I lost my iPad Thursday. More accurately, I left it on a ledge outside of the Arlington Courthouse after a lively iPhone conversation with a headhunter about a potential job. Do I sound like an Apple product enthusiast?  Guilty as charged, I’m a hopeless addict; but this is not a post about Apple.  It’s about me and my loss.  And, hopefully, in some strange way, an offer of support to others who are afflicted with SILBLS (Shit I Loved but Lost Syndrome).

Yes, this was not the first loss of its kind. Let’s just take this summer.  Here’s the rundown since June: I left my magenta iPod in a taxi in September. And that was the replacement iPod for the one I lost in June (which was yet another replacement for the lime green one I lost months earlier). I’ve mis-laid and never found one sweater, a jacket and a hoodie. And then there was the ankle brace that I lost for 2 months and found in my pajama drawer (who would have guessed?).

Losing the shit I love is sadly NOT a new experience for me. Throughout my life I’ve lost so much. I’ve lost socks and keys and spreadsheets and books. There was my mother’s heirloom cameo – no idea where it went! My mother’s priceless jeweled handbag left at a company party. Alas, her $1,000 classic camel hair coat that was missing from the front seat where I left it — or think I left it. Oh…and the shawl from Spain she lent me? Vanished! Obviously borrowing ANYTHING from my mother again is out of the question.

I could go on…but by now you must get the picture.

So why am I writing about Penance?

I am doing penance for the totally irresponsible “flit-ation” that led me away from the thing I probably love the most: my iPad. Since I moved to DC (okay – full disclosure – Arlington, VA) in June, I suffered from a nasty case of “the lonelies” being away from husband, son, mom, sister, nephews, friends, cousins, aunts and, of course my beloved labradoodle, Luke. That loneliness eventually led me into the loving arms of Wellbutrin and Neurontin. But again I digress. Before Wellbutrin and Neurontin, there was iPad – my trusty dinner companion, social media connection and game opponent. From it I read books, listened to music and longingly browsed my iPhoto library. It delivered me from my loneliness and became my best friend. It even slept on the pillow beside me. Pathetic, huh? How on earth could I have so carelessly left something that I so dearly love so undeniably vulnerable?

How??? I have no idea. Maybe it’s genetics. Maybe I’m spoiled and unworthy. Maybe I have started to believe those labels I’ve slapped on myself. Labels like, irresponsible, forgetful, flighty and scatter-brained. I don’t know anymore.

All I do know is that I desperately want to go buy another. After all it’s not completely unrecoverable. I could buy a new iPad.  I reason with myself:  It will be an early Christmas present – it’s almost Thanksgiving, right?  I work hard.  I need a friend while I’m in the chilly clutches of the east coast. I deserve it, after all. And here’s where the penance fits in. Raised Catholic, I am viscerally struck with the guilt that comes from leaving a bad deed unpunished. New Advent defines it this way:

“Penance (poenitentia) designates (1) a virtue; (2) a sacrament of the New Law; (3) a canonical punishment inflicted according to the earlier discipline of the Church; (4) a work of satisfaction enjoined upon the recipient of the sacrament. These have as their common centre the truth that he who sins must repent and as far as possible make reparation to Divine justice. Repentance, i.e., heartfelt sorrow with the firm purpose of sinning no more, is thus the prime condition on which depends the value of whatever the sinner may do or suffer by way of expiation.”

If you can’t quite remember the definition of expiation, it’s “the act of making atonement.” Yep. That pretty much sums it up. If I go out and buy that replacement iPad too quickly, I will not have adequately atoned. My heartfelt sorrow must be expressed by a physical act of repentance; my carelessness must be punished!  And that punishment, dear reader, means that I’m going to have to go without that window to the world that became my friend. I’ll have to make do. At least until I’ve fully atoned.

This is Day-2. I’ve spent the day resisting the apple of temptation. I peruse the Apple online store and check out the prices. Maybe there’s a one-day sale that will make it too cost-effective to pass up (yeah, right). I casually walk by the Clarendon Apple store. I reach for the door. I even touch the cool, stainless modern bar of a handle imagining how easy it would be to walk right in and fulfill my desire; eat the apple I crave.  But I remember where that bite of the apple leads.  My hand drops off the handle so fast that the security guy at the door mumbles something into his lapel. Shit. I smile apologetically and briskly walk by.

So I’m sitting at the local coffee shop trying to change-up the scenery. I’m typing away on my trusty Macbook (with the hot pink translucent case). Shortly before the Apple store incident, I treated myself to a real book to read from home. Paper and ink will soothe me instead of the glow of the words on the screen. No more Boggle or Shuffleboard Bowling. TV, not Hulu for iPad, will lull me to sleep. I am bereft. Sigh. Why couldn’t I have rattled off a few Hail Mary’s and an Our Father instead?

Penance.

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My cousin Dennis Reitano, died a year ago, November 1.  I found the eulogy that I read at his funeral and thought I’d post it as a tribute to him a year later.  We miss him so much.

Good Bye Cousin Dennis
November 5, 2009

Yesterday I was walking along the Monterey coast when Janice called me to ask if I would say a few words about Dennis here tonight. Of course I said yes – I was honored though I worried that I wouldn’t be able to keep it together. But I felt that he deserved a fitting tribute. I walked along and began to reflect, to think about Dennis and about how much he meant to me. How would I go about expressing it? I looked out at the ocean – it was overcast and the ocean was steely and gray. It reflected my mood – sorrowful, pensive, gloomy. Still, I was able to pick out a couple of vibrant blue-green patches of ocean swirling around in the gray. The color, the beauty eclipsed the gloom. And I realized that it was a fitting metaphor. Though it is a sad time for me, for us, we can’t allow our sadness to overshadow the joy that Dennis brought to us;  to obscure the impact he had on our lives.

I can’t talk about Dennis without paying tribute to his mischievous side. We all knew naughty Denny. And I know we can all picture the impish grin of our own “Dennis the Menace”. Yes, he teased and pulled silly little pranks. As a child himself he would pull up the little girls dresses. As he got older, he would rib us about our boyfriends. Or frighten us with scary stories. I remember when I was 5, Dennis taught me Italian so I could surprise my Grandma, who was in the next room. He didn’t exactly explain what the Italian words meant in English. When he thought that I had mastered it, he sent me in to recite my lesson to Grandma. “Besse me kulu, Nana”, I said. She pinched my cheek, smiled sweetly and asked if cousin Denny taught me to say that? I said yes! Then she turned to Dennis and thumped him on the head.

I learned so much from Dennis – and not just Italian. He taught me about cars — how to recognize a sting ray and a jaguar. He taught me about music: Beachboys? Okay. Motown? Better. Elton John – cool; Jose Feliciano – very cool; Carpenters – not so much; they were “bubble gum”. Cousin Dennis even trained me to obediently wait on a man – a skill that still serves me today. Any of the younger cousins will remember Dennis planting himself on the sofa of whatever house he was in and asking one of us to “fix him a sandwich”; “get him some water”; or “grab him a pillow”. He certainly was not afraid to ask or to receive.

As I reflect on his life and the impact he had, I remember the funny stories. But mostly I remember a generous, loyal and kind-hearted soul. He was a cousin we admired and revered; a role model who taught us about family loyalty and respect. He was generous almost to a fault. As a young girl, I remember Christmas shopping with Dennis as he looked to buy just the right present for his mom – Aunt Betty. He loved to give to others. Not only things. But his time. Even as a teenager – the most rebellious time for most kids — Dennis was a loyal and attentive nephew, son, grandson, cousin. He always had time for the older members of the family – doted on them, helped them, talked as well as listened. He often stopped by to share a meal, a laugh or a bit of conversation with the family members that he loved. As an adult, he watched his grandmothers, many beloved aunts and uncles and finally his Dad slip away – but he was always there. Helped them, waited on them, fed them, visited them. We could always depend on Dennis to “be there”. Even the animals loved Dennis – from Cindy to Cleo to Eileen. He loved and was loved. The legacy he leaves behind is one of kindness and generosity.

I will certainly miss him. Holidays will never be the same again. I associate holidays with Dennis. I can see him driving up on Thanksgiving or Christmas – usually early, sometimes carrying a decadent dessert. We laugh, we eat, we gossip, we reminisce. And somehow, every holiday, he finds a way of slipping out before we’ve had a chance to say good-bye. We say, where’s Dennis? Did he leave? I thought of this yesterday too and realized that when I heard the terrible and shocking news on Sunday, I had the same feeling. I was disoriented. He left too early. And slipped away before I could say goodbye. But as sad as I was and as much as I wish his passing wasn’t so sudden, I realize that he hated goodbyes. Even in death he was able to leave us wanting more. Maybe this was the way that he would have wanted it.

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Just when you thought the season to celebrate was over, I’ve got one more holiday for you and I call it “Kick Ass Me” month.  At this time of year so many of us are preoccupied with making all kinds of resolutions about our future, promising ourselves to be all sorts of fitter, smarter, kinder, quieter, louder, better, stronger, faster. Our list of upgrades often sounds much more like the blueprint for the makings of the Six Million Dollar Man than a realistic strategy for our own self-improvement. Even putting aside our ever-rising bar, the real shame in our rush to be resolute with our oncoming year turns out to be that we don’t take time to celebrate all that we have already done, and even more importantly, everything that we have already become.

The poignancy of this truth came home to me recently when an inordinate number of my amazing female clients were refusing to accept their amazingness. (This can happen with men too, of course, but it was showing up profoundly for me with women). Instead of celebrating themselves on a regular basis they were mired in thinking about all the things they felt they should be by now and all the greatnesses they were adamant they should have already accomplished.  And believe me, these women exemplify what it means to be exceptional. Besides the successes they have achieved in their careers as business owners, entrepreneurs, and professionals, they also come off as funny, open, warm, sensitive people with rich, complex, exciting personal lives. And although I am honored to call them my clients, I am even more pleased to know they exist out there in the world just being themselves.

So I’d like to pose a few simple questions here…. Why is it so often easier for other people to celebrate us than for us to celebrate ourselves? What great harm do we think will come to us if we take a moment or ten to honor ourselves and everything that we are?  How can we shift from berating to celebrating?

PRACTICAL PRACTICES

I invite us all to embrace this next month as “Kick Ass Me” month.  During this time I encourage each of us to celebrate ourselves for our daily accomplishments, both large and small. Maybe you’ll want to celebrate yourself for the smile you bring to your son’s face or perhaps it’s time to acknowledge how hard you’ve been training for that marathon.  Maybe now might finally be the time for you to formally honor all those many qualities about yourself that the rest of us have always known as simply Kick Ass. There are many ways to celebrate.  Let me offer just a few….

• Say “Good for me!” This is actually a favorite of mine that I have been using for years whenever I do something that feels even slightly challenging.

• Treat yourself to something special. This will look different for everyone. For me, I might indulge in the guilty pleasure of reading People Magazine in the middle of the day.  For a client of mine, treating herself to a personal chef became the perfect way to honor her efforts. For you it might mean a yoga class with your favorite teacher or a weekend away. It doesn’t have to be expensive, just special.

• “Kick Ass Me” Memo. Write yourself an ongoing list of all the things you like about yourself, goals you’ve reached, ideas you’ve developed. Make it a regular habit of yours to update and reread this list.

• Throw a “Kick Ass Me” party. Here, instead of setting New Year’s Resolutions and bumming yourself out, you can declare New Year’s Revelations about how Kick Ass you already ARE!

In the immortal words of Kool and the Gang,

“It’s time to come together
It’s up to you, what’s your pleasure
Everyone around the world, come on!
We’re gonna have a good time tonight
Let’s celebrate, it’s all right
Celebrate good times, Come On!”

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Guest Blogger … Carmen Hudson, founder and President of Tweetajob

Let me just put this out there.  I am fairly suspicious of new age stuff.   I read horoscopes through the lens of “yeah, but that could apply to anybody.”  Why, I ask, do crystals have healing powers and ordinary garden rocks do not?  And life coaching?  Hogwash.  Isn’t life coaching just an MLM scam promoted by Deepak Chopra?

I’m suspicious, but not entirely dismissive.  I still read my horoscope, and I’m hopeful that the rocks I smuggled from Bali bring good energy into my home.  So it was with trepidation, and a fair amount of curiosity that I set an appointment to talk to Dory Willer, an award-winning (and certified) life/executive/business coach and founder of Beacon Quest Coaching.

Dory describes herself as a “cheerleader for the soul” and, having met her in person a few years ago, I can attest to the cheerleader part.  She exudes positive vibes.  Her eyes dance.  She wants you to do good things.

Our conversation – about an issue that was truly causing me stress – surprised me.  I always think I have the answers about my life.  I am a bad-ass when it comes to introspection.  I think I have a healthy understanding of my strengths and shortcomings.  I don’t need no stinkin’ life coach.    The issue I was grappling with involved communication, and settling differences.  I was handling the problem poorly, and unable to make decisions or move forward.

Dory helped me tip-toe through the issue and possible solutions.  When I told her that this was becoming too much for me – I didn’t like handling stuff like this — she whipped out my “thrive factors” from a few years ago.  Thrive factors are the characteristics I am most likely employ to make things work.  “You already have all of the tools to resolve this.” She said. “Remember?”

If I were Sarah Palin, I’d call this “gotcha coaching”.

My thrive factors happen to be, in no particular order:

• Seeing Possibilities
• Researching Things
• Adding Humor
• Writing Things
• Solving Problems

So there it was.  I was being a big baby.  I needed to unleash the characteristics I already carry around and dispense with this problem efficiently.  Write it down, she told me.  Work from the end state.  Duh. I know this already. I don’t need no stinkin’ life coach.

Yeah, right.

So why was I struggling with questions to which I already knew the answers?  Why did I need Dory to point out what should have been obvious?  I don’t know.  Sometimes we just need someone to clear the steam from the mirror, I suppose.

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