Not My Holiday Gift Guide

Today I was going to post my holiday gift guide. The one in which I would remind you all about the books I've written and the coaching programs I offer that make great holiday gifts and how buying from people like me supports small business. But I couldn't bring myself to hit publish. It felt too soon to go back to business as usual. At least not publicly. Not after Friday. Not just yet.

I've been quiet since then. I haven't been doing much of my usual social media thing. But I have been reading and watching. I obsessed with CNN's coverage for much of Saturday. I'm like an addict when these tragedies occur. I find myself unable to press the off button on the remote or even to change the channel. I shed tears for children and adults I never met.  I felt the collective anguish of so many others. I tried to make sense of something that will never make sense. And it was only when I realized I had seen the same interview three times that I managed to pull myself away from one medium and move myself to another.

I read the Facebook posts and the Twitter feeds. People weighing in on their sorrow and their feelings about gun control and how we deal with mental illness in our society. But I continued to refrain from posts of my own.

Not that I don't have a lot to say about gun control and mental illness. Or about some of the outlandishly insensitive statements made by the many who did choose to make their feelings known.

I was simply unable to find any words that seemed adequate. I still can't.

I cannot begin to fathom what those children and adults who were murdered went through in their final moments, nor those who witnessed it. No amount of empathy can come close to replicating the emotions of the parents and families who have lost their loved ones to horror and need to now try to figure out how to move on. 

What is easier for me to articulate is that I am struck, once again, by our inability to stop and pause, to take in the enormity of a situation like this and to demonstrate a modicum of sensitivity. To be quiet. 

Instead we fill the band waves with endless conversation and posturing about what needs to be done and what should be done to prevent this in the future. 

We don't stop. We don't pause. We don't allow ourselves to feel the magnitude of such a tragedy. We spew whatever we feel like the next day on the social network of our choice. We vent our rage, our disbelief. Some just ignore and before taking a breath are once again tweeting pictures of the Christmas cookies they just baked, offering up the ten reasons to dump your man or how to have a "killer book signing." To say I found that offensive and insensitive is simply an understatement.

Which is why it felt too uncomfortable for me to hit publish on the cheery holiday gift guide post I had ready to go without acknowledging what happened in Newtown, Connecticut on Friday.

Not that I don't want you to buy my wares. I do. I have a business and a living to earn, but I did need to press pause and reflect. At least for one more day. It seemed the right thing to do.

The Pause After The Storm

This morning I got an email from Bloomingdale’s with the eye catching header, “ Just In: Coats You Can’t Live Without.” I’m aware enough to know that email was preplanned and already in the cue to be sent. That whoever prepared it had no idea that it would go out and be received at 9:30AM, the Tuesday morning after Sandy brutally wrecked havoc through the Northeast, hitting among others, three different states I have lived in.

Still, I couldn’t help but wince. I couldn’t stop thinking of all the people without electricity or running water, whose homes had been destroyed, some of whom the storm cost them their lives.  Who at the moment are living without so much of what we consider in 2012 to be modern day necessities. People, who if they had power and access to a computer right now, might like me, find such a solicitation a bit offensive.

Bloomingdale's was not alone. There was more in my inbox. News of the Kardashian sisters enjoying a sunny outing in Miami, an invitation to treat myself to a new skin cleanser, and one who knowingly sidestepped the storm and offered a cooking lesson and promoted a new cookbook.

Did they really think that while the winds were howling past my window last night and I worried about the crane next door swinging into my building and when my mother would get her electricity back, I was also thinking I needed a new skin cleanser and maybe a new recipe? 

I know. Life goes on after the storm. There is money to be made. Let’s move on. Get past it. Blah, blah, blah. I was once a sales director and now an entrepreneur. I know the lingo. But seriously, even the NYSE took a break today!

Now I'm about to suggest something radical here. So make sure you are sitting down.

Instead of starting to pretend a history making storm is not a big deal and start peddling our wares again before the last drop of rain falls, perhaps we all just take a moment to express some gratitude and put the sales pitch on hold. If you're feeling really wild and crazy, give it the whole day!

I know. Really drastic, right?  To suggest, to stop worrying about the money, albeit briefly, and say thank-you for what you got? 

I, personally, am humbled with gratitude today. For a safe, warm home that is not knee deep in water. For a hot shower. For power. For Internet access. For my fail-safe, old-fashioned land line. For my brother going to get my mother today.  Most importantly I am grateful that at this moment everyone I know and love is safe and well. 

We are a nation with short term memories. We like to forget the bad stuff as quick as we can and get back to the business of making money. We are fed the dialogue as marketers to take advantage of every situation, no matter what, not pausing to think, that maybe we should, for just a moment, think and do the right thing. We don't stop enough to appreciate what is. And we have a lot to appreciate.  

If Hurricane Sandy left me any lesson, it was a reminder of just how lucky a girl I am. I’m going to seep in that today, before I start peddling my wares again and or go worrying about a coat I just can’t live without.