i guess we always have hope

At various times in my life I have always wanted just a little glimpse into the future.

I wanted just a glimpse to help me in my decisions. But my present day, the one I am living in 2011, was once just the future of a starry eyed freshman. And for all the good that has happened in my life, I am grateful Jenette of freshman year at Utah State wasn't able to see Jenette of today.

Tonight, as I breezed past Moen Hall in just a few seconds, I remembered that freshman year at Utah State . It was a turning point in life. Previously, life had generally been dictated by the decisions of others--where to move, what food was around, where to go on vacation, etc. Moving away meant decisions became mine, for better or worse. From that day forward, it was up to me to decide. The decisions of others still played a role, often very important ones, but I could always process the results of those decisions knowing that someone had made a decision.

Since then life has always fallen into those two categories of decisions--decisions of others and my own decisions. Often decisions of other have hurt me. Sometimes my own decisions prove to be devastating. Other times I make good decisions and life turns out wonderfully. And often, the decisions of others have blessed my life immensely. It has always been about managing those choices I make and those made around me.

But there is also an option I hadn't thought much about...things that happen that no one decides. They happen through God, or the universe, or mother nature, or the human body, or science--what have you. When these things happen, it is hard to know how to proceed, and I find myself wishing I could see into the future. But in the moment I wish for that, I know I don't want it to come true.

On one hand, I think freshman Jenette would have gained a lot of confidence knowing that she would find a career she loves, go to grad school, live in Washington, DC for a short time, and work at an incredible Museum. Seeing into the future would have been a confidence booster. But on the flip side, if I could see the things in the future that aren't so positive, the sickness and heartbreak, I would be devastated. Knowing such things were ahead, how could I have even moved forward with any confidence?

And that leaves us with hope. Because even in the midst of heart breaking sadness, we can hold on to hope. Maybe the future is going to be no more brighter than it is at the darkest moment, but the hope that perhaps it could be bright again gives us some strength. And when things then turn out better than we could have ever imagined, what amazing joy we can feel. And if things don't turn out how we would have hoped, we can look to the past, knowing we had strength once before, and look to the future, again, with hope.

transition times (with the option of hope)

As a history nut, the past fascinates me. Unfortunately, I also can get a little obsessed with it as well (generally this happens with my own past). As I have begun to feel more comfortable with my new job, I have found the fun in getting to know the past of Park City. And how I wish I could have seen those days! Don't get me wrong, Park City of today is a fun little place to play, but I really wish I could have seen it then. The booming mine town. The early days of skiing. Saloons. Red Light District. What's not to love?! But lately I have wanted to see the Park City of the 1950s and 60s. Probably not the most exciting time in the towns history, needless to say. Some called it a "ghost town." Mining still happened, but was not the glory days it had been. Skiing hadn't taken off. It was the transition time. If you have been to Park City today, you know the quaint ski resort town with fun Main Street, teeming with restaurants, galleries, and bars and mountainsides of outdoor fun. Goggle it, if you haven't been there, and you will see a resort town dream. But at the Museum, we have some great pictures of a dilapidated, run down Park City, where paint is peeling off buildings and you can almost picture a tumbleweed rolling down the road. This is the Park City I am currently obsessed with.

Maybe I'm obsessed with this time because things were so uncertain there in Park City. It could have become another random ghost town. No one knew the future--they knew the snow was good, but they couldn't have seen the resort town it is today. Lots of people moved. Some stayed. And Park City was eventually reborn. My life is going through a transition too. It has finally hit me that I moved (I know, delayed reaction of about six months...), have a good job, and an apartment all to myself. So it's creating that new life. And truth be told I have always hated the transition time. I hate change. And then I dwell on the past. Nostalgia is easy. It is easy to spot the things you should have done to make things easier now. It is easy to remember the good times. It is easy to spot the diverging roads in your past that could have led you somewhere else. It is harder (for me, anyway), to look ahead with the option of hope. Hope that my life won't turn into a ghost town, but will instead be a resort destination. I have had a few major transitions in my life, and each time has found me fighting those transitions tooth and nail. But, in the end, I have always loved what transpired . So I'm sure I will love what happens next in my own little history.

P. S. Though I think I would love it more if it didn't involve snow in April. *Sigh* Spring in the Rockies is highly overrated.

generation x

I have been obsessed with generations lately. This is due to a new traveling exhibit at the Park City Museum called Our Lives, Our Stories: America's Greatest Generation. This is an interactive exhibit, with 1950s kitchen and tv dinners (with a tv that plays commercials) and a 1930s soda fountain with a radio announcing the attack on Pearl Harbor. Along with all the fun little gadgets, the exhibit uses oral histories to tell the stories of the Greatest Generation. You won't find all the facts and world leaders of WWII, for example, but you read and hear people's experiences regarding this period of time. It has made for a great time for people to remember and learn about this time and important generation.

Here's our Museum's link about the exhibit:
http://www.parkcityhistory.org/exhibits/our-lives-our-stories-americas-greatest-generation/

Alright, so in my planning for school programs, tours, (and maybe some programming!) for the exhibit, I have been interested in all the "other" (not greatest, I guess) generations. You have the "Silent Generation" after the "Greatest Generation" (basically those born during the war, fought in Korea, etc.), then the "Baby Boom" which we all hear SO much about. Then, smashed between the Baby Boom and the oh-so-delightful "Millennials," we have my generation, "Generation X." I barely squeeze in by most accounts, it's true. But I am glad I do. Although the Millennial generation seems (or maybe likes to think it and promote as such) to be taking over, I am glad to be the kind of quirky generation between two monsters (population wise...of course).

I am glad I remember all that "grunge" music and Kurt Cobain. I am glad that we have this stereotype of being resistant against the norms and establishment. I am glad we have all those great movies from the 80s (though, to be fair, I discovered them after the 80s....I didn't have a tv when I was a kids, after all). I am glad I grew up without relying on all this technology (though I am glad people were always worried about our TV watching, etc.). I am glad I really loved Titanic when it came out, then retroactively hated it. I am glad I am one of those "latch key kids" (okay...my parents were always there for me--but they are divorced). I am glad I watched Beverley Hill 90210 for a bit. I am really glad I had really bad hair and clothes. My thinking about right and goodness in the world was shaken by 9/11, but that only added to my growth and development into an adult (which I'm still not, I am convinced).

I am glad for all of these things, because despite the stereotypes, Generation X has adapted quite well to the world--I think. See, there is this station here in Salt Lake that only plays Gen X music. I listened to it for a few days straight because of this generation obsession of mine. There were some great flashback moments to music I haven't heard for awhile. But so much of the music is not good. So that's the beauty of life--we evolve. Stations worth listening to take the good from that Gen X and mix it up with the good stuff of today. Hopefully my life can take the lessons I learned and the good from my growing up and mix it up with what I'm learning today to create something really wonderful. The trick for anyone, I think, is to not get too caught up in any one stage of our lives. When that happens, life becomes less wonderful because we aren't discovering all of the great things in the here and now.

Okay, that's my ramble.

Oh, one more thing--remember Crash Test Dummies? Ha, ha... The lead singer Brad Robers was in (Or will be? I can't remember now) Park City. It's just funny to remember that funny song they had. I hadn't given it a thought for years, then I saw that.

tourism on a whole new level

So, I have been finding new ways to think about tourists since I now work in a Museum driven by resort tourism. It has been enlightening, and has caused me to readjust my thinking about my work in Museums. Tourists in DC are a bit different than tourists in Park City. And the local population that would visit the Museum in Park City has very different expectations than the population in DC. It is going to be a fun journey in planning educational opportunities for these diverse populations.

But mostly I am glad I am not in charge of one of the world's (soon to be) newest tourist attractions--Chernobyl. Yep. The Ukraine wants to turn this delightful spot into a tourist spot. Apparently radiation in some spots is returning to normal. So there you go...book your next flight asap.

http://www.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/europe/12/13/ukraine.chernobyl/

what we need

What we want isn't what we always get. That's what we tell kids when they can't have the toy, the candy, more playtime (rather than going to bed or eating). We're the adults, so we can tell kids that. But do we listen to our own lessons? We aren't that much different. Recently I have been whining because I have something amazing, but it isn't what I wanted. But the truth of the matter is, rather than getting what we want, we often get what we need instead. That is annoying to kids. And quite frankly, it is annoying to me too. In the moment, I get frustrated by the disconnect between wanting and needing.

But tonight I remembered back one year ago, to my birthday. I needed a break from the city, from people. So, I drove myself out to the Shenandoahs. I really wanted to see the fall colors. The beautiful leaves. Some peace from the noise, from school, from boys ruining my life. It was a gorgeous drive. The mountains were great. The small towns were amazingly charming. It was beautiful and it was fall in all its beauty. Rolling landscape and comforting trees.

When I got there, I drove a little higher in elevation. And then it happened...it started to snow on all the beautiful fall colors. The snow was ruining what I had wanted so much! At first I was a bit sad, but that sadness turned into pure joy. I couldn't help but feel my soul giving a huge sigh of relief. The snow was what I really needed that day. I had wanted the fall colors, and they were amazing, but I got something much greater in the journey--snow. I hadn't realized that is what I needed, but it was just thing for my soul. (Of course, little did I know that a few months later I would have had enough of snow! Ha, ha...)




And so goes my life. I wanted a job so badly. But I didn't realize I didn't want one in Utah until I got it. So I mope. And I continue to whine, just a bit. And I just wait for the snow (metaphorically...though I know it is literally right around the corner). The snow that will let me know that this is indeed what I need more than anything I could have thought I wanted.

So, I just breathe in the cold mountain air and I let my life just be. It's a great journey, to be sure. Patience is not my strongest virtue. But patience is what I will have to exercise. The patience to allow time to pass so that I finally will accept that what I have and got is exactly what I needed all along. That's the trick for me. Because when I feel that joy in my soul, that sigh of relief, I will know that what I needed all along is also what I wanted, but I just didn't realize it. And I will be okay that I am back.

i think it will be okay

On Tuesday, I stubbed my toe. I was in so much pain, I just cried like a little kid on the floor for a few minutes. I then washed off the toe and put a band-aid on it, because isn't that what makes pain go away? And I didn't look at it. I was afraid the toenail would come off if I touched it. I didn't want to deal with it, so I didn't. And that about sums up how I handle life. Painful, hard things happen. I cry for a minute. Then I ignore it. That's just how I deal. To me, it's the only way.

Then, slowly, I start to make sense of what has happened. I inspected my toe a bit more yesterday, putting neosporin on it. Working around the thing that happened. And then tonight I finally soaked the toe, properly. Cut down the toenail as much as I dared (which seems to have helped). Basically, I did what I probably should have done on Tuesday. But sometimes, these things are just too much and it's easier to deal with it in increments. In a nutshell, I think the toe will be okay. Even if I lose the toenail, I think it won't be as bad as I first imagined.

The funny thing about this whole toe episode is that it was basically the straw that broke the camel's back. The event in and of itself wasn't terribly bad. But after a culmination of 4 very, very, very long and hard months, I kind of felt like not a whole lot more could go wrong. Kind of a Job moment for me, truthfully. I hadn't lost everything...obviously...I still had my family and some friends. But in truth I had lost a lot. Didn't have a whole lot going for me that anyone would care to hear about.

Then on Wednesday, I finally got a job! Very strange how the universe works... I will be working in Park City, same place I was doing my internship. I will be the Curator of Education (which is kind of a funny title to me...but I won't complain) and will be in charge of the educational programming at the museum and volunteers. I am excited. A little nervous. But really grateful that I think things will be okay. My toe...and my career. It may even be a bit of a new start for a new life, really. Because who I was when I lived in Utah before is not the person I am today. Lots has changed. A lot will continue to change. And I think I am finally ready to accept that.

why will i always remember it was tuesday?

Nine years ago. Just another Tuesday. I purposely had scheduled classes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday so I could substitute teach on Tuesday and Thursday. It was still too early in the season to ski. This Tuesday they hadn't called. I slept in. I woke up and my mostly unreliable roommate told me things that surely couldn't be true (and some weren't). But most of it was true. I did get called in to teach. But school was unreal. The pictures were unreal. The terror couldn't be true. And the heartache broke my heart. I was sure the world couldn't get any worse. We would surely learn after this. How silly of a history major to think. But I was very idealistic that year. And in nine years, the idealistic Jenette vanished just a little bit. When I walked into that school, I just knew there was a reason I would teach history. Somewhere down the line it just became about getting a job, sadly. Everyone I shared some time with on that day will forever be linked to my life. Watching the devastation on tv with Steph. And just crying that evening in my Maple View Apt. Some moments of my life are still crystal clear in my mind. Nine years ago was one of those days.

"Today I will remember that peace has not been achieved. I will tell my students there is a great need for them to do good and make a difference in the world. History is continually in the making-for the good and the bad. We need to be a part of that. Learning from the past and applying it to our future. May we all someday be united in peace, is my only prayer."

I wrote that nine years ago. Sadly, peace is hard to come by in this world today. But I remember the sadness. The heartache for those families. And, selfishly, I remember me. Someone who had lost a lot of hope, but still somehow saw the teaching moment, and even the potential for good. Despite the horrific day that it was.

It is good to remember that girl from nine years ago.