i don't care if you do want to list that necklace on etsy...

(Nigel the Indignant)

Identity Theft...

or I'm Not Who You Think I Am... 
or Mid-Life Confessions... 
or Strip. 

No matter what the title, this is a post about middle age. About brutally assessing myself and what I’ve become at this moment in time, all influences aside. Answering “who am I?” is not as easy as it sounds. Finding the real person beneath who our parents raised, society influenced us to be, our relationships created, or that people think we are, is a challenge.  

Asking, just plainly and nakedly, who (alone) am I is hard. I know that it's impossible to be objective or to completely dissect ourselves into autonomous beings. But as an exercise in self awareness I think exploring the question has merit. There are always going to be issues and psychological defense mechanisms blinding us. But I'm not talking about probing those kind of depths. That type of self awareness is a life-long, and hard won process. I'm just talking about the little stuff that we often take for granted. I mean, what is it you enjoy? Not because you like the idea of it, or how it reflects upon you, but what honestly gives you pleasure? Is it something that you can own freely or are you a little embarrassed by it? Or, are you like me, and find yourself so entrenched in old assumptions and priorities that you aren’t even sure they belong to you any more?

As a child I swam a lot. My mom had us on swim teams for years leaving me an entire album full of ribbons and medals. I didn’t like swimming. The truth is that I don’t like being cold, or wet, or so exposed. In fact, I can honestly say now that I HATE swimming. But I was just a child doing what was expected of me, something all of us experience as kids. 

Later, as an adult, we lived in a wonderful, artsy, liberal community of artists, activists, academics, and idealists. All things which I, at that stage of my life, valued. My neighbor and I formed a playgroup and I took Zoe to mommy-child art and music classes. We lived in diversity and among the "beautiful people" and I liked a lot about being there. It was nice. We had a cute little house, a garden, and a passable social life. But who was that? Who was the Sharon that shopped at "the Merc", cooking everything from scratch and going so far as to make my baby completely homemade broccoli quiche for lunch and refusing her any kind of prepared foods? The truth is that I wouldn't (then or now) touch broccoli quiche to save my life. Not to mention I absolutely hate socializing and small talk.  It was simply (albeit hypocritically) who I dreamt myself into being. Having Zoe and playing a parental role changed, if not me, my behaviors. As did marriage. 24 years of co-habitating with another soul drives you to the center of somewhere between who you are and who your partner is. Like the classic Seinfeld episode "relationship George" and "independent George" both exist, and a "George divided against itself cannot stand". 

So, as you can see, I’ve been pondering identity. Once you strip away 19 years of childhood/parental influence, 24 years of marital compromise, and 17 years of parenthood, what’s left? How much of the life I participated in building has ended up dictating who I’ve become? And, is striving to be my “better self” appropriating my true self and by extension my life? I don’t know. It’s just been on my mind lately. 

my Dad...

See The Original Story Here:

www.hometownlife.com

Joe Waldron of South Lyon never could ignore the stories his wife, Pat, told him about growing up poor. Pat recalled that the kids in her family never had new clothes or shoes, except for the generosity of a local Goodfellows organization.

“There's always been a place in my heart for the Goodfellows because of that,” Joe Waldron said.

When Pat's health took a turn for the worse last year, Waldron decided he would like to try to pay back that old debt to the Goodfellows. The Highland Goodfellows still help out local families in need — providing food, holiday baskets and assistance with bills.

Waldron started making small wooden toys and selling them after weekly services at Highland United Methodist Church, where he and his wife are members. There were no prices — just a table of home-made toys. Every penny would go to the Highland Goodfellows.

“I didn't know what would come of it,” said Waldron. “But I figured that I may as well try it.”

Waldron never was a woodcrafter — he has never had the time. The busy veteran spent many years on the line at the Michigan Truck Plant in Wayne.

Time off was filled with caring for children at his former Highland Township home. Pat and Joe took in a total of 19 foster kids from less fortunate backgrounds. They ended up adopting three, and raising them after their own three children were older.

Waldron had hoped to get into woodworking after he retired nearly 20 years ago. But part-time jobs and family matters took up most of his days.

Lack of experience did not stop Waldron from jumping into something new, now that life has slowed down a bit.

“I'll never have half the talent that most of these guys have, but it is something I like to do,” said Waldron.

He tried a couple of patterns, but mostly tinkered around to design little trucks, wagons and planes. He set up mini assembly lines where he cut and assembled a new vehicle each day.

“Pretty much September through Christmas-time I did nothing but make toys,” admitted Waldron.

The senior recently gave a few toys he made to the youngest of his 10 grandkids, plus his two great-grandkids.

“Down the road I think they will really appreciate having these toys their grandpa made,” he said.

He is hoping to teach his 10-year-old grandson to make toys when the boy visits in a few weeks. Yet, Waldron had the best surprise of all when his 19-year-old granddaughter showed a real interest in his handiwork.

“After she looked at pictures, she asked for one, so I made sure I sent her a few of them in the mail,” said Waldron.

Even in an age when every kid owns a mountain of shiny plastic toys, the children at Highland United Methodist Church were still mesmerized by the little wooden Jeeps and motorcycles. As children walked up to try out the toys, Waldron watched them with twinkling eyes. Toys that he created from a few pieces of wood came alive with the help of little imaginations.

The retiree ended up selling more than he ever expected. He collected more than $800 worth of donations for the Highland Goodfellows.

He also gave the leftover toys to the Goodfellows so they could be given away to local families with Christmas baskets.

Now that the toy project is finished, Waldron is having fun trying out woodcarving.

He recently finished an interesting looking man with blue eyes — made from aged driftwood. It may resemble Waldron, just a little.

“I've had this driftwood for a long time and I'm just now getting around to carving it,” he explained. “You have to go with the shape of the piece, and make it into whatever it shapes up to be.”