By Emily Miller, on Thu Apr 18, 2013 at 1:30 PM ET
Emily (left) & Maggie
She was tall and thin with short brown hair reaching just to her ears, and she had the prettiest hazel eyes I had ever seen.
“Hi,” she said “I’m Maggie!”
My nine year-old self was quite astounded by her excitement and outgoing personality. That summer was spent playing in the pool and running around our beloved camp. That was the beginning of many summers spent together.
As each summer passed, we only grew closer. Maggie’s hair turned long, and her previously tall stature became short when she stopped growing; but her fun and crazy personality never changed.
I remember the last summer I spent with her. Despite her frequent panic attacks, she was always entertaining. We joked about boys and sang our favorite show tunes louder than ever. It was our last year as campers, and we wanted to make the most of it. When it was time to say goodbye, we cried; but we knew we’d talk on the phone and see each other soon.
“I love you,” I said.
A few months later when my boyfriend cheated on me, I called her crying.
“He’s not worth it,” she said to me. “You’re beautiful and wonderful, and he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
“I love you,” I said.
That spring we were reunited at a youth group convention. We stayed up all night joking and laughing and making prank calls. I can still hear her loud contagious giggle echoing through the room. I felt just like camp. When we finished laughing she said to me,
“I tried to kill myself this year.”
I couldn’t believe what she was telling me.
“I love you,” was all I could say.
We lost touch after that. Maggie lost touch with all of us.
On January 17, 2012, I got a text from my friend.
“ I need to tell you something.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Just meet me after class.”
Something felt terribly wrong, so right as the bell rang I ran to my friend. Her eyes were puffy. Her face was red.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s Maggie,” she choked “she overdosed.”
My heart stopped.
“Well is she okay? Is she in the hospital? Can we call her?”
“No, she died this morning.”
I cried all night.
The funeral was heartbreaking. There were so many people there. She had so many friends. She was so loved.
“How could you leave us?” I thought. “How could you do this to all these people?”
It took me a while to understand why she did what she did. She was in so much pain. While I wish more than anything that she were still here, I’m glad she’s not still in pain.
I wish we had stayed in touch. I wish I could call her. I wish I could say,
Have you ever felt the weight of the world beating down on you? That moment when your struggles are omnipresent and you brace for the impact of impending doom? That you gasp for air, reaching desperately for a glass of water that’s half empty instead of half full?
We’ve all at one time or another had an encounter with Murphy’s Law. If it can go wrong, it will and it will happen thrice as bad as we can ever prepare for. This is my story of trials and tribulations – and the reason why I truly believe the worlds ills can sometimes be solved with a jar of Jiff and a few “likes”:
Why I Wear Combat Boots
January 2012: I was working as an Account Executive for a media company in my debut as a grown up, lugging around a 400-pound briefcase in a pencil skirt and high heels – truly believing that hard work was important, but image was everything. Much to my dismay, those pretty little patent-leather platform-pumps caused the tragic and premature demise of my beloved Camry. To be fair, I had put her through a lot. She lovingly persevered through countless hit-and-runs, a few tows, and the irresponsible behavior that defined college. She and her seatbelt also saved my life that night as I flipped across the highway, landing right side up without a scratch. I threw those heels away the next day.
Why Loving Your Career Shouldn’t Feel Like A Job
February 2012: There comes a moment in time in one’s life where you realize you have become a hamster spinning on a wheel. I was tired of being tired, giving my all and feeling constant defeat. I like to believe we all possess a sense of intuition, some stronger than others. My gut was screaming at me to make a change – and not my diet – my life. I was so busy that I paid no attention to what sounded like scratching noises coming from my cabinets. That, and the fact that my dog’s food was magically disappearing even though he was gone for a week…
Why Family Comes First
March 6th, 2012: I had become such a drone that it had been months since I made a trip in to see my family – something I have always done regularly and often. I was so self absorbed that I barely noticed my Grandfather reaching for the gas tank lever instead of the door handle. I immediately dismissed it; afraid of causing unnecessary stress and anxiety in our family and myself.
Read the rest of… Christie Mitchell: Adversity: How I Overcame Life’s Struggles With Social Media and Peanut Butter
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Apr 17, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
What would you think if you were at a dinner party and discovered you were seated next to this woman?
I would get very nervous and try furtively to move the name cards so I could sit next to someone who looked more like Richard Branson–who would allow me to enjoy whatever is being served for dinner and be able to digest it without sweating bullets about which fork I am using and trying to think of the name “Endive” to describe my salad.
Manners are very important. No doubt about it. It’s the oil that lets us navigate human relations smoothly.
But as I tried to explain to my daughter this past weekend in one of my non sequitur fatherly talk tangents, “If you have to chose which type of person to be—it’s more desirable to be a pleasant and approachable person at a party rather than be the person who merely knows how to send out the perfect party invitation.” Or something like that.
In other words, I wouldn’t mind reading Ms Manner’s book. But wouldn’t want to have to sit and discuss it with her. It just seems like she is always looking for a comma splice in ever conversation. And to point out that something from lunch is still on the corner of your mouth. I would probably tell her (politely) she had bad breath and “something on her nose” (even though she didn’t), just to help me level the playing field with her and relax enough to get through learning, again, which fork goes where. So I can, again, feel like a “manners failure” when I inevitably forget the rules again.
Whoever invented forks should have made a rule we only need one kind. A simple single all-purpose fork. That would have made eating a lot less stressful. And one less thing to feel ashamed about not ever being able to remember.
Manners violation confession. While out of town last week and eating at Asian restaurant, I picked up the dipping sauce for the steamed dumplings and drank the last few drops. I made sure no one was looking and took the chance.
It was worth the risk!! Even if I had a little on the corner of my mouth 30 minutes later.
My last column claimed that balance is possible in the face of chaos. I promised that we are all capable of maintaining inner peace no matter the environmental stressors—that work, play, challenge and rest are healthy integrative aspects of our lives. About the complaint of not feeling vacation-peace and bliss at home, I suggested that intention is everything.
Wehhhhhhhhl, I wrote that column from the window seat of my charming straw-roof cabana in the Yukatan Peninsula just steps from the ocean as a warm breeze kissed my hair. A little voice in my consciousness said, “Writing about stress management from an emotional and geographic location that represent the opposite of stress might not be believable.” Yes, mi pequeno internal voice doesn’t use commas, but it is very wise. And it is true that faith is much easier to write about when times are good.
So today I revisit my claim from the living center of chaos. I have been home for exactly 10 days, and I have weathered exactly 6 mini crisis since my return. 6! This might be a record.
How am I managing, solving, dealing, integrating, going with the flowing now, you ask?
I am leaning on ALL of my rebalancing support strategies. It’s a lot like the saying, “Don’t wait for the fire before buying the hose.” Turns out my impressive hose collection really is useful. And because of it, I think I’m managing with more grace than I used to—it’s clear I’m not going it alone.
One significant resource I relied on this week was prayer. I sat down in a beautiful location near my house where I could feel the vibrancy of nature all around me, and I asked God for help, a lot of it. I remember specifically not knowing what the help would look like for this and that issue, and especially for my daughter Abby, struggling with a problem so deeply that she’d lost her appetite for days, but I asked for the ability to recognize the help when it showed up.
Two days later when she finally felt hungry, Abby had me google the new Dominos in our Andover neighborhood. I dialed and we huddled together over the speaker-phone conveying our dreams of extra toppings. But when it came time for the phone number, pizza boy could not make sense of my cell number. Again and again we repeated it as he typed away on his Dominos Pizza computer, but politely he kept apologizing that there were too many digits.
After several minutes of this, puzzled and losing patience, we told him we’d call back. Was this some sort of joke? As I clicked “end” on my I-phone, the phone number I had dialed popped up on my screen before shutting off: +44 1264 363333.
Yes, it was a very good joke! I had accidentally tried to order a pizza from Dominos in Andover, in the United Kingdom!
We looked at each other and then at the phone, and then at each other. The swirling confusion around us dissolved into laughter, “Haahaah, the most expensive pizza on the planet, haha haha haha!”
Laughing harder, “After this phone call, we can’t afford pizza, hah hah hah hah hah!”
Stomach hurting and tears streaming, “I hope we’re still hungry next week when it gets here! Hahahahahahaha haahaahaa haaahaaahaahahahahahahahahaha!
We laughed at ourselves for about 10 minutes and then for 20 more as we called our family members to share what we had stupidly, hilariously tried to do.
Finally, with ribs and face hurting we slowed down, exhausted. Abby looked at me calmly and with a new light in her eyes, she said, “I feel so much better.”
Miraculously, what changed for my girl most in those minutes was her own sense of perspective. While the details of her week of struggle remained, suddenly her world felt much bigger than the confine of her problem—what better way to have the point illustrated than to order a pizza from overseas?
But what’s more, when 16 year-old Abby saw that her problem wasn’t her entire life, just merely a part of it, I knew that my prayer had been answered. God comes through every time, and has a most excellent sense of humor, because we want to laugh.
Read the rest of… Lisa Miller: God & Pizza are the Best Medicine
By Jonathan Miller, on Mon Apr 15, 2013 at 6:58 PM ET
A good guide from The Huffington Post:
HOW YOU CAN HELP: This story is developing. Please check back for updates on how to help.
The Red Cross says the best way to help right now is to get in touch with loved ones through its Safe And Well Listings. The Red Cross is not asking for blood donations at this time.
The Salvation Army is offering food, beverages and crisis counseling to survivors and first responders. Find out how you can get involved here.
Some marathon runners are stranded in Boston in need places to stay. Find out how you can offer housing here.
Anyone with info about the incident can call 1-800-494-TIPS.
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Apr 15, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
This is the story of KFC. Or at least a chapter in that story. Not the first chapter. But possibly the most exciting. Certainly one of the most pivotal chapters.
Told first hand from a gentleman I’m proud to call my father. And who at age 79 still hasn’t lost his ability to hold a crowd’s attention. Most especially when he recounts the fascinating tale of when preparation, opportunity, luck and timing all seemed to converge, somewhat fatefully and always fretfully, on a restless young lawyer from KY as he met a gifted and persnickety restauranteur named Colonel Harlan Sanders who was supposed to be a new legal client but something bigger seemed to be at play. That moment that passes quickly if not acted upon. An opportunity at a leap of faith that promises only to be a life changing event, good or bad, but nothing more specific than that.
He took it and found himself at the helm of an historic moment in the fast food industry and not knowing what he
was really to do day to day–and hoping and working diligently and creatively as he improvised what he imagined needed to be done so that one day, when he stepped down and enough time had passed, people might look back and say “That guy seemed to have done a lot of things right at a critical time even though there wasn’t a playbook or owner’s manual around to guide anyone through this transformational moment in the food industry.”
The story is a triumph of courage over fear; creativity over predictability; and mostly instinct over expertise.
And the lessons one draws are mostly personal and range from from the “So that’s how it’s done! I could have never done that!” to “So, that’s how it’s done? My goodness, I can do it if that guy did!” Here’s to the latter response. Which was my father’s back in the early 1960s when his “moment’ presented itself and was wearing a goatee and a white suit and black string tie.
I know it’s true. I hope to one day be a better example of what the author prescribes…
I hope the same for all who can relate too well to the problem described.
As the ancient Greeks taught us any virtue taken to an extreme becomes a vice.
For those of us over-connected, what was supposed to be a tool to free us up has instead enslaved us to a degree we struggle to honestly admit –and we have been knowing accomplices.
Q: I’m considering running for office in 2014, but here is my dilemma: I am not sure I want to put myself out there. My father and grandfather were both elected officials, and my father has encouraged me to run. I think I could win based largely on name ID, but having to knock on doors just is not my cup of tea. Do you think I could win without doing that?
—Definitely no initials or location!
A few thoughts.
First, you have to f—ing want it. If you don’t want it, voters sense it. And you’ll probably lose.
That said, knowing nothing about what office you’d run for or who your opponent(s) might be, or how hard you’d work (or they’d work), yes, I think you could win. I’m sure you’ve considered this, but your family probably has residual name recognition and, especially if your father or grandfather is alive, they likely retain fundraising connections that could benefit you. As a general rule I abhor dynasty candidates since so few compare to their parents (with some notable exceptions, such as Jeb Bush or the impressive Udall brothers), but the fact is that most Americans vote like they shop, and when given the choice between 7-Up and Super-Up, they usually buy 7-Up.
Second, if you dread knocking on doors, you probably shouldn’t get into politics. It is, of course, a people business, and if you don’t like people, you’re going to be pretty miserable most of the time. New York Times Magazine writer Matt Bai once profiled someone who reminds me of you, Rhode Island Gov. Lincoln Chafee, whose father, John, was a legendary U.S. senator. During Linc’s first campaign, for delegate to the state’s constitutional convention, he went to his home turf to knock on doors. According to Bai, “He sat there for 20 minutes, holding a stack of palm cards with his picture on them, trying to work up the courage to get out of the car.”
Now, he’s turned into a pretty successful pol, first reaching the U.S. Senate and, after a 2006 loss, recovering to win an unusual independent bid for governor four years later. Still, if you’ll read the profile, you’ll see that he doesn’t actually appear to enjoy the lifestyle—and these days, his numbers are in the tank. So, before doing it to please your family, take a hard look at what you’re getting into. I usually found it amusing when people slammed doors in my face. If you’re more sensitive, you’re gonna struggle, at least at first. And remember—some introverted dynasty candidates (think Al Gore) seem much happier now that they’re out of the game.
Q: Hey, Jeff, definitely not complaining, but why have you been writing about sex so much lately?
—N.L., Washington, D.C.
Because I’m married, and my wife is pregnant.
Read the rest of… Jeff Smith: Do As I Say — A Political Advice Column
By Jonathan Miller, on Thu Apr 11, 2013 at 1:15 PM ET
Yesterday, I wrote this column for The Huffington Post, applauding Kentucky’s Lt. Governor Jerry Abramson and Auditor Adam Edelen for their brave announcements this week in support of marriage equality. Here’s an excerpt:
Edelen & Abramson
As I proudly watched public sentiment dramatically shift on the subject over the past few years, I still didn’t expect any active statewide politicians in my old (conservative) Kentucky home to join me. After all, a recently released 2012 poll showed that support for marriage equality among Kentucky voters dramatically trailed the national average — at an embarrassing 33% approval clip.
Worse, in the recently-concluded session of the Kentucky General Assembly, a vast majority of Democratic and Republican legislators joined together to override Governor Steve Beshear’s brave veto of legislation — posed misleadingly as a “religious freedom bill” — that could undermine ordinances in Lexington and Louisville that protect the LGBT community from job and housing discrimination. If politicians couldn’t stand for simple fairness, how could they be brave enough to support marriage equality?…
But then the unexpected happened. First Lt. Governor Jerry Abramson, the former uber-popular “Mayor-for-Life” of Louisville announced his support:
“I don’t believe government should judge which adults can and which cannot make a loving, life-long commitment to each other. That’s why both Madeline and I support marriage equality for all adults.”
And then, within a few hours, Auditor Adam Edelen — who at 38 is one of the Democrats’ bright young stars — declared his support, arguing:
“I believe equal protection of the law and equality of opportunity are central to the American experiment and they ought to apply to every American.”
Well, it turns out that the 33% statewide support for marriage equality might be a bit generous. Publicy Policy Polling (PPP), a Democratic-leaning consulting firm surveyed the statethis week and reported today the following news:
Support for gay marriage is on the rise nationally but it’s going to be a long time before Kentucky voters get behind it. Only 27% of voters in the state think it should be legal, compared to 65% who think it should be illegal. Even among Democrats there’s still 37/54 opposition. 52% of Kentuckians do though support at least civil unions for same sex couples compared to only 44% who believe those relationships should receive no legal recognition at all. That divide- opposition to marriage, support for civil unions- is what we find throughout most of the south.
So this clearly demonstrates that Abramson and Edelen — two popular politicians taking a serious look at the 2015 gubernatorial race — have taken a big political risk to do what they thought was right.
Accordingly, if you too support marriage equality, I urge you to thank Jerry Abramson and Adam Edelen for their statements. We are always bad-mouthing politicians that disappoint us. So, why not thank true leaders when they make a selfless, brave announcement? And if they accrue some political mileage out of their actions, it will encourage others to follow their lead and join the marriage equality bandwagon.
Click here to sign a petition thanking Kentucky Lt. Governor Jerry Abramson, and click here to sign a petition thanking Kentucky Auditor Adam Edelen.
