As I watched the Olympics over the past few weeks, and read comments from fellow observers, I have been contemplating the tough road of being an expert at something given the public’s expectations in today’s world. 

Disparaging comments about athletes who have had disappointing results in this year’s winter Olympics have been relentless. Mikaela Shiffrin, a previous Olympic gold-medal winner who had several unsuccessful ski runs this year, was inundated with cruel messages on social media. People called her a dumb blonde, a disappointment to her country, a choker, and some asked her to retire. And let’s not even begin to unpack the performance of 15-year-old Kamila Valieva who was accused of having illegal drugs in her system, had a disappointing four-minute skating program with several mistakes and a fall, and was harshly criticized by her coach “for not even trying” while millions around the world watched. 

And it’s not just the Olympics. Dr. Anthony Fauci who has devoted his life to public service has been called an idiot because he could not predict the next variant of Covid that would come down the pike. Even the best concert pianists are criticized for interpreting music incorrectly. Chefs, actors, writers, artists, and poets are summarily rounded at the slightest provocation. We cannot seem to stop criticizing. 

Ironically, many people doing the criticism are sitting at home on their sofas drinking Miller Lites while watching TV as they blast their fellow man. 

I keep thinking about the discipline these Olympic athletes exhibit day after day, year after year. Countless hours of practice, endless drug testing, often experiencing assaults on their bodies followed by intense rehabilitation. 

We have become a nation of critics that loves a winner and reviles a loser. I find it cruel and unconscionable. The damage it can do to these athletes—especially the ultra-young ones—is off the charts. 

I have played the piano for several years. I can play a particular piece repeatedly, and still find it difficult to get through the whole piece without making a mistake. It is frustrating and at times embarrassing. When I go to a concert, I am amazed that a pianist can play a sonata from beginning to end without music and without errors. How is that possible? I realize that I am not a professional musician but even so, it is extremely impressive that someone can play for 35 minutes without error or music. I know how hard that is. And I can begin to understand the time and effort these musicians put into their craft.

Listening to commentators at the Olympics who give detailed descriptions of every point and every expectation of each of countless moves overwhelms me. I watch incredible feats of skiing, jumping, skating, snowboarding, etc., and hear tiny nuances that can make or break a contender. The curve of a skate. The hold on a snowboard. The angle of a ski. The technicalities are daunting. The pressure is relentless. And the complexity of these maneuvers is mind boggling. 

Then, I think about how difficult it is to be a medical professional, or an athlete, or a musician, or a writer. It takes discipline, forbearance, grit, guts, tenacity, and more. They try their best and constantly seek to improve. They talk to other experts, practice more, gather different points of view and eventually decide upon a direction that they hope will give them a winning result. 

Others seldom try hard at anything. They are content to perform their jobs at mediocre levels and are fine with not learning all there is to know about their occupations. And yet it seems to me that those are the very people who unceasingly criticize others and send off these heartlessly cruel attacks on their fellow man.

In those rare instances where perfection happens, it is truly a beautiful thing. Think Beethoven’s 9th, the Mona Lisa, Don Quixote, the Taj Mahal, a bottle of Chateau Latour. It stirs our soul. We catch our breath as we embrace the potential and genius of humankind. 

But striving for perfection is a difficult road. It happens. But rarely. And let us face facts. People make mistakes. It’s only human. The best quarterbacks throw interceptions (Brady threw 203 in his career; Favre 286). The best actors sometimes forget their lines (Marlon Brando and John Barrymore). The best pianists can miss a note (Arthur Rubinstein). And the Greatest of all Time (GOAT) gymnast Simone Biles can fall off a balance beam. 

As Alexander Pope said, “To err is human, to forgive, divine.”  My suggestion: Let us remove the vitriol from our cocktails and add a spoonful of forgiveness with a dash of empathy. 

Maria Grant was principal-in-charge of a Federal human capital consulting practice of an international consulting firm.  While on the Eastern Shore, she focuses on writing, reading, piano, gardening, and nature.

America loves an underdog. But America also loves to predict a winner. Wise commentators offer complex analyses to predict who the winner, in all probability, will be. Yet America is often wrong. 

Think back to the 2008 primary. Everyone predicted Hillary would beat Obama. Then think back to the 2016 primary. Almost every reporter predicted Jeb Bush would be the Republican nominee for President. Then recall the actual 2016 election. Prognosticator after prognosticator, predicted Hillary would beat Trump. Obviously, there are many reasons that didn’t happen. But still, so many were wrong. 

Now, let’s talk football. This playoff season has been one of the most exciting in ages. Talk about upsets. Virtually no one predicted that not one of the three legendary quarterbacks (Brady, Rogers and Mahomes—young but still legendary–) would go to the Super Bowl this year. I read article after article. “There is no way that the Bengals will beat Tampa Bay.” And then, “There is no way that San Francisco will beat the Packers.” “And there is absolutely no way the Bengals will beat the Chiefs.” Well, there was a way. And they did. (Also, as an aside, remember that Brady was the 199th draft pick. No one expected much of him.)

There are so many examples of underdogs coming from behind for spectacular wins. There was the 1913 Kentucky Derby horse Donerail’s shocking 91-to-1 odds upset. In the Olympics, probably the biggest upset is still the “Miracle on Ice” in 1980 when the US beat the Russian hockey team and then went on to win the Gold by beating Finland. A close second was Tara Lipinski’s win against Michelle Kwan. In the Oscars, there’s the making of the movie Rocky. Stallone had almost no money and kept peddling the movie—even saying no when one studio said it would buy it but not allow him to act in it. The rest is Oscar history. 

Then there are those rags to riches stories. Oprah, born in poverty, becomes the first African American billionaire. 

So, what is the moral of these stories? We aren’t as smart as we think we are. Pundits often engage in analysis paralysis. Anything can happen. Sometimes the frontrunner caves under pressure. Sometimes the underdog rises to the occasion. Sometimes we root for the underdog unless it means our team loses. Sometimes we want the so-called “elites” to be wrong. To put them in their place. One of the reasons Trump won is because he wasn’t a politician. People were weary of so-called “expert” politicians. Sometimes we root for the underdog because we want things to be fair. Why are so many against the Yankees? Because often their payroll was so much bigger than every other team’s. 

Then there is the romance of the underdog taking over the behemoth. Think Tesla now being worth more than GM. Or IBM vs Microsoft vs Apple. Things get much more complicated when the underdog takes over market share and no longer retains that title. 

But the other moral is that we shouldn’t give up on our dreams. Even if there are a million reasons why it will be a tough ride—an almost impossible climb. Anything can happen. We love the underdog because it gives us all hope. That hope that springs eternal. And as Rocky once said, “Every champion was once a contender who refused to give up.”

Maria Grant was principal-in-charge of a Federal human capital consulting practice of an international consulting firm. While on the Eastern Shore, she focuses on writing, reading, piano, gardening, nature, and travel.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would find myself applauding the Cheneys. I found Dick Cheney’s cavalier attitude while Vice President to be a constant irritant. Not to mention contracts to Halliburton, false claims of weapons of mass destruction, approval of waterboarding—and, of course, accidentally shooting Harry Whittington, a Texas attorney, in the face while quail hunting.

 I disagree with Liz Cheney on almost every issue—gun control, regulating greenhouse gas emissions, abortion, healthcare, the Middle East—the list goes on. Yet last Thursday, Dick Cheney and his daughter Liz were the only Republicans who had the guts to honor those who protected the Capitol on January 6, 2021. I give them both credit for doing so. And I give Liz extra credit for staying true to her conservative beliefs but also giving an honest assessment of Trump’s anti-democratic and complicit behavior regarding January 6. 

When George Bush was president, I bemoaned his gutting the government surplus that Clinton amassed, approving illegal interrogation acts, hiring a horse expert to run FEMA, and permitting unlawful spying on Americans. Yet now I remember how graciously Bush welcomed Obama to the White House. He couldn’t have been more hospitable. Even his daughters were kind and welcoming to Sasha and Malia. Contrast that with Trump’s entire family refusing to greet the incoming President or even attend the inauguration. 

During his campaign, Romney said Obamacare was the worse piece of healthcare legislation in the history of healthcare legislation—even though it was a mirror image of his healthcare plan in Massachusetts. He said Obama was weak on terrorists, even though Obama ‘s administration killed Osama Bin Laden. At a fundraiser for wealthy donors, Romney claimed that 47 percent of people will vote for Obama no matter what. He stated, “they believe they are victims who believe the government has a responsibility to care for them, who believe that they are entitled to healthcare, to food, to housing, to you name it.” Romney went on to say, “My job is not to worry about those people. I’ll never convince them they should take personal responsibility and care for their lives.”  He also suggested that people should vote for him because he was a businessman even though he refused to divulge any information about how he ran his business. That was then. This is now. Now Romney is a Republican who voted to convict Trump of abusing his power and who condemned Trump for stonewalling the Biden presidency and attempting to prevent the peaceful transition of power.

Many Americans idolize Ronald Reagan. I was never one of them. I was going to Georgetown University when Reagan became President, and I was appalled at the difference in the town between the Carter and Reagan administrations. What seemed like an endless stream of limousines was constantly going up and down Wisconsin Avenue and M Street. There were lines out the door at Elizabeth Arden’s for updo hairdos, and the town suffered from a shortage of fancy ball gowns. To me, it seemed like the height of excess—flaunting ostentatious wealth–almost patently immoral. After the excesses of the Trump administration and the glitzy tasteless Trump brand in general, Reagan ‘s conspicuous consumption seems like child’s play in comparison. Now, I remember him as a wise sage who said things like, “trust but verify, “and “a people free to choose will always choose peace.”

And then, of course, there is Richard Nixon. Until now, he was considered one of the worst presidents in history. He disgraced the office, lied, and covered up his indiscretions. He resigned to save the country from the disconcerting and damaging process of an impeachment trial. The comparison to Trump does not bear repeating. And let’s not forget that Nixon also founded the Environmental Protection Agency, began a war on cancer, lowered the voting age to 18, signed the Paris Peace Accords, avoided a second Cuban missile crisis, and supported Israel with massive aid which Golda Meir later said saved her country.

Shakespeare said, “The evil that men do lives after them; the good is often interred with their bones.” So, if for nothing else, I can thank Trump for my remembering the good in some Republicans (although not many currently in office).

Maria Grant was principal-in-charge of the Federal human capital practice of an international consulting firm. Currently she is the HR Director of Politics & Prose Bookstore in DC. While on the Eastern Shore, she focuses on reading, writing, piano, gardening, and nature.

I remember visiting my mom the last 10 years of her life and frequently thinking how weird it must be to have outlived most of the people she knew. She had outlived her siblings, two husbands, neighbors, friends, and colleagues. There weren’t many people left who could remember “when”—those funny stories, poignant moments, trips, and tales. I used to wonder how you survive so much loss.

Now, I’m much younger than my mother was then, and have seen too many husbands, children, friends, neighbors, and colleagues die. Already, I remember some special moments, and realize that those who I shared them with are no longer here. 

I am not alone. Many of my friends have experienced incredible loss. And these days, with a pandemic, continuing international conflicts, devastating cancers, overdoses, suicides, murders and more, it’s amazing that some of us are still standing. 

So, what to make of it all? My mom used to say, “Remember the best; forget the rest.”  And it is crazy what you remember. My mom loved chardonnay, onion rings and Pavarotti. My husband was obsessed with Ingrid Bergman. We watched every movie she made countless times. My best friend, an English major, quoted Keats at the slightest provocation.

What I remember most about the people now gone are those small thoughtful gestures they made. Showing up to pick me up in a rainstorm—an unexpected treat. Flowers that arrived at my office to let me know they were thinking of me during the anniversary of a loss. A friend who drove several miles to take my dog for a walk when my flight was significantly delayed. 

So perhaps one lesson from all this is to focus on making special memories—special efforts—with those who are still here. Recently, I took a job back in the city, and the best parts of my days are when I witness acts of kindness. In the last few weeks, I’ve seen a teenager walk an elderly man across the street when the light was ready to turn. I’ve seen a bilingual woman help a Latino woman communicate with a pharmacist about a prescription. I’ve watched a teenager take a heavy grocery cart from an elderly woman and walk her all the way to her apartment. I work in a bookstore, and I watched a bookseller help a customer locate a book when the customer couldn’t remember the author, title, or much of the plot. It was a joyful moment when through detailed questions, the mystery was solved!

So, in this crazy society where we are too quick to judge, too quick to find fault, let’s just stop. Let’s agree that there is too much judging. Too much criticizing. Too much cruelty. Too little empathy. Too little compassion. I may sound like Pollyanna, but trust me. It’s those little acts of kindness that make it all worthwhile.

Sometimes, I remember my shortness of temper, my frustration, with those who have died and wish I had the opportunity to redeem myself—to have a do-over. It’s too late to make amends to them. But it’s not too late for those who are still here. 

Maria Grant was principal-in-charge of a Federal human capital consulting practice of an international consulting firm. She currently is the HR Director for Politics and Prose Bookstore in D.C. While on the Eastern Shore, she focuses on writing, reading, piano, gardening, nature, and travel.

I am troubled by today’s pervasive entitlement mentality. Students who have college loans feel they are entitled to debt-free carte-blanche forgiveness without paying them off. Sexual harassers who hold powerful positions feel they are entitled to take what they want—simply because they are who they are. Children who have famous parents often exploit their privileged lives because they feel entitled to commit egregious and sometimes illegal acts as though it is their birthright.  

Feeling entitled can lead to dangerous consequences. Let’s consider a few examples.  

Often people who come from humble beginnings attend expensive private colleges and rack up hundreds of thousands of dollars of college debt. Should they be allowed to attend those universities? Of course. But should they also consider the ramifications of paying off that debt and factor in the cost-benefit analysis of private versus public universities with much lower costs? If you buy an expensive house, you must realize that it will result in a huge mortgage. Someone else isn’t going to pay it off unless perhaps a wealthy uncle dies and leaves you a pile of cash. Sure, one can argue that colleges and houses cost too much. Both statements may be true. Still, if you take out a loan, you should expect to pay it back.

Now let’s take the example of powerful men and women who feel entitled to exploit their positions simply because of who they are. I’ve read more articles than I care to admit about Andrew Cuomo in the last few weeks. Clearly, he felt entitled to harass women and bully employees. He assumed he would continue to get away with it because he had for years. He also had enablers who helped discredit his accusers and made their lives a living hell. (I found it particularly rich when Trump declared Cuomo should resign given his own sordid past.) 

During the Brett Kavanaugh confirmation hearings, I had the sense that Kavanaugh felt he was entitled to be a Supreme Court justice. He didn’t feel that incidents which showed questionable judgment and poor character in his past should be examined. Yet one could certainly argue that his temperament and outrage during the hearings didn’t exemplify the steady, measured, thoughtful and unwavering qualities worthy of a Supreme Court justice. 

Lately, my friends have been telling me how frustrating it is to work with employees with newly minted college degrees. They claim many of them have a sense of entitlement that is difficult for them to fathom. Demanding better wages, work-life balance, benefits, etc. is not necessarily a bad thing. But assuming they should get promoted within a matter of months; that they should be given highly strategic work before they have even learned the ropes, is something else. 

Many psychologists, therapists, and student counselors believe that part of the reason young people feel so entitled is because their parents never said no to their demands. As a result, they feel entitled to have whatever they want without earning it. I don’t think it’s quite that simple, but there is a grain of truth here.  

They also say that people who have powerful positions for long periods of time often feel a sense of entitlement to do whatever they please—treat people shabbily or take advantage of them because of some misguided sense of almighty power.

So, what is to be done about this entitlement culture?  Experts say the solution involves two things:  gratitude and accountability.  

We need to help children and new employees, be grateful for what they have. Instead of always wanting more, gently remind them of their good fortune and encourage them to share that bounty when they can. 

The second concept is holding people accountable for their actions. If employees don’t meet their goals or perform tasks at a competent level, they shouldn’t expect bonuses or promotions automatically until they have mastered the competencies required for current positions. We must also hold our leaders accountable for their actions. As many have said in recent days, democracy and freedom only work when we do. 

As with all things, there are degrees here. Gratitude and accountability are not learned overnight. One minor mistake should not a cancel culture make. 

Fighting to make America as great as it can be—fighting for racial and gender equality, better bridges, roads, healthcare, clean water, the environment is a good thing. We are entitled to expect the best from our leaders and ourselves. But we must vote, and we must understand that there is a price to pay for these services that “lift all boats”.  And we must hold our leaders and ourselves accountable for doing our best to protect and preserve our democracy and the planet. 

Douglas MacArthur said, “No man is entitled to the blessings of freedom unless he be vigilant in its preservation.” Holding ourselves accountable to protect and preserve our freedom with a deep sense of gratitude for the privilege of doing so is quite the opposite of entitlement. 

Maria Grant was the principal-in-charge of the Federal human capital practice of an international consulting firm. Today she focuses on writing, reading, piano, travel, gardening and nature. 

I am obsessed with my screened porch. I love having that first cup of coffee in the morning there—listening to birds, seeing a flash of red as a cardinal flies by, and often, if I’m lucky, watching hummingbirds feast on purple salvia. In mid-day, I love having a light lunch and a glass of iced tea there. And, in the early evening, I love sitting on the screened porch with friends, sharing cocktails and appetizers. It’s crazy, but conversations seem more relaxed, more honest and open there. Then there is the wonderful experience of enjoying soothing sounds of gentle rains. And let’s not forget returning to the porch later in the evening, lighting candles and enjoying cool breezes and crescent moons.

Our porch is the most popular room in our house. It is a simple affair with a red brick floor, a white beaded wood ceiling with a large fan, floral rug, comfortable wicker furniture with deep cushions, an antique cabinet to store candles, and a small round wrought iron table with two chairs. Our goldendoodle Lucca can frequently be found lying on the wicker sofa with her head on its arm staring outside.

Ancient Greeks were the first to develop porches with columned porticoes (which is where the word porch was derived) which marked entrances to temples, halls, and gardens. It’s easy to picture Socrates discussing philosophy with his students on one of them. 

In America, screened porches gained popularity in the 1880’s when screening material became more widespread. At that time, people escaped the heat of enclosed houses and sought cooler spaces, often using them as sleeping porches—in the backs of houses and on second floors. 

Then in the 1920’s screened porches became popular again as a healthier place to spend time when people were worried about germs and diseases and wanted protection from bugs. Since then, some screened porches have become quite grandiose with big-screen TV’s, fireplaces, huge dining tables and more.

It’s interesting to read about how Southern states turned porches into an art form. They copied some of the Greek’s obsession with columns and built these Greek revival mansions with magnificent verandas. (Think Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and Gone with the Wind.) Many of their porches then morphed from front porches to back porches. Today, many homeowners prefer decks or patios. Or often turn former screened porches into family rooms or four-season rooms.  

I’m always sad when I enter a house where the screened porch has been turned into something else. I understand why people do it—obviously so they can use the room throughout the year.  But for me, those rooms lack the charm of the simple screened porch.

Hearing crickets, seeing my blue heron friend at water’s edge, drinking a glass of chilled Sancerre on my screened porch—I say that’s perfection. And maybe just a little slice of heaven.  

Maria Grant was principal-in-charge of the Federal Human Capital practice of an international consulting firm.  Today she focuses on reading, writing, piano, travel, nature and kayaking.

Why is there such overwhelming criticism for pretty much every woman in a powerful position?  Think Kamala Harris (always angry), Hillary Clinton (chompers and bad laugh), Jill Biden (what’s with those black stockings), Michelle Obama (too many sleeveless dresses), Nancy Pelosi (disrespectful to males in charge), Lynne Cheney (traitor), Gretchen Whitmer (deserves to be kidnapped), Carly Fiorina (horse face), Stacey Abrams (bad teeth)—the list goes on. The criticism is relentless and often cruel. People mock their laughs, their teeth, their voices, their clothes, their height, their weight, and on and on.  Why?  Is it because we don’t have many role models and so don’t know what to expect?  Or are we threatened by their accomplishments and, for whatever reason, feel the need to knock them down a few pegs? 

And what happens when these women are constantly attacked and criticized? They become more guarded—less open, more careful. Their detractors then accuse them of not being authentic or lacking charisma. It’s a vicious circle. 

The difference in leadership styles between men and women is a complicated and interesting issue. According to recent surveys, it turns out people all over the globe—even in countries led by women—are less comfortable with women leaders. That’s even true in Germany where Angela Merkel has been Chancellor since 2005. Still 41 percent of Germans would prefer a male leader. 

When asked why this preference, responses are basically that men are perceived as more authoritarian, stronger, more decisive, more take-charge and more willing to make difficult decisions.  Women are perceived as “smaller,” with softer voices, less likely to be taken seriously, more likely to be questioned about their decisions, and more likely to be criticized for issues unrelated to their positions—for example, dress, hair, weight, etc. 

A Pew Research study confirms those stereotypes. It concluded that men are perceived as more transactional, autocratic, business-oriented and instruction-giving. Women are perceived as transformational, participative, and self-expressive. It also concluded that men prefer hierarchical structures, and women prefer flatter more collaborative structures.

Other research indicates that strong powerful women who act authoritatively are often called names such as “ball busters and ice queens” and are deemed “not very likeable.”  I’m sure we all remember Obama’s comment about Hillary during one of their debates, “ You are likeable enough.”

Still progress is being made–there are more women in Congress and in business leadership positions than ever before. But even with those advancements, only 26 percent of the 117th Congress are women, and women hold only 6.2 percent of leadership positions in the top S&P 500 companies.  

Already there is buzz behind closed doors that Kamala Harris is a risky choice for president if Biden decides not to run in 2024. One poll had her popularity at 41 percent; several polls had Biden’s popularity at 58 or 59 percent. Harris was relentlessly criticized for her tweet on Memorial Day when she told people to enjoy the long weekend. And, of course, there’s that “gotcha” interview with Lester Holt, when he attacked her for not going to the border. She responded defensively even though her rationale for going to Guatemala to understand the root cause of the immigration issue rather than for a photo op at the border made imminent sense. 

When Harris was running for Vice President, Donald Trump called her “extraordinarily nasty;” Eric Trump called her a “whorendous choice;” and Rush Limbaugh created a slogan, “Joe and the Ho” (ironic considering the sources don’t you think). Such attacks make one excessively cautious—less likely to be spontaneous, conduct interviews and more likely to adopt a lower profile. So, her style as vice president has been one of caution—few interviews, deferential to Biden—sensitive to showing that he’s in charge—perhaps an attempt to temper down the “too ambitious” attack. Smile, but take things seriously.  Cut down on the laughter. Don’t be too passive. Be a leader.  But show you know you’re second-in-command—not first. It’s a slippery and treacherous slope. 

There is some positive news on the “women front.” Women are continuing to make impressive strides: 50.5 percent of medical school students are women; 54 percent of law school students are women; and 56 percent of college students are women. More women are deciding to run for congress. And many of them are doing the serious grassroots door-to-door work that will make them viable contenders in the 2022 elections.  

Studies also show that though there is still skepticism about women in high leadership positions, many workers in today’s world prefer more collaborative, supportive, inclusive leadership styles as opposed to that traditional male authoritarian top-down approach to management. 

Also, more and more powerful women are taking steps to support those women coming up through the ranks. Mentoring programs, leadership seminars etc., are more prevalent than ever before. Madeline Albright is famous for her quote, “There is a special place in hell for women who don’t help each other.”  

Interestingly the pandemic has had some influence as well. It required more trust, more adaptive behaviors more collaborations.  Because Zoom meetings were so pervasive, many saw superficial optics disappear replaced by a heads-down approach to cranking out work products which resulted in more emphasis on output, work product quality and less on political one-upmanship.

Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “A woman is like a tea bag—you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water.” I for one am rooting for all those strong capable women who have walked to the shore and tested the water.  

Maria Grant was principal-in-charge of the Federal Human Capital practice of an international consulting firm. Today she focuses on writing, reading, piano, nature, gardening, travel and kayaking.