Hall of Fame

Just about a year ago, my son was offered a tremendous internship opportunity that, if successful, might lead to something real and bigger. A thrilling break, I was excited, proud, and expectant… and – in the middle of the night before his very first day – spinning … How would my boy who’d been through so much get himself out of bed on dark and cold winter mornings? Hear his alarm if I was traveling for work? What if he couldn’t (literally) rise to this? … Spinning, middle of the night, mom-worry noise… But I purposefully stopped myself, got up out of bed, put the light on… and meditated… If this is the energy I’m imposing on him, how can he ever have a chance? It stopped right there, in a commitment to myself that as long as we were in the same room, he’d never feel anything about that job but my hope, positive anticipation, and pride, and I stuck to it. A year later, he’s hired, promoted, and praised. And I’ve generalized that lesson – to the best of my ability – in all of my relationships, my kids, family, co-workers and friends. And, most importantly really, I actually, unwittingly and accidentally, incorporated it into how I relate to my own self. 

It just so happened that, the very next morning after the middle of the night panic epiphany, I woke, startled, to a different alarm. It was earlier, as I’d offered to drive him to his 6:25 train into the city, and in setting the alarm the night before, in addition to reassigning it as my daily wake up, I’d inadvertently assigned a song in my playlist to wake me. Hall of Fame by The Script. It’s one of my all time favorites (which Siri clearly understood, judging by the amount of times I played it, over and over and over, for entire road trips to Albany and the beach… literally hours and hours, over and over.) It’s really that good. Listen. I didn’t fix the alarm. 

And here, a year later, still, almost every single weekday, I jump up to that song and bang my chest as I look out the window to embrace the new day. Frequently, I let it continue to play as I head into the bathroom and look determinedly into the mirror. Sometimes, when I’ve accidentally pushed snooze, to the great annoyance of my kids who now claim (I refuse to believe) to hate the song, it will repeat in the background while I shower. I’ve learned that if I want to be happy, be the best, I need to believe it, feel it in my body and my bones. That song does the trick and gets me there at 6am.

How’s it working for me? Well, like Johnny, I’ve had a pretty great year myself. I’m happy, health is good, seen thousands of purple flowers. I’ve enjoyed personal and professional recognition, joyful holidays with my kids and family, rainbows, wonderful and joyous trips to Puerto Rico, appreciation for the good looks, kind hearts, and successes of my kids. I’m getting situated in a thrilling new job, got a new car… And, while I’m not so comfortable bragging about myself, this week, the connection back to the song became obvious in a facebook post from my son Billy…

“There are roughly 10 million women in New York State but only 63 of them are “NY Women of Distinction,” chosen by the State Senate. If it were up to me I’d only pick the lady from the 37th District who also happens to have given birth to me. So proud of my mom for this amazing accomplishment and also grateful for the opportunity to shmooze around with a bunch of Senators. Thanks for the awesome trip, and forever proud to be your son!— with Naomi Brickel at New York State Capitol.”

🎶…Be a champion… Be a champion… Be a champion…Be a champion … and you’ll be on the walls of the hall of fame ….🎶 …. 365 days of hearing, feeling, and being it… and well… There’s something real to this😎

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