Spring

The morning is brisk as I lounge on the deck by warm flames from the fire pit.

I am supplied with Lois's raisin oatmeal muffins, coffee and the paper.

Two magpies squawk as they perform their mating rituals.

A robin steals cedar mulch for its nest.

A doe grazes on tender grass shoots.

Spring has arrived.

The Only Road Left to Roam

As I read the paper and drink McDonald's senior coffee, from a couple of booths away, I hear the funky strumming of a guitar: driving, bluesy, percussive, syncopated. The musician is well groomed and well dressed. Out comes a soulful ballad of hard times. I write down the chorus on my newspaper:

Everyone knows how this story goes,
There is no end.
The only road left to roam is the lonely road home,
You've got to let me in.

I walk over and say, "Good sounds, man. I'm Geoff. You write that?"

"I'm Mark. Yep, I wrote it. I've been on the road for quit a while. Headin' for California. I've had lots of time to write down my story."

"Where ya from, Mark?"

"Indiana. I've been takin' engineering at Purdue, but it wasn't workin' out."

"So, who's that you're singin' about?"

"Oh, she lives in LA, that's where I'm headed."

I go back to finish reading the paper, and then as I drive home, I see Mark, with guitar and backpack, thumbing on the I-25 southbound ramp, holding a neatly printed sign that reads: "Albuquerque"

My thoughts... (A letter to my daughter)

Dear Natalie,

I am sorry that you finally heard the "other shoe drop,"  after such a long, unsettling and drawn-out process. I am sure that it is a difficult time for you. Here are my thoughts about your situation, after observing many friends (including myself), who have experienced such unpleasantness.

First you must experience all the phases of grieving: surprise, anger, denial, sadness... For this process, a day is too short; a year is too long. 

The friends I admire got the event behind them in reasonable time and didn't take it personally. They didn't let the demons of lowered  self worth and confidence and the resulting ennui stay in their psyches. They got back up and went on to greater achievements. Most important--they didn't take it personally. Easy to suggest, harder to implement; but the only thing that is rational. 

Key for you to focus on the talents and skills that you have always had and have honed:  technical expertise, quick learner, quick wit, "take the bull by the horns" attitude, leadership, persistence, "Get Along With Others," excellent communicator, quick thinker under fire... Besides that, you can safely use a flame-thrower to make a hell of a creme brulee. Few are so blessed.

Your skills and contributions are in demand. It is a tough market, but you have the edge. Everyone knows that in your case, they layed-off a valuable employee for reasons that have nothing to do with your excellent performance. They took away your job, but they didn't take away any of your fine attributes.

In Toastmasters, I have two friends that I admire for being successful in tough times. I think you met them both: Barry and Byron.

Barry is the turtle. He wrote his first book a few years ago and collected 275 reject letters before he got it published. He just published his fifth book and may be going to China to lecture on starting successful businesses. Public speaking is not Barry's strongest point; persistence is.  When Barry gets a rejection, he just sends out a thousand more inquiries with a self addressed, stamped envelope.

Byron, of course, is a world class speaker. He is the rabbit.  After realizing that he was never going to permanently play at baseball's major league level, he decided to be a world class speaker. Shortly after joining our club and hearing about the International Speech Contest, he said that he was going to win the World Championship. He called everyone who had won the International contest and asked them for help. He went to see them. Many of our club evaluations were tough on Byron; he took much to heart and changed. We had a TI champion visit the club one time he and Byron made a pact that Byron would win the TI contest and the champion would help him. In one year,  Byron competed at the convention in Connecticut. He didn't win, but probably would have placed if he had spoken seventh or eighth, rather than second.

Last year, Byron didn't even place at the Division level contest. But that doesn't make much difference now. He gave the Key Note speech at the TI convention in Los Vegas. He is in demand as a public speaker. His business card has a testimonial by President Obama on it. He is going to speak at an event in June with Obama. I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't call the White House and ask for the president. An upcoming speech is in Africa to four thousand women. When Byron gets a rejection, he picks up the phone and calls the world's best for advice and criticism.

Two approaches to adversity.

Enough.  I just want you know that I think about you much and admire you for all of your attributes. Please don't forget them.

Love,

Dad

Keep Out

Granddaughters Genna (7) and Sarah (5) were playing, but had a problem: Sarah's pesky brother Andrew (3). So they made the sign below, taped it on the door, and shut Andrew out.

Translation: "Plees knock, and say its and your name and wate a feu menets. No smoking!"

Melvin's Hat

In McDonalds, I walked over to Donice, sitting alone, drinking her senior coffee and reading the paper. Six months ago, she lost Melvin, her love of sixty years.

"How ya doin', Donice?"

"Oh, the house is so lonely. I am slowly cleaning up. Melvin was such a pack rat. He saved all the plasticware from this place--there are drawers full of the stuff. He saved all the McDonald's receipts--for the... paper. I guess it was from his Mennonite grandparents who escaped from Russia with nothing. Why throw away a perfectly good spoon?"

"It has to be tough to get rid of alot of that stuff--too many memories."

"Yeah," Donice said, "I haven't touched his hat on the back of the chair where he last hung it."

Rotorooter Tales

I walked into the men's locker room at the Y, where a plumber under the sink was snaking a Rotorooter cable into the stopped up drain. His labors brought back memories from my college summers when I worked at a plumbing shop. Fifty years had gone by, while I kept horrendous Rotorooter incidents bottled up inside--no one ever wants to discuss such things.

I told him of my past, and then we swapped stories of when Rotorooter jobs had gone bad--horribly bad. I told a gross story; he topped it; I told a grosser one; he topped that with the grossest Rotorooter tale of all times-- one I can never repeat.

Although I lost, sharing was great therapy.

Ice Please

Amongst the trees in our backyard, Lois and I ate lunch with our grandkids--Sarah age five and Andrew four. They love listening to stories about our encounters with local wildlife. It was also an opportunity to refresh what they should do if they happen upon rutting bucks, coyotes, cougers, bears and rattle-snakes.

Andrew asked if we had seen our perennial mother bear and cubs. "No, not yet," we told him, "When it is cold, they sleep in their den."

Later in the afternoon, I poured some juice for Andrew and asked, "Do you want ice with this?"

Andrew mused, "Yes, because bears don't like the cold."