kind.

A Different Kind of Ant

Just like the song, High Hopes, talked about ants, I want to do it too. Only in this case, it's my aunts. My father had two sisters who adored him. One has passed away but the other is very influential in my life. I'll get to her in a minute.

My mother is the oldest of three girls. Her sisters have seen me through thick and thin. They probably get very sick of me calling or emailing them. (One is high tech; one is no tech.)

I was taught that you're not supposed to express envy or covet things but if you'll give me a little wiggle room, I'll try not to be blasphemous.

I can be jealous of my aunts. They are these incredibly talented, funny, interesting people. Then, I realize I'm grateful -- in a weird and honorable way, I get to say, "Mine!" It's possessive. I'm possessive. These are my aunts.

One of my aunts lived with us periodically during my childhood. She taught me this lesson: When someone else pulls your hair, grab theirs and yank hard. By the way, she's the most talented artist I've had the pleasure to know. She has more talent in the tip of her pinkie than I have in my entire body.

One of my aunts used to take my infant self on dates with her (now) husband. She is far and away the funniest woman I know. I refer to her as a combination of Lucille Ball and Wild Bill. Who taught me to roll my eyes? Plus, she cooks all the time. She shares cookbooks and recipes. Do you think she's trying to tell me to kick it up a notch?

One of my aunts is a writer, speaker, community activist and has dedicated her life to family and social reform. Her influence is unending and she planted the seed for my writing passion. She's also been in the position of dealing with illness and in-home care. I can turn to her for advice or a pick-me-up talk when I'm freaking about the oldies. Plus, she's the strongest woman in the world.

My other aunt is deceased. I did not know her well. That makes me sad.

I have two great aunts on my mother's side. One showers me with soaps, lotions, candles and potions. She has dealt with her own health issues and frankly, I am stunned that she makes such an effort. (Maybe she remembers that I was the good eater.)

My other great Aunt has the most contagious laugh you've ever heard. If I'm lucky, I see her a few times a year. I always leave her presence with my heart full and my stomach hurting from too many belly laughs.

Aunts get the short end of the stick. They're not your parents and usually, their children are your generational equals so you tend to spend more time with the cousins. If you're lucky, you know and love your cousins. But it's the aunts who remember your birthday or helped pick out your baptism outfit or babysat so your parents could get a moment to themselves.

The husband had a million aunts. His mother came from a family of a jillion. (I stop counting after five.) He loved them and is in contact with some of his cousins but it's not like the relationships I have with my aunts.

As adults, we forget. So, I raise my coffee mug in a toast to aunts.

I have three aunts and two great-aunts. I am honored to also call them my friends.