Artist vs. Person or Artist is the Person? Some Thoughts on Michael Jackson

Since the news of Michael Jackson’s passing has been upon us, I’ve been thinking: Can we, or should we, separate the artist’s work from the artist as a person? (You can also insert politician or any other profession in place of artist in that sentence).

Here’s the deal: I try to be fair and base my conclusions on evidence. I try to think critically about everything I hear or read but, even so, I’m pretty convinced that Michael Jackson was a pedophile. He was an incredible artist who broke barriers and deserved his fame and success. He was also a victim of his success in that many people wanted to blackmail or otherwise get something from him and he probably never had a shot at a normal life. But I do think there were many of his personal choices (many of which he talked openly about) and other evidence that points to him being a pederast. I find that repulsive and for a long time I refused to buy any Michael Jackson music because I didn’t want my money going to someone who hurts children.

But over the years, I’ve read and talked to others who have a different view about how we should think about a person’s work and their personal lives. They believe you can, or even should, separate the artist from his work, seeing them as separate things. This is the logic I apply to my view of Bill Clinton. I voted for him twice and think history will show he was a pretty good president. He was no Lincoln but pretty good all the same. By most accounts I’ve read, he is amazingly intelligent, compassionate, and a warm and loving father. He was, however, a terrible husband and chose to lie to millions of American citizens he was sworn to serve (“I did not have sex with that woman”…well, it depends on how you define sex). For me, his personal choices are that: personal, and to be handled within his family. The fact that he lied to the American people is a big issue, but he lied about a personal matter. He didn’t lie about issues that got us into a war (W, I’m looking at you) or that cost us billions of dollars (W, again, looking at you) or that broke any laws (Nixon…oh never mind, you’re dead). His lie wasn’t OK but, to be honest, it’s the same lie that millions of people have told at least once in their lives. So, continuing this viewpoint, I should separate MJ’s art from his personal life and buy his music without guilt or feelings of ickyness.

But I’ve always believed that we are whole people, that our character permeates our entire self and that are actions are the evidence of our character. In other words, we are not a collection of shoe boxes, each with its own part of us – our parental self in one box, our spousal self in another, our professional life in yet another – but are, using this metaphor, one big box. Maybe our “box” has some dividers but basically all the pieces of us are connected. So if you’re a dishonest or arrogant or abusive spouse, you’re probably a dishonest or arrogant or abusive supervisor, or son, or friend. Maybe you’re more dishonest, arrogant or abusive in one area of your life than in others but those things are part of your character and that pervades everything in your life. This would lead me to believe MJ should be viewed as a whole person, reinforcing my refusal to purchase his music.

Maybe the answer is a little bit of both. Maybe we’re very complicated people. None of us is perfect (that I know for sure), and we’re all more successful in certain areas of our lives than others. We all have strengths and weaknesses. No new ideas with that statement and I would agree with that perspective.

I think I have an easier time separating the personal and professional with Clinton than MJ because Clinton, for all his faults, wasn’t hurting children. Hillary is an intelligent woman with economic options and she chose to stay in her marriage. I continue to respect both Bill and Hillary Clinton professionally even though their personal choices mystify me (for different reasons). The crimes that MJ was accused of, on the other hand, hurt children who had no choice and I see that as wholly different from the Clinton thing.

So what do you think? Should we separate the artist (or politician) from the person or not? Should Michael Jackson be remembered as a great artist who did some bad things, or as a pedophile who left us with some good art?

Raising the mini-goddess

So here’s the news about the youngest whippersnapper in our lives. Katie is pretty much like she always is: A new word every day or two, happy, and energetic. She has developed an attachment to her blankie in the past couple of weeks. She’s never been a “lovey” kid. She just never had that special stuffed animal, toy, or other “transitional object” (as the books call them). But now her blankie is her best friend. The pink one with the satin on one side and the fuzzy stuff on the other side. We’re very lucky with her because, other than a few little dust-ups, we haven’t seen much of the terrible twos yet. She definitely is feisty and tries the boundaries but she seems to adapt pretty quickly when she figures out that the parents are wise to the latest trick she has for getting her way. She tries it for awhile – fussing, temper, whining, whatever – and gives up pretty quickly when it doesn’t work. One of the things I like best about our day is any time we get to talk. Yes, that’s right, I have conversations with a two year old. I often need my toddler decoder ring to figure out what she’s saying, but she has a lot to tell me and is always very intent about getting her message across. She’s also pretty patient as I figure out what she’s saying. My favorite phrases are: nack (snack), gink (drink), tank you mommy, wub you mommy, and booze cooz (Blue’s Clues). She says “tank you” without being prompted so I guess the 10,000 times we said, “And what do you say?” have finally paid off! Her daycare is pretty good with reinforcing the pleases and thank yous, too. Another favorite is one that took me awhile to figure out. It sounds like she’s saying, “kiss ass” but what she’s actually saying is, “close eyes.” She likes to have me pretend to be asleep, thus the “kiss ass” directive. She makes me lay down and turn over on my stomach (“tun ober mommy”). She covers me with her blankie and says, “kiss ass.” Then she pats/pounds my back saying, “night night mommy” over and over. Then, after a minute or two, it’s “my tun mommy!” And we reverse the process, although it’s not as cute since I can say my Rs and am not two. This night-night game is apparently a big hit at school as all her little friends take turns playing it with each other.

Of course, a big issue in our house right now is potty training. We’ve got the Pull-Ups, the potty chair, the whole deal. She goes in the potty occasionally (“I pee pee in the potty!!!” is a frequent announcement when I pick her up from daycare) and is getting better at going more consistently. Our hope is that she’s pretty well trained by the end of the summer but that may be a bit ambitious. Ethan taught us that what more experienced parents say is true: They do it on their own timelines and you can’t force it. But we certainly encourage it!

She’s always been a pretty easy baby. Even in the womb, she didn’t keep me awake at night moving around like other women report their babies do. She had a definite schedule of movement and it always concluded by about 10.30. She stayed pretty still throughout the night. I was awake anyway most of the time (I pee pee in the potty! Over and over again!) but not because of Katie moving. She was a challenge early on because of severe reflux. I had always heard of projectile vomiting but had never seen it until Katie. I’m talking the real thing – no kidding, Linda Blair-style emanations -- several times a day. It tends to be a bit difficult to get used to but the various cleaning companies – clothing, carpets, furniture – enjoyed it. But even when she had pain from her reflux, she’s always been pretty chipper and easy to please. I can definitely see diva potential, though, just like with all kids, and so we’re working on making sure any demanding or unnecessary fussing is not successful in getting her what she wants. Truth be told, I like her feistiness because I love women who are strong and independent, but Jerome is not so fond of the quality in a child. I agree that there's a time and a place for it, but my perspective is that those hairy-legged boys are going to come sniffing around one day and a young woman needs to be comfortable with saying (and meaning) no, or she’ll not be able to handle herself very well and find herself in some places she regrets. Compliance makes our lives as parents easier but overly-compliant children make me a little nervous. Leadership ability later on in life depends on being able to think for yourself and I want to foster that quality now, and not try to instill it later on. There’s a fine line between feisty and bratty, though, so we make sure we don’t let this go too far and that we keep the balance between speaking her mind and respecting us as parents. I think I’ve convinced J that raising a future goddess means tolerating a little feistiness here and there. :-)

I think my favorite thing Katie does is dancing. Ethan danced some when he was little but Katie pops up and shakes a tailfeather whenever music comes on. She shakes her bottom, hops around, and moves her arms with abandon, all with a very intent and happy look on her face. I took a lot of dance growing up so I hope she enjoys this later on. We applaud loudly and sometimes dance around with her (“Dance, mommy!”)

Needless to say, they both bring us a lot of joy and I feel very lucky.

The life and times of Ethan

OK, here it is, time to update this blog if it’s ever going to grow up to be successful. So, I have to ask, what is this going to be?

Well, my purpose of starting this was pretty simple. I wanted one place I could point people who I re-connected with who wanted to know what I’ve been up to. That’s done. Next need is a way to update friends and family about the exploits of the kids as well as Jerome and I. I also have some random thoughts that I’d like to discuss sometimes. I am lucky to have fabulous friends and family and I value their insights but don’t often have a time to really think about and say some of the stuff that knocks around my brain on the rare occasion when I’ve actually gotten some sleep and the caffeine is working and it’s quiet enough to think. Plus, I really enjoy writing and the only way to get better at it is to actually do it. So, here we go.

I guess the first place to start is the Katie and Ethan update. I feel like I wax poetic every time I start talking about motherhood, but I can’t help it. I’m one of those people who is extremely happy being a parent, but I'm trying hard to not become one of those obnoxious, bragging parents. Anway, it’s a very difficult job and you don’t really know you’re succeeding at it until a fair amount of time has passed. The final exam in this class is not really for 20 or 25 years or so, until they become free-standing adults who are at least productive and, hopefully, are productive in a way that helps someone or otherwise makes existence a little better somehow, somewhere. But so far I love the process. Check back with me when they’re teens but so far, so good.

But I digress. Katie and Ethan. Well, let’s start with Ethan. He’s very smart and also empathetic, which I find wonderful. He’s the most effortlesly mannerly child I think I’ve ever seen. This boy is all about the “pleases” and “thank yous.” He reads very well, can do math (in kindergarten!) and seems generally academically inclined. He doesn’t seem inclined to sports or related activity, although he does take karate. He’s stuck with that the longest – tee ball and soccer were early interests that were taken up and abandoned – but he doesn’t really seem to enjoy it. He may just not be a sports kid. I don’t think his mom was and I know his dad wasn’t so maybe it’s genetic. He may be more of a bookworm or artistic but that’s all the more reason to encourage the physical stuff. That’s the great thing about being six. The world is still ahead of you, just waiting to be discovered and you can try everything your parents have the money and patience to support. A debate we have is how much to make him do regarding his activity. We want to teach him persistence and also that practice is the only way to get better at something. But, we don’t want to force him to do something that’s supposed to be enjoyable. Right now that’s karate. He loved it at first but now doesn’t want to go to practice and had a mini-meltdown before a recent belt test. So how long do we make him go and when is the point where we allow him to quit? I’d love to hear your insights, dear readers.

Ethan is a wonderful big brother to Katie. He has every reason to not get along with her. She’s the child of his dad and his step-mom, so she could easily be seen as competition for his dad’s love and maybe even the personification of the fear that all children of divorce have, that their parent will stop loving them the way their parents stopped loving each other. Add to that all the normal sibling rivalry stuff and you have an equation that adds up to potential loathing or at least eye-rolling toleration. But he seems to love her very much and she returns the feeling. He plays with her and she revels in his attention. She imitates him and just squeals with pleasure at the simplest games he devises. Of course, he loves being in charge of their play, in typical older sibling style. He’s also fairly patient with her and enjoys helping us with her. He’ll do almost anything to make her laugh, including antics that make me fear for his safety and that of the breakable items in the house. A recently purchased exercise ball is fodder for much hilarity between the two and much concern that our houseplants and knick knacks will not survive the year. I love to watch them together and I really hope they maintain that closeness as they grow up.

Ethan entered a “big question” period awhile back, where he seemed preoccupied with God. Can God lift a house? Where does God live? Today he asked Jerome if he had God’s phone number. And so on. I’m not sure we gave him the answers he was looking for – other than the whole God lifting the house thing, which was pretty easy – but we tried. It made for interesting dinner conversation. He asked me out of the blue one day how babies got out of their mommies. It was in the midst of setting the table for dinner and all the attendant “dinner, bath, stories, bedtime” craziness was ramping up. So, I took a deep breath, paused, and said (nonchalantly, I hope), “Um, mommies have a special place that expands when the baby is ready to come out and that’s how they get out.” I held my breath and waited for the inevitable follow-up: So where is this special place? What’s it called and how does it expand? And hey, how’d the baby get in there in the first place? I had a flash image of Ethan going to school the next day and announcing, a la Kindergarten Cop, that, “Boys have penises and girls have vaginas.” (C’mon, you know you want to say it in your best Ahnold voice…it’s not a tumor!). But since he just said OK and continued setting the table, I either hit the mark of taking his question seriously without giving too much information, or I completely flummoxed him.

This thing is getting pretty long so more about Katie in a later post.

What I've been up to

Hello! This is technically my second ever blog post, but I still think this is pretty cool. The point of this particular post is to provide an update on what I've been up to for, oh, the past twenty years or so. I'm writing this because I've recently gotten in contact with several people who I knew in high school or college but whom I've lost contact with over the years. Via the wonder of Facebook, we're finding each other again and the inevitable question arises: So...whatcha been doing since high school/college? So here's the (abridged) answer:

OK, so flashback to 1987. I had big hair and drove a Chevy Citation. I graduated gratefully from good ol' WHS and went off to college. The first semester was rough but then...I felt like I'd found heaven. I got involved in some groups at OSU and met some people and had one of best periods of my life. I loved college in general, loved OSU, met awesome people, yadda, yadda. I went as a pre-med student but quickly realized that every specialty I was interested in would have meant that I'd live at the hospital. I was very interested in medicine but also wanted a life. I had always wanted to be a doctor so when that went out the window, my world was totally rocked and I had no idea what else I would do. I had terrible undergraduate academic advising at OSU (my one criticism of the experience) and, thus, no guidance. Besides science, my other favorite subject in school was English and I also really loved psychology and helping people. So, I decided to be a counselor. I wanted the option of working in schools so I wanted to get a degree in school counseling. That required an education degree and so I got my bachelor's in English Ed. Loved being an English major and had some outstanding professors. I graduated with my bachelor's and stayed at OSU and got my master's in counseling.

When I graduated in 1993, we were in the middle of a bad recession. There were no counseling jobs available, or not many anyway. My advisor suggested that I apply for positions on college campuses, as I had worked on campus at OSU for a few years. I applied for an admissions job at OSU-Okmulgee (technical branch of OSU) and got the job. (Pay attention, this whole "falling into things accidentally but fortunately" will be a theme in this story.) I lived in Tulsa -- loved it! -- made or continued some fab friendships -- hey, Art and Cindy! -- and also adopted the noble beast named Misha Meowkova. I thought I'd take the job for a year and then get a counseling job. But life had other plans.

I loved working on a college campus and discovered the field of student affairs. I said, "You mean to tell me that I never have to leave college and I get to work with fun students at one of the best times of their lives and they'll pay me for this??" Wow! I could still help people and not have to deal with the parts of counseling I didn't like (dealing with parents who cause their kids' problems and don't want to hear that, etc.). Eureka!

So I started planning a career in student affairs and I decided I wanted to get a doctorate. People had been asking me about it and I quickly saw that the PhD was the "entry ticket" to most higher level administration jobs in education. I got a job back in Stillwater working for OSU and intended to work there while completing a doctorate. (While there, met a great friend Pamela). My boss there -- Larry Kruse -- was a real mentor who encouraged my educationally masochistic tendencies...I mean my educational goals, but I wanted to see what programs were available outside of OK, since that's where I'd spent almost my entire life. I looked at U of Maryland and U of Georgia since they had good student affairs programs. UGA was third on my list, but they asked for an interview first among the three places I applied to. I went to Athens and ahhhh...fell in love. It was the program I wanted in one of the best college towns ever (yes, they rate these things and, in the case of Athens, GA, they're right). So I packed up the Kitty Cat of World Renown, Misha, and moved to Athens.

While getting my PhD, I wanted a live-in position in a residence hall. Most, or at least many, people in student affairs have a background in student housing and I wanted this experience. UGA's housing department hired me, even though I didn't have the normal previous experience (again, fell into that, or maybe I talked my way in.). Living in an apartment in a high rise dorm with 1000 freshmen when I was 29 was...interesting, but I still enjoyed it. Did that for two years, and also worked in the VP for Student Affairs office for two years,while getting the ol' PhD. I also did my internship in London in between those two jobs and spent that summer backpacking around the UK and Ireland. Amazing. Totally amazing. If you haven't traveled overseas, do it right now! Go ahead, I'll wait. Cost is no excuse; you can do it for cheap. It's the single best investment, besides education, you can make in being a real grown up citizen of this world. You don't really know what it means to be an American until you're away from here -- ask any active duty military person who's served overseas. But I digress...

So I graduated in 2002 with my doctorate. I got a job with a branch of UGA and thought, "OK I'll do this for a couple of years until something better comes along." I became the Director of Student Affairs at UGA's Gwinnett Campus and moved to Lawrenceville, GA (near Atlanta). And then I met The One.

I had been whining to a friend about how I wasn't able to meet the right guy. Basically, getting a PhD is great for the mind but, for the dating, not so much. Those three letters after a woman's name are like anti-Viagra. My friend Lariel asked me what I was doing to put myself out there. I thought about it and said, "Uh, does whining to you count? No? Then, nothing." So, adventures ensued: speed dating, Lariel encouraging me to write my number on the credit card receipt at a restaurant where we had a cute waiter who turned out to be, like, 21 (I was 34), etc. Then my friend Shay talked about E-harmony and I got on it. Jerome was my first match. We were engaged after 9 weeks -- the commitment-phobe who used to say, "I want a man in my life, just not in my house" did this! -- and married within a year. We've been disgustingly happy ever since and we're coming up on five years together. I am a step-mom to Ethan and (biological) mom to Katie. I adore my family!

I needed this foundation of love because life had a lengthy period of challenge in store. Long, long story but my dad died, much family drama ensued, and Mom got sick with cancer and major orthopedic problems right after I got pregnant with Katie. Mom came to live with us in GA and we did our best to juggle new parenthood and her needs. My campus' existence was in jeopardy for a couple of years, so the job was stressful, too. There's a lot to be said about this time period but I'll save that for later. It was incredible and awful and sometimes both at the same time. After a long fight with many setbacks, my mom passed away in July 2008 and my brother passed away four months later, at the age of 49. If not for Jerome and the kids, I'd have gone insane.

So that's the update. Lots of stories are left out but that's the Cliffs Notes version. Oh, and yes, Jami and I are still friends. Living in two states keeps us from being "Jami and Teresa" except for the rare dinner but we're still buds. And don't believe any stories she has to tell about me.

So what's up with you?