Sunday, November 27, 2011

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

Sunday, November 20, 2011

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 6’41/2” (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

Sunday, November 13, 2011

It only takes a moment...


When people take some step to enlarge a fellow citizen’s property,
or advance his career, there are several different
motives…It could sheer goodwill…respect….
or he may inspire their confidence…
- Cicero M The Good Life: On Duties

“Would you like that cappuccino to be a double sir?”

I had been walking around the exhibit area looking for a booth that was serving coffee, and there she was looking for a customer – need and fulfillment…I like that.

The society to which I have belonged for the past 23 years or so is made up of pretty high-end performers.  Most of them are spine surgeons, preoccupied with their practices and the economics that go along with this kind of work.  The exhibit areas for these meetings are huge, and while not all…mostly consist of vendors displaying surgical instruments and hardware for spinal surgery.

The meet…
This particular company’s display had an espresso stand and a smiling young woman doing the job for which she had been hired – making specialty coffees.

I was the only person in line at the moment, so while I waited, I asked her if she were a student.  “No,” she said, “I have a degree in music, but have moved home to Chicago to be closer to the family.  It is hard to find work in my field, so I pick up what I can.”  Now I was curious.

I told her my older sister taught voice in Washington, D.C….an opera singer…a soprano…and singing as well, maybe better than ever in her life.  Anne has a solid reputation and a stable of 50 or so students and a waiting list.  I have teased her over the years about being a ‘semi-professional’ singer, to which she has chided, “I am a professional singer and teacher!”  In fact she is, and in spite of the fact that I don’t often tell her – or at least tell her enough, I am extremely proud of her chosen profession and her gift…for truly she is gifted.

A gift – a present…
Ah yes, the gift…that brings us back to this young girl at the cappuccino machine.  I asked her range; she said soprano ….just like my sister…but her interest was in Baroque music.  While I have little knowledge about different music styles, I’m pretty sure Baroque carries strong rhythms, consistent moods, with more than one line of melody…I hope for my sake, and my sister’s critique this description passes muster!

As this young woman talked about her love of music, the moderately polite and flat look in her eye lit up like a well-decorated tree on Christmas morning.  She shared what singing meant to her and how she missed performing.

When I asked why she wasn’t singing, she said since moving back to Chicago, she had been away from the ‘music community,’ and it just wasn’t the same.  I couldn’t resist  “Are you any good?” I asked.  Without hesitation she replied, “Yes I am, I am very good.”  Her answer wasn’t that kind of uninformed bragging that often comes with youth or ignorance.  It was simply what it was, and came with a touch of spirit that had painted all over it…”I love this craft!  It feeds me. I miss not being as engaged as I have been in the past.  I don’t care about recognition…I just want to sing!”  She actually didn’t say any of that, she just said, “Yes I am.  I am very good.”  The rest is the commentary is what I felt when she spoke the words.  Singing was good for her…did anything else matter – really?

I told her I had taught university for a number of years, and always encouraged my students that they could do whatever they wanted to in life.  Maybe in the field for which they were preparing – maybe not – BUT if they followed their hearts, they would find their ‘place.’  If they had a gift and faith, they could do anything.

Chasing your heart is risky.  When you do this, there is little to hide behind…little place to take cover…convention makes little difference in matters of the heart you know…yeah, you know.

 A point – for me…
Then came THE MOMENT. The kind that provides perspective…the moment when you connect with another human being at an elemental level…where age, training, experience, attitudes, professions, mean nothing.  The unknown, unrehearsed and unexpected instant when two human beings find an instant in time, and little else matters.

I asked her if she were gifted…she knew she was…so I said, “…why aren’t you honoring the gift?”  She repeated her parents wanted her to be close and she felt an obligation to the family. 

I asked her again…

A tear formed in the corner of her right eye, and a lump in my chest.  She said, “Because I am afraid.”  In that brief moment, we were connected and I mean connected.  “I’m afraid it might not be what I think.”  She wouldn’t know, of course, if she didn’t try, and the only way to know would be to act.

She said, “Wow, I wasn’t expecting this!”  “Nor was I,” said I.  “But here we are.”  We held eyes silently for a few seconds, and knew whatever had transpired had meaning…for both of us.

The moment passed…
I thanked her for the cappuccino – the double shot – and turned to leave.  I looked back and gently said, “Honor the gift,” and with a smile began to move away.  “I will” she said, “I will…I needed that, and thank you.” 

“You don’t know,” thought I. “For it is I who should be thanking you.”  I smiled again and headed off, hot drink in hand and a song…a song in my heart…the rhythm strong; the mood elevated and consistent…the melody, well, in this case harmony and it was close and tight. 

What really matters?
It’s hard to know when one is going to be rewarded in life…when those small, seemingly commonplace events become something more…something much more.

I will never see this young woman again, and don’t know whether the touch we both experience will have any lasting meaning for her.  I can only speak for me.  It often isn’t life’s boulders we work to move that make the difference in our daily existence…sometimes it’s just taking a little time to turn over the pebbles.

I wouldn’t know this woman again if I sat or stood next – nor she me – but maybe one day I will hear her sing.  Maybe something that gift reach into my heart a second time and I will hum along with a little harmony.




- ted