A Prayer

What a profoundly sad week.  

It started with a viral video of a random, brutal killing of a young woman on a train. Then came a horrifying political assassination of a young man on a college campus. And yesterday, there was a high school shooting on the 24th anniversary of 9/11, always a gut-wrenching day.

My heart is so heavy.

In moments like these I turn to writing.  So, here goes...

We are living in a time of massive political unrest, much like the 1960s, I suspect.  A powderkeg ready to explode with wars, protests, riots, violence, and assassinations, where the sanctity of human life comes a distant second to the blind pursuit of ideology, regardless of whether or not it is rooted in reality.

People casually toss heated words around like grenades: Oligarch. Autocrat. Fascist. Socialist. Marxist. Communist. Does everybody who uses these radical labels even know what they mean? Can they explain the differences?  

I know I can't. 

But we all know they are bad. Labels you don't want. Designed to hurt and dehumanize people with whom you disagree in order to justify awful actions. 

Words like these -- and worse -- when repeated ad nauseum and amplified by politicians, celebrities, the media, teachers, and your next door neighbor can hypnotize you into believing they are true and motivate the mentally unstable to act in unthinkable ways.

Ultimately, I think fear got us here. 

Fear of inconvenient truths. Fear of speaking up. Fear of opposing ideas. Fear of losing a deathgrip on absolute power. This fear has led to rage.  And hollow condemnations of the exact violence that gaslighting fearmongers have inspired makes it all worse. 

Inbetween my sadness, anger and shock of this week, I have to wonder... when did we stop agreeing to disagree? And when did the ideas we disagree with stop being simply WRONG and start being EVIL?

I mean, you'd do anything to stop someone truly evil, right?  Even something as extreme as taking a life feels justified when the stakes are that high.

But what if YOU'RE wrong?

There are no do-overs in life and death.

Whether it is the last gasps of a woman on a train, or a man on a stage or thousands in burning skyscrapers, death seems like the ultimate silencer -- quieting the deafening voices floating inside someone's mind or firing out of someone's mouth. 

But voices are stronger than bullets. And knives. And planes.

There are countless examples throughout history, from Joan of Arc to John Lennon. When someone attempts to unjustly silence a voice, it becomes an echo.  

On the surface, it may look like our country is divided left vs right, but I think the existential battle we are facing today isn't political, it's spiritual.

Good vs evil, hope vs hate. Could a belief in something bigger and better than ourselves fix this frightening state we're in? Maybe. Faith steps in to right our path when we've lost our way or swallows us up into the darkest hole when we turn our backs. 

Faith. We need more of it.

My faith is usually private. Quiet. And strong. Even as a Catholic, my faith doesn't expect me to sit in a church pew every Sunday to be considered a good person -- doing good things does!  Especially when they are hard or unpopular. 

On their worst days, people of faith don't look down, they look up. Anybody who thinks otherwise doesn't really get why people pray. It isn't the same as a wish you make on a birthday cake or a dandelion. It comes from your soul to ask for strength and courage in the dark.

Today is dark.  So this is me, asking.

We are at a tipping point. This experiment called America feels fragile and wounded, but I still wouldn't want to live anyplace else. Sitting here in the long shadow of 9/11, I never thought I would want to go back to that time. But amidst all that numbness and horror, a beautiful light emerged as our country united, as AMERICANS. 

Stitched together by what we had in common, not ripped to shreds by what divides us. 

Tonight, I pray to God that the brave souls who lost their lives 24 years ago and the precious lives lost this week will join a chorus of angels who will heal our nation.

We need it now more than ever.

Amen.

5 Years Post-Covid

Today marks 5 years since I last set foot in NYC, the place I spent most of my life.

Five YEARS? 

Wow.

Thinking back to February 2020, I remember taking trips to Orlando, LA and Chicago. And I thought nothing of it. I flew ALL the time -- at least once a month, usually more.  But in hindsight, you could feel the winds of change... 

On my way home from Orlando after visiting my parents for a few days, I snuggled into my window seat on a JetBlue flight to Newark that was typically packed with people, pets and personal belongings that did not fit in the overhead bin.

This time, I had the whole row to myself.  

How nice, I thought.

Next, in LA, at a women's business conference that I was working on, all of the conversatons drifted towards health. At the hotel, every morning and evening, we met up in the lobby. It was fairly empty, except for gaggles of international flight attendants rushing by.

All wearing masks. 

How odd, I thought.

A week later in Chicago, my brother and I took the kids out for my nephew's 9th birthday. We went to a movie theater to see Sonic the Hedgehog, and talked in hushed tones at a nearby restaurant about this mystery virus that was hitting the news, while my nephew and niece colored.

The restaurant was half-empty. So was the movie theater.

Should I be worried, I thought.

By mid-March, things escalated.  Quickly. 

Back in the office, Covid talk was EVERYWHERE so we came up with a plan for the team to work from home in shifts as a test run, on the off chance it became unsafe to be at work. 

On Tuesday, March 10, 2020 around 8pm, I left my office in the heart of Midtown Manhattan, on 5th Ave directly across from the New York Public Library.  I wore a black puffy jacket but you could feel Spring was just around the corner. I walked 5 blocks to my parking garage, got in my car, flipped on some tunes, and drove the 4 miles across the city, through the Lincon Tunnel and up to my apartment in Hoboken, NJ, on the scenic banks of the Hudson River. 

Little did I know...

That was the last time I would be in NYC.  I havent been back since. 

To this day, I SO wish I just stopped -- stood on the sidewalk and took it all in. The sights, the sounds, even the smells.

I wish I said goodbye -- and thank you -- to a city that I love.

Anyway, while I was making my way home to NJ, on the other side of the country, my boss was boarding a flight from LA to back to NY.  She was mid-air around 9pm when we got an email from our LA office saying someone in the NY office -- MY office -- caught the Coronavirus.  

Uh oh.

Our leadership team (minus my boss) quickly jumped on Slack and we decided to email everyone in our company and tell them to stay home tomorrow. It was late, but most people were up anyway. In that moment, I remember feeling a mix of fear and relief, kind of like when school was canceled as a kid because of some big snowstorm coming on the same day as an important test.

I decided to exhale and make the best of it... until later that night when my phone started buzzing.

It was after midnight, so technically now March 11th. And it went a little something like this...

What happened next? Well, she called, and let's just say she wasn't happy that we let the company work from home.  

To be fair, she had no way to know we were on the precipice of a once in a lifetime worldwide health pandemic. And the funny thing is, to this day, I think March 10, 2020 was the last time the whole company was in the office together as this kicked off many years of remote, then hybrid work schedules. 

But still...  

We were right to take it seriously and let everyone stay home.  

Later that same day, March 11th, the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a global pandemic. The US government declared a national emergency on March 13th as all businesses and schools were ordered closed in the days and weeks that followed.  

And so it began... 

2 weeks to "flatten the curve," which became 2 months, 2 years, and the rest is history.  

At first it was an adventure, then it wasn't.  I'm not really sure what a zombie apocalypse would be like, but maybe something like this.

The aftershocks have faded slowly with time -- the fear, sorrow and resilience.  A new normal.  It changed us all.  I wonder how history will look back on it.  

I'm not sure I recognize the NYC I see today, but I do miss the NYC I knew.  

Goodnight, Manhattan -- 5 years gone, but forever in my heart. xo

Brave New World

How is it 2025?!  

It feels like it was just the year 2000 -- a brand new century, half a lifetime ago. 

Remember all the hullabaloo around Y2K?  Banks will collapse! Flights will be grounded! Power grids will implode! The media had us whipped up into a frenzy. 

That seems so quaint and simple. 

Now, it's all about artificial intelligence. And nearly 100 years after Aldous Huxley put pen to paper, AI is taking over our brave new world...

On the one hand, it is EXCITING. I love new stuff! On the other hand, it will be pretty horrifying when a robot that's smarter than Elon, richer than Oprah, sportier than Serena, and sexier than Beyonce (or Madonna, in her heyday) steals my boyfriend.

Oh, who am I kidding? I won't have a boyfriend.

Anyhoo, one day AI will do literally everything for us. Except fold fitted sheets.  That shit is hard.

A win for the humans!

I guess it's only fitting that I asked ChatGPT to help me with this blog post. My request was simple: Write a rhyming poem on how great it is to be named Jennifer. 

It came up with 2 different versions in 2 seconds flat. To be honest, they are actually pretty good.  Then I asked it for a regal portrait (see above). It's giving Game of Thrones vibes, but I don't hate it.  Finally, I asked it to make me into an 80s doll. 

That one... not so much. (Scroll to the end to see what I mean.)

I guess I flew too close to the sun and got burned.  Let that be an AI lesson for us all.

Now, for the poems. e.e. cummings, e.eat your heart out...

Jenny from the Block (But Make It Jersey)

I’m Jennifer—call me Jen or Jenny,

One name, three vibes, I’ve got plenty.

From Bronx-born roots to Jersey streets,

I walk with rhythm, skip no beats.

A Leo queen with fire inside,

Long brown hair and fierce green eyes.

I speak my mind, I hold my ground,

And lift you up when feeling down.

Got that charm you can’t define,

Half big heart, half punchline.

From shopping malls to midtown lights,

I’ve worked real hard and soared to heights.

So whether it’s Jenny, Jen, or J,

A loyal girl in every way.

On city blocks, in garden skies,

This name? It’s legend—no surprise.

The Glorious Burden of Being Jennifer

They named me Jennifer—golly gee,

Like half the girls in ’73.

You shout my name across the mall,

And seven Jennifers will call.

In class I was Jen #4,

Behind a Jen, two by the door.

Our teacher sighed, “Just use last names,”

And thus began the nickname games.

There’s Jenny, Jen, "Nif" and “Fer,”

(Last two are weird, do not prefer.)

There's also Jenn with extra n,

A silly spell, like whyy or whenn.

Yet still, I love my name with pride,

Rolls off the tongue like theme park rides.

It’s friendly, cute, a comfy shoe,

And rhymes with… well, just very few.

So here’s to Jennifers, all around,

The finest flock that can be found.

We laugh, we lead, we own the show—

Even if folks call us all J Lo.

Nice job, AI! But go back to the drawing board on this one... she's creepy.