This Book Changed My Life

I love books about self improvement. Reading books about how to become a more exemplary person is an enjoyable leisure time activity for me.

Some of the books are pretty good. I savor them while I'm reading them. I always love the real life examples of other people being successful with this or that lifestyle change. Even when the book is mostly bad, I get at least one nugget of extremely useful information. That's worth the price of admission.

Then there are the books that transcend all of that. One of them is 168 Hours: You Have More Time Than You Think by Laura Vanderkam. This title will sound familiar to people I know. That's because I proselytize about it.

If you feel like there are things you want to do but never have the time, then this is the book for you. If you've read books about time management and haven't liked them, then this is the book for you. This one is different.

I read this book a couple of years ago. I became interested while on the treadmill. I was not on the proverbial treadmill. I was on an actual treadmill, working out and listening to a podcast interview with the author. I became intrigued and signed the book out of the library. Then I loved it so much that I downloaded it to my iPad. I refer to it often.

Since reading the book and implementing many good ideas from it, I've been able to find time for a lot of things. Of course, I have always made time for things I have to do. Now I'm better at managing time for those things. The big difference is having time for all the things I want to do.

I found more time to be a supportive and guiding parent to two teenagers. I've made the time for shared activities with my family that we all enjoy. I've matched two children with NYC public high schools that support their gifts, areas of challenge and interests. I've made more time to be an effective and empathic case manager for my son with mild special needs.

We have an acceptably clean apartment. No one is in want of clean clothes to wear. At the same time, no one is cleaning or washing clothes in an obsessive way. Meals are served at predictable intervals and given a thumbs up almost all of the time, with some planning and minimal, enjoyable effort.

I carve out the discipline to exercise for 30 minutes six times a week. I've organized myself to have between seven and eight hours of sleep each night. I could get a lot more accomplished if I didn't have to sleep so much.  I've accepted that without a good chunk of shut-eye I will get close to nothing done and become extremely annoying to myself and others.

There are pockets of time I've used to re-discover my love of photography. I'm currently working on twenty separate series of photographs. I've recently started a blog and am keeping my commitment to posting twice a week. I'm having the time of my life with these creative endeavors.

I volunteer for my children's schools, but have implemented a special rule. The volunteer tasks must have a beginning, middle and end measurable in hours or days, not months or years. That means PTA Secretary is out, bake sale is in.

I am currently working on an apartment renovation. I am thinking about two areas I'd like to expand into, which are semi-regular childless outings with Jeremy. I have phrased it this way because I hate the term Date Night. After the apartment renovation, I'm going to cultivate my entrepreneurial side.

At one point I noticed that Jeremy has a passion for and knowledge of music that is completely unique. He was blogging but not regularly. I was able to help him free up time to attend concerts, write about music and cultivate relationships with musicians he admires. He's using his time to become a singular voice in the music industry. And he's also having a really good time.

I'll also mention that this major undertaking is in addition to the full time job he holds as executive director of an organization called Hope & Heroes. They raise money to support the pediatric oncology unit of Columbia University Medical Center.

Creating time where there was previously none has made me more careful with it. It's easier to say no to things I don't want to do. It's easier to say no to things I'd like to do if I didn't want to do something else more.

Bragging is not my motivation here.  I wanted you to know that when I title a blog post This Book Changed my Life I'm not fooling around.

Once I started thinking differently about time, that cognition had implications for other areas of life, like finances. I'm exploring this now. I'll let you know how it goes.

Order the book here.

Visit Laura Vanderkam’s blog.

I Changed My Mind About: It Was A Very Good Year

I was two years old when Frank Sinatra's comeback album September of My Years was released. I was not old enough to watch the Grammys in 1966 when Sinatra won Best Song by a Male Artist for It Was a Very Good Year.

It Was a Very Good Year made a frequent appearance on the radio throughout my childhood. For me, it was an easy listening tune by an old guy. Whenever it came on, my friends and I made fun of it. We didn't know the lyrics so we just kept repeating, "it was a very good year" to the rhythm of the song. Even my parents were too young to listen to it.

I continued to feel the same way about the song through my adulthood. Then one day, Jeremy put on the album September of My Years. We were eating dinner.

Jeremy never liked the song either. You may then wonder why he decided to play this particular album. In a nutshell, Jeremy is a musical scholar. He doesn't just listen to music. He thinks about it, reads about it, and writes about it all the time. My guess is that Jeremy read something about this album and wanted to give it a listen for historical purposes.

I knew what song was on there. I prepared to dislike it.

Except I didn't. It literally stopped me in my tracks. I put my fork down and stopped eating. It was no longer possible to eat while listening to It Was a Very Good Year.

I was 45 years old.

Oh my God. I said to Jeremy. I love this song. It's beautiful. It's poignant.  I was almost crying.

Jeremy nodded. Not bad. He said. Not bad at all. I could see Jeremy listening closely. I could see the wheels turning there with Jeremy changing his mind.

Jeremy was 44 years old.

We listened to the album straight through. Then I asked Jeremy to play that one song again. I recall him playing it several times.

After spending approximately 40 years disliking this song, I was now in love with it. At moments like these, it is especially serendipitous to be married to Jeremy. If you are going to become obsessed with a song, then want to discuss it for the rest of the evening, listening again and again, Jeremy is your man.

We talked about the innocence of the first two stanzas of the song. At 35, it's still a very good year, but perhaps the bloom is off the rose a bit. During the "autumn of my years" as Frank sings, the song goes in for the emotional kill.

We talk about the over the top orchestration and production, being so baroque and romantic, yet Sinatra's performance being understated and sophisticated. He makes it sound effortless.

It seems so authentic I said. It feels like he's talking right to me.

I did some math. I wanted to see how seasons aligned with a human lifespan. I decided to pick an 80-year survival and divide that into four seasons. Using this paradigm, ages birth to 20 represented spring, 21 - 40 summer, 41-60 autumn, and 61 and above winter.

You could question this way of organizing it. What if someone lived to be 100? Then would spring be birth to 25 and so on? The math gets tricky when a person lives to be an age not divisible by four. For instance if you were to live to be 75, then your spring would have only lasted until you were 18 years and 9 months.

In the end I decided that if a person lived to be older than 80, then they were just having an extra long winter. I'm satisfied with that explanation.

I pointed out to Jeremy that we were firmly in the autumn of our years. Jeremy did not agree. He felt we were still in the summer period. The numbers don't lie, I said. There's no use pretending. This is autumn.

I was being realistic, but certainly not all doom and gloom. Just because we're in the autumn of our years, does not mean that we have to look, act or feel like vintage wine from fine old kegs.  We could still have our soft summer nights, even as the days grow short.

I did a little bit of reading about this song before writing about it. It was written in 1961 by somebody else. As Frank Sinatra was nearing his 50th birthday, it had a deep resonance with him. It makes sense that I changed my mind when I did. I was too young to understand it before.

I threw myself a 50th birthday party. Jeremy made a beautiful musical playlist to put on at the party. I gave him a lot of artistic freedom in setting the atmosphere.  I did request that he put the song in the mix. Thinking back on it, I imagine he would have done it even if I didn't ask.

Most people couldn't really hear the song very well at the party. There was so much conversation that the music took a back seat. But when the song came on I could hear it, soft, yet persistent like a transistor radio in the distance. The perfect song to herald in my half-century mark. You'll be happy to know it's been a very good year.

Remember This

It was the day after we heard that Jacob had a recurrence of his cancer. It was the most terrible news. It was much worse than the original diagnosis.

Jacob was two years old. As far as he was concerned, everything was business as usual. I was taking care of him. I was being his mother.

Jacob was on my lap. We were sitting on a glider in his room. I had just finished reading him a story. Just like I did a million times before.

I looked at his hand. It had a very nice, refined, square shape like his Dad's. I'd always loved Jeremy's hands.

Remember this, I told myself. I looked at every detail of his hand and downloaded it into my permanent memory. This was not something to take a picture of. A photograph couldn't capture it.

It's as clear as day. I've lost so much. But I still have that.

I first posted this piece on Facebook during Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, 2013.

Facebook Pages

I try hard to be a good Facebook friend. I'm not one of those people who posts a bunch of stuff that people like, but then refuse to like anyone else's posts. That's selfish. I'm not that kind of Facebook friend.

I have a lot of Facebook friends. I've also liked all of my Facebook friends' pages. When my Facebook friend invites me to like their page, I show them I'm a good Facebook friend by liking their Facebook page. It's only right.

I've liked pages of Facebook friends' beautiful art, music and writing. I've liked pages Facebook friends created for their pets, family reunions, adoptions, fundraisers, and vacations. I follow Facebook friends' blogs. That's because Facebook friends follow other Facebook friends' blogs.

My main criticism of some Facebook pages is that there is just not enough action on them. I liked your Facebook page because I'm a good Facebook friend and I want to know what's going on with your bathroom renovation. There's a blogger I like who must be busy because she hasn't posted for a while, and now I'd appreciate an update about her ex-boyfriend.

If you're reading this and noticing I haven't liked your page, it's probably just an oversight. Go ahead and invite me again.

Sometimes I like friends of friends Facebook pages. If a friend of a friend invites me to like their Facebook friend's page, I like it. Sometimes if a page looks interesting and I don't know that person, I will like that page too. Just from it being in my newsfeed.

If I read a really good book, I'll go out of my way to see if that author has a Facebook page or blog. I really want to see what that person has to say when they are not writing a book. I also want to be among the first to know when they have written a new book so I can put it on hold at the library before everyone else.

Some of my Facebook friends get upset when Facebook friends haven't liked their Facebook pages. My Facebook friend has invited their Facebook friends to like their page, and for whatever reason, these other Facebook friends that are not me, have not liked it. Then my Facebook friend becomes so upset that they post about that on Facebook, without mentioning any of the Facebook friends by name.

My first response is that the Facebook friend who is upset needs some new Facebook friends who really know how to be a Facebook friend.

The last time this happened to a Facebook friend, it got me thinking rather deeply about  Facebook pages.

I do not keep a tally about who has liked my Facebook page Non-Fiction Living or Karen is 50! Facebook pages. I just go about my life, doing my writing and collages, and having my 50th birthday party.

Some good friends like my page. Some good friends don't like my page. Some strangers like my page. Some friends secretly like my page, but don't want anyone else to know they like it so they don't like it in a Facebook way. So then they tell me how much they like my Facebook page when they see me in person. All of this is good. Whatever is happening is what's supposed to be happening.

But if you are keeping a tally, and you are upset with some particular people for not liking your Facebook page, then I'm going to ask you to go to a quiet place within yourself. You have some serious thinking to do.

I would like you to do an honest assessment. Have you been a good Facebook friend? When the friends you are mad at have invited you to like their pages, have you done so? Or have you ignored their Facebook page invitations and even some of their regular Facebook posting while focusing exclusively on your own Facebook page?

If you have exhibited some one sided Facebook behaviors, I suggest that you take a few minutes to creep the offending Facebook friend's wall. Go around liking some things. And, for the love of God, like their page. Share some of their good stuff. Issue a new invite. Then wait a few days.

If they ignore your page invite again, then you have a decision to make. You can keep them as a Facebook friend, but every once in a while post something cryptic about them. This will generate some likes and comments from your other Facebook friends and possibly more traffic to your Facebook page.

If your feelings are really hurt, then you can un-friend them. Some of my Facebook friends do this for various reasons. They call it cleaning house, and un-friend a bunch of people while telling the Facebook friends that are still left about the experience.

Whenever a Facebook friend does this, I always say the same thing. Now you have more time to pay attention to me.

The exception to this is when, in spite of being a good Facebook friend, I am the one un-friended. Then the person who did the un-friending will have more time to pay attention to the Facebook friends they did not un-friend. In this case, that person could set up the best Facebook page ever, and I'm never going to follow it. Even if it features DIY storage solutions for small spaces or stuff about Princess Diana.

The other thing you can do is have a conversation with the person who has not liked your Facebook page about them not liking your Facebook page. I added this idea at the end, because to be honest, I almost didn't think of it.

Binders

There are important things going on in my life. Chances are, every important thing has a file to represent it, and a place in my filing cabinet.

If something is extremely important to me, I create a binder for it. Once a subject has a dedicated binder, it is in the upper echelon of stuff I am working on. It is a level above the materials I house in the filing cabinet. It is Binder Worthy.

Binder Worthy means that the subject would benefit from an intensive Staples office supply treatment.

I have plastic translucent folders in a fetching palette of spring colors. I have dividers for different categories. I have clear plastic pages for display. I have zippered pouches that fit into the binders for small miscellany. I have labels and Sharpies. The act of creating and maintaining a binder is not only useful, but an exceedingly enjoyable experience for me.

I remember the moment it all started. It was at a middle school fair held at my kids' elementary school. I organized the whole thing.

I arranged for some parents whose children were successfully placed in good middle schools to come and talk to families. One of the parents was a smart and organized dad who managed to handle the placement of boy/girl twins. In NYC. In public middle school.

During his presentation, the savvy dad showed us a middle school binder he made. I'll never forget what he said. He recommended making a binder and carrying it around at all times. The reason, he said, was that one never knows when a middle school related opportunity could spontaneously arise.

I was hanging on his every word, and by the next day, I'd started that binder. That's what kicked this whole thing off. Now I have several active binders.

One of my current favorites is my apartment renovation inspiration binder. The first thing I want to mention is that I love the outside of the binder. It’s black, with a white Apple computer sticker affixed to it. The Apple sticker was lying around our desk for a long time. No one ever stuck it to the computer. One day, I slapped it on the binder. It makes for a visually compelling graphic statement.

At first this binder was for Noah's IEP. If you know Noah at all, a binder with an Apple logo front and center is extremely appropriate. Unfortunately, IEP records and materials soon made a larger binder necessary. I re-purposed it once Jeremy and I started talking about the apartment renovation.

Every time I see something inspiring for my apartment reno, I tear it out and display it in the binder. It is sort of like an analog version of Pinterest. It does not have the same sharing capacity. That said, I showed it to my mother the other day. She said that now that she's looked at my binder, she will send me things to put in there if she sees anything good.

I have another binder devoted to creative inspiration. This is a broad category and can include anything from clippings of art I love, to quotes, to articles. It is important that the act of leafing through the binder be an uplifting and highly aesthetic experience.

The high school binder is very active. It has helped me place both kids in an appropriate medical school program that fits their interests and needs. Did I just say medical school program? Sorry! I meant to say New York City Public High School.

Having a different color-coded section for each school with notes, brochures, and copies of application materials gives me a peaceful feeling. Once I'd completed the process for Hannah, I repurposed the binder for Noah, with all different schools, but the same beautiful colors.

The IEP binder I have for Noah is something I started when he was in 5th grade. This is a serious binder. It functions somewhat differently than the other ones.

For those of you who don't know the parlance, IEP stands for Individualized Education Program. Noah is a very interesting person. Like many interesting people, his skill sets are somewhat uneven. Some of his difficulties were causing learning and other issues in school.

The 5th grade IEP binder contained private evaluations I had done from occupational and speech and language therapists as well as a child psychologist. I had every phone call with the school documented and filed in there. I had examples of Noah's work, handwriting samples and copies of report cards with plummeting grades.

The school psychologist had a hissy fit when our guidance counselor said that I wanted to get Noah an IEP. I'd heard this song and dance before. Noah is very smart. This particular school did not traditionally like giving IEPs to students who were above grade level for reading and math.

I saw where this was headed and I wasn't having it. I'd been called into an impromptu meeting with the school psychologist and guidance counselor. I took my binder and plunked it on the desk with an audible thud. We exchanged pleasantries. I smiled. I never raised my voice.

I've stopped working so I can focus on my son, I said. I have all the time in the world to pursue this IEP. This is my full time job now. This binder is full of private evaluations. This binder goes where I go. I'm available 24/7 to pursue what's right for this child to have the support he needs going into middle school.

I leaned over. My son has ADHD. His mother most certainly does not, I said.

I had that IEP in short order and Noah is now a successful 8th grader at a different school, with a smaller IEP binder and the support he needs.

The recipe binder is my eldest one. It lacks a certain finesse that the newer ones have. I'm thinking of some new ideas to make it more efficient and attractive. I'm in no hurry because it’s functioning well. As binders go, it could be a lot worse.

We Used To Talk On The Phone

 Jeremy was getting ready to go to a musical event with our friend Jan. An ambiguous situation came up regarding the tickets. Jeremy was unsure as to whether Jan was going to be able to get in for free, as his plus one, or if he would have to pay twenty dollars. The story is actually more complicated than this; I'm giving you the short version.

Because it was almost time to meet Jan and because Jeremy wanted to prepare him for every eventuality, Jeremy decided to phone Jan instead of texting him. They discussed it for a bit. Then Jeremy resumed getting ready.

A few minutes later, Jan called back. Because he wanted to catch Jeremy before he left, he phoned rather than texting.

Jan had learned that there was a complication with the subway they were planning to take to the musical event. They discussed alternative transportation. They talked about the shuttle bus that was being provided.

Once they nailed the subway issues, they talked about the music documentary they would be seeing. They speculated about the other people that might be there. They spoke about the bands that were scheduled to play that evening. They talked about bands they might like to see together in the future. They talked about music that one had heard that the other hadn't, and vice versa.

I was hanging out with my kids. I drew their attention to Jeremy, walking back and forth, deep in conversation, multitasking while on the phone. See that? I said waving my hand in Jeremy's general direction. It used to be like this all the time at our house, I said.

The kids were mystified and mildly interested.

 I like to regale the kids with tales of life in the days of yore. For our purposes today, the days of yore are the early 1990s. Even when they're bored, they’re polite about it. They're nice kids.

Back in the day, Dad and I were always on the phone, I said. I told the kids about how there wasn't any texting, emailing or social media. If you wanted to communicate with someone quickly, you needed to use the phone. If it wasn't as urgent you could send a snail mail. That was it.

In terms of talking to people in real time, there were no smart phones. You had the house phone. It was a big deal when cordless phones came out. Before that, your phones needed to have these really long cords so you could walk about while talking to someone. No matter how long the cord you would not be able to exit the apartment and still talk on the phone.

Sometimes the cords would get tangled up and you'd have to spend a bit of time straightening things out.

Negotiations would happen over who got to use the phone when. When one person was on the phone, the other person was cut off from all communication. These things needed to be worked out.

Dad and I were on the phone constantly, I told the kids. It was like Grand Central Station around here with the phone. We were on the phone with clients. We were on the phone to make plans. We were on the phone to chat with friends.

We talked all the time, I added.

I asked the kids if they remember a time before we had the Internet at home. They couldn't. Hannah is the older of the two. It turns out that she remembers dial up.

It was getting late. Let me go dude, Jeremy said. He hung up the phone. He left to catch the subway, and then the shuttle bus.

In case you're wondering, things went fairly smoothly once they arrived. There was some misadventure with the shuttle bus and some minor confusion at the door. The important thing is that both of them did get in for free and no one had to pay twenty dollars.