“Mending Wall”

 This is the title of one of my favorite poems by Robert Frost. There are two seemingly contradictory lines in it that I love. The first: “Good fences make good neighbors,” and the second: “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall — that wants it down.” The title itself can be read two ways: Mending (or fixing) a wall or that walls can mend (heal).

This paradox is evident in all of our lives, but especially in the lives of women. It’s a continual balancing act — the desire for intimacy vs. the need for boundaries. As girls, we’re raised to value relationships and to value intimacy in those relationships. When we open ourselves to intimacy, we make ourselves vulnerable, which opens us to hurt, which causes us to erect walls, which because we value intimacy makes us want to tear down. How exhausting!!

I know that in all my important relationships I sometimes am unclear about where I end and others begin. For example, in the case of my mother, who died from cancer at her age 46 and my age 21, I carried her in my head for years, her opinions becoming mine. In the case of my daughters, if I was cold, I made them wear a sweater (literally and metaphorically). Keep this up, and before long, you feel responsible for the whole world and only too willing to shoulder the blame when something or someone is not working.

So, how to balance the need for intimacy and boundaries. Erecting walls and tearing them down are both good things to do as long as we’re conscious of what we’re walling out and what we’re allowing in. Again, Frost said it better — “Before I built a wall, I’d ask to know what I was walling in or walling out.”

Mean Girls — Grow Up

I used to teach high school students, and I was an unwilling witness to the painful rites of passage of adolescent girls and boys.  While this passage is equally painful for both sexes, I’m going to focus on girls.  Why? Because I am one — I have two — and I see daily the aftermath of these trying times!

Ladies, you know what I’m talking about. Think back to when you were 15. Did you like yourself? Were you too fat, too flat, too plain, too tall, too smart (yes it was very possible to be too smart)? Were you convinced when a group of girls was gathered together that they were talking about you? Did you spend hours deciphering comments and looks from other girls to determine if you were “in” or “out”? We competed with each other for boys, for attention, for popularity, for a place on the cheerleading squad. And we didn’t always play fair. Our weapons weren’t fists and shouts, but looks and innuendos and sly compliments that were insults in disguise. I don’t know many women who escaped from adolescence with their self-esteem intact. And it’s worse today with so many new weapons to choose from: Facebook, Twitter, YouTube.

Why am I writing about this now when my own teenage angst is as faded as the bellbottom jeans I used to wear? Everyday, I work with, know and meet scores of talented women who limit their potential and engage in destructive behaviors that would be familiar to any middle-schooler. It’s well documented that women often behave poorly towards other women in the workplace. Under-cutting, back-stabbing, glory-hogging are just grown-up versions of teenage aggression. Research suggests that as girls we had no acceptable outlets for anger, such as shouting or fisticuffs, and so subverted our anger into more covert, socially acceptable means.

Whatever the reason, the workplace is tough enough. We all want meaningful work, a supportive environment, and appropriate recognition and rewards. Let’s not make it harder on ourselves or each other. Growing old is not a choice. Growing up is and it’s a choice we owe ourselves and each other.

The Boys of Summer

The Boys of Summer

The frayed, sepia-toned photo is twice as long as it is tall. In it, a group of young men in matching baseball uniforms, with well-worn gloves, kneel or stand, all looking off to their left at something not caught by the camera lens. In the corner of the photo, in faded pencil, is written, “Summer of ‘46.” Most of these young men were newly-returned from Europe, Africa, the South Pacific where their eyes saw things they’ll rarely speak of over the next 60 years.

What catches their attention off camera? Is it a pretty girl; did the photographer tell them all to look to their left, or are they gazing into their future not knowing that some day they’ll be called “The Greatest Generation”? One of these chiseled-jawed young men is my father (the one in the satin jacket); two others are my uncles, and the team manager in the back row is my grandfather. I saw this photo for the first time at a family reunion recently. My grandfather has been gone over 30 years, but the three young men are now in their 80s, with fading memories, and creaking knees. Up into their 70s, they still played baseball at our family reunions, a nostalgic tribute to by-gone days and former glories.

These three young men all led good lives, married, raised families and contributed to their communities. I can’t help wondering though what future they were envisioning when that photo was snapped in the summer of ‘46. All would face the celebrations, tragedies, and daily disappointments that we call the human condition. Those of us who are their children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren can only hope that we’ll do as well.

Leadership Learning #4: “The best way out is always through” — Robert Frost

A while back, a friend of mine lost a parent, experienced a miscarriage and passed a milestone birthday all within a few weeks time. I gave her a birthday card on which were the words, “The best way out is always through.”

When faced with difficult situations, our primal urge is fight or flight. Rarely in today’s world does either of these reactions work. Grief ignored does not vanish. Problems not addressed reappear.

So in addition to fight or flight, let’s add “fully face.” The area I see all three reactions is when managers address or fail to address people issues. We’ve all heard about getting the right people in the right seats and getting the wrong people off the bus. These truths have become axiomatic, yet it doesn’t mean they’re easy to implement.

So managers avoid the tough discussions (flight) hoping the situation will miraculously improve. When it doesn’t, managers get angry (fight) and the poor employees’ head is left spinning.

In reality, if people are on the wrong seat or the wrong bus, deep down they know it and are probably unhappy. Having the realistic discussion (fully facing) can be a relief to the employee and the manager because when the truth is faced, options appear. “The best way out is always through.”