Of stolen purses and mix tapes...

To this day, I will fight against it.

I mean, it's a little easier, since I'm a mom myself...but I really have to work past something to do it.

I would rather hand my mother her purse. Just let her get whatever it is she needs out of it.

You don't go rooting around in a woman's purse. At least, that's the lesson I learned as a child.

There's a 'purse sacredness' or something. I'm now a member of that club. My kids do not go looking through my purse. They simply hand it to me.

If you are a woman like me, you probably have a similar rule at your place. As mothers, we have few 'private moments'...so I think we use our purses. Not that we're carrying anything we don't WANT you to see or anything. It's more a respect of space, I think.
I'm not sure what would happen to me if I did go looking through someone's purse, but I am sure that it would not be pleasant.

When I was about 22 years old, my purse was stolen from my car. I wasn't a mom at that time, so I didn't have EVERYTHING in it. I did however, have a few things that meant something to me stored in there. And I lost more than just those items.

I was only gone for a second. I mean, literally...one second. Okay, so it was really more like 62 seconds, but still, for some dumb reason, I thought my purse would be safe in my unlocked car. Not true that fateful day. Someone came by and simply removed the entire purse from the car. Just took the whole thing.

As I mentioned, I was 22 at the time. Which means I didn't have any real money in there. I had one credit card and a checkbook. Both of those things had to be reported and replaced. No big deal. Took a little time, that's all. And I had to replace my driver's license. That was another time annoyance. Had some lipstick and make up in there. Had to replace that as well.

It was a few days though, before I realized that the mix tape was gone. And then I got really upset.

You young people may not know what a 'mix tape' is, so I'll explain quickly. Back in the 'old days', we had Walkmans instead of ipods. And you had to insert a cassette tape into one in order for music to come out of it. A 'dinosaur' of equipment, I know.

Anyway, a friend had made me a cassette tape of music. I'd been listening to it in my car's cassette deck, and had stuck it in my purse to take it into the house to listen to later...when the purse was stolen.

So the tape was gone.

And now, twenty years later...I still miss that tape. More than the few bucks I had. More than the Cover Girl mascara. More than my checkbook.

I miss that tape.

Has someone stolen something from you? Maybe it wasn't a mix tape or a purse. Maybe it was your trust. If you've never had anything stolen, you don't understand the feeling of vulnerability. Suddenly, my new purse became an obsessive thing. I double-checked to make sure I had it with me...clutched it to my chest at times. Kept it close. Because no one was going to steal my purse again!

And what's worse, I looked at the world differently. Now that sweet little girl over there? Who's no more than four years old? She could be a purse stealer! Or that guy there...maybe he steals purses?

Losing trust is worse than losing a purse. It takes a long time to get that back. You really have to work at it, my friends. And there will be wounds that may not go away for twenty years, but keep at it. Because the tape isn't really that important. I mean, c'mon! I don't have a Walkman anymore to listen to and I've got most of the songs downloaded to my mp3 player now.

It's not the same, I agree. But it's better than it was a few years ago. People make mistakes, people get hurt, people need forgiveness. All painful...and all worth it.

Now, where is that mp3 player? Oh, in my purse. Could you hand that to me? Thanks!

Seeing red about Pinky

As a kid growing up in rural Illinois in the 70's, only three things made me really angry.

1) My sister picking out all the 'good' Barbie fashions we had available.

2) My Mom asking me to clean my room.

And the biggie. The worst thing ever. Three little words.

To Be Continued.

I remember it like it was yesterday. There I was, laying on the living room floor in front of our color console television, watching Happy Days one fine September evening in 1976. Fonzie was in a demolition derby...(how awesome was that?) and he had a girlfriend named Pinky (who was so cool! Like, everything about her was PINK!)

And just when it was getting good...at the most important part of the show...three words came on the screen...

TO BE CONTINUED.

Well, I threw a hissy fit. How dare ABC do this to me?! I have to know what happens to the Fonz! C'mon!! (My blood pressure is rising just recalling this memory.) Stupid Mallachi brothers! I could just strangle them!! How dare they!?

Now, maybe you think that's silly. Maybe you could care less about Fonzie. I don't care. The fact is: we all get angry, don't we? And...more often than we'd care to admit...we get angry about things that, in the long run, really don't matter.

Think about your anger for a second. Who does it hurt? I know that for me...my anger at a television show caused me to mouth off to my Mom (resulting in a spanking) and hide the best Barbie dresses from my sister (resulting in an unfortunate pencil poke in the leg). If I had known the address, I'd have written a letter to the producers of the show (after some kind, knowledgeable person had explained to me what exactly a 'producer' was..!).

Still, I was hurt (and not just from the spanking and the pencil poke!). It wasn't fair! What had I done to Happy Days? I'd been nothing but supportive of the show. How dare they make me wait a week? A whole...lousy...week! When you really thought about it, I was entitled to find out if Pinky was going to be okay.

Do you get angry? Do you know why? I know that for me, my inability to control things (like television networks) and my self-centered focus can feed the anger monster inside. The monster that can take a minor irritation and turn it into a big deal.

My friends, one of the best things to do when angry is check your perspective. Is this thing that you're angry about really a big deal? Or a minor irritation? Before you react, decide if "To Be Continued" is really something that requires all that energy. I mean, thanks to YouTube, I can now watch Fonzie and Pinky for hours. And never see those three little words.

Now if I could just remember where I hid those Barbie clothes!! My sister's still mad as a hornet about that! And I've got the scar to prove it!