20 Years On ...

Many of you, my friends, have read my story of Sept 11 over the years when I repost my experience from that day. It was a horrible day.

This year, I reflect upon that day again. The flight that day that strikes me the most is Flight 93. The one where the passengers overtook the hijackers and crashed the plane in Pennsylvania. 

The plane I was on was in the air at the same time as those planes. I wonder what I would have done if my plane was headed towards a target. It is impossible to know. I was on a Delta flight from Atlanta to Chicago that left the same time as the hijacked planes. The passengers on my plane had no idea what was happening elsewhere. What if the plane was being hijacked to crash into the Sears Tower? Would we have known? Would the pilot have tried to tell us? What would we have done? Would we have been so brave and patriotic? I wish I could say yes. I would like to say I would have been brave and helped to crash a plane. 

I like to think that the passengers on my flight would have been as brave as those on Flight 93. My flight landed. I was grounded for several days. What I remember most after the initial shock and terror was how our country came together. Once I got back to my home in Atlanta, we bought an American flag and flew it proudly every day. I bought American flag pins - fancy Swarovski and others - that I wore proudly on my clothes for more than a year. I had to travel to Manhattan for work every week and wept at the sight of the blue lights streaking into the sky where the Twin Towers were supposed to be. I despised the terrorists and what they did to our country. I knew people who worked at the World Trade Center and they were all suddenly gone - whoosh. In the blink of an eye.

So much has changed since then. September 11 set the stage for governmental lies, even more so than during Watergate, which was the event in the 1970s that prompted me to go into journalism. Distrust in our government has grown, even though we all trusted it right after Sept 11. Today, we cannot pull our country together in the face of an enemy that is quite different from the hijackers - a deadly virus that we all should be fighting

I am sad. I am heartbroken. I still feel the togetherness we had after Sept 11 and mourn for that togetherness today. Can we get it back? I am hopeful we will although it may not be in my lifetime. As someone who studied hIstory, I understand that it moves in cycles. Our country has been divided and broken before, as it is now. I wish for us to have a collective reality. I wish for us to have common facts. I wish for my fellow citizens to be able to critically think to avoid being brainwashed. I wish for an updated Fairness Doctrine that will enable citizens to hear different points of view on the media.

Wishing won’t make it happen, however. We have to vote, to elect principled people and leaders who tell the truth and not simply say what they think voters want to hear. We need to get involved at the local level and push for ethics in government and in corporations. We should love our neighbors and not fight or argue with them. We should welcome and help the disadvantaged and those impacted by poverty. 

In many ways, the pandemic is this generation’s 9/11. Our mass trauma is similar to that in 2001. Let’s pull it together and fight on together. We are one. We should be united.

One year later, and I miss my dad

….losing a parent is something like driving through a plate-glass window. You didn’t know it was there until it shattered, and then for years to come you’re picking up the pieces—down to the last glassy splinter. – Saul Bellow

With Dad downtown in the 1980s

I miss my dad. I was thinking about him this week. It was exactly one year ago that I moved him from Florida to Chicago.  He was no longer the independent man I had grown up with and he was coming home to Chicago for the last time. After suffering a stroke in April, he went through rehab and we got him back to his Longboat Key condo with round-the-clock care. Despite being constantly watched, he managed to fall over the 2016 Labor Day weekend, break his hip and sustain a concussion and head gash. That was it. He needed to be closer to my sister and I, and he needed more help than he could get at home.

So in October 2016, he took the last plane ride of his life. He was in first class with Michael, a caregiver, while I rode in coach. He loved being in first class and being pampered. He was child-like and eager for the trip. I drilled into him where he was going and what was happening, but it didn’t stick. I really don’t know where he thought he was going but he was happy to be out of the hospital. I forgot to order him a special meal on the flight. He was not supposed to eat solid food, but when I went up to check on him, Michael had cut up the food into teeny pieces and Dad was relishing it. It was some of the last solid food he ate. It was a big job to get him into and out of the plane, but with Michael’s help and a wheelchair, we struggled through it.

This past weekend, I recalled in particular the medic van ride to the skilled nursing facility. Dad was still in his wheelchair, strapped in and looking out the front window. The weather was warm and sunny that day, just like it was one year to the day later.  I often wonder if Dad thought he was coming to my house, or did he think he was going to the house he and my mom used to own in Elmhurst? During his last months in Florida, when I asked him where home was, that is where he thought he lived.

He made it two more months, until December, before he gave up. We knew from his documents and conversations, that he never wanted to live if he could not do certain tasks on his own. He essentially checked himself out of life on his own terms. That does not mean that I don’t miss him, miss our weekly phone calls and regular visits, and the sage advice he gave before he suffered his stroke. Every so often, like many of you who have lost loved ones, I want to pick up the phone and ask him a question: “Dad, do you remember when we went to California for the first time?” “Dad, what was Chicago like during the Depression?” …. The list goes on. The questions will remain unanswered.

The glass of life is shattered and I will be picking up the last splinters for all my days to come.

Women executives: Enter at your own risk

There are some days when I reflect back on how far women have come in business, and some days when I just shake my head. Recently, a meme on social media showed photographs of important international events, political gatherings, and business meetings. One picture shows a group photo, the next photo shows the same photo with all the men removed. The women are few and far between. It was a stark reminder of how far women have yet to travel on the business journey.

The other day I related to another woman in business some of the more outrageous things that happened to me during my 30+ years in the business world. She is younger and had a hard time believing some of them. These events really happened, and I thought I’d memorialize some of them here.

I spent many years in male-dominated businesses. But then again, what business has not been male-dominated? When I worked for one of the largest printing companies in the country, I realized I was missing out on business connections because I didn’t golf. This was the late 1980s / early 1990s. Many of the printer’s suppliers networked with my male colleagues on the golf course. I decided to learn to golf. I bought a set of used golf clubs, and took some lessons so that, at a minimum, I learned golf etiquette.  I began to golf and practiced on Saturdays. I was eventually invited to attend some golf outings, too.

One of the more memorable ones was an event at Wynstone Golf Course, in South Barrington, Illinois. It was a beautiful course, and Michael Jordan played there back in those days.  It was fancy! First of all, there were only two other women playing in the outing. What did the organizers do? They put the three of us together in a threesome.  Nice. Next, one of male golfers took it upon himself to yell at me after the golfing was completed.  He stood across from me and pointed at me: “If it wasn’t for you, we would be playing at Medinah.”  The Medinah course, at that time, did not allow women to play on its master course.  I was around 30 years old at this time, and it was disconcerting to have an older businessman yell at me.  My only retort was: “I would love to play at Medinah but they won’t let me. Why don’t you take it up with them?”

Another memorable time came when I was the only woman vice president and on a leadership team for a publishing company. My company engaged a management consulting firm to help us improve productivity and “re-engineer” the manufacturing processes we had. The consulting company took us offsite to a retreat they owned in rural Louisiana for a few days. This place was like something out of Deliverance, very rustic and remote. We met as a group during the day, had dinner, and then the evenings were to be spent in the main house where the meetings and sleeping quarters were. The only hitch was that they hadn’t had women there before and all the washrooms, sleeping areas, and public areas were communal. They scrambled to figure out what to do with me, and decided that I would spend my nights in a separate cabin on the property. Each night I was escorted there, and I was given instructions to stay in my cabin and not venture out. Why? Because they had guard dogs securing the property in addition to the fences and other security measures. The dogs would attack me if I went out alone. I felt like I was in a prison camp, and missed out on the opportunities to “bond” with my colleagues in the evening because I was stuck alone in a cabin in the bayou. My imagination heard the faint chords of banjo music drifting over the swamp at night.

I participated in diversity training at a large printing company in the early 1990s. When the diversity instructor asked the male manager of the facility if he went out with the guys for beers after work, he most assuredly said, ‘of course’. When the instructor asked the manager if they talked about work issues there, the manager assuredly replied, ‘of course’. When the instructor suggested that the manager include the women supervisors, like me, in the after work events, the manager replied: “That’s impossible. What would my wife think?” That manager was an older man who regularly hosted poker games at his house for my male peers. No women allowed.  After the diversity training, he invited me to my first poker game. What a triumph! The win was being invited. Since I don’t play cards or gamble, I was able to politely thank him for the invitation and show my appreciation as I begged off.  Was that really a success for women?

I’m sure many of you, other women executives, have stories like these:

•  The male customer who literally chased me around a party when I was in my 20s. My boss at the time helpfully told me to “be nice to him, but run faster and don’t let him catch you.”
• The conference calls I’ve been on when I hear male colleagues literally going to the bathroom and flushing the toilet on the call.
• The first time I managed men who were older than me and listening to comments about my inexperience, and “what does she know, she’s just a girl.”

I love men. I’m married to one.  It seems a sad commentary that in my 30+ years of business, there are still so few women at the top of businesses. Very few in boardrooms, too. Until I retire, I will continue to coach and mentor young women in business today. They can still get far, if they have the stamina, the perseverance, and the stomach for it. Diversity is the future, and the growth of today’s businesses depend on it. What are you doing to help the cause? Let’s work together to make sure women have a seat at the table and not sit alone in a cabin, guarded by a dog.

The impact of one person's life

From the film "It's A Wonderful Life"

You hear about the impact one person can have on many people, and most of us have watched the movie "It's A Wonderful Life" and saw the impact that George Bailey had on his family and town. I recently experienced this first-hand when my primary physician unexpectedly passed away. She had been my doctor since I left my pediatrician more than 40 years ago. While I knew she was not taking new patients, she was still working a full schedule.

Her death was sudden, unexpected and made me incredibly sad. When I heard the news, I burst into tears. This was a woman who had seen me through illnesses, literally saved my life when I had toxic shock syndrome in 1981, who saw me through marriage, the death of my mother, and more. Her absence is profound, and intimate in a way that is hard to describe.

Her physician son took over the practice, but did not want to continue with it,  and abruptly closed the the practice. Gone are 40 years of health records, which really were the history of my body. My husband is in the same boat although he had "only" seen her for about 28 years.

She was a general practitioner in the truest sense of the term. With her as our doctor, we did not need to see other specialists. She even played the role of marriage counselor at times, with her engaging personality, sparkling wit and common sense. The search for a new doctor has been rough. We found a GP, but also now need a cardiologist, a neurologist, an ob-gyn, and who knows what else.

She died last October. It is now September and almost 11 months have passed. We are still feeling the impact and the loss, the incredible loss. The ripples from this death have amazed me and surprised me. I'm sure I am not the only person feeling this loss. Employees were suddenly without jobs, a family was without a matriarch, and a church lost an incredible leader and parishioner.

Life is short. Enjoy it. Do good things. Spend time with the people you want to spend time with. To me, that has meant spending time with people who share my values and people who I have known over a long period of time. Don't waste time on the "small stuff." Life is short. Enjoy it.

Guns, guns and more guns. Now in your pockets and purses.

I was working today and heard the news that Illinois just became the final state in the U.S. to allow people to carry concealed guns. This news sickens me. Over the July 4th weekend, 70 people were shot in the city of Chicago. Eleven of them died, and the rest are in various stages of pain and misery.

As I talked with some friends last night, the topic of what can be done about the recent violence came up. There are a lot of opinions about what should be done to stem the bloodshed. Some in the law enforcement community believe that the hands of police officers are tied and that they cannot do their jobs. Why? Some ideas: Smart phones with cameras. Fear of lawsuits. Who knows.

Some people believed that the areas in which shootings happen are prone to gang violence and that much of the crime is isolated there. But some of the most recent shooting victims are children, babies really. Innocents. They didn't choose where to live; don't they deserve more?

Guns are everywhere already and now it is legal to carry them in your purse or pocket or wherever. I know that smarter people than me are trying to figure out how to deal with this problem. I can't reconcile the good parts of the country that I love with the right-to-bear-arms contingent. I don't understand people who love guns. Most of the time, people are hurt or killed because people who have guns illegally use them for crimes. Innocent people are caught in crossfire. Some people are killed in accidents. And some people kill themselves with guns because it is easy and very final. I agree that the current gun laws should be enforced more strictly. I also agree that the only thing that will get peoples' attention is money. The NRA and politicians don't want to lose money from gun owners' contributions. The gangs make money from illegally selling guns that are bought legally and illegally. Lots of people who oppose guns don't have the money to fight in this arena. It is a complex issue, but I understand that the big money wins. It makes me sad. Let's take the big money out of gun-owning and see what happen.

Women and Work: Bands are businesses too!

This is really a note of appreciation to a band: Heart.

I recently watched the TV special about the bands and artists that were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this year. One of them was Heart, a band founded by two sisters, Ann and Nancy Wilson.  They have been together since the early 60s, almost as long as the Rolling Stones, but really became popular in the 1970s and after.

Photo courtesy Heart-music.com

As they accepted their award, it was interesting to listen to them talk about being women in business. They talked about having kids, working when their kids were small, and dealing with a male-dominated business all these years, too. It was interesting because you really don't think of a band as a business, but it really is. They are artists as well as entrepreneurs. Their business employs a lot of people and earns a lot of revenue. I saw Heart for the first time at the University of Illinois on November 15, 1978. They absolutely blew me away. I covered the concert for the yearbook, Illio, and in the yearbook I wrote that it was strange to see men carrying roses to them on the stage, and that they really had a cult-like following on campus.

After all these years, Ann and Nancy Wilson showed during their recent Hall of Fame induction that they have aged well, they appreciate their fans, they have remained with their band, and held their business together against many odds that have shattered and shuttered other businesses, let along bands. As a woman who came of age just a few years behind them, I appreciated seeing them in 1978, and they gave me a perspective on music that I didn't have before. This year, they gave me a perspective about being women in business and entrepreneurs that I didn't fully appreciate. I have tickets to see them this summer at Ravinia here in the Chicago area, and I am really looking forward to it. It is great to see strong, talented women who have beaten the odds, created amazing songs and memories for their fans, and earned their place in music history. Cheers to Ann and Nancy Wilson, and to the boys in their band too!

There's something to be said for leisure....

There's something to be said for leisure. One of my good friends recently reminded me of that line from one of our favorite movies, White Christmas. The line in the movie was in the context of the retired general remaining retired and being too old for active duty.  My friend reminded me of it as I prepared to leave one professional role and begin to determine what my next role will be. She assumed I would be taking it easy for a while while I had my thinking time.

My trouble is that leisure is not a word associated with me or my workaholic family. I come from a long line of people who think that holding down only one job makes you a slug. Most people in my family have a primary job and then one or more other jobs. It is probably the work ethic of my Polish ethnicity that has been handed down through the years.

So, as I determine what I want to do for a living for the next few years, I am very busy with non-profit work and for giving my skills to friends who own locally-owned businesses.

So I am sure there is something to be said for leisure, only I am not sure what it is!