Today someone I work closely with was “let go.” This has happened to me before. At my last job, one of my closest coworkers and friends was fired about six months after I started working there. But as with most things, it’s different at a nonprofit.

Of course, all of the regular emotions and issues are in play: Where will she go? What will she do? How will she make ends meet? Particularly in this economy?

But there’s also the question of what our institution just “let go.”

This woman was an integral part of the hospital, the university, and the community that surrounds it. She’d been working there for most of my lifetime, and a significant chunk of hers. There will never be another person who cared as much about the mission, the patients, and the families of the hospital. She was everyone’s go-to gal. If you didn’t know the answer to a question, inevitably someone told you to call her and she had it. She worked harder and longer than the rest of us and never asked for any recognition or attention in return. She cared about her coworkers and always made us laugh. I had talked with her before about why I got involved with The Foundation and she told me about how rewarding her job was. She was the type of person I hoped I would someday be.

Why do they say that they “let someone go?” It’s as if your employer were the only thing holding you up and they just couldn’t do it anymore. What a horrible analogy in this instance. By all means, this woman was the backbone of the place that employed her. Yes, she received a paycheck from them every month, but it was the least they could do in exchange for the glue that held everything together and made the organization what a beautiful thing it was.

Nonprofit organizations are started by people who care more about the mission than they do the paycheck. Many of our employees are like this even now, and that’s after more than 50 years as an establishment. Why is it that when funding is low, the first ones to go are the types of people that started it all?

I don’t have any answers. Just sadness. And the knowledge that things will never be the same.

A couple of months ago, my mom and I were shopping in downtown Seattle when she suddenly stopped me across the street from an American Apparel store, put on her serious face and said, “Meg, promise me right now that you will never, EVER, buy anything from that store, American Apparel.” I thought she was crazy. When I asked why, she told me about how their CEO was a “dirtbag” who sexually harassed his employees and responded to their legal actions with a general tone of, “I own this company, I can run it anyway I want.”

The first time I walked into an American Apparel store a few years ago (it was the one on West Burnside in Portland), I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. I wear almost exclusively solid-colored clothing, and that’s all they sell. It seems stupid, but it’s incredibly difficult to find plain clothing that doesn’t have some sort of logo or brand name on it. The store was a huge white room with every style of shirt, sweatshirt, and sweatpant that a person could want, and in a rainbow of colors. The wall was lined with photos of garment tags (from non-AA clothing) each declaring that the item was made in China, Pakistan, Mexico…anywhere but the United States. There was a huge sign on the window that read, “Crafted with pride in Los Angeles, California.” I was immediately on the AA bandwagon. Well-paid laborers! A factory in downtown LA! How could this be bad?

When my bowling team bought t-shirts and silkscreened them, we went to American Apparel. My friend Russ used to work at one of their stores, so he could get us their clothing at pretty good prices (because it turns out I can’t afford the fruits of well-paid American labor). When I saw friends selling screenprinted shirts at Saturday Market or the awesome guy who sells (406) shirts at Missoula Farmer’s Market, I was happy to see they used AA shirts and sweatshirts.

But that was all before I found out the company was started by a chauvinist asshole, albeit an asshole with a great business plan that supported American industry and laborers. I did a few searches on the internet and found out that Dov Charney has had three sexual harassment claims brought against him by four female employees. He routinely walks around his office and factory wearing only underwear (that he designed, of course) and does a whole slew of things that I would definitely consider inappropriate – things that would offend me and make me uncomfortable. If I worked there, I would get a new job before anyone even learned how to pronounce my last name.

American Apparel’s ads have always been a little strange. They’re usually grainy (artsy?) photos of just one person against a white backdrop, and the person is wearing an article or two of AA clothing. Sort of. They’re usually in some state of undress when (one assumes) a photographer jumps out of nowhere to catch them on film. I was never particularly offended by these ads (I grew up with Abercrombie ads, I may never be shocked by suggestive nudity advertising clothing), but AA just came out with a few new internet ads that involve partial nudity. Like, of the important parts. As far as I know, the naked photos are all of women at this point.

Do I think people shouldn’t be allowed to advertise with half- or completely-naked models? I’m not sure. I know the photos of nude women I saw advertising lotions or porn hotlines in France (different ads in completely different places) made me uncomfortable, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re wrong. To be honest, the first thought I had was, This might not bother me so much if there were photos of naked men as well. Which was followed by, I don’t actually want to see photos of naked men, I would just feel less gross about the whole thing if it wasn’t gender specific.

So I’ve come to this very confusing place. If Dov Charney has done even half of the things I’ve read on the internet, I find him simultaneously fascinating, awesome, and disgusting. I don’t really know how to feel about buying clothing made by factory workers that work under good conditions, are paid well, and receive benefits, when the person who signs their checks (and takes my money) calls his female employees sluts and talks about sex all the time. Do I really have to ask myself whether I’d like to support child and slave labor or sexual harassment when I buy a t-shirt? And if so, how the hell do I answer that?

It’s no secret that I have a huge crush on John Stewart. This video can just be added to the long list of reasons why. He makes just about every argument I would, and does it while still respecting his guest.

I can’t imagine how angry I would be if I were gay and someone accused me of making that choice. I’m outraged as it is, and I made the choice to be not-gay. The passing of Prop 8 and all of the other similar state constitutional amendments created a sad chapter in American history. Although, I suppose if we came from a history of slavery and ended up electing a black president, we can get through this as well. I just hope it’s soon…

If there’s anything I’ve learned from this long weekend with my friends, it’s that it’ll never be enough. After lots of brunch dates, happy hours, dinners, beers, laughs and photos, I realize that I can never get enough of these people. As I “grow up,” I try to live in the moment as much as I can, and I have been doing a pretty damn good job. I’ve loved every minute (and it’s not over yet!). I’ve tried to take as many pictures as possible so I can remember it until we’re all together again, whenever that may be. It will always feel like something’s missing, though, because I’ll always know they have to leave at some point. It’s sort of the way I feel when I leave home after a visit – like I’m conflicted by loving two places or things so much. How can I possibly want to stay here in Portland when my friends are spread everywhere from the Oregon Coast to Chicago? I love them all so much I can hardly stand it. They are my second family. My peri-family, as my mom would say. We fight like siblings, we make up and laugh, and then we say see you soon, not knowing for sure how long it will actually be. These people know me better than just about anyone in the world, and yet I want to spend MORE time with them. They accept me for who I am, even when I’m sick or tired or cranky. And they deal with me when I’m unreasonable. I can’t think of a more appropriate holiday weekend to spend with them.

I love you all. And I will never get enough of you.
Mego

On this Black Friday, I made a conscious effort not to purchase anything (naturally I excluded restaurants, seeing as I have so many friends in town and we have to eat and drink somewhere). I am also making the following resolution:

I will do my best this holiday season to help the American economy (and my own checkbook) by giving gifts that are actually useful or consumable and purchasing them from either local businesses or companies listed on shoppingforrmiracles.org. My plan includes the Holiday Artisan Market in Pioneer Square, the Portland vendors on Etsy, Little Finnegan’s, the Friends of the Library Store, and this cool store that Ben told me about today.

So relatives and friends beware – you will most likely be getting something from one of these stores or something edible (and delicious, of course) for Christmas/Hanukkah. If you have a preference either way, feel free to let me know.

I don’t think I’ve talked enough about my cousins on this blog.

My cousins mean the world to me. They are like the extra siblings that my parents just couldn’t handle (and I’m sure my aunts and uncles could never have handled my brother and me). I really do think of them as extended siblings, and I look up to them in many ways.

I only have cousins on my dad’s side. There are 14 of us, currently, and some are beginning to have children of their own. I am the 7th, and I’ve always liked being right in the middle. I’ve learned from my older cousins – I look to them for guidance and examples. I learn what it’s like to grow up and to make big decisions before I actually have to do these things. Through Molly, Patrick, Katie, Brian, Kevin and Kristin, I have learned how to choose a college, the importance of traveling abroad, what to look for in a life partner, the value of never really growing up, how to be responsible and live on your own while staying close to your parents, and most importantly, the significance of family in my life. Whether they knew it or not, they’ve been role models for me since the day I was born. Or at least since the day I learned who they were.

But my younger cousins have taught me many different things. Emily, who I can barely count as younger than I am, has always been my partner in crime. I’ve always looked up to her for her fashion sense, her intelligence, her drive, and her ability to find and appreciate the beauty in life. Connor, Sean, Kathleen, Maggie, and Kellen never cease to amaze me. They are some of the most caring, understanding, and funny people I know. They remind me that fun should never be compromised, and that being honest and being who you are is beautiful.

I would do just about anything for my cousins. Today, I wish I could do the impossible for one of them in particular. But I am thankful for them, my extended sibling family, and I hope they know how much they mean to me. From the side yard at Grandma and Grandpa’s house to the top of the Bear’s Hump at Waterton, from Kodaikanal to Baltimore, from Spokane to Bozeman, we’re all one big loving family.

A man named Noah passed away today in Missoula, Montana. He and I had gone to school together for years, but had never been particularly close. He was an amazing guy, from what I knew of him, and was one of the upperclassmen that always went out of his way in high school to say hi to the younger kids by name. Stuff like that was always a huge deal to me.

One of the incredible things about small towns is the strength of the community. I heard about Noah’s death from 3 different people all over the country this morning in a matter of hours. This is testament to how many lives he touched and what an integral part of the community he was.

It’s pretty incredible to google his name and see how many videos, articles, and blog postings come up (about him, too. Not some celebrity with the same name). There will be another article in the city paper tomorrow about what an amazing person he was, but today I read this one from last month. And here is my favorite part:

He taught us that, if by being true to ourselves, we wind up looking silly, so be it.

He taught us that the best possible target for poking fun is ourselves.

He taught us, Liston said, the value of human warmth, of friendship, of devotion, of humility. He also taught us that sometimes a bit of inappropriateness makes a point perfectly.

“What he really taught was that it’s OK to be ourselves,” Liston said.

At the end of Noah’s graduation of one, the speaker closed with one of the nicest things anyone may have ever said; “May you experience more love than you thought possible.”

On my way home from dinner with friends this evening, I was trying to think of what to write in today’s blog posting. And the prevailing theme of all my thoughts, when I looked back on my day, was how thankful I am. Seldom does a day go by in which I don’t think of how lucky I am to be living this life; whether it’s because I have a roof over my head and live comfortably, because I have amazing friends and family surrounding me, or because I am not lactose intolerant. But today’s thanks was very specific. The world conspired today to remind me how fortunate I am to have a job which I’m not in danger of losing anytime soon, and to be a healthy twenty-five-year-old with health insurance. I never knew that these things would be so important to me at this age, but today I was reminded that others are not as lucky as I am.

Thank you, world, for helping me put things in perspective. I continue to be firmly convinced that I am one of the luckiest girls in the world.

My cousin Kevin writes for the Baltimore Sun. I have always admired him and his writing abilities, (since long before he was published in The Best American Sports Writing) and I love reading his posts. He had one the other day that I particularly enjoyed, which isn’t surprising considering it was about sports, Montana, and Barack Obama.

Anyway, in my lazy NaBloPoMo state, I have decided that my post for today will be a copy of the comment that I just submitted to Kevin’s blog. I spent a while writing and editing it (not that I’m neurotic or anything…) and don’t have much left in me.

So here it is! It won’t make much sense unless you read his post first. Thanks, Kev, for being such a great writer and blogger.

Glad you’re back, Kevin. I really enjoyed this post. And because you said so many interesting things, I’m going to comment on a few…

I thought that Post article was interesting, and I was heartened to hear that so many small town folks were examining their prejudices during this campaign and also encouraging their community’s young people to travel and experience more diversity.

However, I’m always sensitive to the use of the term “diversity” to mean “black people.” When I lived in Montana, I used to think there wasn’t any diversity, in the true sense of the word. However, now, having seen other places, I realize that, as my mom says, “our diversity just looks different.” In a lot of ways, I think the fact that I grew up exposed to so few black people made me think that that was the only kind of diversity. When, in fact, I was surrounded by minorities with which many other people from larger cities may not be as familiar. Hmong and Russian immigrants, Native Americans, as well as members of the GLBT community colored my world in very important ways and helped me become the person I am. In some ways, moving away from Montana has made me realize this because the city I currently call home doesn’t include them all.

I would never argue with someone who said Montana was severely lacking African-Americans. However, I don’t believe it isn’t a diverse state.

That being said, I’m sure that some of the small towns in the Post article don’t include much diversity, be it racial, socioeconomic, or any other kind. Hopefully Barack Obama will be a positive influence in their lives in more ways than one. It sounds like he already has.

I loved your view on sports as a unifying force. Fivethirtyeight.com was a fixture in my daily surfing, and I always think about the power of sports when used in analogies. When I saw Michelle Obama’s brother speak, it was interesting to see the way the crowd reacted to his sports analogies… I had the same thought you did – this is something almost everyone can understand and relate to. Granted, the crowd wasn’t very politically diverse, but still an interesting concept.

Thanks for the great post. And welcome back!

Today marks the one year anniversary of this blog. Weird. So much has changed in that year. I got a new job, i ditched a boy and had another one ditch me, Brian decided to stay in Portland and three of my close friends moved away. It’s been a big year. And I’m glad I’ve been able to blog during the whole thing. In the beginning, I felt rather sheepish about starting a blog, for reasons fairly obvious when reading the definition of megolomaniac (right). But it’s become a therapeutic release for me. In some ways, I don’t care who reads this, I just feel better writing it down. Besides, putting your thoughts in writing forces you to process them more thoroughly.

Plus each comment serves as a little boost to my self esteem. :)