Bridges Do Carry Us

Have you ever noticed that sometimes the bridges in songs stand out as the best part? In between the standard chorus/verse structure often artists create a change in tempo or key or craft an especially melodic moment. Do any favorites come to mind?

In the car the other day I heard Huey Lewis and the News’ “The Power of Love” and my heart leapt into an open space during its bridge. Which made me think about other songs’ bridges I love. In Little River Band’s “Cool Change” there’s the whisper of “let me breathe the air.” In Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” it’s “I like it…have a good time, good time…” George Michael’s “Kissing a Fool” has a powerful, intense, emotional surge. While songs’ choruses may be the easily identifiable moment that we repeat, often these bridges offer a transition in the melody—allowing a break, perhaps some depth, some contrast, or a surprise.

Made me think—in life do we look for our bridges? Do we acknowledge and appreciate them for what they are? Or are we lost feeling in limbo?

We all go through transitions in life. Our present is ever-changing. It’s noticing that bridge—the supports-- the people who will help, the activities that will nurture, the loosening of the grip of what was to embracing what will be. Sometimes the bridges connecting us to a familiar past and the uncertain future can feel like an in between state, a time of anxiety and shakiness.

I witness this connecting time in life with my two older kids stretching themselves out of childhood and into young adulthood. I see it with friends who have moved geographically and are transitioning into their new community. I see it with kids when they’re home for the first time from college. I have observed friends in that uneasy time after losing a loved one, handling a shocking diagnosis, or going through a revolutionary transition. And obviously I, too know when my life sits in more of a gray area. Sometimes there’s a breakdown. Or a vibrant energy of change emerges. I can feel those times of inner growth and sense when my role is morphing.

I have always been fascinated by literal bridges—taking many travel photos of them because of their timeless aesthetic and majesty. Their implied strength. Their importance. Knowing that they have supported countless others in getting people from here to there.

So I suggest looking for these bridges in your life. And honor them. Embrace them. Give thanks knowing full well that their purpose is to take you to another space. We are constantly evolving in life, moving forward. We need to rely and love these nurturing elements that give us foundation and security.

Whether it’s noticing what’s underfoot literally or figuratively or looking for those especially lifting and meaningful moments in songs, give gratitude that they exist and welcome the view/space. Know you are bolstered—and allow that support to carry you forward. Who knows? Your bridges may be your favorite parts in life.

Barry Manilow’s bridge in “Weekend in New England”: I feel the change coming. I feel the wind blow. I feel brave and daring…

How Do You Get That Bounce “Bawk”?

While I love the “spring forward” moment for many reasons—more daylight, the promise of warmer weather-- undoubtedly that one-hour difference causes disruption in our household. Even this morning I told my youngest that next week he’ll be back to his old sleep routine and not wake up so early, (and hopefully allow me to drink my coffee in quiet). He just needs to adjust, like we all do, with the seasons transitioning.

Yesterday at the hair salon I mindlessly flipped through Entertainment Weekly and was shocked to see seasoned Hollywood actors with their 1980/90s movie costars. Some look absolutely amazing as they’ve transitioned to middle age—they’re no spring chickens. Julia Roberts at 51? Stunning. Cameron Diaz at 46? Glowing. Dermot Mulroney? Dashingly handsome at 55.

Granted, I know these stars have their crews of personal trainers, makeup artists, chefs, and someone adjusting the light angles for flattering photographs, but still…

For those of us who are not spring chickens…how do we put ourselves in our best light? How do we adjust?

Charles Darwin came up with the idea of phototropism…that a growing shoot of grass always bends towards the light. With many plants in my house I always marvel at the phenomenon of watching them lean eagerly towards the window—and we humans are no different. We flourish with positive energy. Think about that teacher, coach, boss, or friend who believed in the best in you versus the one who cut you down or set limiting expectations.

Maybe that’s simply the secret…we just need to focus on where we feel our best, where we shine. Focus less on our weaknesses, stop obsessing about fixing people or things, and ignore people who exclude and make us feel bad. Instead think about not just highlighting our strengths, but how to spread that positivity in the community. Don’t get hung up or distracted by personal and life’s weaknesses. Or disappointments.

Along with the natural change of seasons I’m mentally set to lighten the load, take off my ever-present down parka, and lean my face towards the sun and hopefully feel a quicker pop to my step. If you have also felt that winter dullness, work on getting your bounce “bawk” and feel the powerful pull towards the light. Bask in the strengths that fortify you. Surround yourself with uplifting people, watch an old movie that brings warmth to your soul, download some upbeat tunes, or sit in a sunny window. Indeed, it is time to spring forward.

Repeat History-- Yay or Nay?

Last weekend I watched the 2018 documentary RBG, and silent tears streamed down my cheeks. I’m not one of those 40something women with Ruth Bader Ginsburg tattoos, and I don’t dress up my dog in a dissent collar. I am embarrassed to say I never followed her legal career in the papers or on tumblr. But something stirred inside me this year. I devoured Gloria Steinem’s book On the Road. Which awakened me to read both a Ginsburg biography and her autobiography.

Learning details of the 1972 women’s movement and the social inequities today surprised me. So many changes—and rather recently. While I was a girl taking tap lessons and watching The Brady Bunch reruns, thousands of women were laying the groundwork not only for a future me. But for my daughter. How did I never hear of these milestones? The movements? The matriarchs of women’s lib?

As a young business consultant I remember a salty team member in her 50s, a computer science engineer, saying with an icy edge, “You,” (interpreted as the greater ‘you’ of women my age), “will never understand or appreciate all that we’ve done for you.” I probably sipped my coffee and nodded, and wondered why she seemed angry. I most likely answered with a respectful response and quickly asked what time we were leaving for our client meeting. In some ways she was right. I didn’t fully understand then. But I’m starting to. Just. Now.

Do we ignore the importance of gender equality’s struggle? Or is it pure ignorance—we don’t know what we simply don’t know?

Raising a daughter and three sons I’m ever-conscious of gender stereotypes and the treatment of the sexes. Wanting to provide opportunities for them all--yes, you can pursue what you love in life, yes, you all need to learn to cook and do your own laundry, yes, you’re all strong, capable beings. But what I’ve learned, and perpetuated even perhaps, is an unconscious silence about the history of gender’s evolution.

And I consider my husband and I enlightened. I graduated from an undergraduate institution that emboldened us all with the equal treatment of genders…and not only did I thrive in that environment, I am fervently proud of it.

So how could I be crying quiet tears? Ginsburg’s story moved me. But it wasn’t just her story that made me cry. It was that her story was part of ALL of our collective stories. And most of us don’t realize it. So we definitely do not give it proper thanks.

The sound of that silence thundered in my brain. The trailblazing activists, the legislators who took a stand, the individuals cracking glass ceilings. What were the whispers of the early suffragists in 1848 or in 1920? I could hear their haunted echoes, yet jumping to present day not many talk about it. I know my children aren’t discussing this important history. I’ve heard women my age laugh about the women’s marches. People have told me, “I could never vote for a female president.” Women defend and doubt misogynistic people in the news. WHY?

As Justice Ginsburg herself has said, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” I only hope that more people become conscious of the waves of gender equality warriors and maybe not so silently give thanks to them. We owe them—and our future “them”—much more. Perhaps even a roar. And maybe this is a case for repeating history. Literally out loud. And often.

 “It is not women’s liberation, it is women’s and men’s liberation.”  

Ruth Bader Ginsburg