A $15 Memory

I was starving. I just completed a consultation, ran a few errands, and was looking for a place to eat, not a drive through. Right there next to my bank was a Brigham’s restaurant. Now, for those of you who are older than dirt, you know the place, red and white booths, stools at the counter, and the ice cream display board above the grill. It brings back memories of a day when this was the hopping place to be with your friends after school, a shopping trip, or a Friday night date for fries and a hamburger. It was a destination. A place to hang out. A place to indulged with fries and ice cream.

But today, this restaurant was almost empty although just about noon time. I was warmly greeted by the familiarity of the place.  There were a few patrons in booths; no one seated at the counter. Holiday tunes were crooning in the background and several wreaths decorated the walls. Yet, I could conjure in my mind the sounds of kids chatting, laughing and maybe on occasion misbehaving just a little bit. People leaning over booth backs to their friends who could not all fit into the same booth. The sizzle of the grill and the shouts of the cook setting up the orders. Waitresses navigating the seating maze with plates of burgers and fries.

I splurged and ordered a club sandwich and diet beverage. I passed on the fries. After all, I am older now but had mentally debated the dietary ramifications of the sandwich coupled with the fat of fries or cole slaw. I justified the slaw as being healthier. And I sat in the well-worn booth reminiscent of the back seat of a 1960s Chevy. I just soaked it up as it was back in time contrasted by today. The sunlight filtered through the windows up front and cast an almost church like quality to the inner glow of the restaurant of today. All the brightness of the memories appeared to have dimmed considerably.

The price of the meal … $15. The price of the memory … invaluable.

What I want for Christmas

The selling season has begun. The ads have been fired at the public. The newspapers are twice their usual size with all the advertisements. People have signed up to pay homage to that great illusion that passes for Christmas gift giving. What is a gift but something that says “I love you” but without having to say so. And, what is a gift but a measurement of exactly how much I love you too. I can feel the warmth already.

I am being snarky because this holiday has become nothing more than a meter for the economy. I have worked in the retail arena for decades in some capacity or other providing services and product for the season. Maybe that is why I am so jaded about the Christmas mystique.  However, all signs seem to point to a wonderful selling season from the Black Friday and Cyber Monday preliminary estimates. There is hope for this struggling economy. And I must say that makes me feel just a tad more secure that a palace revolt won’t happen in the near future. More “love” was purchased from our major retailers this year over last. Each hard-earned dollar is going directly into the profit margin of Wal-Mart, Macy’s, Target and Toys R Us. I feel the warmth already.

I reined in my Christmas budget considerably when I realized that I was spending money on gift cards only to get gift cards in return. I could have saved a step and said to family and friends, you keep your money in your wallet and I’ll keep my money in mine. Now, unless otherwise instructed, I shop for a gift that has some meaning for that person. And, I pay cash when possible. Call me crazy, but I just don’t jump into this season because the marketing people tell me I need to join in all the buying frenzy. Bigger is not better and more can be too much.

What I do want for Christmas is to feel the genuine warmth of friendship and love from family and friends. On Christmas morning, I want to wake up to a wonderful cup of coffee, the smell of freshly peeled oranges and know that I have another day on this planet. I want to feel as if I have made a difference (of the positive kind) in someone’s life. I want other people to share with their loved ones. I want the feeling that all is right with life. I want peace on earth and good will towards men (and women).

November Wind

I live in New England and one truism that describes this climate is “If you don’t like this weather, just wait … it will change.” We say it all the time to explain all the seasonal inconsistencies. It snowed several weeks ago and the next day the temps were in the mid-60s. The weather just seems to struggle like a bipolar episode  in the spring and fall months.

We are in the throes of unseasonably warm weather and with the leaves tenaciously clinging to the trees, the landscape is still colorful. It feels good and right.

Typically, I am not a fan of this particular season. It means dwindling daylight, inclement transitions (snow/sleet), and slow death to the plants. It means letting go of the vegetable garden and patio time. The gas grill looks forlorn braving colder winds. All the outdoor relaxing and enjoyment has to move indoors for now.

But this year, the warm keeps coming back. Still some beach trips, flip flop time, walks along the seashore at night. Last Saturday, I went to Minute Man National Park for some history and the day was splendidly warm. Throngs of people were walking the park and Concord, MA. Everyone was outside again. People were engaged with the historic terrain and the quaint, posh shops in the town of Concord. I like my history served up warm.

I am not looking beyond today for a weather forecast. I am just enjoying this reprieve from winter’s closing fingertips. Living in the moment.

Occupy Thinking

With all the hoopla about Occupy Wall Street, I have been thinking. Yes, that’s right … thinking. Apparently, Americans don’t do much of it any more. It’s easier to get sucked into the mind numbing propaganda of the folks who are saying this movement is a bunch of unemployed hooligans with an axe to grind with what is the very core of the American soul, and that is greed.

Wait, since corporations are now considered “persons”, I guess my beef with these people is the extortion from the American tax payer for the benefit of the corporation/person. Why did we bailout these people after their bad business strategies, betting on housing deflation while selling options for making the bubble bigger, and awarding the upper echelon with obscene bonuses (paid for by you and me). Who has gained the most at the cost of the most?

The opposition would have you believe that you are Un-American, a spoiler, a socialist if you question the methods of Wall Street. But where has the American dream gone for most people? With debt, jobs lost, unsupported small business owners are looking at what has happened to economic stability as an evaporated dream and now replaced by a nightmare of greedy ghouls. You will never give enough to satisfy Wall Street. Ever.

Start thinking for yourself America. Turn off the television and head out into the world. Talk to people. Ask questions. Educate yourself. Ask yourself if you really need to give away your hard-earned cash to people who have come to expect your bailout.

“Do not go gentle into that goodnight” as the poet Dylan Thomas wrote.

Leadership 101

Yesterday, I spent the better part of the day working with folks I had never met before yet had a common goal: repair parts of an aging boardwalk in a local conservation area. While I know my way around some power tools and the business end of a hammer, I wouldn’t exactly consider myself a DIY kind of gal and certainly not on this size of a  project. Oh, and did I mention the 1/4 mile hike into the conservation land over muddy trails with wheelbarrows, tools, 7 ft long 4 X 4 pressure treated beams to get to the object of our repair?

As we met up, the organizer made sure we all got acquainted, and then another guy spoke about the history of the boardwalk and the conservation efforts over the past decades. This guy was a Boy Scout troop leader and there were several dads and sons together with strays like me in this newly formed “Repair Troop”.

One of the first points of business, although not announced, was the troop leader’s natural assumption as leader of all. We all deferred to his superior knowledge and took his direction. I might also add at this point that he was a natural teacher as well, always stopping to show how to use a drill correctly, acknowledging efforts, and teaching about safety while doing the above. I admit that having a half-dozen teens running around with drills, hammers, crowbars, etc. and working in a tight workspace was a little cringing for me. However, I determined that if the menfolk didn’t seem preoccupied with any impending death, destruction and mayhem by the boys, I should just let it go.

What made an impression on me was the way each member of “Repair Troop” took on various roles: the loner, the class clown, the slacker, the dissenter, the onlooker, the active participant, etc. and all the ways people behave in life. At one point, I spoke up about our plan to remove a section of boards and suggested that we slide in a crossbeam instead. This was a problem solving activity, so jumping in with an idea was as natural as knowing what kind of drill bit to use (for some). Just because all the other members were guys, some with more experience than I, and some with less, I felt as if I could speak up.  And that is what makes a team work.

Leadership means leading and allowing for participation, growth, and the personal contribution of the people within the team. Recognizing talents, gently correcting, and giving examples of “how to do” offer opportunities for people to shine and learn. Amazing business lesson from a very good Boy Scout Troop leader.

 

A Short Story

Recently, I remembered a movie about a man being hung from  a bridge sometime around the Civil War era.  As I recall, I was very young and the story line was almost devoid of any speaking. What struck me then was how the story developed (the man appeared to have escaped death) only to discover that it was all in his imagination. Years later, I discovered that the story was “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” by Ambrose Bierce. It was made into a short film and appeared as an episode of “The Twilight Zone (I was obsessed by The Twilight Zone as a kid.)

What is completely amazing is that I have remembered this film for over 45 plus years. I can recall images and sounds  from the movie, the look of the man’s face as he awaits execution,  the sounds of gun shots muffled by water, the frantic pace leading up to reaching his wife. Through all these years, I can remember that final twist at the end.

I read the short story a few weeks ago and was stunned by the simple elegance of the writing. Typically, the dialog carries the day but in this story it’s all about description.  My attention chased this story through each paragraph even though I knew the outcome from viewing that episode so long ago.

When we see or hear something amazing, it sticks. Maybe some details get hazy, but what you do know is that your mind changed in that instant.

Unplugged Afternoon

Yesterday, I decided to unplug from all my “feeds” for the afternoon. It was a brilliant day and the glow of a device screen didn’t make for an interesting view. In fact, I thought a lot about how I connected with my world.  Or more importantly, how I disconnected from my world. Spending hours in front of a keyboard doesn’t make for sensory value. It deprives. I realized that I spent more time with unrecognizable folks (Twitter followers), characters through fiction, and scenes from movies/TV. More of my sensory world is filtered through some form of medium not “live”, like right outside my door, or in the room with me.

Does it make a difference? It sure does.

I think I get more remote and alone the longer I keep up a relationship with media and not people.  I wrote about being a Tourist In My Own Life which implies that I’m just passing through. I am viewing my life like a movie, making bookmarks for the important moments, keeping 6 or more tabs open at the same time trying to keep up. The question is keeping up with what?

Would it matter significantly if I just stopped being involved so externally and concentrated, if just for a short time, on the inside of my consciousness without aid, stimulation or pressure from the outside world? What if I didn’t see my life as a movie but just through my own eyes. A first person encounter without a third person panoramic screen?

How different would I feel connected in that way? Would my reality become richer, more meaningful, less hectic, more focused … ?

Don’t know until I give it a try and on more than one occasion. I’ll let you know in about a month.

Tourist In My Life

There’s a wonderful tune by Death Cab for Cutie called “You Are A Tourist” and it’s a great metaphor for a life that is on the edge of discovery. The lyrics provoke an internal dialog about a “burning in your heart” and being a “villain in the story you have written”. When asking these kinds of questions, it truly is time to move along, and probably to the next level of being.

Without getting too profound, it’s my summer tune. The tune that causes me to reassess what meaning I have for my life and its current state.  I think it is time to make my effort “bigger than the sun.”