My first and Best work family

What is it about certain work places that just make everyone seem like family. In 2005 I took a weekend job at a hotel, while I went to school in San Francisco during the week week. Just a weekend job to earn a little cash to pay for my Starbucks addiction.

The hotel's goal was to provide a "home away from home" which it did well, however some people got a little too comfortable. Like the group that brought a case of beer to the lobby, put their bare feet up and proceeded to camp out there until midnight. We often had people with far to little clothes on. And guests who experiences a few too many wineries that day. We saw highschool proms and were the headquarters for 1500 runners of a local marathon.

We had couples fight and want separate rooms, we had traveling colleagues who wanted connecting rooms and we had a professional sports team who moved in for over a month and created pure chaos. I helped parents give their kids with Easter baskets and letters from Santa. I helped husbands surprise their wives from 3 states away, and boyfriends get down on one knee for the ever epic "yes".

Among all the celebrations, the madness, the events, there was something so much more memorable for me. Among the smiling faces that made your reservations and called a cab for dinner, ensured your wake up calls were set, solved every travel dilemma, met every preference. Those smiling faces who were yelled at, blamed for lost luggage, and expected to do the impossible. Those smiling faces, are now these smiling faces.

and they're some of the most epic souls I have ever known. The 5 people in this picture haven't been together in over 7 years. It was wonderful to hear about new positions, new kids, and new spouses. This team came together this weekend to bid a proper farewell to one of our own. One of our sisters from work, one of the girls who worked with us to manage these crazy nights, long days, and all of the travelers. 

This group pulled together to check in dozens of people in no time, we solved problems and kept our sanity. We learned, together, to meet all brand standards and then take a verbal beating. We listened to people who were upset with their room, their delayed flight, their lost bags, or their drunk girlfriend. We listened, made it better, and sent them on their way. There's something about having a work family that makes it a little easier to go in every day. This family made it easier to leave my daughter at home and go back to work. In the end these people made it all better, fixed me and then sent me on my way.

Do you have a work family?

Do your coworkers make your job easier?

something our kids are missing out on

We talk so much about what our kids have being the new generation. The technology, knowledge, possibilities, the same sex marriage. What we don't talk about as much is what they don't get to have. This was posted by a friend in a group of moms I belong to on Facebook: 

So an old man just asked if when my kids get to the age of playing hide and go seek am I going to let them? ... My answer was I'd watch them play. He said did your parents watch you? I said no. He then asked me to think about when I have grandkids and what the world might be by then?

The Moms (myself included) responded with a grand general consensus. Our kids don't play out front without parents. They don't go to the neighbor's unless they are escorted. They don't go to the park alone. This all from a group of hundreds of women, living in Napa. A city with a crime rate well below average. Several of us live in small neighborhoods, next to good schools, where we may not know our neighbors names, but are friendly.


This whole conversation broke my heart a little.The days of unsupervised roller hockey at the park down the street, running through the neighborhood without supervision, having limits of "when the street lights come one" or "I'll holler for you when dinner's ready" are things our kids may never know.


Our kids will face bigger challenges than we ever saw. How do we manage give them enough freedom to learn who they are. I lived down the block from a school and about 3 blocks from a large park. I knew every kid within a 3 block radius.

The park was the scene of my first time climbing up a slide. The first time I skated backwards on my Roller-blades, the first time I fell out of a tree and my first bee-sting. The school was where I learned to shoot a free-throw and archery, climbed on the roof in hide and seek and the scene of the first (and one of the only) punches I ever threw.

It scares me to think that we may be limiting their opportunities to learn from their peers, and take chances. I did try stupid things but usually only once. I learned a lot from those kids, and consider many of them dear friends to this day. There's something to be said for allowing our children the opportunity to make good decisions, or at least learn from bad ones, but I can't seem to find where that falls in line with keeping them safe in our ever changing world.

Do you (or would you) let your children play with the same level of supervision you were given?

What is one thing your parents would have KILLED you for doing, that taught you a powerful lesson?

The Tough Stuff

Did you ever read the Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul books? I did, 1, 2, 3, 4 and the journal. The other 30 some-odd titles came out when I was in college and had no time to read anything that wasn't a 5 pound text book. As much as I appreciated the funny stories and the lessons learned, reading the acts of kindness and the leaps of faith these kids took on each other, there was one section that I prepared myself for. The Tough Stuff. If you're not familiar with the books they dedicated a section of the book, and in later publication separate books, to the stuff that's just hard. Losses, illness, and suicide.

I distinctly remember not starting this section right away, especially if I was reading at school or in public. Sometimes I would simply get up and change rooms, settle in my bed rather than on the couch, or in the back yard. Somewhere I felt safe but alone. I read all the time, many books have death and trauma, many books had sad stories and some were even true. These were different. These happened to kids like me, in a high school just like mine. These stories hit close to home, these stories were different.

Now why all the prep. Well you are being warned to prepare yourself, or runaway now. This past week hit way to close to home with a story just out of The Tough Stuff. I promise not to go into too much detail however this is not a happy post and you're welcome to move right along. See you later, I'm not offended I swear.

Really... last chance. Still with me? Okay here we go:

I wish each and every one of you could know Jon. Jon was a fixure of a bartender and patron of downtown Napa's bar scene. He reminded me of the "good ol barkeep" so often depicted in movies.  Charismatic and charming and could talk the pants off of just about anyone he wanted. He always had a joke or a tale, he could recommend a perfect whiskey cocktail for you, even if you only drank gin and could mix an old fashioned that would make any 75 year old tip $20. He was known to lick faces and greet his friends with "fuck you" and that was the sincerest form of affection from him.

Now as you've probably guessed the wonderful, knowledgeable local, that I'm describing isn't very Tough. Yesterday should have been Jon's 32nd birthday. While his Facebook is filled with birthday wishes, they're all qualified. Qualified with "you should be here" and "it'd be better if you could celebrate with us". Approximately 1 week ago, Jon made a decision that affected each and every one of his friends. He chose to take his own life.

I've lost friends over the years, to accidents and illness, but never to suicide. The tragedy hurts the same in many ways. A young life given up. A man who never gets to father children, or grow old. My heart breaks for the fact he will miss future summer barbeques and the fact he'll never beat me in beer pong again. But those things I've been through before. A loss of life has broken my heart and made me nostalgic for days before it was possible to know how much I missed them.

But, at the root of it, this is more than that.

This feeling of utter frustration, this nagging question, wondering if we could do just a little more. Wondering if a random text, an unexpected phone call, or one more story told over drinks would've changed his fate. I can't help but be angry. There is a piece of me that is so upset with him. I want to get a chance to verbally assault him for leaving us. I want to tell him he should have called me or one of the 10 mutual friends we shared; I know our friends would drop everything to come and help, and sit, and talk. I want to get one more chance.

I know I'm supposed to end on a positive note, something about him finally finding peace, because that's really what bloggers do. But that edit may have to come in the future. Right now, as things stand, I'm just angry and so upset that friends, that I know, would do anything for any one of us weren't good enough for him to reach out to.

I will leave you with this though: text, call, facebook, or email someone tonight, someone that's had a few bad days or just that you haven't heard from. Tell them you would be there. Remind them they're not alone. If it helps you not go through what we're going through, it will be worth it.

I apologize for any grammatical errors, or essential rambling, as you can probably guess I didn't read over or edit very well.