Life is like a Game of Tennis

My painting of a tennis ball for my favorite tennis player

Norman organized a bus trip to the US Open. He has been planning for this day, organizing it, promoting it, and collecting money forever. Miraculously the sun decided to shine today and the bus made it to Queens with very little traffic. Surrounded by such tennis greats as Federer, Nadal, and McEnroe, plus 50 of his best tennis buddies from the club, Norman and Zach had the promise of a really good day. Everyone should feel like they can look forward to days like this.

Yesterday, I tried to have a special day of my own and ended up feeling insulted. We all have our moments, I guess. I think I just need thicker skin.

Back at the beginning of this summer, we went to see the documentary, "Won't You be my Neighbor?" I loved Fred Rogers. Our kids grew up watching his PBS show and I cried at the announcement of his passing in the news. I was happy to pay my senior rate admission to see a movie about this beloved man, but I was not prepared for the impact it would have on me personally. As a teacher in a classroom, I should have remembered his approach to people in general and especially to children. I watched him interact with the children in the film and tried to remember if I always looked into the eyes of every student and made them feel as special. Did I work hard enough to earn their respect? As an artist, sure. As an adult in the room, I tried to always be kind and supportive. As a teacher, now I wonder how many I really reached. As much as I could not face the start of another new school year, I wish I could turn back the clock at least a couple of years and head back into my classroom with lots of youthful energy, inspired by the words and actions of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood.

The message from Fred Rogers still rings true today and not just for children. I can't understand the quick and hurtful comments that spill out of people without care for the ones they are slandering. I suppose because I am an artist, I am ultra sensitive. If someone criticizes my work, they are criticizing me. If someone throws stones at anything I have created, including a slight against my children, they hurt me. I not only felt hurt yesterday over something I am working on, I stayed up all night with those lousy feelings growing stronger by the hour. I get that we can't monitor the stupidity quotient of our thoughts, but honestly, people, at least think before you speak. 

Norman is often on the receiving end of such unthinking remarks at the club. Yes, he gets angry, but somehow he returns it all with the grace he displays when he hits a ball over the net. It must be like having a tennis match in his head, playing the comments back and forth across a mental court. I have seen him get fired at least a hundred times for a job that goes unappreciated and then he is offered a bonus as if he is the most important member of the club. He is. I could not handle such lively relationships. Today, Norm and Zach are enjoying their boys day out at the US Open. I'm sure their heads will be spinning from turning left and right all day but there will be a smile on both their faces. Faces that are so dear to me and mean the world to me. I am glad he is with his friends and is in a place that makes him happy. That is all anyone can ever ask for. My happy place is at my easel or a keyboard. I think I just need thicker skin, or maybe a few more band-aids.