Broadway is The Only Way

By: Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

The last time I was in NYC I was practically a little girl. At seventeen I was scared and overwhelmed by the big city. I was at the mercy of my host, my boyfriend's older brother whom I had never met. He worked on Wall Street and lived in an apartment he shared with four others. The whole experience was weird and uncomfortable. I felt out of place and unwelcome. 

I do, however, remember being awed by the city as I walked behind my lousy boyfriend and his buddy (whom he met up with) while they traversed the city for hours through the night, sipping beers from cans in brown paper bags, reminiscing, and ignoring me. My feet ached and I was seething with resentment, but I took in all the buildings and brownstones. The sounds, sights, and smells of the city that bustled even in the middle of the night, made the experience bearable.

The next day, we walked through central park. I was mesmerized by its beauty. However, the first night was the most memorable. After thwarting a would be purse snatcher at a fast food chain, we went to the apartment where we were staying, and waited for our host to return from work. He rushed in, said "hello," and then pushed us out the door. Once outside, we jumped into a cab (my first ever cab ride) and we were whisked to a fancy restaurant for dinner. Following the unmemorable dinner, we we arrived on Broadway for a show.

The show that night was called Chess. Though it was excruciatingly long and boring, I knew I would come back someday and see a great show. I kept my promise to myself this past weekend.

When I planned my trip to NYC with my girls, I had four goals.  First, to support my daughter in her 5k race. Second, to eat delicious food and pastries. Third, to visit the holiday windows at the department stores on 5th avenue. Fourth, to see an amazing Broadway show. I can check all of those off of my list.

Though I was once again overwhelmed by the largess of the city and scared by all the unknowns, I was determined to have a great time and fulfill my goals.The best food was at a french gluten free bakery called NoGlu on Madison Ave. and at Rosemary's in the West Village. The race was in the Bronx at Van Cortlandt park on a beautiful sunny day. The best Holiday windows were at Saks 5th Avenue, and they did not disappoint. The Broadway show was Aladdin. 

I have seen off-Broadway shows in many cities including Cleveland, Boston, Pittsburgh, and even in my hometown on the stage of our local university. Nothing compares to the Broadway experience. Here is why you should see a show on Broadway at least once in your life.

1. The breathtaking costumes.

2. The spectacular and mind-blowing sets.

3. The amazing special effects 

4. The architectural beauty of the theaters. 

5. The orchestra

They orchestra is hidden beneath the stage

6. The sippy-cups of wine...of course.

If you ever have the opportunity to go the NYC make the most of it and see a show!

7 Ways Shopping Small Can Improve Your Life

By: Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

When I first drove into my current hometown, I didn’t know what to expect. Prior to ever laying eyes on the main street, I had spent years romanticizing life in idyllic small-town America. I envisioned myself living in a close-knit community of quaint, tidy homes lined up close but not too close to one another on tree lined streets. The streets would be arranged around the heart of the town, main street.

Main street would comprise of small businesses, restaurants, city hall, banks, a library and art galleries. In my fantasy, I would live in an older home with a big yard and front porch just a few blocks from the heart of the town. I would be able to walk to the town center to enjoy an evening meal, cash my paycheck, or borrow a new novel from the library. I would be able to easily access the parades and festivals that brought the locals together in annual celebrations. Locals would mingle with tourists and the town center would thrive.

As I traversed the curving roadways ascending from my relatively flat hometown in Northeast Ohio to the edge of the Laurel Highlands in Western Pennsylvania, I was awed by the verdant hillsides and brilliant blue skies. When I descended into the town of Indiana Pa, the main street did not disappoint. The brick buildings harkened from a different century with their Victorian details. The old courthouse gleamed with its golden shiny domed clock tower topped with a spire. City hall’s front yard showcased two icons, the American flag and a gangly statue of the hometown hero, Jimmy Stewart.

Upon closer look, parts of the town were in disrepair and could definitely use with a facelift, but the bones were there. Many shop fronts were vacant and the debris from the college students littered the streets. Despite its shortcomings, I fell in love with what I imagined the town to be.

I did move into town and one of its older homes which had the yard and porch I dreamt of. Eventually, the town rehabbed its shabby exterior erecting retro lamp posts and red paver sidewalks. New park benches and trees lined to wide walkways. More businesses moved into the vacant spaces and people began to return to town to spend their money at the local shops and restaurants. New festivals and annual traditions like a Folk Fest, a Beer Fest and an expanded Christmas celebration have drawn more tourists and even more revenue to our once ailing small town, my home of 24 years.

Like many small towns in this part of the country, much of the money is spent on the outskirts at box super stores like Lowes or Walmart. People stream out of town to buy coffee at Starbucks and eat at chain restaurants like Ruby Tuesdays. Residents choose to bypass main street for shopping because of convenience and cost. The big free parking lots and deep discount prices are undeniably tempting forces.

I argue that we cannot afford to take all of our business away from main street. Patronizing the shops and restaurants owned by our neighbors has more advantages than disadvantages.

The 7 Reasons to Shop and Eat Small:

1. Health: Chain restaurants tend to use poor quality food products, more salt and higher fat foods. Walking to main street is adding more exercise into your day

2. Trickle-down Effect: Local businesses are more likely to source local farmers and artisans. The income that is generated by local business owners results in more local taxes benefiting the community. This means better maintenance of our roads and infrastructures and better funding for our schools. Better educated citizens mean more income coming back into the community. Better roads results in fewer flat tires and costly alignments.

3. Decreased Pollution: Walking to shops means fewer cars put toxic fumes into the air. Shopping in-person with reusable bags decreases the number of packages being shipped which decreases the need for boxes, bags and packing peanuts as well as trucks and planes used to transport items.

4. Improved Self-Esteem: Your improved health, thanks to eating better and walking, is bolstered by the warm fuzzy feeling you get by purchasing products from your neighbors.

5. Improve Your Social Life: Aside from bumping into neighbors, you will meet new folks you have things in common with. This improves your sense of community as well as gives you more people to chat with at the local coffee shop.

6. Less Waste: Items purchased at local boutiques and galleries are often much better quality than the cheaper items you find at a dollar or box store. While you may spend more at first, you won’t have to replace it. You can buy one beautiful piece of artwork that will be a cherished gift rather than buying numerous small junky things for the people on your gift list.

7. A Happier Thanksgiving: If you shop Small Business Saturday you won’t spend your Thanksgiving clipping coupons and mapping an attack plan, or worse actually shopping. You’ll be able to sleep in on Black Friday knowing you will go out at a reasonable hour on Saturday to buy goods from your neighbors on main street sipping delicious coffee made at the local café realizing that Starbucks coffee kind of sucks.

Whether you live in a small town or one of the countless neighborhoods that comprise big cities like Pittsburgh, Chicago, Cleveland or New York, find your version of main street and take some time to peruse the shops' shelves. Relax in a local eatery. Talk to a neighbor. Give a tourist directions. Immerse yourself in the culture of where you live. 

Evolving Roles: The Complexities of Mother-Daughter Relationships

By: Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

I sat shotgun in my car as my daughter, who I swear just got out of diapers yesterday, drove us to my mother’s home for a much-needed visit. As I tried to distract myself from the fact my inexperienced teenager was propelling me in vehicle moving 70 MPH down a crowded highway, I could not help but reflect on the evolution of the roles of the women in my life. My mother, sister, daughters, and myself have all relied on and helped each other in ever changing ways.

Despite the few hotly uttered words and threats, my daughter delivered us unscathed to my mother’s house, three long hours away from home. She had been driven this route so many times over the last 16 years that she had each road name and turn memorized. She didn’t need me for guidance. She navigated her own way only requiring the occasional reminder to “stay in your lane” and “check your blind spot, you have to check your damn blind spot!”

The meaning was not lost on me. She needed me less. She was evolving into an independent woman. That’s what I wanted right?

My own mother is and always has been the most capable, self-reliant, savvy woman I know. I wanted to grow-up to be like her, to teach my girls to be like her. I want my girls to be able to fix a toilet, refinish furniture and grow a garden like their Nona. I want my girls to be able to hold down a career, maintain a home and raise two girls single handedly if necessary. I want them to be the homeroom mom, the scout leader and the kickball coach. I want them to be all the things my mom was for me and I try to be for them, though I am not nearly as good at it as Mom.

Lately, Mom has been encumbered with the stressful task of healing from a major surgery. She has had many tough surgeries over the years. Aside from her back surgery in the ‘70’s that kept her hospital bound for weeks due to the archaic protocol for recovery, she has never been this incapacitated post-op. She has never needed so much help in her life.

My mom is not too proud to accept or even ask for help, but I know it kills her. Fortunately, my aunt came from far away to care for mom. My sister, several years ago, moved back east from her beloved home in Montana to be close to our mom. By “close,” I mean next door.

During this time, my sister has altered her role in my mother’s life. They have been mother and daughter and best friends for years. Now the daughter has become the caregiver. Fortunately, their friendship continues to flourish.

My sister is an amazing dynamo of energy who has been able to carefully monitor and care for my mother while maintaining her career, home and friendships. I can barely keep it together as I try to raise teenaged girls, and do all the other things adulting requires. I admire her ability to stay calm in a storm, to keep a good humor even in the most stressful of situations and her steadfast devotion to our mother.

While my sister bustles around my mother’s home working side by side with my amazing aunt washing clothes, changing sheets, washing dishes, restocking groceries, winterizing the yard and overseeing her general health, I, from 170 miles away, try to keep her grandchildren on track while offering what little support I can from that distance. It never feels like enough.

My mom used to be the one to nurse us back to health, to offer us comforting foods and hot tea when we ailed. She was the one to run us to the doctor and clean our soiled sheets. Now she needs us.

On this last visit, once I stopped shaking from the nerve racking journey, I started to take notice of how my own girls are morphing into caregivers themselves. My older daughter drove and chatted with her aunt and Nona, while my younger one busied herself with little tasks like clearing dishes, making beds and general tidying-up. I didn’t even need to ask.

It is so interesting, as a mother, to take notice of all the things I say and do that reflect what I learned from my mother. It might be an expression or a go-to-meal. It might be a value or a life experience that I share with my girls. The generational gap and attitudes about parenting are evident in the way I raise my girls, but many things my mom taught me still remain part of the foundation of my relationship with my own children.

Now that my girls are nearly grown women, I get to see in them the things I have worked so hard to instill. They are beginning to be less self-absorbed and see that others need them and appreciate them. They have learned to reach out and offer love and support in a myriad of ways.

I am so lucky to be part of a family of strong and compassionate women. My mother, my aunts, my sister, my cousins, and now my own girls are integral links in the chain of my life. We are all self-reliant and capable, but committed to helping one another through the times when our own strength fails us. We don’t need to ask for help, but we can. We can rest easy knowing that there will be loving women to hold us up when we are feeling weak.

I know my mom is on the mend and soon will not need the constant support of my sister, her sister or even me. I will always remember this time as one of the moments in our lives when I can feel the proudest of my family. Our roles will forever shift but our love will remain steadfast.

On the way home from our visit, my daughter drove with more confidence. She needed me even less. I tried hard to praise her and her good decisions rather than point out the small errors. She over corrected when turning or pressed the break a little too hard, but I’m good with that. I am confident that she knows that if ever she needs help, she always has me and an army of women who will show-up for her just like she would for them. 

Thank You, I'm Not Sorry

By: Elizabeth Redhead Kriston

If you are like me, you overuse the phrase “I’m sorry.” I apologize for everything, at least I used to. I'd apologize for not being available to work extra shifts. I'd apologize for having to turn down an invite to a party. I even apologized to my wall for accidentally bumping into it.That’s when I knew that the meaning and purpose of “I’m sorry” had been lost.

My daughter also overuses “I’m sorry.” She is a habitual user. She yells and whines “I’m sorry” constantly. The varying inflections she uses differentiate true remorse from annoyance from defiance. She drops more “I’m sorry” bombs in a single day than any person should need to use in a lifetime. Of course, my other daughter apologizes for nothing, so I suppose it’s a wash.

When I realized my daughter started apologizing for everything she did or said, it caused me to think about my own “I’m sorry” dependence. It also started a conversation about when we should be saying “I’m sorry” and when we should not.

My daughter tends to use that ubiquitous phrase to get out of trouble or express frustration. To teach her of the true purpose of the phrase, I created a mantra to help her remember the rule: “I’m sorry means that I truly regret what I did or said. I will work hard to never do or say that thing again.”

Her habitual and knee jerk use of “I’m sorry” has deemed it a garbage term. She uses it to gloss over her bad behavior. She is not remorseful for her decisions and actions. Rather, she is upset she got busted.

Her constant misuse of this phrase of contrition made me recognize that I too misuse the expression. Why would I apologize for not being available for work or social dates? I did nothing wrong. I just can’t be there because I have allotted that time for something or someone else. Why would I apologize to a wall when it clearly was in the wrong for being in my way? Plus, walls have no feelings so, there’s that.

I have heard and read that women apologize more than men. This, I believe, is true. Women who don’t soften their words, directives or denials with an “I’m sorry” are called the “B” word. While men who use the term are considered weak. What a world.

Things For Which Women Apologize

1. The weather: As in, “I’m sorry it is raining. I thought this would be a perfect day for our family picnic.” This apology negates all the work she did to organize and plan the family picnic. She apparently has taken responsibility the high and low pressure systems as well as who is to bring the potato salad or brownies.

2. Asking questions: As in “I’m sorry for asking, but how do I operate this voting machine?” This apology negates the fact that she is trying to mark the ballot correctly so she doesn’t inadvertently vote for the dolt on the ticket. Don’t forget today is election day!

3. Reacting emotionally: As in “I’m sorry I’m crying.” This apology takes away from the fact that she has emotions or feels pain, sheesh.

4. Changing her mind: As in, “I’m sorry, I think I’ll have the salmon instead of the pasta.” This apology overlooks the fact that she saw the salmon delivered to the table beside her, and it looked delicious.

5. Asking for help: As in, “I’m sorry, but could you please help me open the door while I carry in the 92 grocery bags form the car?” This apology overlooks the fact that, yes she is a super human, but even she has limitations.

6. Someone else’s behavior: As in, “I’m so sorry my neighbor blocked your car on the road, so you can’t pull out.” This apology overlooks the fact that the mean and vindictive neighbor could use a good dose of her own medicine. Sorry for that rant, but she really is an a**hole.

7. Looking disheveled: As in, “I’m sorry I look like I just woke-up.” This apology supposes that the woman actually has the luxury of getting sleep. She is running a house, raising kids, volunteering at school, working two jobs, maintaining her friendships, caring for her aging parents, and so much more. There is no time for sleep let alone showers, ironing clothes and putting on lip gloss.

8. Not doing a chore someone else completed: As in, “I’m sorry for not emptying the dishwasher.” This apology negates the fact that she loaded the dishwasher, scrubbed the pans, counters and stove top, washed and folded the laundry, cleaned the bathrooms and vacuumed the house in the same amount of time it took him to put away the odd sized baking dish

9. Apologizing: As in, “I’m so sorry for being sorry.” This apology is just crazy but we all do it

Women apologize for practically everything. I for one have had enough. I am making a conscious effort to stop my random and inexplicable apologizing.

I am not sorry for every little thing. I am learning to replace my apologies with a “thank you” whenever possible. A well placed “thank you” makes me appear strong and kind. It makes the recipient feel appreciated, not guilty. Yes, a wrongly used “I’m sorry” can appear passive aggressive and make another feel responsible for my inexplicable regret.

I will continue to apologize when a heartfelt expression of remorse is warranted. I will admit fault. I will express my regrets. I will hope for forgiveness, but not expect it. I will aim to do better and not make the same mistake twice. I will learn from my mistakes.

Reasons to apologize

• True regret for a wrong doing
• Mending fences and keeping relationships strong
• Being late. There is no excuse, not even traffic, for being late. (I realize this is my pet peeve but seriously always leave early to ensure a timely arrival. Making people wait for you is so rude.)
• Lighten your load of guilt
• Owning your flaws
• Opening yourself to the respect of others
• Teaching others (especially children) to have remorse and own their decisions and actions 

Not feeling the need to say, “I’m sorry” for basic day to day happenings has actually made me happier, and it has strengthened my self-respect. Expressing gratitude instead of remorse is a much better way to live. Give it a try.