Unexpected lessons...

“And Moses was content to dwell with the man:

and he gave Moses Zipporah his daughter.”

- Exodus 2:21, Bible

He was big and smart. 

When he knocked her to the ground, he just walked away 10 feet or so and waited.   She got up a little unsteady on her feet; he walked over and knocked her down again. 

The setting…

Nearly 30 years of my life centered around a small acre of land on highway 24 West in the rural community of Moberly, Missouri.  I came to a small Bible teaching community in 1975, in the second year of my doctoral program at the University of Missouri.  The school program would take two or three years, and I had found a place where I could do a little scripture studying at the same time.  After the war and a few years of school, I was restless and it seemed like a good fit.  While I didn’t know it at the time, those two or three years turned into three decades!

In the early years, while in school, I lived in a trailer on the church property with a couple of other fellows.  I am not sure I have either the time, or the hard drive space to recount the many adventures and stories that occured in those thirty years, but on this Christmas day I am reminded of Moses and Zipporah...not Moses and Zipporah of the Old Testament scriptures, but Moses and Zipporah the dogs!

Oh the weather out side is frightful...

It was winter in Missouri…a winter that had brought a lot of snow.  Not that powdery kind that comes from freezing temperatures high in the atmosphere…the kind that dusts the ski slopes of the Colorado Rockies.  Rather the wet heavy kind that happens when temperatures in the clouds are at or just above freezing. 

This kind of snow creates a ‘…deafening silence…’ found in soundproof rooms – you know the kind.  It falls fast and in big flakes…the kind that comes on the heels of a few mild winter days…the that kind snarls traffic in cities and towns…the kind that packs down and makes the county and state roads deadly…the kind that overcomes the best battle plans of the salt and gravel trucks…the kind that replaces the snow as fast as a plow can clear it, AND the kind that lends itself to wonderful snowmen, angels in the snow, and enthusiastic snowball fights.  Yes sir, the kind that brings out the child in all but the grumpiest of folk who always see the glass half empty!

My friend Moses…

It was winter and a time of year that Moses seemed to love.  While he officially belonged to David, he was for all practical purposes the ‘church dog.’  He was a large German shepherd weighing in somewhere north of 85 pounds (38k).  He looked big under normal circumstances, but in moments of alarm, when his body hair stood on end – he looked enormous and it was breath taking!

The church property sat right on the highway.  It was the kind of road farmers and others used to get to town and back…the kind of road that claimed the lives of countless cats and dogs finding themselves unwisely crossing in search of a mouse or other small animal living in the surrounding woods.  For some reason Moses had learned to look both ways…he understood death lurked on that ribbon of asphalt running beside the trailer where he lived, and he had a healthy respect for it.

In those early years Moses was a fixture.  While his real home was a pen beside the trailer, he was allowed inside, and there were many nights when he stayed with me in that trailer.

Stray animals were not unusual…

Over the years a lot of stray dogs and cats made their way on to the church property – many stayed until the highway or greener pastures either ended their lives or caused them to move on.  Moses pretty much put up with them.  Putting up meant…if they didn’t bother him, he wouldn’t bother them.  He had seen a lot in his years and seemed to understand détente was the best policy.

During the fall of this year, Zipporah arrived at church.  In the scriptures Zipporah was a Midianitish woman that Moses married.  In Moberly, Missouri she was simply a dog!

By the time she arrived, Moses was a little old to consider her, well in the politest of terms, mating material.  She was skittish and very timid.  In spite of this, Moses tried to engage her.  Yet, almost every time he came near, she would assume a submissive posture and cower.

Old dogs teaching new tricks…

The trailer in which I lived was on the Eastern edge of, and parallel to, the parking lot.  This morning because of the snow, there were no cars other than those parked the night before.  I had wakened and was in the process of trying to determine whether I would head over to the church for coffee.  I glanced out the window to see how much snow had fallen and saw Moses and Zipporah standing in the center of the car park.

Moses walked over to her, and as she assumed the position, he knocked her down.  He then walked away and stood still.  When she got up a little unsteadily to her feet; he walked over and knocked her down again.  This happened three of four times.

For some reason, Zipporah seemed to want to make peace.  With head down, she cautiously made her way to Moses and sniffed at him.  As her nose touched his side, he collapsed to the ground.  This startled her and she jumped back.  Moses got to his feet and trotted away another 10 feet or so and stood still…Zipporah made her way uneasily toward him again.  As before, when she sniffed at him and as her nose touched his coat, he fell to the ground.

This cycle repeated itself several times until Zipporah seemed to ‘get it.’  She realized this was a game, and within the 15 minutes or so as I watched this amazing event, she was running at Moses, trying to knock him down!  The next few minutes, the dogs played in the snow – the youngster and the old man – as though they were both pups.  Moses quit first…she flat wore him out!

I don’t know how animals think, or how they process information, but it is my sense Moses wished he had never taught that dog to play.  For in the few remaining months/years of his life Zipporah was unrelenting in her attention for him.  She would tug at him trying to get him to play with her.  From her perspective, I suppose it was simply unbridled affection…

Moses? Had he known Greek mythology, he might have felt he opened Pandora’s box!  He had produced a creature that gave him no peace.  From time to time he would have an expression in his eyes that said, “What have I created!”  And yet, I am certain, given the opportunity, he would have done it all again.  For me, watching that old dog teaching a life lesson to Zipporah was one of the more unexpected pleasures of my life.

The Christmas season, in spite of all the stresses that come along with it, is a time to be grateful for the health that we have and the life we have been given…a time to be gentle with one another and remember those we love…a time to appreciate the circumstances in our lives that have touched us in meaningful ways…big and small. 

I am grateful for my family, and the people from all over this world God has brought into and enriched my life…there is little doubt, however, in the tapestry of my experiences and corner of my heart, where the brush strokes are subtle and barely noticeable to the casual observer…Moses gently resides.

- ted

Taking time...

"The wind against my face and hair,

The sun against the skin I wear,

To feel its rays so bold and bright,

I know that now my life is right..."

- Alethea Dalton

“Please come by our shop 30 minutes prior to your tour…like a flight if you’re too late you will miss your tour.”

We got there early for two reasons, one because of the preceding notice received in the email and because there was no place to park by the tour shop…this meant we would need to cruise the neighborhoods to find a place for the car.

Not always what you think…

It’s sometimes funny when two people having a conversation both think they understand each other, but in fact do not.

It began with a call with my wife, while I was traveling on business a couple of months ago.  We knew our niece Mariah would be coming for a visit at the end of her exams in December, and Molly wondered whether she (Mariah) and I might like to go on a whale watching tour.

After moving to San Diego, we had done this on a tour boat.  It took us 13 miles (24km) off shore to see some Blue Whales migrating north from Mexico to the Northern Pacific feeding grounds.  On that trip, the water had been a little rough and Molly got a bit seasick…so, it seemed reasonable she would pass on this adventure.

I said, “Sure, that would be fun,” and the deal was made.  As happens from time to time, I did not hear all of the words.  Somehow the word ‘kayak’ didn’t register, and as the date approached I realized this would not be a tour boat, but kayaks heading out from the coastal shoreline of La Jolla (La Hoya) about 20 miles (32km) north of our home in San Diego.

Kayak – WHAT??!! 

Early training…

As a youngster, I spent my summers on lakes in the Muskoka region of Central Ontario, Canada.  My mother had been a camp counselor for many years before marrying my father.  She made sure her children learned to love the water, but also have a healthy respect for its potential dangers.  We had to swim certain distances before we were permitted in boats, and further distances before getting in boats alone.  Water play brought great fun, but there were rules.

Canoes and rowboats were part and parcel of our summer lives.  We had a motorboat and some water skis, but my favorite was always the canoe.  A canoe on flat-water lakes can be magical…kayaks on the ocean – uh, I had no idea!

A little preparation…

Not wanting to appear completely uninformed, it seemed reasonable to take a kayaking lesson before the event.  So about three weeks prior, I headed to a local kayak shop, got into a wetsuit; then spent two hours learning paddle strokes and how to get back in the kayak if for some reason I fell out. 

The instructor was great and the lesson turned out to be much more fun than expected.  In fact, aside from a paddle with blades on both ends of the shaft, and a little less stability than a canoe, things seemed pretty natural…well, that would be until I slipped into the water to practice getting back in the kayak. I’ve lived in San Diego a few years, come here for decades, and been in a number of oceans on this planet, but this was my first time in California coastal waters. In case you have any misconception, the waters of the Southern California coast are ICE COLD!  Point of fact, they are in the high 50s  (14-15C)…they just feel freezing!

Named for the wind…

Mariah flew in for her break and when the 'kayak day' arrived we dutifully got an early start so that we could find parking and not ‘…miss the plane...’  In the winter, Gray Whales come within a mile or so of the coastline as they migrate south to their warm water spawning grounds on the Baja Peninsula of Mexico.   This meant we would only need to paddle a mile or so out to be in their path.  In the summer, boats take the kayaks a fair distance offshore for the Blues heading north.  In the winter, for the Grays this would not be necessary.

We been great friends pretty much all of her life.  In 25 of those 28 years, I don’t remember having to carry a conversation even once.  We have one of those connections that don’t lend themselves to an easy explanation…just a familiar comfort and easy talk.

When she was young, we were around each other all the time.  I would occasionally take her with me on a business trip and we would try to do something special together.   In some ways, I took those occasions for granted, and then before I knew it, she grew up and wasn’t around as much.  It wasn’t planned…just the process of life – we moved away; she went on to university and graduate school and work and now medical school, and well, our time together less frequent…in truth I covet every minute.

Our relationship has few barriers, our sense of humor is similar…many of our interests follow similar paths, and where they don’t, we find ways to share our points of view.  While I have been, for many years, the older one with the broader life experience, her life pathway is on a rapid course and I am often amazed at the things she knows and what she teaches me.

In recent years with the events in her mother’s life and the rigors of medical school, her load has been remarkably heavy.  Coming to Southern California for a few days would help recharge her batteries, AND Molly and I are great at ‘…love bombing…’

False start…

We got to the shop, slipped into our wetsuits, and headed to the beach with the other six hearty souls.  It turned out the weather did not cooperate, the water was not safe and the adventure was cancelled.  We crossed our fingers and decided to return the following day.

The next day was perfect…all hands on deck – well, at least two souls in a kayak – the adventure was on! 

 

The kayaking took place on the La Jolla Ecological Reserve.  While we were on top of the water, underneath is nearly 6,000 acres (2,428 hectares) of an underwater marine reserve with kelp beds and underwater canyons between 600 and 1000 feet (183 and 305m) deep.  Reefs keep the water relatively calm, and chillier winter temperatures bring dolphins and other sea life closer to shore.  It is also the reason whales come so close to shore in the winter, and the reason we had come!

In the first instance, we did not see any whales.  Having said that, there wasn’t much else we did not.  A nearby school of dolphin entertained us.  They had a baby with them and our guide explained the pod would be careful to protect it from anything potentially harmful…even us!  There were leopard sharks beneath, sea lions and seals in the water and along the shores. 

Hundreds and hundreds of Cormorants (birds) nested along the cliffs.  They flew toward the sheer vertical walls at break-neck speeds, like an aircraft on final approach to the runway.  At the last minute they would flare up and land on what appeared to be a tiny perch where they had built their nests.  It seemed a miracle they could find their address!

After two hours, we headed back to shore and to see whether we could get through the surf without capsizing.  Mariah and I caught a wave just right and made it to the beach still inside the kayak – Success!

The music has to end…

In three days, Mariah’s break will have had its run and we will put her “…on a jet plane…” back to the snow and chill of Mid-Missouri.  In three days, the magic of our time together will be done.  In three days, once on the flight, we will long for her return.  

There are discussions about a fourth year rotation out here and a possible residency as well…yet we know her life is moving forward to the calling for which she was born, and while we are tightly connected, ultimately our times together will be fewer.  

“Time!” In life, other than love, what could be more precious?

 You see, the kayak adventure was just another excuse, another reason…as every hike, drive, trip, live theater, movie, pizza and time together over the years has been...an excuse for us to share a little proximity…an excuse to be able express the richness of love and care…

There is little doubt - in life and love, every moment counts!

- ted

Pawnshop redemption...

“…therefore be comforted under your afflictions, and believe

that the Almighty has a particular regard to you…

when they have done the business they are

sent for, they shall be removed

from you.” Mrs. Veal

- Daniel Defoe, The apparition of Mrs. Veal

I walked in the pawnshop and she glanced with a casual and knowing look as if to say, “Oh yeah, just another customer.” 

In her new role as guardian of the business, she wandered over and sniffed the cuff of my trousers and shoes, out of curiosity as much as anything else – it was her job.

Then it hit her.  It was me!  She went wild and danced as if she had been shot with a Taser gun.  Irresistibly, I found myself on the floor with her as she pushed and prodded trying to get as close as she possibly could…it was if we both tried to understand why our skin seemed to be too much clothing…separating her little soul from mine.

Back it up a few months…

When it became clear Nancy was not going to be coming home, we knew something needed to be done with Riley.  “…done with Riley!”  Even the phrase seemed awkward and in many respects totally disrespectful. I mean, how do you ‘do something’ with a creature who had provided so much solace, so much love, so much attention and loyalty to her companion, and truly best friend.  Riley was my sister’s unrelentingly loyal friend as her life began diminishing like a ship sailing deliberately into the western horizon…smaller and smaller and smaller yet…

The family counseled together about what we should do.  Nancy’s daughter was in medical school and living in a small apartment…our house in California was small with three cats already well entrenched.  After some discussion my other older sister in Vienna, Virginia volunteered.  While she had the least exposure to Riley over the years, she did have room and agreed to take her for a year.  This would mean removing the dog to a strange place, but it would be a good home with a kind and loving guardian. 

In truth, we had hoped to keep her local so that she might visit Nancy from time to time, but under the circumstances, it was the best we could do….the best…we could do.  A date was set; my sister would make the 15-hour, one-way, drive, pick Riley up and take her home with her. 

While the family was in different stages of mourning regarding Nancy’s steadily declining condition, Riley’s impending departure was like driving a coffin '...spike of finality...' into our hearts…everything had now changed – for everybody!

You never know…

Sometimes, however, there is a different plan afoot…one that is unseen, presenting itself almost from thin air…a more thoughtful and elegant solution than our “…best laid plans…” – and so it was with Riley. 

While in Missouri after Nancy had moved and the ‘Riley solution’ had been decided, I mentioned the situation to a friend. I shared how losing Riley was like the small and final straw of sorrow dropped on the camel’s back, that had been my sister’s life. 

He said, “Wait a minute, I wonder if Bob and Anne might be willing to take Riley?”  Bob, another family friend had never even come to mind, but we had known he and his wife for many years – they were trusted friends.  He continued, “You know Bob has a pawn shop and I’ll bet Riley would make a good shop as well as family dog.”  What a GREAT IDEA!!

The family quickly counseled and it felt like a good thing.  Riley would remain local, possibly being able to visit Nancy; Anne would be spared 30 hours in the car.  Fine on our end, but would Bob and Anne take her?  They agreed – a real and unexpected blessing.  Riley would have a wonderful home in which to live…she would be both needed and loved.  What more could a dog ask for…what more could any of us ask for? 

This would be a small ray of sunshine in the otherwise mythic tragedy that had become my sister’s, and millions of other’s, so afflicted, lives.

That was then – this is now…

I had come to Missouri, at the last minute, because some unforeseen issues had arisen.  Unforeseen is probably not correct…they were foreseen – just not so quickly.  After all, Nancy had only been in the ‘Harmony Hall’ Alzheimer’s assisted living facility for six months or so.  It had become evident, however, she was no longer harmonious enough to remain in the facility.  She would need to be ‘staged’ to another level of care. ”Staged”… how cold…how clinical…how impersonal…how ‘somebody else’s relative’ – not my sister! 

One might say, tongue in cheek, she had outgrown the place, but in fact she had slipped to a level where the facility simply was not equipped to deal with her.  She wasn’t nursing home material yet, but also not assisted living either. This came to a head just when my niece was moving into her final week before her medical school examinations…a stressful situation under any circumstance.  My niece is about as resilient and strong as any young woman I have ever known, but this…this was just too much to handle all at once.

Stuff to do…

I arrived on a Saturday and Monday began transition work with Nancy.  It is a curious thing how one is able to compartmentalize intimately personal things when action is required.  How arrangements are made, papers signed, issues discussed – you know the business of tragic care – whether provisions for the funeral at the loss of a loved one or the logistics of care for a loved one in the process of being lost…

Thursday afternoon came around and most of the work regarding her move, and adjustment to the new facility, had taken place…the week had been hard.  There was a break in the action, in a manner of speaking, so I hopped in the car and headed for Jefferson City to ‘Capitol Pawn’ at the junction of Highway 50 and Eastland Drive.

My heart was beating a little faster than usual as I pulled into the parking lot – love combined with apprehension does that to you.  It had been a few months…would she recognize me…would she dance as she always did when I visited Nance…would she nuzzle and push and lick, and yes, in her own way – smile…I guess I wondered whether she would love me with the intensity that had been the hallmark of the years we had played together.

As she gave me the once over…you know the look, I wasn’t sure.  As she wandered over to see who this customer was, I wasn’t sure.  As she sniffed the cuff of my trousers and shoes, I wasn’t sure…BUT then as she went wild with the enthusiastic expression of love…as she slipped into the familiar and so comforting greeting that had been the hallmark of the years we had known each other…I am not sure why there had been any doubt. 

There wasn’t any, “Hey where have you been?” or “Why did you abandon me?” or “I thought we were friends?”  No indeed, there was just Riley and me…no pawnshop…no distance…no time…just us.

In the theater of life, it is my sense that God has given us dogs, cats and other animals to care for us…to shelter us from the storm…to provide us with comfort when needed.  It’s a clever misdirection.  While we think we are providing for them, in fact, it is just the opposite!

Take this home…

At the end of this week, I was tired and in need…the kind of need that I didn’t even know…the kind of need that only becomes apparent when there is time to breathe and reflect – I had had neither.  Seeing Riley for those few moments…holding her…caressing her…and feeding from her spirit, strengthened me in ways she would never know.  She strengthened me in ways most people would never know.

In those few moments I understood what Nancy had always known about this dog that had so comforted her in those quietly shared, and yes…sacred moments.

Thanks Riley…there is no way for me to say, or you to know how I needed that.

- ted

Gotta friend?

“What can be more delightful than to have someone to

whom you can say everything with the same

absolute confidence as to yourself?”

- Cicero: On Friendship

Friendship is that unknown, indescribable thing that happens between two people when the trolley car of life finds a common track upon which to ride.  With some folk, the ride is pleasant, but fairly short...with others a little longer.  Then, there are those with whom from the point of contact, the ride lasts a lifetime.   

Friendships come in seasons of life, at different times, maybe for different reasons – who knows?  When they are there, however, does it really matter?

The thing about friends is that we can’t predict with whom they are going to develop, or how deep or rich they will be, until they are in full swing.  All we know is we spend a little time…a little more…and the next thing we know, it’s game on! 

The Roman philosopher Cicero said, “…nature has so formed us that a certain tie unites us all…this tie becomes stronger from proximity…” [prox-im-i-ty : definition “closeness in space or time…”].  I love that word! Yes sir, next to ‘love,’ I think it may be the most powerful word in the English language.  In fact, it could be argued, with nearly 100% assurance, without proximity, love – as much else – would be seriously handicapped.

When people are around each other, things happen…lots of things happen – some not so good, but others very good and edifying.  Of the things that are good and edifying, nothing is more satisfying to the human spirit than real friendship.  To Cicero again:

“...friendship may be thus defined:  a complete accord on…subjects human and divine, joined with mutual goodwill and affection.  And with the exception of wisdom, I am inclined to think nothing better than this has been given to man by the immortal gods.”

Nothing better indeed!

What about those friends…

What do you say when describing a friend?  Would you mention the shade of their skin, their height, weight, eye-color or shoe size?  That would be ‘NopE’ with a capital ‘N’ and a capital ‘E!’ 

You talk about their personality, sense of humor, integrity, dependability, calmness or excitability…the things that attract you to them…the things that touch you…the confidence and assurance you feel when you are with them…these are the things you tell others.  These are the things you hold with sacredness and respect in your very heart.

Take a moment to think about a close friend and then mentally tell someone about them…there is little doubt you will see what I mean.

Dinner in Old Town...

This topic slipped to the forefront of my mind as a result of dinner the other night with my friend Scott.

It was one of those cool Southern Californian evenings that begins in the mid seventies (twenties C) and drops to the low fifties (10-11C).  One of those evenings that if you were not prepared, you might be caught off guard by how quickly the temperature brings a chill in the late fall and winter months here.

The restaurant was in ‘Old Town,’ the original San Diego where in 1769, a Roman Catholic priest by the name of Father Juniero Serrathe opened a small mission.  It has been preserved, reconstituted and become one of those ‘must see’ attractions, for tourists visiting this ‘vacation destination’ spot on the sunny shores of the Pacific Ocean.  Everywhere you look, you see restaurant after restaurant serving Mexican, Spanish and other fare looking to satisfy the appetites of curious out of towners, searching for a bit of exotica in their lives.

Good food – good company…

Scott and I were able to find a little space for dinner and conversation, away from the chisels and hammers that occupy the working parts of our lives.  It isn't often that we capture this kind of time, so we were grateful for the opportunity.  

We’re old friends – I would be the older of the two – connected by similar professional training and spiritual interests.  We met when he was a graduate student in Florida in the late 80s and it seemed over the years that we found ourselves frequently in the same places…this friendship came easy.

A friend’s description…

Scott is a businessman and thoughtful chess player in the art of life…a good strategic thinker and planner.  He is particularly good at seeing, in the 'blocks of raw granite' of his world, the sculpture just under the surface – waiting to be revealed.  Scott’s father once told me he could have built a house in his teens without blueprints…just from what he saw in his head.  He has a sophisticated hand, a nice touch, and knows getting the art out of the stone takes dedication and hard work…not easy, but what things worth getting are? 

In addition, Scott has a good eye for people.  You know how some folk surround themselves with people less bright than they because of their insecurities?  Not my friend Scott! He knows how to gather really bright people who ‘get him’ and supply the quality and innovative support he needs for the work at hand.

He is a devoted family man with four, I said four daughters ranging from a precocious little girl to a budding young woman preparing herself to head out into life in a few years.  The two ‘in-betweeners’ are both unique and equally curious in their own rights.  While dads and mothers always think ‘their children’ are special – as they should – in fact these girls/young women are spectacularly talented, each in their particular way…but this is about their dad – my friend.

How devoted is he?  In addition to his routine 60+ hours a week, he ‘dates’ each of the girls once a month…a special evening or event where they get that one-on-one time with dad.  He camps out with them, goes to plays with them, works at church with them, AND puts up with the family ‘all girl band’ when they practice in the garage…to be fair, he may be ‘working’ sometimes when they practice.

While this piece is about Scott, much more could be written about Genny, the woman who has put up with him for almost two decades.  There was a famous actor/dancer by the name of Fred Astaire who made several films with a co-star and dancing partner, Ginger Rogers.  While Fred got most of the credit as a dancer, Ginger did many of the same things while dancing backwards and in high heels….that would be Gen, but again, this is about her mate – my friend.

In all of this, Scott is an honorable man, who like all of us, fights to do the right things in life…who understands it’s not the beginning, but the end of a thing that counts…that tries to live the example as much as possible, and in partnership with Genny works to raise his children with the values of discipline, hard work and determination.

Yep, that’s my friend Scott.

I’ve shared one of my friends, what about that friend you were thinking of?

- ted

Epilogue; While we have known each other 23 years, I couldn't tell you his height, weight, or the size of his shoes…

Thankful? Yes indeed…

“The happiness of your life

depends on the quality

of your thoughts.”

- Aurelius, M - Meditations

It was 4:30AM and Sarah, our middle cat, was already anxious.  Since we had slipped into a small motel in time zone east of us, it was really 3:30 on our biological clocks. What was important to Sarah was her hunger, not our sleep.

We had come to Tucson to celebrate Thanksgiving with Molly’s family.  Sarah is an insulin dependent diabetic, and our cat sitter is uncomfortable giving shots...so here we were sharing space, up a little earlier than planned and building memories.  
Thanksgiving…a time to be thankful!

Living in the moment is an important skill set to have in the management of life.  It is not to say one shouldn’t plan ahead or prepare for what’s coming, but in the context of the sun’s unrelenting rhythm sunrise/sunset…the rhythm of life…it is the moment that really counts – carpe diem! 

While Sarah understands, living in the moment is an important survival skill set, for us motel bill payers, living the moment in a broader context of life and family, enriches it considerably.

It’s the Holiday

We make a big deal about Thanksgiving in this country.  While the holiday has become important for businesses…for individual families, it is a time to get together, share food, catch up with each other, watch some sports, nap a little, eat a bit more, and quietly say good-byes…returning to our normal lives.

As a youngster, our family celebrated two of them: Canadian – the second Monday of October…American – the fourth Thursday of November. 

When we were young, the negotiations of whether we visited mother or dad’s family during the holidays were invisible to me.  For me it was uncles, aunts, cousins and food. Living in the same city made it a little less difficult logistically if not politically (we would visit both families on the day).  Eventually, as we moved to the U.S., a tradition within our family began to develop on its own…no relatives, just us…a pleasant time…a few less folk.  In the young adult years, what mattered was coming home from university or work, to see Mum, Dad and the girls.  

Molly grew up in a military family, so she too had smaller celebrations; she, like my older sister Anne, spent much of her time in the kitchen with her mother helping to prepare the food.  For me, the food was, well, always just there.  Anne cooked…Nancy and I played, visited a friend or two, and always…I mean always went to the movies together.

A side note…

I have always been attracted to smart, strong women.  Maybe it’s the assurance – the aura of ‘knowing;’ maybe it’s some mysterious continuity with the universe put in the female species that we, as men, simply do not have; maybe it’s the trade off of testosterone for understanding.  Whatever it is – it is palpable and real.

Strong, smart women are like a flame to which this moth has been (is) drawn, meaning there is a sense that a certain amount of freedom will be sacrificed – willingly I might add – for the compulsion to play in their arena.  

Mary (Molly’s mother) was particularly strong, making her a great military wife…running the household…managing the children…overseeing the logistics of frequent moves inherent in that profession.  She was a formidable force to be reckoned with.  My mother?  While seemingly easily accessible because of her good nature and quick sense of humor, she was titanium!

Yes sir, strong women both.  My mother ‘set the table’ early in my life, causing me to look for women, if not exactly like her (for surely there are none), ones with her kind of strength!

Returning to the thought…

In later years, with life a bit more settled, the Thanksgiving season is viewed through a different pair of glasses.  There is a realization that life, at least as we know it, has a limited run…no matter how successful…no matter how great the music…no matter how thrilling the story…the curtain will come down, the set will be struck, the actors will drift away, the orchestra pit will empty leaving the house eerily quiet…each component waiting…waiting for the next production…the next run… The momentary sense of emptiness of the ‘what is,’ blinding us from the richness of ‘what was,’ and the mystery of the anticipated expectation of ‘what will be.’

It is not always the last note that matters, but rather the lushness of the musical score – not the final bow, but the accumulation of scenes that holds our attention to the power of the story.  It is the ‘what was’ that informs the ‘what is.’ If the final note of the concert came unexpectedly discordant, does that mean the production was bad? Shouldn’t the entire production be judged on its full merit, not simply the last note?  While being in the moment is critical, will that moment come in isolation?  Will it not be informed by all that had come before?

The broader picture…

You see, this Thanksgiving our families are giving thanks for all that we have been given and shared and loved.  This Thanksgiving we are giving thanks for all the bumps, the warts, the irritations and the joys that made up the lives of the families into which we were born.  While nothing in life is certain, this Thanksgiving may be the last for two of them.

Molly’s mother, while sound of mind, lives in a steadily declining body in which she is, by now, an unwilling prisoner.  My sister while moderately sound of body lives in a steadily declining world of confusion and despair.  For both, this may be our last year together.  We spent the holiday with Mary and I will head to east next week to spend time with Nancy.  For her, the holiday has no meaning…I hope my presence does.

It is easy to look around at the rapidly emptying theatre of these exceedingly strong women’s lives with hopelessness and sorrow.  While there is a sense of impending emptiness that is unavoidable, I refuse to give in to melancholy and sadness.

                                                                                                             

For their ‘what was,’ a legacy of lives fully lived, storms engaged with strength and determination, was a playbill full of powerful and moving scenes.  Their future? In spite of the challenge of watching these once bright lights slowly dim, I am confident and assured.  Living in the moment here is a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, not giving much thought…using life’s experience to help guide the next step.

When I think of these women, the rest of my family and the many people for whom I am thankful during this holiday season, I slip to a quiet room in my mind.  Here I find a settled place and and call up the plaintiff sound Ella Fitzgerald singing the Gershwin brother’s music and words: 

"The way you wear your hat, 
The way you sip your tea, 
The mem'ry of all that -- 
No, no! They can't take that away from me! 
The way your smile just beams, 
The way you sing off key, 
The way you haunt my dreams -- 
No, no! They can't take that away from me!"

Thankful would be an understatement!

- ted

Things we find at 40,000 feet...

A knower of the Truth

travels without leaving a trace

speaks without causing harm

gives without keeping an account…”

- Lao Tzu Tao Te Ching: verse 27

“Excuse me, is that middle seat taken?”

It started like this…

It was the second leg of a Southwest Airline flight from San Diego to Orlando, Florida – with a stop in Austin, Texas.  The day had begun early and the prospects of a one-stop 5-hour flight brought, as it usually does, mixed emotions.  No phones, faxes, email – great, but it is a long time to sit.

I don’t often fly this airline, because I have lots of miles on a different carrier. Lots of miles means I get on flights early and usually find myself in a pre-assigned exit row with plenty of legroom.  When you are 6’4^1/2” (1.93m) tall, exit rows are golden.  On Southwest, you don’t get assigned seats, but rather 24 hours prior to your flight – to the minute…no to the second – you check in via the internet.

One imagines thousands of people, just like me, anxiously sitting by their computers with the Airline website open, counting down the seconds.  At the strike of the ‘24-hour window,’ you sense the collective and synchronous clicking of the ‘check in’ button hoping to get a low boarding number.  You see, the lower the number, the sooner you get on the aircraft.  The sooner you get on the aircraft, the better the seat.  There is no assigned seating…it is truly, first come first served.

At the airport, as the flight is called, passengers line up according to their number and file on.  You see furtive glances trying to see assignment numbers on the tickets of fellow passengers, making sure someone doesn’t jump ahead in the queue.  You hear conversations like, “I’m sorry I’m ‘A 45,’ what is your number?”  ‘A 46’ may have slipped ahead of you, and might say something like, “Oh, the number is close, it doesn’t really matter.”  You might smile and say, “Yeah, you’re right, one person doesn’t really make a difference.”  That may be what is said, not what is being thought!!!  “What if they get my coveted seat?”

On the plane and in the air…

The flight from San Diego had provided an aisle – not the exit seat, but the first leg was okay.  From Austin to Orlando, I captured it…it was mine…I owned it…Oh Yeah, legroom! 

The other person on the aisle in my row was also a pretty big fellow.  The center, however, remained empty long enough that I thought it might stay that way.  People don’t like center seats; unfortunately when one gets a high category number on this airline, the center seats are pretty much the only option.

An aside…

I can truly sympathize…I once took a flight across on an airline I seldom use.  It had assigned seats and I found myself in the back row middle seat.  The woman on my left was quite large and the woman on my right even larger – both had mild hygiene issues.  You know that thing about how you may not be able to change the circumstance…only your thoughts?  This was one of those ‘opportunities’ for me to exercise that principle…I repeated the phrase uncounted numbers of times on that flight.  You know, “…physician heal thyself…!”

Back to the flight…

Austin to Orlando turned out to be unique for an immediate and what turned out to be a delayed reason. 

The immediate reason had to do with a fellow in the row behind me on the aisle.  He was a little noisy, in fact, quite loud.  Suddenly, two airline security people quietly appeared and asked him to come with them – they removed him from the flight.

If one finds themselves being removed from an aircraft, it is a really good thing to not resist and just take your medicine.  This fellow understood, and while clearly annoyed he picked up his belongings and got off the plane.  He would be allowed to take a later flight.  Had he resisted, he would not have flown that day. 

With the man behind me gone, it looked like the center seat on this flight was going to remain open, meaning I would have legroom and good shoulder room…HOT DOG!  This comforting thought had just settled in when I heard, “Excuse me, is that middle seat taken?” 

I looked up and there was a big fellow about my age looking longingly, and I suppose since it was the last seat on the aircraft, a little desperately at that center seat – it turns out the flight was oversold!  When I say a big fellow, I mean he was well north of 6ft (1.8m+) and big boned.  He wasn’t huge, just a healthy sized man looking for a seat.  Yep, it wouldn’t have been his first choice, maybe so far down his list it wouldn’t have been a choice at all, but it was what it was and here we were!

The unexpected…

Bob, as I later learned, settled in and there was little doubt we would dance shoulder to shoulder for the next two or three hours.  Airline seats seem to have become a bit narrower over the years.  When people with fairly good sized shoulders sit side by side, there are a subtle and ongoing series of adjustments that occur… backward/ forward and side to side movements as one tries to be both comfortable and accommodating. 

During the climb to altitude, I asked Bob if he were heading out or going home.  This is a great way to take the temperature of the person next to you.  A lot can be read by the response to that question. 

Then it happened…

Bob was going out…he was going out to a meeting of ‘Fun Park’ exhibitors at the Orlando Convention Center.  Fun parks…fun park exhibitors??? What?? 

There was little doubt he had ‘set the hook.’ 

I have met lots of people on airplanes in the two million plus miles I have flown over the years…milk salesmen, button collectors, artists, musicians, tons of computer sales/service people, leather experts, moms/dads, students and athletes, but this was my first Fun Park owner…shoot, I have never even heard of Fun Parks.  Sure I knew of big amusement parks, traveling carnivals, and maybe a smaller water park or two, but a Fun Park AND companies that supported this business was a revelation…both entertaining and informative. 

He had begun with a small service station, built a restaurant, put in another service station, along with a couple of franchise businesses (Subway and maybe MacDonald’s – those parts of the conversation a little hazy)…but it was the piece of land he owned in rural Texas, where he put in a Fun Park, that I found almost mesmerizing.  

He spoke about his business and how in an economy that was hurting, a Fun Park provided a few hours of recreation, at a price point that met a need.

What made it better was the quiet and thoughtful way he talked about it.  He was one of those small business entrepreneurs who don’t get noticed in all of the rhetoric of Washington and Wall Street…one of those small business entrepreneurs upon whose shoulders this country has been built…one of those small business entrepreneurs who loves his country, his business and the people he serves.  The kind of fellow you would like to see talked about on the news as an example for other citizens, rather than those who have caused us such enormous problems through greed and selfishness.

While learning about his business, I pulled out my computer and shared a little of what I was going to be presenting the following day.  Even though it was a clinical level presentation, Bob got it and said, “You might not think I learned anything from our conversation, but I sure did.”  “Me too – from you.” I thought.

Is this going anywhere?

You know, life brings things in the most unexpected ways.  Here were a couple of fellows, about the same age who just ‘found a place’ with each other.  It wasn’t about Fun Parks or my work really, although those topics provided the vehicle for our interaction.  It was one of those moments in life where two older guys, who had a fairly common ‘time on planet’ and ‘cultural exposure,’ found a comfortable and engaging resonance.  The conversation didn’t need much extra explanation to set contexts, it was just like putting on an old pair of tennis shoes…you know, comfortable on the feet.

Life gets busy…there are lots of things still, gratefully, to do.  It is just a really nice thing when you find one of those friction free mature interactions with another human being…where after you have spent some of your spirit, you feel refreshed. 

Sometimes it’s the middle seats in life, the places where the legroom is not so comfy, when you find yourself shoulder to shoulder with a stranger, that provide the reward unexpected.  I had the legroom, but I’ll bet if you asked Bob, a comfortable flight was had by all.

- ted