My email is ringing off the hook

No matter the businesses I run or companies I've worked for, I always hear the phone ring. It's my baby's cry. Now my phone doesn't ring much. There are definitely calls: My clients call. I call people. I check for messages. But it's not the volume – the fistful of messages I would be handed when I walk into my office.

After Rita died, Mr. Papa used to call me EVERYDAY work day at 9am to see what I was doing. How my sales were going. What I had planned. I loved the sound of his voice. Even when he had the stroke and couldn't speak, my phone rang at 9am and I heard "AAAAAAARRRGGGGH!!!" "Mr. Papa????" "RAAAGGGHGH!" LOVE that! And he regained his voice and it was a wonderful part of my life until he died. I miss those calls.

Pesky sales people call. And they're not listening! (I always answer my phone, "good morning/afternoon…..Vicky Trabosh". And then a sales person will say: "Is Vicky Trabosh available?" And I calmly answer "no she isn't".) Unbelievable.

But I love the ring of my phone. I miss talking with people. And yet I'm in demand. But it's my email that is ringing off the hook!

Loving that? Not so much. So sorry.

I miss talking with people. And I'll admit, I get some unbelievably great emails! But the volume is crushing. Because in the midst of the dump that has become my inbox, lie beautiful flowers….those flowers are emails full of wisdom, humor, pathos, important stuff!!! And sometimes I just miss them! Too much! I swear it's almost rolling by! I can't keep up. I'm out for a few hours, 50 new emails download!

And in different languages too! I speak Russian – but I can't read the Russian junk for enhancement products (which is ok)….

Making appointments with people I truly want to see over email can become excruciatingly painful. Back and forth, back and forth, back and…..then I can fall off the email train!! I hate that!

You want a piece of me??! Call me. (As soon as you get done reading my blog which was just delivered courtesy of your email or internet.)

Click!

Click. That's the sound I love when I'm working on a puzzle and find a piece that had been eluding me. It's a very satisfying sound. I'm highly aware of the sounds of my world. Music. Laughter. Conversation. The roar of approval. The echoing of applause. The emotion of a sob. The beauty of silence. To choose blindness or deafness, I would choose to be blind. (and while I KNOW you're listening God, this is not a request).

My life and my work are a huge puzzle to me. And that's exactly the feeling I have when something doesn't happen that I know will happen. So when that knowing becomes a being….there is a satisfying clicking noise.

That happened yesterday after my conversation with President Bill Clinton. I've been circling him for a couple of years ever since I became interested in Rwanda. Wouldn't it be great, I thought, to meet him and let him know about the work of Itafari! His current work in Rwanda is equally impressive as was his lack of interest in the genocide in 1994, when he was President. He freely and regretfully admits ignoring the genocide was the single biggest mistake of his presidency. He has vowed to make it up for the rest of his life. And I sincerely believe, so far, so good!

In the last two years, I've had a few close calls. When I was in New York in April 2006 to speak at the U.N., I was supposed to meet with one of Clinton's top fundraisers. At the last minute, he had to go to Boston, meeting canceled. Adam Bacher, who took the pictures on our last trip to Rwanda has met him and shared with him the story of Itafari. When Clinton came to Portland last year to speak at the World Affairs Council International Speakers Series, I was given a ticket. I KNEW I would meet him then! And as I sat in a choice seat in the balcony, I realized I was wrong. And it was on the drive home that I had absolute peace that it wasn't meant to be. And that was ok.

I don't believe that the work we do in Rwanda is at all about one person, one key player. Itafari is the opposite. It is about the ordinary man and woman accomplishing the extraordinary. But I absolutely believe in extraordinary moments.

And in one of those extraordinary moments, a wonderful friend, Marilyn, spoke about me and Itafari to one of Clinton's people, Dan, who was in Portland prior to Clinton's visit to stump for Hillary this weekend. He said he would try to get me an opportunity to meet the President. Another long shot. I was hopeful but not overly so. Then yesterday at 2:45pm I spoke to Dan. "Can you be at Oregon City High School between 4-5pm today?"

And yesterday I stood with nine other people to privately greet him before he spoke to the hopeful at Oregon City High School. And when he greeted me, I greeted him. With thanks, for his work in the world that is changing lives. Especially the lives of those in Rwanda.

I hope he found me as memorable as I found him. He graciously acknowledged from the podium the dignitaries in attendance that I'd stood with to greet him. And then he spoke of meeting me – I know it was because anyone who is doing good work in the world reminds him of his desire to change the world, and he truly loves Rwanda.

Everywhere I go in Rwanda I see signs of his desire to give back. He is honored in Rwanda and makes me proud to be an American when I am there. He travels there quietly – they're not press junkets. He goes in, confers with those that lead his efforts, and gets back out. The Clinton Foundation is a mighty force for changing the world. http://clintonfoundation.org/

And we'll see what meeting him will eventually mean for Itafari. I was not overcome with joy….but I heard that satisfying clicking noise.

For the same reasons I want to meet Oprah and Bono. Click. Click.

And Bette Midler to talk with her about Dead Rita – the book! Click.

And Ricardo Moltalban because I have had a crush on him for 35 years. (I've not defined that noise yet….it could be a squeal.)

The Power of One Word….or Many!

I talked at 9 months. It took almost 2 years to learn to walk! I've been talking and walking ever since. And I like the idea of walking my talk. And this just got silly!

But today and this week I have been thinking more than usual about the power of my words and the words of others. Over the weekend in Portland a very distraught man stood on the edge of the balcony at the Marriott Waterfront Hotel and was finally talked "down" after 15 hours! Useless people on the ground suggested he just jump. I can't remember the last time I called someone useless but I sincerely mean it. Luckily, the man who was so distraught was smarter than the fools on the ground.

But it took 15 hours. I don't know what was said but I believe that the power of many words can finally get through one pure, necessary thought to make sense of something or anything that makes no sense prior to the words. We must talk. We must share what we know.

And sometimes it's just one word. This morning at Toastmasters, the table topic was from understanding how a single word could help us solve a problem. A Rune stone was chosen, the symbol was interpreted and then the speaker was asked to discuss their issue from the meaning of their stone.

I was thinking about my issue of time. I don't have enough. To work on finishing up Dead Rita's Wisdom. To get new coaching clients. Work on the Itafari Foundation. Speak at events. Love and be with my family, especially John. Work out. Etc. etc. etc. And my symbol stood for "flow". And I talked about flow versus balance. And that it is flow that I need. Balance doesn't interest me. I want it all and I want to find the flow to get it all.

One word. The word 'one'. It's one of the last things Dead Rita said to me before she became dead. I was caring for her and she looked up at me and said, "you know Vic, we are one." And I said, "I know Mom."

Who knows when my next profound moment will come. My next problem solved. But I know it's going to involve words….maybe one…..maybe many.

Oh, how you will delight the angels

She comes up at the strangest of moments, my Dead Rita. Today we watched one of our favorite movies, Babette's Feast. Winner of the 1988 Best Foreign Language Film. My first food film. And also a beautiful story that for years we have been meaning to watch again. The scene that I remember the best was the end where Babette serves a pious community a french meal the likes they (nor I) have ever seen.

Babette is a woman who fled France during in the 19^th century and took refuge in a remote village of Frederikshavn in Denmark. She works for two sisters for 14 years until finally she wins a lottery from a ticket that a friend had been buying for her for years in Paris. All of these years in this somber and quiet community in the village of Frederikshavn, her gift as a chef had been hidden. And then she prepares the Feast. Everything changes for the small group of 12 for whom she prepares this meal.

Tonight the last lines of the movie struck me as another piece of the puzzle regarding Dead Rita. When you read my book you may be dismayed at some of the tragedy of her life. I certainly was. Yet I have never believed, nor wanted to believe, hers was a life wasted.

The following lines of the movie could have been spoken by me to her, and then her response. And I am wiser for this lesson. She was a great artist; one I never believed was able to shine. I am beginning to believe I was wrong.

Here are the lines:

You should not have given all you owned for us.

It was not just for you.

Now you'll be poor the rest of your life.

An artist is never poor. Throughout the world sounds one long cry from the heart of an artist. Give me the chance to do my very best.

But this is not the end, Babette. I'm certain it is not. In Paradise you be will be a great artist that God meant you to be. Oh, how you will delight the angels.

I heard something in these words tonight. The first time I saw the movie Dead Rita was still just Mom. But the movie has haunted me since we first saw it in the late '80s. There was always a message in here for me that Dead Rita's life was not poor. Not given at her expense. But given with delight and given because that's all she knew to do. In fact, was made magnificent in spite of its humble surroundings of her circumstances and experiences. I am certain you are delighting the angels my dearest Dead Rita.

The 40 Goat Haircut

I do love to shop. Dead Rita and I often used retail therapy. When I lived in Ft. Wayne, we'd fly or drive to Chicago to go shopping for the weekend. This was the late '70s. I worked while going to school full time and lived at home. I had some discretionary income, but nowhere near the amount I spent. I applied for, and received waay too many credit cards. Lord & Taylor, Saks Fifth Avenue, Marshall Fields…..plus Diners Club, Mastercard, Visa….ridiculous amounts of credit.

On one visit, Dead Rita and I were headed to Chicago with my cards and I called Lord & Taylor to ask what my shiny new card's limit was. This formal male voice looked up my information and say in a serious tone, "you can shop without fear of impunity." I thanked him in an equally formal tone and after I pulled out my dictionary to find out the definition of "impunity", I was off and charging.

Over 30 years later I still enjoy a good trip to a fine store, but Rwanda has changed everything. I fear impunity! I still get to buy beautiful things – designer pieces – beauty for beauty's sake. But on the graph of my shopping habits, the trend is definitely in a downward slope from my previous charts. That said, I was so stunned at an article I read in the last few days I decided to write to the editor – but it's hitting my blog first!

I just received the May 2008 issue of Marie Claire magazine. http://www.marieclaire.com/ I'm not sure of the demographics they're trying to reach, but a pithy 50 year old white woman has a subscription. I like the mag! Good articles. But one caught my eye in the Beauty Section: page 168 title: Why Does this Haircut COST $1000? By Julia Scirrotto. Why indeed thought I ??!! And I figured it out. YOU DON'T GET WHAT YOU DESERVE: YOU GET WHAT YOU NEGOTIATE! One of my favorite expressions for my coaching clients! And beauty maven and Dove stylist Gretchen Monahan has negotiated that price to receive a haircut and consultation from her and according to the article, "overachievers (named-but I'm not trying to be a mean girl here so no names) are banging down her door".

But here's the thing: while the writer Julia Scirrotto looked lovely after her 'do, she's that way anyway – she could have a Captain Jean-Luc Picard (portrayed by Patrick Stewart in the Star Trek TV series) haircut and look good! Nope. I can't see it. The cost.

Because in my world, you can buy FORTY GOATS from the Itafari Foundation for $1,000! We provide these goats for Child Headed Households through our program. http://itafari.org/ Such a deal! Saving lives, empowering children, rebuilding a country OR a good hair day (and honestly – I'd need to be stopped by strangers who would gasp in disbelief and say "WHERE did you get that haircut!!???")…..give me a second…..AND THE WINNER IS…………..IHENE (goats) for everyone!! I'll wear a scarf.

Great hair is great. My haircuts and color can run a few goats. I can measure everything in the value of goats. I night in a 5 star hotel, depending on where it is in the world, can range from five goats to hundreds of goats. Pick your product/service. It's divisible by goat. It's about choice. And I choose to say it's not ok to depict this as a fantasy goal for a woman. But I also choose to believe that women who can afford a $1000 haircut, and the stylist herself, use their money to change the world as well.

Maybe someday I'll write about my six goat updo I got at The Plaza in New York a few years ago that made me look like a turtle.

To see Captain Picard song music video: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=8489575706754651138&q=&hl=en

I Dreamt of Rwanda

In this dream John and I had just arrived….and would only be there for HOURS. So much to do – so many people to see. I think we had traveled through France, a new route for me. We were tired but I was exhilarated. I visited with Joy first and was figuring out how many baskets I could bring back in our luggage. Then I was preparing to draw a bath and all of these people with whom I work came to say hello. Par for me, I knew their faces and not their names! We greeted each other with such happiness. I don't know that I've ever been elsewhere in the world where I most completely see reflected in the faces of the people I meet, my own feelings and emotions, as I do in my friends in Rwanda.

With only hours to work, I began. And then I awoke. I have plenty of stress dreams. This was not one of them. There was no stress. Total completeness in being in Rwanda. I clearly miss it. And I won't be back until the Fall. It's always choices.

At home I have an equally compelling and attractive source of joy: John. He wants me to cut down on my visits to Rwanda. I understand, honor him, and have fully said "yego" to his request. It is a terribly good problem I have to face. I am passionate about so many things that are in my life. Life is good.

Each night when I would put Mom down to rest after she could no longer care for herself, after we'd done the nightly ritual and discussed if I would be home the next day to be her primary caregiver (we lived for weekends and THURSDAYS)….we'd look at each other and say, "life is hard, but life is good." It was only after she died that I realized we hadn't truly found the right words. It always should have been, "life is hard, but God is good."

So much going on. Looking for a publisher/agent for Dead Rita's Wisdom. Running my business. Growing Itafari Foundation one brick at a time. Finding avenues for speaking engagements to motivate and inspire those who want more. Getting in shape to make this journey a healthy one. And finally, living an authentic life as a woman, wife, parent and grandparent, friend and family member, that reflects my faith, my zest, and my passion for making a difference wherever I am.

I'll take the dream. It was so joyous. I was there in the moment of my dream. Until I set foot in Rwanda again, I will remember the dream that I have for this country and especially for the people there who come to me in my dreams.

Get Fit for the Journey

I've loved this man since the day he was born. He's my brother (and he AIN'T heavy!) Today I had the chance to listen to Dan on a conference call about fitness. He's been seriously working out for 30+ years. He's 45, looks 35, and has a passion for keeping people healthy like few people I've ever met.

On this call I listened to give him feedback on how he could improve his message. I'm a really tough coach, extremely hard on family, and he wasn't crazy about me listening in. But he gave me the call in number – too late!!

I was not expecting to be impressed. And I wasn't. I was bowled over!! He was amazing! As a Fitness Coach he walks/runs/squats his talk. It's wonderful to listen to someone speak of their passion in a way that there is no doubt that they're doing what they were meant to do. That's Dan. He is The MAN. He coaches in person and on the phone. I recommend him for your fitness needs. And don't wonder if this is a nepotism thing. I'm doing it in spite of the fact that we're related.

His website: www.fitnessintraining.com/ and yes, that's him in the picture. Wonderful job Dan – I wish you continued success – you've earned it and you deserve it. Dead Rita would be SO proud!!

Much love, your big Sister, Vic

Feeding a Cancer

Last night on TV we were watching OPB's Truth About Cancer with Linda Ellerbee. I've seen a lot of cancer due to my work as a guardian/conservator for the elderly for 18 years and then my up close and personal walk through it with Dead Rita. I also heard Dr. Kelley Reis, Naturopathic Physician http://hillsboronaturalmedicine.com/ speak on the subject this last Sunday at Nancy Thompson's Flourish Salon. http://flourish-pdx.com/

The show and Dr. Reis talked about the causes of cancer and certain treatment(s). But what I knew and found interesting to have confirmed was about how cancer cells are actually fed or starved by their environment. Dr. Reis talked about how refined sugars can be a factor in feeding cancerous cells. I read recently how fasting kills diseased cells and healthy cells survive. LOVE the Master Cleanse by Stanley Burroughs http://mastercleanser.com/ but it is not for the faint of heart. Not eating anything for days freaks people out. But this cleanse provides everything necessary to stay healthy. It's detoxifying and totally cleanses the system. If I ever get cancer, I'll go on this for a month before I begin conventional treatment.

But all this came to clarity this morning after I got Butros Butros-Ghali out of my head (see previous post) when I was on my way to my 7:30 meeting. We feed or starve a "cancer" in the workplace, in our lives, our families, ourselves, with behaviors that either make it grow or kill it. Work often reflects an equally difficult situation in our personal life and we focus on work as the issue when actually it's just a reflection of who we're being in other areas. We have got to begin to starve the cancer, not feed it and wonder how we're going to treat the growing tumor.

It's always about me. How I act, react, respond, reflect. I will take better care of me so that other people don't have that responsibility.

Boutros Boutros-Ghali

So that's who I woke up thinking about this morning. And here's the thing: I didn't know anything about him! But I remember Dead Rita being very interested in him. She was a voracious reader and very interested in world affairs, although she had no one to discuss them with. At the time she lived with us, I was working full time and on call at night for clients….my conversations with her were not of an intellectual bent. Shame on me. She cared about the world and wanted to discuss it….her best buddy had other things on the mind. Though I must admit, her constant questioning and desire to look at ALL sides of the issue was not of interest to me. Eh. I think of my beliefs and attitudes 15 years later and I am….what? Disappointed, saddened, by my lack of interest at the time.

So when Boutros-Ghali popped into my head this morning I thought it was time to read up on this man Dead Rita had placed in the gray matter years ago. And the timing is perfect. He served in the UN as Secretary-General from 1 Jan 92 – 1 January 97. Dead Rita and Mr. Papa lived in our home from 16 April 93 – 3 Oct 98….

What amazes me is that reading about Bourtos-Ghali in Wikipedia, a fine source of mis- and information, mentions RWANDA and how he was criticized for the UN's Failure to act during the 1994 Rwandan Genocide. So much of my life now is devoted to Rwanda and its people. http://itafari.org/ The work of Itafari began and is because of this genocide – which I MISSED in 1994. And now is the mourning period in the country for the 100 days when the world turned its back. What an amazing coincidence. Of course I don't believe in coincidences….no odds that I can calculate could make this thought statistically possible.

And here's Bourtos-Ghali in my brain. Dead Rita didn't miss the genocide, I'm sure. But we never talked about it.

It's like almost getting hit by a bus, or a rock just missing your head, or not winning the lottery by 5 numbers (I see that a lot more in my life than buses and rocks)…..so close! I think about all the things I did get from loving her, and who knows what I missed.

I'm encouraged in my kooky optimistic way. Plumbing the depths of my own brain, consciously or not, seems to bring up some interesting things! Bourtos Bourtos-Ghali…..who knew.

Take Your Art to the World


I do not know why people write books. I only know why I wrote one. I had no choice. And while the expression “I see dead people” was made hugely funny and popular because of the movie Sixth Sense, I don’t see ‘em, but I sure love talking about one of them!

My dead person is my dearly departed mother, Rita. Gone but not forgotten. Missing but not lost. Dead but alive through her wisdom. (shown above is Dead Rita, circa 1985 with her grandson, Josh)

Dead Rita’s Wisdom is profound. You probably don’t know her unless you’re related to her; worked with her in Ft. Wayne, Indiana; or grew up with her in Norwalk Ohio. But I knew her as I will never know another human being.

She loved me from the moment I was born in 1957 until the moment she died in my arms in 1998. And in her dying I realized I knew nothing. Because prior to her death I only knew one thing for sure: she and I would grow old together. BZZZZT! (wrong answer game buzzer) Now what? So I know nothing for sure. But I know this: wisdom must be shared, from the living and the dead.

She freely shared her wisdom with me. I was always there to hear it, reject what was not true, and act on it. While my life is not without difficulty or challenges, there are no regrets. No major face plants. No undoing of wrong. Just slow and steady. Nothing I consider spectacular. But certainly some extraordinary moments, with many many more to come.

And so I wrote a book. And the wisdom from her is simply blow-your-hair-back profound. The catalyst for this blog is Dead Rita’s (aka Mom aka Gram) grandson whom she reverently referred to in hushed tones as one of her “exceptional” grandchildren.
An example of that wisdom.

Exceptional Grandson #1. Josh. Born in Ft. Wayne in 1985. Dead Rita’s artistic talent was real and appears to be hereditary. My brother Jeff showed artistic talent. And while he never pursued it, his son Josh began to show a tendency for art. And Dead Rita noticed. She admired the art he created as a little boy. And then one day when Josh was 10, Mom sat down with him. And she said, “Josh, I have hidden my talent from the world. I don’t want you to do that. Take your art to the world.” Mom died when Josh was 13. I didn’t see Josh after that until he was a senior in High School. But when I visited him we talked about his Gram, Dead Rita. By this time, his talent was well established, and he was receiving awards for it. And he told me he wanted to get an education in art. And when I asked him why, he told me about Mom’s words to him. And he said to me, “That’s why I’m becoming an artist, Aunt Vicky”. Mom had that kind of influence on me, but here was a young man, a boy when she shared those words: “take your art to the world”. And his world was changed forever.

He inspired this blog because yesterday he called to tell me he had been accepted into Rhode Island School of Design Graduate School (RISD) for printmaking. RISD is #1 in the nation for fine arts graduate programs. One of 7 students accepted into the graduate printmaking program this year. Josh is truly taking his art to the world. And it was the words of a loving grandmother, a woman who refused to limit his world as hers had been limited, that were the guiding words for his passion, art.

When Josh called me to tell me, we were both in awe. I am so proud of him. Dead Rita lives on in me. And however heaven works, it is so clear to me that in Josh’s balcony of life, sits Dead Rita. Front row, hanging on his every victory, feeling his pain, and believing in him. I can imagine the cheering of that SMOKING section. Ridiculously happy. Riotously ecstatic for his victory. And so sure that it was always going to be.

Take your art to the world. An example of her simple and profound wisdom. And I always wonder, what art must we each take to the world. My art is not of canvas or clay. My art is of inspiration and wonder. Truly, anything is possible for anyone. You cannot be too poor, too hurt, too damaged, too privileged, too intelligent or too ignorant to not be able to bring your art to the world.

But you do have to think about it. And I’m thinking about it all the time. This is my journey of taking Dead Rita’s Wisdom from mind to paper to book. And I look forward to watching this art unfold.

To Josh, you are an incredible inspiration to me. To look at you reminds me of your Dad, my brother, whom I love so much, and of Mom, whom I could not love more. You and I will journey together through Dead Rita’s Wisdom. I look forward to your illustrations of the book, your support of me as I support you, and the art you will bring to the world. And I say in the most hushed and loving of tones, “you are exceptional”.