Why does it seem that defenders of the right to free speech are sometimes the same people who enjoy verbal and written attacks on people? What makes public commentators so vengeful, ugly and vile in their statements against fellow human beings?

What is this obvious preoccupation with wanting to be the winner at all costs? I’ve never understood hatred. Not even as a child. And not even as a child growing up with severe, painful, life altering situations.  There is always a choice – continue the pattern of smashing another human-soul to pieces or acting with love and a generous heart.

Freedom of speech seems to give people the go ahead to say whatever they want about someone and claim it to be the truth, while offering no credible proof. And people pay to read this stuff. Where I live, some stores cover up issues of Cosmo magazine to hide the bodies of the cover models, but they leave in full view “US”, “People”, “Star” and other publications that promote rumor, half-truths and made-up stories to sell ad space. Blogs do the same thing. A blog can publish any content, true and factual, scraped and stolen or one-sided and unproven, and earn money from their affiliate and paid ads.

The underlying poison in using freedom of speech as a free pass to say and write anything, regardless of the truth or proof, is the judgment of character by the person having the free for all. Commentators write and talk about people they’ve never met and think they have the freedom and right to not only pass judgment on them, but can write and say anything they wish and be backed by the Constitution of the USA.

Personal attacks are judgment calls and one person’s view. There are always many sides of an experience. Does Freedom of Speech give everyone the right to pass judgment and spread their agenda? Does the law make it right to purposely lie? Since we know that many people will never fact check or look at a story from a 360 degree perspective, is taking advantage of those people the loving to do?

Do Truth, Accuracy and Peaceful Co-existence matter at all anymore?

Note: The following true story was originally published in the Cre8pc Blog in 2006. Today, my son Stefan, now 16, played on 4 baseball teams this past baseball season. He plays offense and defensive positions for high school JV football and is plays defense positions as a second string Varsity player.

My son just called me from his Dad’s cell phone, from his Dad’s car. The conversation went like this:

“Hi Mom.”

“Hi Stefan.”

“When you wash my baseball pants…” He pauses. I wait.

“Mom, when you wash them and put them in the dryer.” I wait. The suspense is killing me.

“Well, when you get them out of the dryer.” Pause. And in all seriousness he says, “Can you put them in the freezer?”

I giggle, and wait for the punchline. There is none. He continues, completely serious. I’ve already spent 4 hours with him since I got him home from baseball camp. He fell asleep on the couch while I worked on my laptop nearby. As he leaves to go somewhere with his Dad, he admits the baseball clothes need to be washed for his first travel team baseball game tomorrow, and they are still lying in a pile in his room. This I know. So I’m curious about this freezer part.

“Why the freezer?” I asked, calmly, but a giggle slipped out anyway.

A slight sense of guilt in his voice replaces the serious 12-year old monotone voice on the other end of the cell phone.

“I got gum on them at baseball camp. Dad says you can pry it off when it’s frozen.”

He giggles. I giggle. He knows I’ll take care of this.

Privately I wondered to myself. How often do you put baseball pants in your freezer?

I Am Caught on Video, Screaming and Crying

Last week I mentioned that my son’s team was in their playoffs for the championship for the season at Little League. They’ve tried for 4 years to get the top spot. Another team kept winning. They couldn’t be beat. Stefan’s team always came up short, like 2nd or 3rd place.

This year, they reached the end of the playoffs, intact. They’d beaten everybody and now faced the team that always wins. Stefan’s Dad couldn’t be there for the game, which was pretty upsetting for him. His step-daughter was graduating high school and he needed to be there. I offered to video tape the game so he could see it later. My husband, Eric, (Stefan’s step-dad), brought a digital camera as well.

I set the tripod up in a spot that let me get the pitcher, hitter, catcher and umpire in one shot. Stefan had to sit out several games because he had broken a finger this season. Being one of their 3 lead pitchers and a strong batter, it was torture for him to watch his team from the sidelines. He was healed enough to play in the very last 2 games. Coaches let him be the starting pitcher, but limited him to 2 innings, so as not to ruin the finger and to keep him safe for the travel team, in which he earned a spot as the pitcher. That travel team will be my life every weekend for most of the summer.

Stefan did really well. They weren’t no hitter innings, as he’d wished, and 2 runners got in. The game dragged on, with the other two pitchers taking over for Stefan’s team. Those two boys are also very dependable. It was a tie game, 6 – 6 by the top of the fifth inning. The other team scored a point and it was now 6 – 7. This was going to be close. I had stopped breathing long ago. Our team had a huge crowd of parents and well wishers and we were all on the edge of our seats in the baseball stand.

At the bottom of the fifth, Stefan came up to bat. He is well known in my town for his batting. At the age of 9, he hit his first home run out past the Minors field, and that set his mark. Every year he had these remarkable hits, and we have a pile of baseballs with dates on them for each homerun.

There is a large covered bridge near the Majors field where they play. It was moved there years ago by the town, to preserve one of our relics from colonial days. The chant for Stefan had become “Hit the bridge!” when he’d come to bat. It was also common to hear the coaches for the other teams yell to their kids, “Back up! Stefan’s up!”

But, lest you think he’s some miracle child. He’s not. He strikes out too. He hates it, but there’s a pile of 12 year old pitchers in our Little League who throw fast balls. Stefan says his are over 65 MPH when clocked. I think there are few other boys just as fast. This makes it hard to hit a ball. Some have better “change ups”. So even with his history, we know he can just as easily have a bad day at bat and sometimes, on the pitcher’s mound.

I aimed the video camera to Stefan, now at bat. Everybody was yelling at him. I didn’t know this until later, but one of his coaches said to him, “If it’s a strike pitch, hit it anyway.” They needed to get a hit and it was now or never. Two kids were on base, ready to bolt. For some reason, I seemed to know he would have his miracle Disney moment. I know this because it’s on the tape. Right before he whacks the ball, you hear me say, “He’s gonna do it.”

And he did. Boy did he! He nailed that ball so hard it went out past the ball field, where nobody could possibly catch it, and off towards the covered bridge.

I saw the ball go up in the air and, not breathing, waited to see if it would land in the outfield where it could be retrieved or caught, or go out beyond, into the park. When it continued to fly onward, the crowd went absolutely nuts. I started screaming. Then, I started crying and sobbing out loud, “He hit the bridge. He finally hit the bridge.” Then I remembered his Dad.

In the next few seconds I spun the camera, still on the tripod, to catch Stefan taking his leisurely run around the bases, with screams continuing in the background. We learned, from viewing the tape later, that the catcher from the other team tossed down his glove in sheer anger and frustration, knowing this likely meant the end for them. I caught the part where Stefan made it to home base, after the other 2 kids got in, and was swept up by his team mates.

Still crying and filming, you can hear me in the background sobbing. Eric was sitting right next to me, but I was off-planet and not aware of anything other than being so incredibly happy for our son. Then, as the tape rolls on, still aimed at the team celebrating, one of the mom’s notices me and shouts out, “Mom! Are you crying?” You hear the parents start to comment on that. (“Awww, she’s crying!”) And then I shut off the video, stopped to gather myself, and then, with all the parents offering congratulations and comfort when they saw my tears, I went to hug Stefan.

Then, I called his Dad on his cell phone. That was hilarious. He was sitting in the stands of a huge high school stadium, in the hot sun, with his wife and our daughter and other family members, repeating, “Oh my god. Oh my god,” and his voice kept getting higher and higher and then he started telling everybody in the stands there, “My son just got a 3 hitter home run!” As if these people cared.

The 6th inning went by quickly (at this age, they only play 6 innings.) Stefan’s team held off the other team with a no-hitter inning, so they won, 10-7. They finally beat the other team, and got some amazing trophies.

Later, the wife of the Head Coach came up to me, and quietly said, “This couldn’t have happened at a better time.” I knew what she meant, and nodded my agreement.

What the boys did not know, is one of their coaches had been diagnosed with a serious illness just a few days before. We hope he’ll pull through and go on to coach many more games.

I’ve been on cloud nine all week. This is why I haven’t blogged. I’m sure I’ll get back to business soon enough, but for now, I have some baseball pants with gum on them to wash and then freeze.

Picture taken after the kids received their trophies:

When I was young
I despised Me

Me was this body I disconnected from at every opportunity.
Me was a little girl, pixie haircut, bangs cut too high.
Me was the girl they called “Slut” because of a rumor.

That wasn’t true.

Old me never thought she was pretty.
Old me hated math, science and brussel sprouts.
New me likes science now.

It doesn’t have to be true.

Young me had big sparkling eyes. When I look at her now, in photos, she is so pretty.
Young me didn’t have breasts the size of watermelons. Rode horses bareback and bra-less. So free.
Young me swore every one was luckier, smarter, sexier and loved.

That was never the truth.

Old me was so perfect
but only God knew it back then.

New me knows better now.

In an extraordinary way, I was proved wrong and set straight by some of my very best online friends.  The result is I feel much better about something that was hurting me deeply and I started a category here called “Give Peace a Chance”, as John Lennon had sung.

My friend Jim highlighted a positive story in his blog the other day, called Estonia’s “Country Clean-Up Project”.

I knew she would beat me. Rae got the #20 spot, and I achieved the #30. I’m very happy for her.

Conflict resolution is the theme my friend Miriam chose for Edit, Remove and Respond To Reviews – Tools For Conflict Resolution. From her superior article:

The advent of user reviews has tossed both business owners and citizens into a tumultuous new situation that nobody really asked for. The profits of the review entities are being made on the ability or inability of people to navigate the world of opinion and reputation on a public stage for all to see.

Through the eyes of my cherished friend, Ruud, one can’t help but feel good. His Good News Blog is worth grabbing a cup of tea and browsing when the world is sitting on your shoulders.

I enjoyed Dammit, I’m A Journalist, Not A Blogger: Time For Online Journalists To Unite? from my friend Danny, who tackled the uneasiness between journalists and bloggers by offering some suggestions. I appreciated his calm, rational approach to what is sometimes an emotionally charged issue.

It’s not that I didn’t know moms are online, but did notice an increase of women getting on Facebook from my own little country town. Internet usage by women is covered well in this article, Digital Moms Survey Part 2 – Connecting through Social Networks.

Please email me your positive news or post it in the comments below. Some days, it really helps to know there are rainbows.

You might feel that winning a rank of 30 out of 200 top winners is nothing to get excited about.  You could even say winning a national contest conducted by a web site few have ever heard of is nothing to be get worked up about.  You can argue a contest focused on mom’s who started a business is unfair to fathers who did exactly the same thing.  Not making the top 5 isn’t a reason to brag or send press releases over.

This is what part of me is telling me because I’m not used to winning anything.  I’m also dreadful with compliments.  A “You look nice Kim” sentence is interpreted in my brain as the sound of a fingernail scraping a blackboard.  It’s a dreary rainy Monday in Spring, and I won a spot in the StartupNation’s 2009 Leading Moms In Business Competition Top 200 Winners Circle. So, what do I do? Work all day and make a big dinner so my family can all celebrate.

It may seem trivial to you, but for me, celebrating in my kitchen with my husband, kids and pets is perfect.

Being in the 30th spot means I likely didn’t bolt out the door with my business and make a million dollars in my first year. I’m not sure what the criteria was for winning, other than blasting friends and family for votes for a few months. My story is like my peer, Rae Hoffman’s. She got to the 20th spot, and her story is filled with struggles and obstacles like mine is, if not more so. Oddly enough, our birthday’s are a day apart. Not so strange is that we share a stubborn drive to succeed and screw anyone who gets in our way. She has her code. I have mine, which is, “Never tell Kim she can’t do something.”

Choices

Many mothers who start businesses are married or have support. I had friends who believed in me. One was my first boss, who called me an “over achiever”. I worked for a company whose owner once told me, “Webmasters should only be getting $5 an hour.” I was in charge of 13 web sites, making a net income of $25,000 doing all the SEO and web design. When I asked for a raise, I was laid off and they gave the job to a man, who they paid more and knew no HTML. Welcome to bigotry against women.

I earned the respect of a client, who later became a long-time friend. He wrote this about the contest entry:

As one of Kim’s earliest clients, I can attest to her story – and still recall the time I invited her over to use my credit card to buy food for the kids. It was a worthwhile investment in an extremely creative and energetic go-getter. When our CEO refused to pay her more than $25/hour, I upped her billing hours to make up the difference – again a good move on my part, because it wasn’t long before Kim had her own clients who saw her abilities and the results of her efforts and were willing to pay her a fair rate. We hosted her startup Cr8asite forums based upon our knowledge of her skills, abilities and overall capability. Soon, the site grew to a scale which required a dedicated server. Yes, we have known Kim for years and have seen what determination, skills and good character can do for not only her and the children, but for every client who has benefitted from her efforts. Kim is certainly one of the top 200 working Moms in the country and her efforts have helped many, many people realize their own dreams.

By the time I had gone to him, I had spent every dime I had trying to support myself and the kids (when I had them.) I’ll never forget the horror of closing my daughter’s savings account, when she was 7 years old, because I needed the $50 she had in there. Today, I’m able to pay for her college and helped her buy her first car.

I also bought my own house. By that time, I had proven my worth to many people. I was earning less than my male peers, however, so when I went solo with Cre8pc.com, I vowed to never return to male corporate life. It never mattered how much I sacrificed (once I had to bring my son to work with me when he had a broken collar bone and they wouldn’t let me have off to take him for X-rays), or what my achievements were (all my usability testing is proprietary for the company I worked for and still is today), I was paid at least $5,000 less than all the other men in IT.

Success

I read the same success stories everyone else does. Sometimes I’m asked how I “Do it”. For me, the “It” is a constant creation I engage in every day. Typically I give something positive and something positive comes back to me. I love what I do too. Anyone who works with me knows how much I love usability. Everyone’s web site is a piece of who they are. When they let me in to visit, I am their guest.

What has kept me going is remembering corporate life and management that bungles things. I prefer to get things done and being my own demanding boss works well for me. As a mother in business, I never missed a Halloween party at their school, and could usually get to their after school sports activities. I was there to bring forgotten items to school. My kids rarely had sick days, but when they did, I was here and never had to beg for a day off to care for them. In the early days, most of my pay went towards full-time daycare, so the kids were loved by many people, many of whom are still in their lives to this day.

Today, now about to turn 51 years old, after almost 13 years of being “Cre8pc”, I have a nutty, busy household. As a single mom with a business, I helped raise, along with their Dad, honor roll kids and an amazingly mature college freshman daughter. My son plays on 3 baseball teams, high school football and is a champion weight lifter. I was here to support all of that, not working outside the home. I remarried in 2003. And he would never dream of slowing me down. Rather, he wants to quit his job and work with me!

Success is personal. It can’t be weighed and measured in any proper way. In my mind, I knew I could do anything I put my heart into and I’d prove all the doubters wrong.

I did that and I know it. So today, I feel good.