Andrea Wilson Woods' Blog

Best-selling author and marketing genius Seth Godin recently said on his blog, “You don’t need a new plan for next year. You need a commitment.”

When I started thinking about New Year’s resolutions, Seth’s words kept running through my head. Why plan to do something? Why make resolutions? Why say “I’m going to try to …” Instead, make a commitment. No ifs, no ands, no buts. Commit to doing whatever it is that you say you are going to do every year but somehow never accomplish.

Thanks to Seth Godin’s insightful words, I don’t have any New Year’s resolutions; however, I commit to do the following things in 2012:

1. Finish the second draft of my book. I have been dealing with this goal off and on for three years. Mostly off. I could use the excuse that writing is time-consuming (it is), but the truth is working on my book is like cutting my carotid artery open every day. It’s painful and messy—not healing and cathartic although people assume the latter is true. I feel drained, exhausted, and emotionally spent after working on my memoir. I hate it.
2. Do yoga once per week. Working out five times per week with a combination of yoga, cardio, and resistance training would be ideal (remember EMAO?), but I’m not exercising at all right now. Therefore, it’s best to keep my commitment realistic given my time constraints. Yoga Blend has two classes on Sunday that I enjoy so all I need to do is pick one, drive there, and appreciate the “me” time while I enhance my yoga practice.
3. Write my blog a minimum of twice per month. While I commit to writing twice per month, my goal is to write every week. However, like yoga, I need to have reasonable expectations of my time and energy. As a full-time Social Media Specialist, I spend eight hours a day looking at two computer screens. Despite my numerous blog ideas, sometimes I don’t even check my email when I get home let alone start my laptop.
4. Complete my 52 Postcards in 2012 project. This year I am going to write a postcard every week to someone I know or don’t know (perhaps you my devoted blog reader?). To see how you can become a recipient of one of the many postcards in my collection, click on 52 Postcards. This experiment is an exercise in writing, discipline, and a great way to share my postcard obsession with others.
5. Learn more about wine. This commitment may sound unnecessary, but it’s related to my job at TGIC Importers. I will continue to attend wine tastings at Vendome Wine & Spirits to improve my palate. I am considering taking Wine Spectator’s free, online, self-paced courses. Depending on where my job takes me, I might even enroll in the Wine and Spirit Education Trust program.
6. Stop picking at my cuticles. You know how some people resolve to lose weight every year, but never do? Well, that’s me and my relationship with my cuticles. I don’t know why I pick at them. I’m not even aware of it half the time. I don’t bite my nails—never did, but there is something about my cuticles that I cannot resist. This year I commit to not pick. It’s gross. It’s nasty. It’s unladylike. If you see me doing it, call me out.
7. Quit watching my soap opera The Young and the Restless (Y&R). I can already hear the groans and chuckles, but you have to understand. Y&R debuted in March of 1973—five months shy of my first birthday. My mother watched the soap from the beginning with me in her arms. I remember when Nikki was a young stripper who fell in love with the self-made millionaire Victor Newman. I haven’t seen every Y&R episode. I even went years without watching the show, but I know its history better than I know my own genealogy. My friend MB and I text each other about the repeated, tired story lines. After fast-forwarding through three episodes in one hour, I realized I don’t care anymore except … I want to know who killed Diane Jenkins, and I’m counting on MB to tell me.*

AWW — XoXo

P.S. What are your commitments in 2012?

*I already deleted Y&R from our DVR. One commitment down, six more to go!

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Every time I have turned on the TV this past week, there is another reminder about the tenth anniversary of the September 11 terrorist attacks, as if our country could ever forget. I cannot believe that someone made the decision to release the full audio recordings between the military and air traffic controllers that day. What purpose does it serve? It reminds me of when I saw people jumping out of the Twin Towers in the documentary Giuliani’s 9/11. I knew it happened, but I didn’t need to see a close-up of the tragedy.

I wasn’t in New York when the attacks happened. I don’t have an amazing Manhattan 9/11 story. I was in Burbank, California, home-schooling my sister Adrienne for her sophomore year of high school. By September 11, Adrienne was enduring her fifth round of chemotherapy in an effort to fight Stage IV liver cancer. With tumors scattered throughout her lungs, she was unable to breathe deeply and tired easily. However, she wanted to return to school and her honors classes more than anything else so on the morning of September 11, she was working on World History.

***

While Adrienne works on her assignment, I turn on the television. I have this odd, yet sudden, desire to see the news, which I never watch because nothing good ever happens. I start switching channels until I realize the same thing is on every channel: the Twin Towers in New York City are on fire. I read the ticker at the bottom of the screen. Terrorist attacks? In America? Then suddenly the network shows a replay of what appears to be an earlier event. A plane collided into the South Tower causing a burst of flames to appear followed by an explosion. Oh no. The time listed on the frame is 9:02am—Eastern Standard Time—but it’s noon already in New York. This colossal event occurred three hours ago, and I knew nothing about it.

“Adrienne, you need to see this.”

“But Sissy, I have so much work to do.”

“Take a break. Now. Consider this a history lesson.”

Adrienne sighs as she gets up from the kitchen table. As soon as she turns around and sees the TV, she gasps, “What happened?”

“I don’t know kiddo. Let’s find out.”

We sit together and watch as the events of the morning replay themselves. We discover another plane hit the Pentagon although fewer casualties are expected there. A fourth plane—believed to be on its way to the White House—was diverted by the passengers who attacked the hijackers; the plane crashed somewhere in Pennsylvania. Adrienne recalls her friend Sharon is staying with her father in a town near Philadelphia, and she insists I try contacting Sharon to make sure she is okay. Her concern makes me think about people I know in Manhattan—one person in particular—and I wonder if he is alive.*

Just when we both think it cannot get much worse, the news replays the South Tower collapse. Adrienne and I watch with our mouths agape. “How could this happen, Sissy?” she asks.

I wonder if she remembers asking me that same question about the outcome of the O.J. Simpson trial, and I feel inadequate that six years later my answer is the same. “I don’t know.”

I use the attacks on America to begin a dialogue with her about Ancient Greece. I ask her what’s she has read so far and what she has learned. As I listen, Adrienne speaks in detail about democracy and how the Greeks influenced our government. Her eyes are alert and the more she talks the faster her speech gets—just like she used to be before the drugs slowed her down. She begins defending an individual’s right to freedom, and analyzes what the terrorists hoped to gain by attacking the United States. I finally have to stop our discussion because she has a lot of work to do. As I turn off the television, I make a mental note of all of the people I need to contact. Beyond saying a silent I’m so sorry to the victims and their families, I’m too busy fighting a war in my own home to comprehend what has happened.

***

I didn’t fully understand the impact of 9/11 until I saw the victims’ names unveiled at the Superbowl on February 3, 2002. By that time, Adrienne had been gone almost four months. In public, I lived in a frozen state of “being fine” because I didn’t know how else to be. At home, I often stayed on the couch for hours unable to move or I made lists of menial things to do so that I would remain busy, busy, busy. Too busy to think. Too busy to feel. However, seeing all names of the 9/11 victims on the TV screen forced me to feel. Silent tears slid down my face. The list seemed endless.

I don’t want to remember 9/11 because Adrienne died less than a month later. Commemorating the tenth anniversary of the terrorist attacks means I have lived ten years without her—a truth that I live every day, yet I find unacceptable.

I will never forget September 11, but please don’t ask me to remember.

AWW — XoXo

*Adrienne’s friend Sharon and my friend Will survived the 9/11 attacks.

Posted under Adrienne & News | 2 Comments »

Do you remember The Game of Life? Originally created by Milton Bradley in 1860, Life received a makeover 100 years later, and I’m almost positive that we owned the 1963 edition. I played the game often as a child, but I didn’t enjoy very much. I didn’t like that girls had to be “pink pegs” in the pawns (i.e., plastic cars) and that part of the objective included obtaining wealth, getting married, and giving birth to children. I didn’t want those extra pegs in my car. Even at eight years old, the whole concept seemed so ordinary to me. I understood that the game was supposed to reflect “real life” but it didn’t represent the one that I wanted. Therefore, winning Life didn’t matter as much to me as beating my brother at Monopoly.

Except for The Game of Life, I have always been competitive. I never bought into that saying, “It’s not whether you win or lose; it’s how you play the game.” Bullshit. The objective is to win. Many people don’t play games with me anymore because I am too obnoxious. My husband and I can’t play each other in Trivial Pursuit because we get too mean, but we make a ferocious team. I love games because like math the answers are definite.
1 + 1 = 2 or Earn six pie wedges by answering tough questions and then answer one final question (selected by your opponent) in the center hub. Of course people interpret them differently, but for the most part, the rules of games are clear.

Real life, however, doesn’t work that way. It is far more subjective, enigmatic. I remember my dance teacher used to wear this t-shirt that read, “He who dies with the most toys wins”; he collected Porsches. Unlike the board game, I used to think “winning the game of life” meant having an incredible career. Later, I realized that being Adrienne’s parent made me happier than any acting role ever did. For example, I scheduled the final dress rehearsal of a play that I directed, produced, and wrote around Adrienne’s 13th birthday party, which I refused to miss. No matter what, she always came first.

Even though I did everything that I could, a part of me feels that I failed Adrienne. I didn’t help her win the game of life. I didn’t see to it that she made it to the finish line. It is as if she lost her turn and never came back to the game. Like she quit, but that is not what happened. She never gave up even when she knew her time was running out. Like a tired boxer in the ring, she kept fighting and every time a doctor counted her out, she got back on her feet and threw another punch. She refused to suffer a knockout. She finished the fight on her terms—she died at home in peace.

All of these years, I thought Adrienne had “lost” the game because she didn’t survive cancer and because I had lost her. I had it all wrong. Even though Adrienne was not as competitive as I am, I instilled in her the same aim: Play to Win. If life were a boxing match and the judges had to decide between Adrienne and her opponent—cancer, there is no question. Adrienne won. She led a successful life. She made some of her dreams come true. She inspired her friends; she continues to inspire me. While cancer may have beaten her down physically, she never allowed it to take away her heart, her spirit, or her soul.

When asked what they want for their children, parents usually reply, “as long as they are happy and healthy” but all parents have dreams for their children. When I was a kid, my father told me that I should be a doctor because I love to read. I guess he figured that I could survive medical school. I didn’t have a career selected for Adrienne, but I wanted her to leave home for college, preferably a four-year university such as Stanford, Berkeley or an Ivy League school on the East Coast. (She preferred my alma mater USC.) I wanted her to realize that there was nothing wrong with making money from her art. I wanted her to learn to drive a stick shift. And of course, I wanted her to be healthy and happy.

But Adrienne never graduated from high school, sold her art, or drove any car. She suffered from depression long before cancer invaded her body. She didn’t have a chance to do the things that I wanted her to do, but my dreams for her should have no bearing on whether or not Adrienne lived an extraordinary life. Even though I don’t like the outcome, Adrienne won the game.

It does not matter how you play the game of life  … it is how you define winning. Therefore, Adrienne is a champ.

AWW — XoXo

P.S. Happy Birthday baby—you are the champion of my world. I miss you so much. Keep playing Queen for me, okay?

Posted under Adrienne | 3 Comments »

Many teachers, peers, friends, and even family members have asked me why I’m writing a book about raising my sister Adrienne. For the longest time, I either didn’t have an answer, I made up one, or I accepted whatever the person assumed such as  it is a cathartic experience (it’s not—it’s fucking torture). Suddenly, I figured it out tonight while I was glancing through other people’s profiles on Facebook—to be more specific I was looking at Adrienne’s former friends and reading about their lives.

I’ve known the answer all along, and it’s so damn simple. I don’t want people to forget about Adrienne. Her life. Her experiences. Her unbelievable strength. Her sadness. Her courage. She’s my hero. Please don’t forget her.

Don’t you forget about me
I’ll be alone, dancing—you know it – Simple Minds

AWW — XoXo

Posted under Adrienne & Writing | 4 Comments »

I am finishing my thesis in the summer instead of the spring. Tomorrow I start day 139 out of 147 days—in the home stretch now. I’ve already written the epilogue, which is far from perfect, but at least it’s done.

I hate answering the question, “Why are your writing your book?” because sometimes, I don’t know. It is not a cathartic experience unless opening your femoral artery and bleeding nonstop is good for you. Give me the scab please so I can heal already.

AWW — XoXo

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