Monthly Archives: October 2015

My Grandmother’s Gift

October 31, 2015Family & RelationshipsTeri

While cleaning out my attic many years ago, I found a dusty old box marked “special.” It looked like my handwriting, but a much younger redaction. I opened the carton with genuine excitement, having literally forgotten the contents it held.

It was a patchwork quilt, a birthday gift from my grandmother on my twenty-first birthday. There was a card in the box, with an image of a beautiful yellow rose. I opened the card and the sadness I felt took my breath away. I couldn’t bear to read her words and closed my tear filled eyes, and tried to remember her, as she was that day.

The memory was so loud, I could actually hear the excitement in her voice as she chattered on in her thick French accent, while I ripped apart the meticulously wrapped package. I could almost smell the sweet aroma of the fresh baked cookies she was making for me that day.

My beloved grandmother, my surrogate mother, was a seamstress. And although we had very little money, I always wore gorgeous and elegant clothes. We would pour through the pages of the latest fashion magazines and together picked out the most beautiful designs. “This is made for you,” she would proudly exclaim, tearing page after page out of the magazines. She needed no pattern—every measurement of my body had been devotedly memorized in inches and yards.

She had a job boxing bullets on an assembly line all day—but at night, while others were sleeping, there she was, hunched over her sewing machine, working feverishly to complete something special for me—a dress, coat, suit. Her way of saying “I love you.”

The memories, in flashing snapshots kept coming—one after the other. The sound of her sewing machine, and the gentle humming of her favorite tune. The puppy we picked out when I was five. The clownish self-portrait I painted for her, that she hung so proudly over her bed. The multi-colored sweater coat, I still wear to this day. Her mother’s treasured cameo pin, worn near and dear to my heart. Her fear as she lay dying in my arms.

And now, better late than never, the flashback of the day she proudly presented me with my birthday gift. I struggled to recall my younger self, opening the beautiful card with the single yellow rose and reading the message inside. “A patchwork quilt for your 21 years,” it said.

The quilt was truly magnificent. Handcrafted, full of vibrant colors, large enough for a king size bed. And yes, I recollected thinking that while I thought it was beautiful, I was slightly disappointed in her choice of gifts. At twenty-one, I was moving around a lot and didn’t even have a bed large enough for this patchwork of remnant material.

Remnant material?

A sharp pain spread across the center of my chest. I frantically pulled the quilt from the musty, old box, laid it on the floor, and caressed the hundreds of squares of material lovingly. Why, this was no patchwork quilt of remnant material. This was a pastiche of every dress, suit and article of clothing my grandmother had so laboriously made for me during my first twenty-one years.

A patchwork quilt of me.

The red dotted swiss I wore at a surprise party for my ninth birthday, the hunter green velvet I wore for my sweet sixteen, the lavender satin from my prom dress, the yellow silk jacquard worn on my first job interview.

Overwhelmed, I wrapped myself with her labor of love and cocooned myself in the yards of memories, shivering from the realization of what I had just discovered.

How could I have missed her sentimental intention? How shallow had I been, to think this patchwork of my life was merely remnants of old material?

I cried then for the lost opportunity to embrace her tightly and to express my reverential sense of gratitude to her for preserving my life in this way.

As my tears stained my grandmother’s masterpiece, I spoke out loud, apologizing to my selfless and lonely grandmother for all the time lost, asking her forgiveness for not understanding or appreciating the powerfulness of my heirloom.

Swaddled in my precious gift, still clinging to my birthday card, I was consumed by the heart-wrenching memories that are but a patchwork quilt now.

A Proposal to Solve China’s Gender Imbalance: Share Wives

October 29, 2015InternationalTeri

Translation: “Marry me!” (Cartoon: www.worldpress.org)

In 2011, I wrote an article for Worldpress.org titled “China’s Gender Imbalance” in which I described the possible long-term consequences of China’s one-child policy introduced in 1979.

The result of such draconian family planning? The selective abortion of girls, pressure to abort a pregnancy, and even forced hysterectomies.

I predicted that the large numbers of single Chinese men combined with the scarcity of available women would have future negative ramifications. My forebodings included damage to the mental and physical well-being of men who fail to marry, trafficking of girls to become prostitutes or brides in rural areas, an increase in sexually transmitted diseases, and overall social instability.

The Chinese Academy of Social Science estimates that by 2020, 30 million bachelors will be unable to find a wife in their own country. There are already “bachelor villages,” inhabited primarily by men, scattered across many of China’s poorer regions. The situation has gotten so bad that in some villages men are marrying their first cousins and even their sisters through deals made with relatives. The practice has become so common that some communities are referred to as “incest villages.”

Bottom line is that China’s overpowering preference for boys has put them in a real bind.

In order to negate the ticking bachelor bomb, China has decided to end its decades-long one-child policy. According to a recent statement from the Communist Party, couples will now be allowed to have two children. But that doesn’t solve China’s current gender imbalance.

I would imagine that the wealthy Chinese man can just buy a spouse. Pay the “bride price” and obtain a wife. She’s chattel, and just another commodity like a car, land, or house.

But what’s a poor Chinese man to do?

Seems that Xie Zuoshi, an economics professor at the Zhejing University of Finance and Economics, has the solution—polyandry. One woman, multiple husbands.

Yes, Xie Zuoshi was quoted as saying poor men who cannot find wives should “bundle up to get one to share between themselves.”

Bundling up? Ew. Like, one husband isn’t enough? Sounds like one dysfunctional mess nest to me.

And why do men continue to prey on the poor, uneducated women?

Because they can.

Ms. New York Senior America–Wait, Me?

October 25, 2015Observe & PonderTeri

I recently received a call from a colleague asking me if it would be okay if she nominated me as a Ms. New York Senior America contestant.

Me? Ms. New York Senior America? Oh, puleeze.

I mean I’m all for world peace, but this was a stretch, even for me. I wasn’t sure how to respond. So I said nothing. Which is highly unusual for moi.

I guess my pregnant pause caused my colleague to assume that I was interested, or, at the very least mulling it over.

So she enthusiastically jumped right in assuring me that I had an excellent chance of winning because I exemplify what a senior woman is all about. Geez, thanks.

My response was to tell my overly zealous colleague that I was honored she thought of me while simultaneously trying to drum up a way to say NO CHANCE IN HELL diplomatically.

But before I could muster up the words she gushed away: “I’m e-mailing you the information right now. Don’t move.”

A few minutes later I had the lowdown in my e-mail folder.

CHARM • DIGNITY • INNER BEAUTY • APPEARANCE • ATTITUDE • ACCOMPLISHMENTS • ENTHUSIASM • TALENT • GRACE • ENERGY

Hmmm. My competitive self couldn’t help but read on…

The 60 years or older contestants, are judged in 4 categories:

1. The Interview: Private meeting to analyze personality, poise and ability to effectively communicate. Ms. New York Senior America needs to be able to wow the public-at-large as well as the media.

I could like, sooo do that.

2. The Evening Gown: A runway look-see for judges to establish the presence of elegance, poise, and grace.

No brainer, duh.

3. Life Philosophy: A brief statement limited to 35 seconds.

Hmmm, since I am the queen of verbiage, I like, literally can’t even. But I could try.

4. Talent: Music, the arts, or any other activity appropriate for an elegant, senior woman.

I take this to mean that pole dancing is probably off the table.

Oh and the talent presentation is limited to a maximum of two minutes and 45 seconds.

Since I am basically talentless, this category was the deal breaker. Plus, sorry people, but two minutes and 45 seconds seems like eons.

I responsibly called my colleague back to explain to her that I had no talent whatsoever. I left out the eon part.

“I’m sure you can come up with something,” she cajoled and asked me to get back to her.

Now I’m supposed to get back to her?

Okay, maybe I do have some talent.

Let’s see: I could write a poem or read a snippet from one of my blogs. Snoring.

I could whip out a George Foreman grill and create a killer egg-in-a-hole. But could I debut egg-in-a-hole in 2 minutes 45?

I consulted my husband, who had a brilliant idea: I could take a computer and a screen on stage, and create an Excel pivot table from scratch!

OMG! I got so excited about the genius of his suggestion that I started to imagine all sorts of possibilities and scenarios.

Me, in an interview wowing the judges with my bada bing bada boom.

Me, in a ball gown, strutting and sashaying my creaky self.

Me, and my philosophy and mission of world peace and my game plan for obliterating ISIS in 35 secs.

Me, formulating and titillating the audience with my Excel spreadsheet brilliance.

The more I thought about it, the more invigorated I became. And the more sense it made.

I admittedly give a mean Queen of England wave, and I love to travel.

I could be the face of dignity, glamor, maturity, and inner beauty, to all old people.

I could share my spreadsheet talent with AARP chapters, nursing homes, senior Expos, and the elderly like.

As Ms. New York Senior America 2016, I could be the touchstone for the geriatric masses.

I could be a contender!

I CAN SEE IT NOW:

AND THE WINNER IS…

TERI SCHURE • MS. NEW YORK SENIOR AMERICA 2016

Teri Schure, a peppy 62-year-old, grew up on the wrong side of Bridgeport Connecticut, and has been a fairly reputable Long Island resident for the past 32 years. She never graduated from Brevard College in Brevard, North Carolina, and wasted precious time majoring in music theory and minoring in piano. She never obtained a degree of any kind, nor did she earn any certifications. Her passionate and fascinating working career consisted of Excel spreadsheets and calculators. Since she doesn’t have enough money to retire, she continues to eke out a living doing a plethora of grunt work and continues to bust her butt every day to improve her skills.

Since Teri does nothing but slog and toil, she has yet to devote her time and skills to charity, volunteering for various non-profits, or any other causes in her community. Since she is a slave to the almighty dollar, she does not actively support any organizations at all.

Her interests include cleaning the house, paying bills, grocery shopping, laundry, and making sure there is dinner on the table every night.

Since she is still trudging and grinding away, she has no interest in art, dance, horseback riding, gardening, travel, piano, or theater.

Teri is thrilled and honored to be Ms. New York Senior America 2016. She looks forward to proudly promoting a positive image of oldness, while simultaneously extolling the importance of graceful perseverance and acceptance of the inevitable, to all women past their prime.

Her dream is to pageant beyond New York and become Ms. Senior America of 2017.

Bully Bosses–You Know Who You Are

October 19, 2015BulliesTeri

Since it is Freedom from Workplace Bullies Week (October 18-24, 2015), I thought I would blog about those obnoxious, sadistic bully bosses, who would use an elephant gun to shoot a mosquito.

Everyone deserves a safe, healthy workplace, and yet according to the Workplace Bullying Institute, a staggering 35% of the U.S. workforce (approximately 53.5 million Americans) report being bullied at work. And an additional 15% have witnessed workplace bullying, which means that 50% of all Americans have directly experienced bosses who bully.

Unlike schoolyard bullying, the workplace target is not bullied because they are small, weak, shy, or without friends to stand up to their perpetrator. Bully bosses target those who they perceive pose a threat to them. Bosses bully because they are insecure and lack self-confidence and self-esteem.

There is a common perception that bosses who bully see themselves as better than others. But this is a misnomer. Bully bosses target workers who are more successful or brighter than they are. For the most part, targets are more technically skilled than their boss bullies. The targets are more often than not, the seasoned professionals to whom other staff members turn to for guidance because they are patient, empathetic, better liked, and easier to approach.

Targets are likely to have more social skills, are kinder, are better respected, and are more helpful than their bully bosses. Targets are ethical and honest. And unlike their nasty bully bosses, they play by the rules and exhibit exceptional qualities, like a desire to assist, heal, teach, develop and nurture others.

Bully bosses thrive in small companies, which means that if you work for an organization with few employees, your probable only choice is to find another job.

Most bully bosses can’t stand to share credit for the recognition of talent and they often steal credit from skilled targets. Bully bosses abhor those diligent employees who are popular and bring warmth to the workplace. In summary, bully bosses don’t play well with others—just like in the schoolyard.

And how about those wimpy HR people who will confide to you (orally) that your bully boss is a jerk, but there’s nothing they can do about it. After all, it’s not against the law to be a jerk.

Yes, to put it mildly, bosses who bully are jerks. And make no mistake about it HR “experts,” bully bosses can wreak havoc on an organization, and severely hinder a company’s ability to generate a positive and innovative work environment.

Here’s what I’d like to say to all you bully bosses out there:

Your tactics of humiliating, shaming, and embarrassing your subordinates, serve only to expose YOU as the pitiful person you truly are—a coward, ignorant, repulsive, unlikable, and downright detestable.

The only person you embarrass, humiliate and shame is yourself.