That Special Time of Year

One thing about the Christmas season; around our house it lasts for quite a while.

For instance, we usually put the Christmas tree up the day after Thanksgiving. And, since my birthday is at the end of January, I always beg Mrs. MZM to leave it up until after that blessed event is over. The result: we tend to celebrate Christmas around our house for a full 1/6 of the year! Yeehaw!

Then there’s all kinds of fun stuff to do, too, such as celebrating the end of hurricane season (a very big deal down here in the Gulf Coast region of the United States!), or searching for the perfect gift for Mrs. MZM (assuming the finances allow it – something that’s not always true from year to year *sigh*). Or maybe it’s cooking up sweet goodies like, um, pumpkin bread, or even making a big pile o’ delicious Christmas tamales (don’t laugh; that’s a big tradition here in Texas).

Special seasonal events abound as well: Christmas caroling, family get-togethers, and the annual “throwing out the old year’s resolutions to make brand-new ones”. And that doesn’t’ even begin to count events with religious significance as well: Christmas pageants, candlelight services, and all the rest.

But this year – ah, this year ranks right up there at the top of our Holiday experiences! I had the chance to be a king!

King for A Day

It all started when a friend asked me to help her with their school’s chapel time. “It’s easy,” she said. “All you have to do is be one of the three Kings (also known as the Wise Men) for a few minutes.”

Well, I ask ya; how could I turn such an offer down?

I mean, what’s the downside? There’s this really kingly robe to wear, I get to swap my cowboy hat for a shiny gold crown (only temporarily, of course – or maybe I could come up with a ‘Texas’ version?), and best of all, I’m already an experienced Wise Guy! (Yup; I’m a professional – please don’t try it at home!)

Unfortunately, one of the costumes was a mite too tiny to fit the fellow who volunteered (he was a bit too broad-shouldered), so we drafted my friend’s mom to stand in. (Now ordinarily, you’d think this might raise an eyebrow or two. Luckily, though, our audience was relatively indiscriminating, consisting of mainly a herd of about 25 three- and four-year-olds.)

The skit went well. We walked in singing the first verse and chorus of “We Three Kings”. Then each of us shared a little nugget about who we were (I played the second King, Melchior) and where we were from (I’m from out East – ‘waay past Louisiana). We also talked a little about the gifts we brought for the baby Jesus (mine was frankincense – and I challenge you to explain that to a three-year-old!)

I’ll tell ya; there’s nothing like the expression of wonder on a child’s face, is there? Their collective “ooh’s” and “ah’s” when we came in was well worth the effort.

I’ll tell ya; it’s good to be the King!

But Who Should Really BE the King?

Anyway, it was a lot of fun. Sadly, though, after a few minutes we trooped out and *sigh* had to return to the Real World. As I drove home, though, I reflected a bit on what it means to be a King. After all, when you get right down to it, that’s quite a job description, y’know?

Oh sure, the perks are great. Generally there’s a really nice place to live and a big staff of perennially eager beavers working and catering to every wish. There may even be hordes of devoted followers, too, hanging on the King’s every word as though they were, well, gold, frankincense or myrrh.

But bein’ a King ain’t all fun and games. After all, many a king has discovered the truism (sometimes the, um, hard way, if you get my meanin’) that along with great privilege comes great responsibility.

Sometimes, that’s the hardest lesson of all, isn’t it? That when you’re the actual leader – whether it’s of a single person or an entire country – it takes a very special individual who can truly live up to the role. Presidents and Prime Ministers, CEO’s and Supervisors, Captains and Corporals; they all bear a heavy responsibility when it comes to how they lead the folks underneath them in the org chart.

Are they worthy of the job they bear? Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? Sometimes, no matter the apparent qualifications, only time will tell.

Maybe that’s one reason Christians consider Jesus to be our King. I mean, with what we know about human nature (not to mention the not inconsiderable failings of earthly Kings and leaders of all kinds), only someone sent from God would really be qualified to do it right. Just sayin’.

Are You a Leader?

So what about you?

Are you a leader? What would you say are the main things that makes folks want to follow you? (Trust me when I say, if your followers don’t want to follow you, you ain’t a real leader no matter what the title says!) What advice would you give someone moving into a leadership role for the first time?

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Can a tiny little bit of resentment really be all that bad? I mean, it’s so small, and that – well, let’s call it anger ’cause that’s what it really is – is just a lil’ tiny thing, ain’t it? Besides, sometimes holding a little anger in can be kinda delicious, can’t it?

But over the years I’ve come to realize that no matter how teeny tiny that anger starts out, it can still have an amazing grip on my heart. Here’s what I mean…

Lord of My Domain

There’s just something about owning your own home, you know? Please forgive me if I come across as all that, y’all. I dunno; maybe it’s a sortof “lord of your domain” kind of thing when you “own” a patch of God’s green Earth for yourself, y’know?

Anyhoo – I derive a certain satisfaction standing on my front porch, looking out over the small patch of land I owe so much money on own. Having performed this exercise more than a few times, I’ve gotten rather familiar with my own property. What’s more, it’s pretty easy to tell when there’s something not quite right. A disturbance in the force, perhaps? An object that didn’t belong?

Suddenly I spotted the offensive element – right at my feet! Oh, the horror! There in my front garden – right next to the walk where any visitor could see it – was a (sound of terrified scream) weed! Well, it really wasn’t all that big. In fact, it was only about 2 inches tall. But set against our dark brown mulch, the bright green leaves made it easy to see.

OK; now you’re probably thinkin’ to yourself, What the heck is the big deal? I mean, it’s only a weed, right? I mean, it’s not like it was a triffid or anything. And you’d be correct up to a point. After all, when you have a garden, finding a weed here and there is pretty much a given. (Find a triffid, on the other hand, and you’d better run for your life! Just sayin’.)

Anyway, I did what any self-respecting homeowner woulda done: I reached down to gently, er, rip the little booger outta the ground (you have to do it just right or you don’t get the roots out, you know), only to find… the darned thing wouldn’t budge! Harumph.

Now, that kinda surprised me, since this particular weed was so small. I mean, how deep could the roots be, anyway? And how strong? After all, I’m a big, giant man – and I’m ‘waaay stronger than any puny little ol’ weed! So I bent down, got a better grip on the weed’s stem, and started pulling, gently but firmly. With fairly steady pressure, it would eventually let go.

At first, nothing happened. Finally, I saw it slowly coming loose. The only thing was, a surprisingly large patch of the garden was coming up with it! My eyebrow lifted in a remarkable imitation of Mr. Spock, and I’m almost sure I heard the word, “Fascinating” in the whisper of the breeze.

Sheesh, I thought, what’s this thing wrapped around? Those dang roots must be down somewhere near China! I had visions of unearthing a misplaced treasure chest filled with lost pirate’s gold or something. And now I had to pull that out along with the offending weed.

Finally, I got it completely out of the ground, and was rewarded with my Catch of the Day: a two-inch weed attached to a big clump of dirt – and a four-inch piece of wood! I’m tellin’ ya; that weed wasn’t gonna give up without a fight!

Anyway, having come out the victor in this particular battle of wills, I sneered in my best Jimmy Cagney impression, “Nyah; thought ya had me, ya little weasel! But I showed ya who was boss here, didn’t I! Nyah!” (Hey, sometimes I gotta be my own entertainment.)

Needless to say, that little weed never stood a chance against someone as big as me (not that I’m, er, big, mind you!) But what surprised me was the way the roots of that little guy managed to get such a good grip on that piece of wood – not to mention the sizable clump of dirt it brought out with it.

The thing is, roots can be like that, can’t they? They work their way into the tiniest of crevices in dirt, rocks or whatever, and can be heck to completely get out. And wow, they can have quite the deathgrip, if you know what I mean.

The Root of Bitterness

There’s an interesting statement in the Bible (actually, it’s in Hebrews, chapter 12, verse 15, if you care to look it up) that uses a word-picture combination that has always stuck with me. Here’s the verse:

See to it that no one comes short of the grace of God; that no root of bitterness springing up causes trouble, and by it many be defiled…

… and the words of interest are right there in the middle: root of bitterness.

What’s a root of bitterness, you may ask? Well, it’s a fair question. A root of bitterness is what the writer of Hebrews calls that little, angry, resentful feeling you get when you don’t like bein’ disciplined for your own good.

Remember when you were a little kid, and you did something stupid, or wrong, or mean? Chances are good that your parents, or your teacher (or hopefully someone appropriate) laid some discipline on ya, right? It happens all the time, even when we’re grown up, too.

Everywhere we turn, life, the universe, and everything tends to discipline us when we do stuff that’s out of line, doesn’t it? Oh, it might not be right away. I mean, you may think you’re getting away with it. But I’m tellin’ ya; sooner or later, she all comes home to roost, if you get my meanin’.

Here’s where the rubber meets the road, though. If you’re still teachable (hopefully that includes you!), then that discipline actually serves to make you a better person. But if you’re not… well, you may just end up a bitter, angry person. Hey, you know it’s true, right?

I find the choice of those particular words “root of bitterness” fascinating, don’t you? It describes perfectly what’s happening down inside your heart. Even the tiniest bit of anger, just like that tiny little weed, can get quite a grip on the fabric of your soul. Once there, it can be pretty tough to root out, y’know?

What to do? Well, it’s pretty simple, really. Just deal with whatever the situation is that caused the anger. And whatever you do – don’t  let it fester or it’ll get worse! Roots have a way of growin’ deep when you ignore ‘em. I’m just sayin.

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Photo: Tiny weed, by bishib70

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[Note from the Proprietor: Today's post is (as you can plainly tell by the title) a guest post submitted by my friend Luke Gedeon, who blogs at Luke Gedeon. Although this week we're focusing on Mountaintop Experiences, this one is a mite time-sensitive (and marginally related to the topic anyway) so I'm posting it today.]

Thank you Robert for this guest post opportunity.

The theme of this month is What I Learned from the Mountaintop, and I will post on that soon. For today, I have something closer to a valley, but don’t worry. It has a happy ending.

Have you ever needed help really bad, and had nothing to give in return? No money. No girl scout cookies. Nothing!

Well… I did offer one person a bag of M&M’s. The gift was accepted but the results were well… a little less than I had hoped for.

I recently entered Caring for China, the non-profit I work for, in a group-writing project. Not the ordinary, just for fun project, either. The company sponsoring the project, Zemanta, is giving away several thousand dollars to the cause(s) that can get the most bloggers to participate. (Click here for more info.) It is still open until Saturday the 6th, if you are willing to help.

So of course I jumped at the opportunity! I sent out a mass email to friends and family, I posted about it on my blog and twitter, and even set up a twitter account for Caring for China and followed anybody who said anything about China in hopes that they would help.

Then I went back to work on two huge projects, and let the mini-mass-media do its work.

Silence.

So I tried again, this time individually contacting a few of the people I thought most likely to help.

That worked!

At least half of the people I contacted directly followed through. I am still hoping a few more will soon.

This guest-post opportunity also came about through direct communication.

So my big lesson for the month, what I learned from begging, is that personal contact is still essential, and that blog posts and tweets without the “at” sign do not count as personal contact. You still have to use people’s names and address them individually.

So how about you? Have you ever experienced the thrill of begging? Did you learn anything in the process?

[This blog post is part of Zemanta's Blogging For a Cause campaign to raise awareness and funds for worthy causes that bloggers care about.]

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[Further note from the proprietor: As mentioned above, this post is also part of this month's What I Learned From... groupwrite project. If you'd like to join us (and you're more than welcome!), just click on that cute little link and read all about it. You have until Sunday at midnight, June 7 to enter!]

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[Warning: Lengthy post - not because I got long-winded - that sorta goes without sayin', if you get my meanin' - but because of a long image lower down in the post. Just sayin'.]

You ever get the feeling you’re bein’ watched? It’s sorta like that creepy-crawly feelin’ between the shoulder blades when nobody’s around. Like bugs crawlin’ around back there. Ick.

How about when you know you’re bein’ watched, like when you get up in front of a room filled with people?

OK, how about this one: What if you suddenly realized a whole herd o’ folks were watching your every move? Does it make you think twice about what you were about to say? Or not? Kinda makes you think, doesn’t it? Oh, sure; some folks thrive on that sortof thing. But not me – and I daresay, not most of us, either.

That thought struck me the other day (sound of dull thud), bringing back a particular memory…

It Started Out Innocently Enough

A few years back, during a regrettably long period of unemployment, I was invited to sign up for a two-week-long jobs program run by the Texas Department of Labor. (Not that I expect great things from anything the Government does, mind you; it just seemed like I wasn’t getting anywhere with the usual job-hunting methods and figured any help would be a good thing. Besides, it was free! I like free.)

Right at the beginning, folks who sat at the same table were grouped into teams. Well, it was no big deal anyway since we didn’t know each other to begin with. Interestingly enough, though, the six of us at our table somehow seemed to “mesh” almost right away, and before too long were cracking jokes and trading insights with each other like the best of friends. I guess shared trials really did help us there; we were all in the same leaky boat and lookin’ for a bucket, y’know?

Well, things went fine for the first week. At the start of the second week, though, our instructor announced that over the next couple of days we’d all be conducting mock interviews in front of a video camera, and the class would then offer (hopefully) helpful critiques.

Now at first, I must admit to feelin’ a tad nervous about that. I mean, I’d never been videotaped before (except by accident at a wedding, or something), much less done it in front of millions. (Well, maybe about 30 – but it seemed like millions!) After a few minutes discussing it with my friends at the table, I managed to put my fears back down into that little box where I usually keep ‘em.

After all, I said to myself, how bad could it be? (He said, blithely.) I mean, you sit down, answer a few questions honestly and forthrightly, maintain eye contact, smile, don’t pick yer nose – heck, I could practically do that in my sleep!

V-Day

Finally, the day came. Each interview lasted about 5 minutes; then for about 15 minutes we played the tape while different folks pointed out, um, “helpful observations”. Actually, they really were helpful. Really. It can just be a bit overwhelming when everyone is trying to, y’know, help you.

One by one, each of us did the deed. By a quirk of fate, our table was one of the last ones, so we had plenty of time to observe how the whole thing was going. In part, it helped allay some fears. Folks were actually contributing helpful advice. Of course, in part it simply caused a slow buildup of, y’know, other fears…

Again, I thought to myself, I can do this, no problem.

Finally, my turn came. I’m tellin’ ya; you’da been proud of me! On the outside I was as calm as a mountain lake. But on the inside… ah, but on inside I was just a giant bowl of shiverin’, quiverin’ jello. Nevertheless, I stood up, calmly moseyed up to the front and took a seat – then proceeded to make a total hash of the entire interview! (sound of heart dropping through my shoes)

Yep; it’s true. In fact, by the time it was over, you could hear this unbelieving hush fall across the entire room. Embarrassment seemed to reign supreme, especially on the instructor’s part as she struggled to come up with something – anything – positive to say about my abysmal performance.

I felt like a piece of greasy food left on a plate that was about to be put in the dishwasher. Or like that target they use to test the effectiveness of the blast power of a Cruise Missile. It was awful. It was humiliating. It was – well, lemme put it this way. If I’da known the deep, dark secret to becoming invisible, well, I woulda done it right then, no hesitation – publicity be hanged.

The Eyes Have It

What happened, you ask?

Well, it’s like this. I was fine until I suddenly realized how many eyes were focused right on yours truly. Eyes belonging to folks I didn’t know. I mean, I was fine when swapping lies stories, conversing and laughing with folks at my own table – you know, the ones I was comfortable with. But bein’ out there in front of all the rest of the room was quite a different story.

Wow, was that ever a fun excruciating experience! Hey, it’s tough enough discovering things about yourself you didn’t know – and aren’t necessarily proud of. But it’s a frog of an entirely different hop when it happens right there in front of God and everyone, if you get my meanin’.

As it turned out, though, I did learn a few things that actually helped me out later on. Perhaps the main one was this: never to forget your audience – and the fact that no matter what you do, you have one! In fact, as I pointed out up there at the beginning of this post, that very thought came up the other day…

Ooh, Shiney! A New Toy: Twitter Mosaic

The other day I ran across this little web-based thingie called Twitter Mosaic.

What does it do? Hey, glad you asked! When you enter your Twitter username, it makes a nice composite of your choice of either followers or friends. (Note: Still haven’t figured out how to make it show all my enemies yet. Might be a handy thing to keep around… But I digress.)

Anyhoo, I have about 675 Twitter followers (give or take, depending on time of day, current season, and that particular day’s hat size). After deleting avatars that are obviously businesses, and turning it into an image (actually 6 separate images since it was so long) this is what the mosaic looks like (and I have no idea why they end up in the order they appear here):

Wow! Now that’s really sumpin’, y’all! Not only does it create a really cool image, but that’s quite a lotta folks, y’know? And to think I hardly have any followers compared to some.

Just think – all those folks are… uh… hmmm… well… Eek! They’re watchin’ everything I say! (suddenly jumps up and runs screaming from the keyboard)

Is it Gettin’ Hot in Here, or is it Just Me?

Now, why do I suddenly feel so very self-concious? I mean, it’s not like there’s any difference in now versus, say, 10 minutes ago, right? Not really. But the very idea that so many folks (potentially at least) are able to read my words (and slice and dice ‘em  too, should they feel so inclined)… well, it’s kinda sobering, for want of a better term.

I mean, like most folks, there’s a much smaller group I regularly communicate with, via blogs, comments, tweets, etc. They’re like those folks at my table – we laugh at each other’s jokes (and groan at the boners), edify each other, encourage each other to no end. But all those others – it’s like bein’ suddenly transported back to that chair in front of the video camera.

Uh, wow.

Oh, I’m sure a lot of those followers are simply there for numbers; hey, it’s a fact of life. Honestly, I don’t begrudge them that. The truth is, you get out of it what you put into it, y’know? But still, the idea that so many people can see every word I write does kinda make it a little more real, y’know? And, just for a brief moment, I had a flashback of that horrible feeling I had back in that workshop. But only for a moment.

I’ll tell ya; it should be a wake-up call for all of us, though. After all, the things we say out loud here on the Internet really are out there for all to see. And, like it or not, your words have power. Power to build, or power to destroy; power to obfuscate, or power to enlighten – hey, it’s up to you.

As that great American Philosopher Obi-wan Kenobi once said, “Choose wisely…”

Let’s Bring it Home

Now, lest you think I done forgot to bring this baby home (and thereby lettin’ you off the hook), let’s make this real and personal, shall we?

The fact is, whether you have a lot of followers or just a few, there are folks out there who actually read, think about, and yes, Virginia, sometimes even respond to your words. Now, knowing that to be true, does that:

1. Scare you to death, giving you a bad case of the heebie-jeebies every time you sit at the keyboard
2. Excite you beyond words and you just can’t keep it in any more but have to get what’s on your mind OUT THERE
3. Make you yawn because you don’t really think about it much, and hey, what I have to say doesn’t really matter all that much

OK, I made the choices extreme on purpose. Nevertheless (would a word like that fit the definition of “mashup”? uh, never mind) which continuum do you lean toward, and how does it affect what you do (and perhaps more importantly, say) on the web?

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Photo: Watched 2, by 35mm fanboy

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"Untitled", by Digit Al

[Note from the Proprietor: This is an entry for this month's What I Learned From... groupwrite project. We'd love to have you join us! See the bottom of this post for details - after, y'know, you read this post, of course! Just sayin'.]

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Two armies faced each other across the ravaged earth. Each understood, from the nature of the conflict, that there could be only one victor. By now many skirmishes had occurred – indeed, the very ground they occupied evidenced the terrible forces that had already been brought to bear.

Nevertheless, the Conclusion of the matter was still to come. Both sides, opposition and incumbent, knew it would be long and fierce, with no holds barred. Both understood the stakes involved. Each had committed to see the battle through to its inevitable finale.

THE OPPOSITION GENERAL marshaled his forces in vast ranks to either side. All that remained was the disposition of a few last arrivals, and the battle would begin. He knew it was all or nothing, and was grimly determined to be the victor, no matter what the cost. Everything he was, everything he dreamed of would be determined by the outcome of this final battle. There were no greater stakes, and he knew it.

He surveyed again the impressive ranks of daunting warriors at his disposal. Their size, their determination, their dedication to himself… A deep and profound feeling of pride rose from within as he contemplated his command of so invincible a force. His eyes narrowed as he turned and carefully scrutinized the massed ranks of the incumbent’s forces. Their strength and self-confidence was evident, but he knew they would be no match for the power of his own forces. Victory, he knew, would inevitably be his.

The appointed time approached with all the ponderous inevitability of a glacier. He stood tall, raising an arm toward his trumpeters. They lifted their flaming instruments, long prepared to boldly signal his command. As the moment approached, all of creation seemed to hold its collective breath in anticipation.

It was time.

BUT A SUDDEN FLURRY of motion began within the facing ranks, making him pause for a moment. Brilliant light flooded upwards from the midst of the enemy line, so bright as to be nearly intolerable. Taken by surprise, the General halted the order to better concentrate his not inconsiderable intellect upon the new development. Wary of trickery, he waited and watched, bewilderment increasing as a remarkable scene unfolded before his astonished eyes.

The distant ranks of enemy soldiers began to part like the pages of a vast and timeless book, revealing an extraordinary panorama. Right there, exactly in the middle of a blasted and torn battlefield, an anomaly had appeared. Where once the land was twisted and black, a vast patch of brilliant green had simply appeared, as if commanded into existence.

His jaw dropped as he watched the patch of emerald light resolve itself into a huge garden. Snow-capped mountains appeared, accompanied by the threaded silver lines of rivers and streams filled with clear, fresh water. Every kind of tree and bush thrust newly-formed limbs skyward as if in supplication. Flowers burst open in eye-popping arrays, sweeping across the hills in broad strokes of color as far as the eye could see.

An incredible variety of insects, birds, and animals began to appear everywhere. Strangely, they appeared almost rough-hewn at first, as if molded from clay by a sculptor’s hands. But then, with an explosive flicker of motion, they burst into life. Birds exuberantly flapped their wings as they soared upwards into the now clear blue sky. Cattle munched sedately on fresh green grass as they slowly ambled away. A trout, tossed like a lump into the river, changed in an instant to a flash of silver motion as it turned and joyfully burst from the liquid surface in a fantastic leap.

IT MADE NO SENSE whatsoever. What was going on? And why now, just as battle was about to be joined, would his counterpart stop everything for this… this petty diversion? That’s when he noticed a small gathering of figures in the midst of the garden, next to one brightly spectacular tree.

Abruptly, he stopped to take a closer look. Yes! One of the figures was the arch enemy himself! He grimaced in self-satisfaction, anticipating the coming delicious confrontation. To finally vanquish his foe once and for all! The thought stirred his heart as nothing else could.

But… what was he doing? Two other figures stood in front of him – one male; the other, female. Oddly enough, they didn’t appear to be wearing any armor. In fact – and this was strange, considering the conflict that was about to be unleashed – they weren’t wearing anything at all!

Was it a planning session for the upcoming battle? Perhaps they were special envoys, being briefed to send a message. Maybe even to me, he thought. Could the enemy be willing to give up so easily? He doubted it, but one never knew. It was dangerous to underestimate the shrewdness of his opponent.

But no, they seemed to be just… talking. Finally, his nemesis stepped forward, kissed them both, and joined the male and female’s hands together. That’s when the truth became evident – it was obviously some kind of ceremony!

It was an astonishing revelation. All those eons spent planning the coming confrontation, and he thought he knew his opposition down to the last aspect. Nothing, he thought, could possibly take him by surprise. This, however – this was something completely unexpected.

He silently watched as the ceremony ended and the ranks of soldiers smoothly reformed themselves with machinelike precision into their former battle lines. The bright, eye-searing glow faded from sight, and one could almost physically sense their determination gathering as both sides prepared themselves for the coming action.

BUT CONFUSION REIGNED in his mind for the first time in a long, long while. He understood the fact that his opponent had wanted him to see this – but for a while, he had no idea what to do – a first for himself. What could possibly be so important that an epic battle would be held up for a… a… ridiculous ritual!

Then confusion gave way to anger. This will have no bearing on the inevitable outcome, he told himself. But still… there was that niggling doubt. He knew his adversary was a shrewd campaigner and wouldn’t hesitate to do something unusual, just to throw him off. He stoked his anger into white-hot fury. There was nothing – absolutely nothing – left to chance. This moment of show, so obviously for his benefit – well, he was determined it would change nothing! As for those two… humans – he practically spat the word – well, he’d deal with them later.

He angrily turned and raised his arm to give the signal…

Something Very Odd

[Note from the Proprietor: I realize there's plenty of folks who don't take the story of Adam and Eve literally. Heck; there's some who haven't even heard of 'em! No problem, my friends; believe it or not, even among Christians there seems to be some discussion about their actual, literal existence. Hey, that don't bother me none. As far as I know, it's pretty much a free world out there (at least, inside our own skulls, anyway), and you're welcome to believe they were real - or not - as you see fit.]

OK; I don’t know about you, but it seems to me that something very odd happened in this story. I mean, think about it for a minute, won’t you?

In truth, what turned into (or will turn into, depending on how you look at it) the Ultimate Battle actually started out as a rebellion by an angel then known as Lucifer. However, by the time the smoke cleared (figuratively speaking, you understand), Lucifer-turned-Satan and a third of the angels had been swept from Heaven.

Now where, exactly, they ended up isn’t really clear to me, although it seems apparent from the narrative in the Book of Genesis that even the Earth itself had been decimated in the ensuing conflict. Be that as it may, to me the story of Adam and Eve still remains an amazing anomaly. Or maybe… it was a turning point?

The Turning Point

I mean, here we are, in the midst of the Battle of the Eons. Both sides know it’s a conflict with only two possible outcomes: total victory – or total defeat. As we say here in Texas, there weren’t no ‘ifs’, ‘ands’ or ‘buts’ about it.

And yet, right in the middle of this epic conflict, God himself stopped the whole shebang – not to conduct a planning session, nor to regroup, nor even to take a breather. Nope; it was to conduct, of all things, a wedding!

Kinda fills you with a sense of wonder, doesn’t it? I mean, the institution of marriage must be pretty important, don’cha think, if the God of the Universe would do something like that. So… it seems to me we ought to at least take our marriages a bit more seriously than, y’know, your average sporting event, political issue, or financial statement.

Hey, I’m just sayin’.

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[Yet another note from the Proprietor: This is yet another entry in this month's What I Learned From... groupwrite project. If you'd like to participate - and maybe win a free copy of Problogger - well, just click on that cute little link and read all about it!]

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[Note from the Proprietor: This is an entry for this month's What I Learned From... groupwrite project. We'd love to have you join us! See the bottom of this post for details - after, y'know, you read this post, of course! Just sayin'.]

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Have you ever wondered what was the point of adversity – y’know, trials and troubles? I know I used to.

I mean, it ranked right up there with the other Questions of the Ages. Important questions, like: Why do we face adversity? Why do the righteous have to suffer? Why do we fall in love? Why was it that, no matter how hard he tried, the Coyote could never catch that stupid Roadrunner?

But I found out that, when it came to adversity, I was completely missing the point. And I finally got to share that with someone.

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Ask and Ye Shall Receive… Uh, What, Exactly?

Back when I was in my early twenties (insert respectful moment of silence here in memory of my *sigh* lost youth), I belonged to a fairly small church near my home in northwest Houston. Now, if you’ve ever been a young single person in a very small church, you’ll understand the dilemma.

See, the problem was, there usually aren’t all that many singles in a small church. As a matter of fact, in our case there were exactly, uh, two. Unfortunately, there were inherent problems with that basic fact, to wit: she was a woman of the female persuasion. (Not that there’s anything wrong with the fairer sex, mind you! No, it’s just that her parents kept tryin’ to, well, nudge us towards gettin’ hitched – something neither of us were ready for yet! But I digress.)

Anyway, one day a young single man decided to join our little fellowship. I thought to myself, Halleluiah, someone to “take the heat off”, if you follow me. And as luck would have it, we kinda hit it off in relatively short order.

I’m tellin’ ya; he was one sharp cookie, too. He worked as a foreman at a large oil tool company – in fact, at 24, he was the youngest one they’d ever hired. And with me bein’ in the engineering field as well, we could easily talk shop with each other.

One fine spring Saturday, we had volunteered to help repaint the covered walkways linking the buildings at the church. Right in the middle of a brushstroke, he suddenly stopped working, looked at me, and blurted out, “Man, I’ve got a real problem!”

Now, this came as no surprise; I could tell he’d had something on his mind. But you know how it is, right? I figured he was either gonna tell me – or not. So I just waited.

“The problem,” he said miserably, “is that nothing’s going right at the plant!”

This kinda startled me, so naturally I asked, “What do you mean by that? Are you worried about your job?”

“Oh, no, not that,” he quickly reassured me. We decided to take a break and moseyed over to the soda machine. (Although he’d just moved to Texas, he was already startin’ to pick up the finer points of moseyin’. Told you he was sharp!)

Several quarters later, he continued. “It’s stuff like… well, I’ve got automatic cutting machines breaking down all over the place, my work schedule is totally bonkers, and I can’t seem to get the programmers to understand why they can’t just do whatever they want!”

I could tell he was pretty frustrated about it. But the kicker came when he said this final statement:

“I mean, I’ve been praying like crazy, asking God for patience – but it seems like it’s not working!” By now he was really upset. “Instead of help, all I’m getting are more problems!”

Up the Creek

Trust me; I’ve been there.

But y’know; sometimes I wonder how many of y’all out there feel like you’re in exactly the same boat. How many times have you done everything you possibly could to make things go just right – whatever things they might happen to be – and next thing you know, you’re up the creek with a paddle – but without a canoe?

Isn’t that the way it is sometimes? You spend a lot of extra time and effort in making sure every ‘t’ is crossed, and every ‘i’ gets that little dot… and yet… and yet. I think you can fill in that blank, can’t ya?

Well, it just so happened I couldn’t offer him any help. At least, not directly. But  I did recall an interesting thing one of my favorite writers, the Apostle James, wrote one time, and it’s always, well, not exactly solved my problem, but at least it’s helped me understand what the deal was, if you get my meanin’.

Here’s what ol’ James had to say (if you have a Bible handy, you’ll find it in verses 2 through 4 of Chapter 1):

My friends, be glad, even if you have a lot of trouble. You know that you learn to endure by having your faith tested. But you must learn to endure everything, so that you will be completely mature and not lacking in anything.

Now, if I’m readin’ this right – and I think I am – it seems like James is telling me to be happy when troubles come my way. After all, there’s a reason for them – to learn to endure. And, even further, he says it will help us to become mature.

Hey, if you’re like me (and sincere condolences if that is, indeed, the case!), then you probably zeroed in on that fourth word like a laser beam: glad. Uh, say what? Is he kidding?

I’ll be honest with you here. My near automatic impulse when troubles come a-knockin’ at my door is more like Run! Run for your life! I mean, who in their right mind thinks, y’know, glad of all the things going wrong around ‘em?

The Trouble With Trouble

But therein, I believe, lies the nub of the gist, not to mention begging the question: Can you ever get to the point where you can learn to, y’know, laugh in the face of adversity?

See, the thing James is rather delicately pointing out (well, OK; he’s stating it in no uncertain terms) is that there is a purpose for all that mayhem that seems to be following you around. And it’s to help you grow as a person – and eventually, to become a complete one at that!

The basic problem, though, is pretty simple: most of us like things just the way they are! We’d just as soon not face a challenge of any kind, thank you very much. We’re in our comfort zone, and that’s where we like things to be, y’know?

C’mon; admit it – wouldn’t you rather not go to the trouble of having to completely change everything you know for something new? Isn’t it true that every learning experience has its measure of “tearing things down” to go through first? Sure it is!

That’s why most of us get frustrated when life throws us a curve ball every now and then. Or when machines out on the shop floor start breaking down for no apparent reason, no matter how well you’ve planned the maintenance schedule…

But here’s the thing.

When stuff doesn’t happen according to plan, well, that’s when you learn – and grow. It may seem obvious, but how many times have you found yourself in the same boat, wondering, as my friend did, why on Earth this (fill in the blank here) was happening to you? Hey, don’t feel like the Lone Stranger – we all do it.

BUT (and you’ll note – that’s a mighty BIG ‘but’ – wow, I’m so happy I have a post to go with that expression now!) once you worked your way through it, didn’t you realize a sense of accomplishment? Weren’t you in some small way (or big way, for that matter) glad at the outcome? Wasn’t it a wonderful feeling when you took that truckload of lemons life unloaded on you, and turned it into a huge shipment of Lemon Pledge – making a killing on the market?

Guess my buddy James was on to something.

Anyway, after I shared that little tidbit with my disheartened friend, he looked up at me in astonishment, his eyes wide. “You mean all this time, every time I’ve been praying for patience, I’ve actually been praying for trials?”

I put a friendly arm around his shoulders as we walked back to the painting equipment and took up our paintbrushes.

“Yup,” was about all I could say. “That’s about the size of it, Bubba!”

It Comes Down to This

How do you face troubles? Do you forge ahead, savoring the challenge? (Believe it or not, there actually ARE folks like that. Go figure.) Or are you more like me: I usually grumble a bit at first, then work my way through it, maybe even finally laugh (and now that I’m blogging, perhaps write) about it afterwards.

Hey, don’t be shy. I know you are well and truly all kinds of folks out there – along with all your great experiences. Share some tips, why don’cha? Trust me; we can all use ‘em!

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[As I pointed out 'waaaay up there at the top, this here post is my entry for our What I Learned From... groupwrite project. The topic this month is ADVERSITY, and if you've got a lesson learned on that particular subject, hey, why don't you join the fun? You might even win a free copy of Problogger for your trouble! Just click on that link and read all about it. You have until Sunday night at midnight to get your entry in.]

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Photo Credits:

I got trouble, by ndemi

How to laugh in the face of adversity, by true2source

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[Note from the Proprietor: This is one of an ongoing series of posts called Scenes From a Sidewalk. Want to know what it's all about? Follow that link to read the series introduction.]

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When facing worry, fear and doubt; run in circles, scream and shout!

- A “less than optimum” formula for facing troubled times

First of all, lemme just say, er, sorry for the, um, slightly disgusting photo there. But it IS something I found on my daily trek on the sidewalk… Besides, it speaks volumes to me (not that I’m in the habit of, um, listening to dead insects… or dead anything, for that matter).

Anyhoo…

Show of hands: How many times have you ever felt like the unfortunate little critter in the photo here – when life has turned around and pretty much flattened you like a big ol’ ten-ton bag of steaming donkey poo? Yep; thought so. [Note from the Proprietor: I assure you, the use of donkey poo and its implied political commentary was entirely accidental! But I think I'll leave it.]

Hey, I know what it’s like; I’ve been there too.

A Thankless Job

About 8 years ago, I spent an entertaining three months on a project in Taiwan. Then upon my return, I worked for the same company at their office in Dallas, Texas for yet another three months before it finally ended. (When you’re a contract employee, in some ways it’s a thankless job because getting laid off is the usual way a project ends. In a way, you sorta get immune to it after a while, although it’s never exactly fun.)

Now, whenever that sorta thing happened, I’d immediately switch to “job search mode”. You know what I mean, don’t you? Update resumes, make phone calls, pestering everybody in contact your network – you know; throwin’ all the usual things up against the wall to see what sticks. To my surprise, though, instead of a few days off, followed by a new job – my, er, “utilizationally-challenged” days began to stretch out into weeks. Gradually, weeks turned into months, and the months (sound of despondent sobbing) turned into – you guessed it – years.

I’m not kidding folks, it was almost 4 years to the day when I picked up my briefcase (er, figuratively speaking – I don’t normally carry a briefcase to work) and headed back to work again! And trust me when I say, that was a loooooooonnnnnnnnggggg four years!

I’ll tell ya; countless times during those years I experienced more than my fair share of confusion, frustration, aggravation – not to mention quite a few other -tion’s as well. And more than once I felt exactly like our little buddy la cucaracha up there.

You know, the problem with this sort of feeling is – it often leaves you thinkin’ you’re the only one in the whole world. You know what I mean, right? The “poor me” pattern. The “why does this hafta happen to me” malaise. The “nobody knows the trouble I seen” sob story.

No doubt about it; bein’ on the receivin’ end of life’s unpleasant surprises is a sure fire recipe for self-pity, self-doubt, and loneliness.

Oh, Woe is Poor, Poor Me!

There once was this guy named Elijah. (Hey, that sounds like the start of a limerick, doesn’t it?)

Now, this guy was a relatively unique individual – an Old Testament prophet. He was a crusty ol’ fellah, and probably wore your typical prophet’s robe cut from rough cloth since he lived out in the wilderness. His job was to proclaim God’s word boldly and with fervor in the face of the bad guys – I mean, he was pretty much the epitome of what folks thought of when they thought of the word, “prophet”.

One time, while confronting a particular evil king and queen (Ahab and Jezebel – history tells us they were the absolute worst ones ever), he challenged their entire priesthood of the false god called Baal to a sortof “wild west” showdown, just to prove who’s God was the Real Thing.

So Baal’s priests built an altar – then Elijah built an altar. They put a sacrifice on theirs – and he put one on his, too. Then just for the heck of it, he had them pour water all over his altar’s wood to make it impossible to burn.

Then the priests prayed to Baal to call fire from heaven and prove their worth. (This is from 2 Kings, Chapter 1, in case you’d like to check it out.) Alas for them, nothing happened. (Musta had a wrong number?)

Finally, after several hours of this nonsense, Elijah prayed to God, and not only did fire come streaming down from heaven to his altar, it also consumed the stones of the altar, the water, Baal’s priests’ altar – and by the way, all of Baal’s priests, too!

Now, you’d think, with this kind of affirmation backin’ you up, you’d have a little confidence in your God, wouldn’t you?

Oddly enough, it didn’t – quite – turn out that way!

Immediately after this truly eye-popping event, Queen Jezebel got so angry that she turned several shades of red, then threatened the life of our hero Elijah (you know, the same guy who just totally, er, toasted the Queen’s private army of priests) and what did he do? Stand up boldly and call her out? Stride up to her and slap her silly? Spit in her eye?

Well… uh, not exactly! Instead of standing up to her, he turned and ran for his life, hiding in a cave as far away as he could get. Then he cried out to God that he was the only one to suffer as much humiliation as he, and to please take him to heaven now, thank you very much, so he wouldn’t have to face that evil whack job Jezebel!

Well, I don’t know about you, but that just seems too weird! Here he was, the genuine, bona-fide winner in the “my God is bigger than your god” contest, and this is how he acts? I mean, c’mon!

Well, God let Elijah stew in his own self-pitying juices for awhile, then told him that, not only was he not alone, but that there are over 700 others “out there” who followed God – and that he should stop feelin’ so sorry for himself. In other words, “You ain’t alone, Bubba, so get up off your sorry butt and get back to work!”

You’re Not Alone!

The fact is, no matter how you feel, you’re really not alone. And I wasn’t either. All I had to do was – turn my focus outward instead of inward in order to find other folks just like me!

Understand, now, I don’t mean, “there’s lotsa other folks sufferin’ like you are”. No, what I mean is, there are others out there with whom you have something in common – now go find them and see what you can do for ‘em!

The truth is, when I spend time thinkin’ about my own woes, well, it’s a sure-fire way to end up depressed. But when I focus on others – be the lovely Mrs. MZM, my friends, or whoever – hey, as long as it wasn’t, y’know, all about me, then things started lookin’ up.

Oh, don’t get me wrong; it still took four years to get another job. It’s just that, once I learned to think about others instead of myself, the time just somehow passed quicker. Amazing how that works – but there it is.

I’m just sayin’.

Bonus Round

p.s. For some strange reason, the idea of an actual limerick somehow stuck in my brain for a few days, and lo and behold, one actually materialized! So as an added bonus, I give you…

Elijah’s Limerick

God spoke through a guy named Elijah
To Ahab, said, “Just can’t abide ya!
I’ll call down the fire;
Roast your priests on a pyre;
And you’ll know, when I’m done, Who’s the Higher!”

(Note: To make it rhyme properly, you have to use a distinctive New York State accent. The words “fire”, “pyre” and “higher” are all spoken like this: “fi-ah”, “py-ah”, and “high-ah”.)

Hey, I never said it was a good limerick.

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Photo: Squished! by Robert Hruzek

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Note from the Proprietor: This is also an entry for this month’s What I Learned From… groupwrite project. If you’d like to join the fun, just click on that link and read all about it. Everyone is welcome – you may even win a free prize!

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[Fair Warning: Although the Middle Zone is, and always will be, G-Rated, I should still warn you; this post contains elements of a rather, um, manly nature. It's about an incident that occurred in a men's room. I'm just sayin'.]

It has been said, no doubt ad nauseum, that those who ignore the lessons of the past are doomed to repeat them. The good news, though, is that most of the time, when we make mistakes they aren’t all that big a deal, you know?

For instance, making a right instead of a left on the way to the store, forgetting to feed the cat – or even wearing white after Labor Day – well, you have to admit those are pretty innocuous. And in the long run, they simply don’t matter a whole heck of a lot. (Although wearing white after Labor Day may take a bit longer to get over.)

On the other hand, that time you forgot your spouse’s birthday, accidentally ran into that major client’s car in the parking lot, or when boarding a plane you asked the flight steward to hang up your “light jacket” and they thought you said “hijack”; well, stuff like that can get a little dicey, if ya get my meanin’.

One thing’s for certain, though; those are the kind of mistakes you’d better learn from the first time! Which brings us to the subject of today’s post… cell phone use and/or abuse.

Hey, all I can say is, whatever happens, don’t do this! Just sayin’.

My First Cell Phone

I got my first cell phone back in 2001. (Yes, I’m a slow adapter. So what’s your point?) Oh, it wasn’t because I really wanted to join the already vast hordes of the “instantly connected”, believe me. It was more like an emergency use thing, you know?

However, now that I had one hangin’ on my belt, I figured I might as well use it. So I decided to finally throw caution to the winds and give it a try. The honor of being the first victim recipient (after than Mrs. MZM, of course) would go to a good friend of mine whom I knew wouldn’t mind a getting a totally pointless call from me.

Now at the time, I was working in a rather cramped office building; one of those businesses you’ll find crammed into a somewhat dilapidated warehouse-like building. (It wasn’t the best place I’ve ever worked, but I’d been unemployed for awhile, and hey, it was a job!)

My first problem was finding a private spot to make the call. Like I said, we were crammed in there pretty tightly, so there wasn’t anywhere except the men’s room that had even a semblance of privacy. The only problem with that was, well, you know.

After wandering around the office for a while, though, I concluded there was simply no good spot available in the building. With no options inside, I did the next most obvious thing and headed out the front door. Alas, no joy there either. Unfortunately, our building happened to be right next to a major freeway, and the noise level was only slightly less than that of a jet airliner taking off.

The Echo Chamber

Finally, I gave up and said to myself, OK; the men’s room it is, and headed that way.

First thing, of course, was to make sure I was alone. Lesse now… nope; no feet showing under any of the stall doors. Although I felt like a first-class idiot, it had to be done. OK; so far, so good. Y’all still with me?

The other problem with using this particular location is the fact that every surface in the place is like it’s, well, specifically intended to reflect and magnify sound. To tell you the truth, it’s kinda embarrassing, really. If you walk in with, say, hard soled shoes on, the resulting multiple echoes always make it sound like an army came in the door with you. It’s distracting, to say the least.

Anyway, having ascertained the coast was clear, I pulled out my (sound of scream) cell phone and punched the speed dial. (Hah! Gotcha, didn’t I?) Wonder of wonders, it worked perfectly! Within moments, I was speaking with my friend.

Naturally, I didn’t mention my, er, current location. Yeah, I know; it’s not like cooties could somehow reach through the airwaves and, you know, get him or anything. But I’m guessin’ some folks are kinda weird about that sort of thing, so I sorta figured I’d keep that little factoid to myself.

Bad Habits

Unfortunately, the conversation went on… and on… and on… and I was dismayed to find that I suddenly had, you know, the urge.

Anyway, even that would have been no big deal (and he’d never have been the wiser) except for the fact that (and I promise, it was entirely out of habit) when I was finished, I reached up easy as you please and, well, flushed the danged thing! (sound of EXTREMELY LOUD WHOOSHING NOISES)

When it was over, I could clearly hear the stunned silence on the other end of the line.

My first inclination was to hit the “off” button. But after a moment’s thought I decided not to, figuring it would sound like I’d accidentally flushed the phone. Then, I thought about faking those hissing noises you’d hear when the connection starts to break up. Alas, by then several seconds had passed and I figured the damage was already done.

Finally, I hit upon the only solution possible, considering the, er, circumstances: Once the noise died down, I just picked up the conversation again as if nothing had happened.

Although I know he knew what had happened, my friend kindly played along. (What a pal!) And to this day, we’ve never spoken of “the incident”. But still; I knew he knew, you know?

Lessons Learned

I have to admit; that’s one lesson I’ll never forget! So what the heck; I’ll pass that one, and perhaps a couple more, on to you regarding cell phone use and abuse:

• Make the effort to find a quiet spot (preferably with little or no echo). It may take a while, but believe me, it’ll be worth it!

• Be aware of any background noises. Although you may not notice it, that jackhammer in the background may completely cover up that stock tip you’re tryin’ to pass along.

• While on the phone, use your inside voice. I’m constantly amazed at how many people are guilty of this one. C’mon; give those around you a break!

• And finally, er, whatever you do, please do not call me from the restroom!

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[NOTE: This post is my entry for my most excellent good buddy Brad Shorr's "Cell Phone Users and Abusers" contest. And, although I tell you this at great personal expense (because frankly it may reduce my chance of winning!), if you'd like a chance to win one of several cash prizes (up to $500!), then Bubba, you'd better click on that cute little link and read all about it!

P.S. If you decide to join the party, feel free to steal this badge!]

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Photo Credits:

No Cell Phones at Leland Inn Liquor, by John Kannenberg

Silence Cell Phones, by Lulu Vision

Ashes of Rude Cell Phone Users, by seamy @ flikr

Weird bald guy screaming on phone, by – I have no idea!

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[This article is my entry for this month's groupwrite project, What I Learned From My Friends. You're invited to join us! Just click the link or see the bottom of this post for details.]

Ya know, words are pretty powerful things, aren’t they? (Yes, I’m surely preachin’ to the choir here.) A few well-timed words can really make all the difference, can’t they? It never ceases to amaze me how just a couple of words can totally change a situation, even to the point of turning defeat – into victory.

For the last several weeks, I’ve been busily setting up and executing a one-day client engagement. It was particularly exciting for me because it was my first “sale” (sound of crowd cheering) since I moved over to the consulting side of things at the Engineering firm where I work. Pretty cool, eh?

My plan (no wait, let me put sneer marks around that: my ‘plan’) was to use this short engagement to generate much more business with this particular client. It’s the ol’ tried-and-true foot in the door sales technique, used since some guy named Gutenberg invented the printing press and right off the bat started printing coupons for 50 cents off your next purchase of Twinkies at the local Food Farm.

Well, last week it finally happened. I flew to Canada (and boy, are my arms tired!), we did our thing, and based on the initial feedback, it looks like we accomplished what we set out to do. (Insert Elvis impression here: “Thank you; thank you very much.” And don’t forget to swing your hips.)

Now the fun began; all we have to do is win the rest of the work. Easy, eh? (Funny; while I was there, I never heard one single Canadian say “Eh”. ‘Course, I was only there one day. Or is that a stereotype? Anyone?)

Not as Easy as it Sounds

I’m tellin’ ya; for such a simple-sounding project (I mean c’mon – it was only a one-day thing, fer cryin’ out loud!) for a while there I almost at the point of despair! I don’t think I’ve ever experienced as much aggravation from such a small project before. It was ‘way more than what poor little ol’ me is used to.

To begin with, I’d been working on this deal for going on six weeks. Then, when it finally turned serious (you know; the moment when the client suddenly stops talking about doing it and says, “OK, let’s do it!”), well, the amount of time I had to get everything in place turned out to be ridiculously short. Think: less than two weeks.

Yikes! Hey, you’d have been proud of me, though; on the outside I didn’t bat an eye. I must admit, however; on the inside I was a mite concerned.

So I switched to high-speed mode (which is consultant-speak for “running around like a chicken with its head cut off”), tryin’ to make sure all the t’s are dotted and the i’s are crossed. I mean, among other things there was a Subcontractor Agreement to write, a Purchase Order to set up, contractual stuff to sign, visits to the Legal Dept. (sound of terrified scream), etc., etc. I mean, even with preparation it’s next to impossible to hurry some of this stuff up, you know?

And have you ever tried to get a series of signatures on a document – in a limited amount of time? So as ol’ Dr. Phil is fond of sayin’, how’d that work for ya? Yup; thought so. It never fails, right? There’s always at least one who’s out of the office or otherwise unavailable. Every. Stupid. Time.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, even more roadblocks began appearing. For instance, it took nearly a week to finally get a P.O. from our client. Alas, only then did I discover I sorta, er, neglected to tell them to put the amounts in US instead of Canadian dollars (yes, it was clearly my fault *sigh*). Say, what’s the exchange rate these days? Oh well; a simple change can fix that, right?

Then the client’s purchasing system inexplicably decided to lock everyone out. I said to myself (after much head-thumping on my desk, of course), “Self, these are mature computer programs, right? Hey, I’m sure it’ll be fixed in a minute hour day, right?”

In the meantime, I managed to acquire enough assurances from the various parties that we could go ahead and book our flights. No worries, and no need to panic – but I gotta tell ya; buying those tickets sure made me feel vulnerable. And not in a good way.

As the deadline approached like a runaway Space Shuttle, just to throw a wrench in the works we had to stop and celebrate a National holiday here in the States (Labor Day was Sept. 1). Although I always enjoy taking paid time off, it essentially shortened what little working time I had left by two full days.

Anyway, I figured at least the corrected P.O. would be in my inbox when I got back to the office. After all, Canada doesn’t celebrate our holidays, you know. Well, that’s what I get for figuring, because (and you knew this was coming, didn’t you?) it, um, wasn’t.

The Perfect Time to Panic

Right about then the distinctive flutter of butterfly wings (probably Callophrys sheridanii lemberti, also known as “Lembert’s Green Hairstreak – which also adequately describes what was happening to my remaining hair) were tickling my stomach (if not outright stomping around in it with jackboots on) as a sense of panic began to peek over the horizon.

I desperately pounded the Easy button on my desk (yes, I really have one), but the pesky thing chose that moment to malfunction as well. Strangely, instead of hearing the usual word, “Easy”, the silly thing inexplicably started laughing hysterically. I don’t know about you, but I really hate it when that happens. I instinctively know that can’t be good.

The Tuesday after Labor Day dawned, leaving me with only one day left to wrap things up (everyone was supposed to fly out the next day). Not only do I still have no PO, but we’re already committed to considerable expense because of the aforementioned airline tickets. (It’s a sensation not unlike have your, er, nether regions hanging out a window overlooking the Interstate – and Chopper Dave is focusing the Channel 7 traffic-cam on it).

Finding the End of Yourself

Well suffice it to say, my friends, at this point I’m thinkin’ to myself, “Self, this ain’t exactly the most auspicious start to a fine (and preferably long-term) consulting career!” (Yes, I talk to myself a lot. So what’s your point?)

You know that moment where you realize there is absolutely nothing more you can do to make things work out? You know, when you’ve done everything humanly possible, you’ve (if you’ll pardon the expression) reached the, er, end of yourself (sorry!), and the whole shebang is all in God’s hands?

I distinctly remember reaching that point about midday on Tuesday.

OK; I won’t leave you, er, hangin’ (sorry again!) By the end of the day, all signatures were collected, documents emailed, and contracts executed (sound of giant sigh of relief). Everything finally fell into place within 30 minutes of the end of the day. I finally received the official “go” from my boss to actually, you know, go.

The Last Word

Before I left his office, however, I thought it worthwhile to try and salvage the remains of my seemingly vastly diminished future career as a consultant. I mean, wouldn’t you? Admittedly, some of it was, well, self-inflicted (the P.O. currency snafu, for instance). But much of the remaining aggravation was simply out of my hands.

I began to summarize, and just as I reached the “… I’ll do better next time” part of my semi-prepared speech, he just smiled and held up his hand to stop me. He then told me something that totally changed my entire outlook about the whole sordid mess.

He simply said, “Hey, don’t worry about it. This sort of thing happens three times a week around here.”

Now, I don’t know how often you’ve found yourself in the midst of a high-stress situation (OK; let’s just call it what it was – a panic button moment), but it is most definitely not fun. Oh sure; you can (if you’re paying attention) learn a lot from situations like this (like, for instance, make sure you get the currency right, ya big galoot!), but it’s not something you’d want to do every day, ya know?

Here I was, really pretty much exhausted by the entire last couple of weeks’ ordeal, and frustrated because of the hassles, aggravation, and outright mistakes I’d encountered (and yes, made). As my brainy friends, the Good Doctors Ellen Weber and Robyn McMaster will tell you, that sort of thing quickly drains all the vitality out of you in no time at all.

But when my boss told me those few little words, well, it was like being handed a glass of ice cold water after a hard slog through the desert. I mean to tell ya; it was truly an amazing moment. Within a matter of seconds, it literally transformed me from a position of weakness – to a position of strength!

Just a few words… how powerful is that?

It’s YOUR Turn Now

You know; you can change people’s lives with just a few words. Be they uplifting… or spiteful… they can make a difference that won’t be soon forgetten. Wanna try an experiment with me?

Your task, should you choose to accept it, my friends, is to find an opportunity to do the same thing to someone you know that my boss did for me. When you encounter someone who is obviously under tremendous stress (or maybe they just got through one), then try giving them an uplifting word or two.

I’d be willing to bet that you’ll not only have the amazing experience and joy of seeing someone completely transform right before your eyes, but you’ll learn a lesson you won’t soon forget! C’mon; be the water!

Let me know how it went, if you would. I’ll leave the light on for you.

[As I mentioned up at the top, this is my entry for this month's What I Learned From... groupwrite project. I'd like to invite you to join us with your own story of lessons learned. The topic this month is What I Learned From My Friends, and we're open for entries thru Sunday, Sept. 14^th. If you'll click on that cute little link there, you can read all about how to participate.]

Passing Ferry, by cmiked

Question: Can strict limitations enable interesting opportunities? We often think of limitations in terms of negatives, right? They keep things from happening, prevent advancement, and otherwise minimize possibilities. But can limitations provide opportunities that were otherwise not possible?

Head for the Beach!

When I was a kid, the best holidays I can remember were the times we went to Galveston Island. Back then, as far as I was concerned a day at the beach was pretty much the perfect holiday.

I mean, what’s not to like? You had a great big ocean (well, in our case it was the Gulf of Mexico, but it looked like an ocean to me), lots of sparkly sand to squish between my toes, zillions of teeny tiny crabs that absolutely hated being picked up, an occasional dead jellyfish or two – not to mention seashells galore – absolutely none of which were available at our oh-so-humdrum house back in Houston.

Most times, we spent our holiday at Stewart Beach, on the ocean side of the eastern end of the island. It’s easy to find; you just follow Interstate 45 South from the mainland over the causeway into the city of Galveston, where it becomes Broadway. Follow that until it hits Seawall Boulevard, and voila! you’re there!

You had to be ready for crowds, though; on particularly nice days, about a bazillion other people had the same idea. But hey, that never bothered me; more people meant more interesting, you know, stuff going on (besides, I didn’t have to, you know, drive). And you know how kids thrive on activity, right? (Not to mention, er, hot dogs, popsicles and Kool-Aide, but that’s neither here nor there.)

To secure a decent spot, we’d usually leave fairly early in the morning. Then, after a hard day of having fun, sometime around late afternoon we’d pack up and head back home. But before hitting the highway, we always – without fail – made a side trip to ride the ferry.

The Galveston – Bolivar Ferry

I don’t know what it is about ferries. They’re just… I don’t know, different. It’s an experience so totally unlike any other form of water transportation, such as traveling on a cruise ship, motorboat, or tramp freighter. (Gee, is there such a thing as a respectable freighter or must they all be tramps? Never mind.)

Now bear in mind, riding the ferry wasn’t something we had to do. The route we took to and from Houston didn’t go that way. No, it was more like a “because it was there” sortof thing. One simply didn’t go to Galveston without riding the ferry, don’cha know. It’s not even that long of a ride, either: from the northeastern end of the island across the Houston Ship Channel entrance to a narrow spit of land called Bolivar Peninsula, it was an actual distance of less than three miles.

There’s a lot of large ship traffic that passes through on its way to the Port of Houston, though, so at the very least there were usually interesting ships to watch for. It was always fun to imagine what exotic lands they might have come from (Africa? Japan? New Jersey?) and what fabulous cargoes they carried (gold? jewels? rendered whale blubber?)

It was the same ritual every time: Wait in line until the ferry docked, wait for the cars to get off, load up more cars in the other direction, then once we were all packed in like big metal sardines, off we went! It only took about 20 minutes to cross.

As soon as we got off, we’d go down the road about a half-mile, then turn around and get back in line. If there wasn’t too much traffic waiting, we could sometimes get back on the same boat for its return trip. Even if we had to wait for the next boat, though, the whole adventure never added more than an hour or so to our day before heading back home.

A seagull for every post!

One of the things I remember clearly was how stable the crossing was. I mean, once we left the dock, it was pretty much rock solid (other than a distant vibration from the engines, but that didn’t count). Rarely were the waves big enough to (if you’ll pardon the expression) rock the boat.

Most fascinating was how supernaturally smooth the departure was. At first, the ferry moved so slowly it was easy to pretend the land itself was moving away, not us. On either side, large bundles of worn piles, nearly black from weather and age, provided a fine roost for the inevitable legions of seagulls (only one per pile, please!). Their raucous chorus celebrated our departure.

Most of the gulls took wing as we got under way, following us across the water. Diving like missiles for small fish kicked up by our wake, the rest flew in complex and ever-changing traffic patterns just off the stern, waiting for tidbits tossed into the air by passengers. Feeding the gulls was as much a part of the ferry ritual as the ride itself. We always had the remains of the day’s loaf of sandwich bread ready to toss at them.

Sometimes, if you stretched up as high as you could and held your hand just right, an enterprising gull would separate himself from the traffic pattern and come close enough to snatch the bread from your fingers. I’m tellin’ ya; that was a magical moment!

Then there was the inevitable “waving at the other ferry” routine as we passed the other ferry on its return trip. Without fail, folks would line up on that side of the boat and wave like mad. It was silly, sure; but like I said, it was sortof like a, you know, rule.

The Value of Routine

Don't bite the hand that feeds..., by KM&G-Morris

When you think about it, driving a ferry seems like an almost certain recipe for boredom, don’t you think? I mean, it runs the same course back and forth, over and over, day after day, week after – well, you get the idea. Doesn’t seem like much creativity would be allowed in a job like that, does it? Yep; it was a severely restricted regime, to say the least. No variation allowed. Very narrow limits of performance. Routine.

I’ve often wondered if the various Captains ever got tired of it, day in and day out. What would happen if one day the Captain suddenly made a hard turn to starboard (that’s to the right for you landlubber folk) and set off for a distant adventure?

But here’s the thing. That routine – going back and forth – made so much more possible. Here’s a couple of random thoughts illustrating what I mean:

Connection – The ferry provided a connection between two isolated communities (well, you know what I mean, I hope). What used to be a many-mile trip turned into a simple 15-minute commute. The truth is, all kinds of interesting things can happen when you eliminate barriers between folks.

Separation – Even though the communities are linked, because of the ferry both sides can still retain their own distinctive characters. On the peninsula side, it’s quiet, peaceful, tranquil – but on the Island side, there’s activity, excitement, and it’s filled with people to see (not to mention things to do). Though short in actual distance, it’s enough to provide an effective separation, allowing the two sides to preserve their own distinct and unique cultures.

Opportunity – People over on the peninsula no longer had to drive a zillion miles to get to the things Galveston Island had to offer. Likewise, those on the island had the chance to experience a different atmosphere. Both sides benefit when they take advantage of the opportunity to see how the other side lives. In a similar way, the flow of people allowed ideas to spread from one side to the other and back again. Everybody benefits from that.

Other Stuff – Plenty of other, well, peripheral things become possible because of the existence of this ferry line. For instance, compared to a plain ol’ ordinary bridge crossing, a ferry ride was an event. Not only that, but the event itself made possible lots of other, secondary events, too. The chance to wave madly at total strangers on the other ferry as it passed – coaxing a seagull to pluck food right from your fingers – a fresh sea breeze with its distinctive salt-water smell, blowing in your face and ruining your hair – the sun’s afternoon rays sparkling upon the water – the seagulls’ plaintive cries – the list goes on and on.

Sometimes, some of life’s simplest pleasures come about because of enforced limitations. Sometimes, they can help you see.

Your Turn Now

So are there any routines in your own life that may be, shall we say, underappreciated? I’ll bet you can think of at least a few. But here’s the big question: Which of those limitations actually enable you to do more or maybe greater things? Care to share ‘em with the rest of us? The floor is yours…

[What the hey; since I had another animal story handy, here's yet another entry for this month's What I Learned From Animals group writing project. If you've ever learned something from the animal kingdom, well, why don't you join us? Just click on that cute little link to read all the details!]

Give any thought lately to the amount of information people pick up about you, just by “listening in” to your words? Stuff like blogs, email, phone conversations, letters – it all contributes to the flow of information.

Psychotic Psychic Cats, and Other Strange Phenomena

Over the years we’ve had our share of critters, mainly cats and/or dogs. Oh, sure, when I was a kid I had the inevitable turtles, fish, and for a short while, a snake, but mainly we stuck to the mainstream, as it were.

One cat in particular, who Mrs. MZM and I named Cookie, was a real piece of work, I’ll tell ya. (She was very similar to the one in this photo.) She had some really, er, endearing personality quirks.

In fact, she had amazing psychic powers. No, really. For instance, like a magician, she could materialize me anytime she wanted, dragging me out of wherever I happened to be through some sort of wormhole or something.

Hey, don’t laugh – I’m serious! Here’s how it worked. Every day at precisely 5 minutes prior to my arrival home from work, she’d come out (from wherever it was in the apartment she spent her days), sit down in front of the door, and commence staring at it.

Presto! After 5 minutes or so of intense feline concentration, I’d magically appear at the door! Amazing, no? I imagine she thought she was pretty good at this sort of thing, in a “legend in her own mind” sortof way. (Come to think of it, I know some people like that. But I digress.)

Another thing she would do was, when I opened the door, she’d flop down on the floor, attempting to bar my path. She did this, of course, as a means to get my immediate attention. It always miffed her when I stepped over her to kiss Mrs. MZM first. (Jealousy comes easy to a cat, for whom the universe exists to serve.) As soon as I stopped moving, though, she’d be right there in front of me once again – and continue this routine until I stopped and gave her tummy a good rubbing.

But that’s not so strange, you say? Well, no, not really. But hold on, pardners; I’m just, um, easin’ you in.

Another strange thing she was good at was, well, how can I put this? OK; let’s try it this way. When she got mad at you (like, for instance, getting shouted at for sharpening her claws on the furniture), she had a way of turning her back and twitching her tail that was quite distinctly, well, rude. It put one in mind of what we here in America call the “one finger salute” (only substitute the tail for the offending digit). Oh yes, Cookie was an expert at expressing here feelings quite clearly!

But don’t get me wrong; all her quirks weren’t bad. Some were just inexplicable. But then again, she was, you know, a cat.

For instance, Cookie was always deathly afraid of strangers, although we never figured out why. When the doorbell rang, or there was a knock on the door (unless it was me – and how she knew, we’ll never know), before the “ding” in the doorbell’s “ding-dong” had even fully formed, she’d make an instant beeline to the farthest corner of the apartment. It was like a Road Runner cartoon; any loose papers that happened to be lying around would get scattered everywhere as they got sucked into the vacuum from her lightning-quick exit.

However, this latter quirk had a couple of additional, er, sub-quirks, so to speak. (You just knew there had to be more to this, didn’t you?)

One evening, our Pastor stopped by to visit. Naturally, at the first sound of the doorbell, Cookie streaked like a grey, furry lightning bolt to the apartment’s nethermost regions. (Good thing we’d had her declawed – or my lap would never have been the same!)

Anyway, our visit lasted about an hour or so, and as he got up to leave, he of course invited us to have a word of prayer with him, which we did. But here’s the weird part. No sooner than we had begun to pray, but Cookie came out of her hiding place, moseyed up to the Pastor as if he were an old friend, and parked herself right on top of his feet!

Now, we’d never seen this behavior before! Somewhat nonplussed, our Pastor nevertheless remained undeterred and kept on praying. When we finished, though, we all had a good laugh. However, we noticed the pastor didn’t, as you might expect, reach down and give Cookie a caress (which, as we knew, was the total purpose of her existence).

As it turned out, he was allergic to cats! We hadn’t mentioned the cat’s presence when he arrived, of course, since we assumed Cookie would pretty much stay in the hole she’d found for herself. But for some inexplicable reason, in this man’s presence, Cookie went completely against all previously observed behavior and acted, you know, normal.

Maybe They Really ARE Psychotic

I’ve often wondered just what it was Cookie sensed whenever our Pastor was around. (She did this every time he came over. Never to anyone else, mind you; just him.) Did her furry little nose pick up a certain subtle, er, aroma or something as a result of his allergies? Or maybe he was unknowingly broadcasting the message I’m allergic to you; please come irritate my sinuses by some other means (the all-cats, all-the-time channel, maybe?)

Who knows; maybe she was truly psychic after all. Whatever it was, there was just something about him she picked up on, every time.

You realize, of course, we humans are pretty much the same way? Whether you realize it or not, you’re actually broadcasting a wealth of information to pretty much everyone you come in contact with. That includes:

• Blogs – Your personality, prejudices, thought processes and leanings come out loud and clear here. Yep; whatever you write is there for everyone to see, and what’s worse – you can never take it back!
• Twitter – I’ve often thought twittering encourages quick responses – sometimes, unfortunately, without pre-thought. Yikes! As usual, the best rule is: think twice, publish once.
• Post comments – Your comments tell others a lot about whether or not you even paid attention. Attitudes can come through loud and clear here, even if you don’t mean for them to.
• Email – Far too easy to be more – harsher, sillier, dumber, whatever – when you don’t get immediate feedback. A one-way channel like email is probably the worst way to communicate, particularly when you need it to be rich in information. Try the phone instead.
• Conversations – Still the best communication on the planet, although the method used can dramatically effect what’s heard and what’s not. We like to think the Internet enhances conversation – but it only gives us the tools. It’s up to us to make sure we actually, you know, communicate.
• Friends – Does anyone NOT believe who you hang out with, or are associated with, affects your reputation? Seriously now, folks; if you aren’t on board with this one, well, your head is in the sand, I’m afraid.

… and the list goes on and on. The fact is, literally everything about you broadcasts information about YOU to everyone else.

So I guess the $64,821 question is, what are YOU telling folks, without even realizing it?

Ah, now that’s the question, isn’t it? All too often we want folks to get one message, but they actually end up getting a completely different message, don’t they? Things like reputation (both online and off), intent, motivations, goals – well they all have their subtle (and some not-so-subtle!) signals.

There might be several problems with that, though. What if your signals aren’t getting out clearly enough? What if they’re mixed? What if the recipient can’t pick up on them? What if – heaven forbid – their own preconceptions cause the message to be misread?

So Tell Me A Story

And now I’ll leave you with some questions for your contemplation.

The list of possible communication channels above is far from complete. What channels would YOU add?

When was the last time you experienced a communication breakdown? How did you find out there was a problem? What did you do to resolve it? Were there side effects of the miscommunication? Did it affect more than one or two people?

What about the other side of this issue? What assumptions and/or conclusions have you made about folks, based on the information similar to the above list? Have you (eek!) repeated them to others without confirmation? Why or why not? Have you ever discovered your conclusions about someone were totally wrong?

NOTE: To further celebrate our upcoming Anniversary this week (May 1), I’m sharing some of our honeymoon adventures.

Despite the fact that Kauai is absolutely chock-full of remarkably beautiful sights, we still managed to find a few that left us somewhat, er, underwhelmed at best. (Question: I know it’s possible to be overwhelmed, but can one simply be “whelmed”? But I digress.)

Old Russian Fort

For instance; remember that main road I mentioned earlier? Our trusty guidebook (yes, the same one that led us to the infamous Barking Sands) mentioned that somewhere on the southwest part of Kauai was an old Russian fort; the only one in Hawaii. Well, this seemed worth visiting, so we headed on over.

Off the main road, we discovered a sign confirming our arrival. There was nothing else in sight except a small parking area, in which ours was the only car. Hmmm… obviously not exactly a tourist hotspot, but what the hey.

Although there were no directions, a rough path lead us toward a clump of low trees and overgrown vegetation. After walking for about 5 minutes or so, we found ourselves surrounded by low, heavily weed-covered mounds. Within another few minutes, we came across a sign detailing the history of the fort, and it was then we realized we had been walking right through the middle of it!

I mean, c’mon! Granted, it’s a genuine chapter in Hawaii’s history, but in the condition it’s in, it’s not exactly exciting, you know? In fact, the only reason we remember it at all is the actuality was so much less than promised!

Spaulding Monument

One of the things we discovered on Kauai, and was later confirmed during our stay on Aruba, is that when you’re on a small island, there are only so many things worth looking at. Although Kauai is seven times larger than Aruba (552 square miles vs. 75), only a small part of it is easily accessible by car (the island is basically one big, and luckily extinct, volcano). So we ended up with little more than the same area to explore. (Besides, since we were on our honeymoon, I had no desire to try more physical means of exploration, such as hiking, etc.; I mean, you understand, don’t you?)

Anyhoo, it got to the point where we were almost desperately searching for something new to see. Therefore, every time we found a road we hadn’t explored yet, we just pointed the car and went.

Well, this one time, the road we picked at random (the ocean was the other direction, so at least we knew there wouldn’t be a big wet surprise at the end of it!) seemed to just go on and on. For several miles at least, we drove down this dirt road seeing nothing but cane fields on either side. And, just to make things more interesting, the cane was so tall and dense (at least 8-9 feet) there were no landmarks, either. It was like an endless, roofless green tunnel.

Every so often, we looked at each other and asked ourselves, “Keep going, or turn around?” However, the spirit of adventure still being present, we kept going. Finally, we came upon a small sign that read: “Spalding Monument” with an arrow that pointed ahead. This struck us both as kinda funny, since there was clearly nowhere to go but straight ahead.

After a few more minutes (which seemed to take forever), we finally came upon a split in the road. There was a small cleared space in the “Y” that had a low, stone and concrete “thing” on it. “Aha!” we thought; “at last, the famous Spalding Monument!”

Well, once again, the promise, such as it was, was somewhat, er, less than expected. It turned out this particular monument had been erected by a former cane plantation owner to himself! Ah well, at least there was a great view, the cane having receded enough at this point.

Oh, well. All I can say is, if you ever visit Kauai, don’t bother with either of these two spots. I’m just sayin’.

Promises, Promises

So what can one learn from this, anyway? Well (and you no doubt knew this was coming), allow me to point out something.

Here’s the thing. When you make a promise, you need to make sure the promise is what it seems to be. By that, I mean make sure the recipient gets what he or she thinks they’re going to get. Notice, now; this is a little different from the statement, make sure the recipient gets what you promised.

Why the distinction? Well, you have to remember; perception is critical, especially when it comes to promises. That first statement is from the recipient’s point of view, while the second one is from yours. Here’s the question: Which one is more important?

I’ll leave you to make whatever application you want here, but suffice it to say, it’s important to make sure what they hear is what you meant to say.

See, when we saw something mentioned in the guidebook, we naturally assumed it would be actually something worth seeing. I mean, who wouldn’t? Thus, an implied promise was made. But, when we arrived, the result was disappointing at best. Although neither the book nor the signs made explicit promises (come see the stupendous Old Russian Fort! Thrill to the sight of the Spalding Monument!), in our minds there was at least a promise of value, so to speak.

The result is, of course, disappointment. Interesting, don’t you think, that those disappointments are still well-remembered, even 26 years later?

_____________________

For our other Hawaiian Honeymoon adventures, see:

Hawaiian Honeymoon, Part 1: Dignity; Always Dignity

Hawaiian Honeymoon, Part 2: When Skies Are Grey

Bwa-ha-ha-ha! I bet you thought this was going to be a tutorial on the basics of Feedburner, didn’t you? Well, sorry ’bout that, but I just couldn’t resist the title.

Hey, check it out! For the first time, Middle Zone Musings hit triple digits (on Wednesday, April 16, 2008) in the Feedburner gizmo thingie over there in the sidebar! (Sound of audience cheering wildly; cue the fireworks; cue the band; and hey – where’s that red carpet?)

Now, I realize this may seem small potatoes (or is that ‘pot-ah-toes’?) to many of you out there in Bloggerville. I mean, there’s still a ways to go to get close to ruling the world the numbers Darren Rowse pulls in (46,557 last time I checked). But what the hey; it’s a milestone on the way!

Gee, and it seems like only yesterday when I first installed it (showing, by the way, a grand total of 4 readers). Yep; I was just a young whipper-snapper of a blogger back then, still pretty wet behind the ears. Well, we sure have come a long way together since then, haven’t we?

Hmmm… After 22 months, that comes out to about, uh… let’s see now… multiply by 16… carry the 92… er, what’s the square root of pi again? (Hold on, y’all; I’m gonna hafta take my shoes and socks off for this one…) Wow! That’s an increase of about 2500%! (Give or take a percent or two.) Not too shabby when you look at it that way, eh?

Anyhoo, I just wanted to thank all y’all out there who made it possible. I mean, without you folks, I’d be just another lonely ol’ cowboy, woofin’ it into the breeze, if you know what I mean. So I want to say thanks for stopping by… and especially for stickin’ around!

Although there’s not enough time in the day to possibly thank everyone (much as I’d like to) who’s had a part in making the Middle Zone a great place to spend time each day, I’d still like to mention a few particularly special folks:

• Amy Palko
• Brad Shorr
• Ellen Weber
• GL Hoffman
• Jackie Cameron
• Jean Browman
• Jeanne Dininni
• Joanna Young
• Karen Hanrahan
• Karin H
• Laura Spencer
• Lillie Ammann
• Liz Strauss
• Mike DeWitt
• Pete Aldin
• Robyn McMaster
• Sam Brougher
• Sterling Camden
• Terry Starbucker
• Trevor Hampel
• William Tully
• Yvonne Russell

Thanks, y’all; you really make me feel special! And of course, no MZM “thank you” would be complete without a big ol’ tip o’ the hat to ya!

Actually, this post serves as something of a Public Service Announcement. (You know, one of those things you see on TV or hear on the radio where people or organizations publicly demonstrate they’re watching out for your welfare.)

So consider this post as fair warning: You folks up in the Chicago area (laughingly known to us Texans as “the frozen north”) – well, you’d better hide the silverware! Yep, that’s right; I’m on my way to Chicago on May 2 for the Next Big Thing – SOBCon08 (sound of women and children screaming in fear crowd cheering)!

Liz Strauss, Terry Starbucker, and the whole gang have really gone all-out to make this year’s edition of SOBCon a huge success, and believe you me, it shows! Dubbed as a “Biz School for Bloggers”, it promises to once again be the keystone event of the year:

Whether for love or money, if you blog for readers or community, you’re in the business of blogging. This conference can help you achieve your goals, faster with more confidence, and more predictably.

I must admit, I spent a lot of time trying to decide whether or not SOBCon08 was right for me or not. After all, the Middle Zone isn’t a business (it’s really more of a state of mind), and I don’t monetize it in any way, shape or form – other than the priceless currency of your readership and good fellowship. But that’s not really what caused me to hesitate.

To tell you the truth, I didn’t understand the value proposition. I mean, when you get right down to it, what is it about SOBCon08 that justifies the not insignificant cost? To put it bluntly, what’s in it for me? (C’mon, admit it; if you’re still unsure about going then you’re probably thinking the same thing.) Naturally, being the pragmatic fellow that I am, I started to wonder – just what are the benefits?

After all, even though I don’t monetize the Middle Zone, that doesn’t mean I won’t try to make money from blogging someday, right? After all, as more and more businesses turn to blogging to get closer to their customers (and quite a few other reasons), the chances are pretty good that I’ll need to better understand the business of blogging, right? Besides, we’re not necessarily talking here about hard cash, you know.

So, if you’re like me (and if you are, I offer my sincere condolences), in no particular order allow me to count the ways…

Knowledge – Like I said, knowing how to do something is never a bad thing, even if you don’t actually, you know, do it. Besides, you never know when you might be able to synthesize that knowledge into some other endeavor, right? Like my old scoutmaster always used to say, “Be prepared.”

Ideas – There’s nothing like being with a large, like-minded (yet still diverse) group of folks to stir up the ol’ creative juices! Not only will you get to hear from 200+ others, at some point we’ll be working in teams to help each other build business plans, action plans, and maybe plain old share an idea or two – whacky or otherwise – that could be useful to us and our customers. This could be worth the price of admission all by itself.

Relationships – It’s a chance to meet up with the folks we may only know electronically. At the last SOBCon, I was still relatively new at it, and didn’t really know too many people. Since then, however, I’ve forged some wonderful relationships – many of whom (or is it who?) will actually be there too. What a great way to strengthen the bonds of friendship! For me, this is probably the biggest immediate benefit. But who knows where it can lead?

Show Off – I know this sounds a bit odd, but the fact is, many of us have grown considerably during the last year. Hey, here’s a chance to demonstrate your own expertise. C’mon; take a bow, why don’t you – there’s nothing wrong with that! After all, we make money off our expertise every day, right? Besides, it gives the rest of us a chance to celebrate and encourage each other, too.

Networking – I’m tellin’ ya, ever since I realized the value of networking for life, I’ve tried never to miss the opportunity. Although in person I tend to be rather shy and retiring (no, really!), it’s something I’ve made myself do because, well, we all benefit from knowing as many people as possible. And I don’t mean just their names, either.

Hey, there’s plenty more than these few things I just listed, but I didn’t want to hog ‘em all. If you’re still sittin’ on the fence, though – well Bubba, why not take a moment to consider these five thoughts. Heck, add your own reasons, why don’cha!

I can tell you this – SOBCon08 promises to add up to one exciting event! Do yourself a favor and drop by the site and sign up. Hey, if you do decide to come, then by all means, drop me a note and let me know. And be sure and tap me on the shoulder (just look for the hat); I’d be downright honored to meet you. I’ll be staying at the Hotel 71 around the corner, so I’ll be close by.

In the meantime, to you folks in Chicago… like I said, you’d better hide the silverware!

See ya!

Have you ever been on the phone with someone when they suddenly and inexplicably… just stopped talking? Not like a cell phone, when you (supposedly or for real) get cut off due to signal loss. No, I mean the connection is still there, but it’s like they dropped the phone without hanging up.

Well, ironically enough, that very thing happened to me once when I was out of town on a short, 6-week assignment. See, there was this refinery client in California who needed these special, um, things (never mind what they were) manufactured by a particular vendor in Charlotte, North Carolina.

Now, normally this isn’t a big deal. In this case, however, these… things… were so critical that it was deemed worth the expense to have someone (like yours truly) actually go to their facility and check the finished dimensions as they were built. That way, when they got to the field, there wouldn’t be any worries about ‘fit’ during construction, right? It should all go together like a giant Lego set.

The challenge, though, was the, er, things were being designed almost simultaneously with being built, which necessitated a considerable amount of communication between my boss back in Houston and me. No problem there; we had a good relationship, and I had been loaded down with drawings, etc. before leaving the office.

Anyhoo, one fine morning I was on the phone with my boss, smack in the middle of discussing a potential change to one of the drawings, when I suddenly noticed I had pretty much been talking to myself for about a minute or two. I stopped, called his name on the phone a few times, but didn’t hear anything except distant, sortof random noises. What the heck?

Finally, I hung up and called back. Nope; nothin’. I tried again; now all I got was a busy signal. (This was back in prehistoric times – before cell phones.) I tried a few other office numbers that I knew were nearby, then other friends I knew in other parts of the building. Still nothin’ but busy signals – only now it seemed like it was the whole doggone office! I really started to wonder, how could the ALL be busy? The rest of the day I kept trying, to no avail.

All kinds of things started going through my mind about this time. Had there been a run on the donut cart? Had there been a fire? Was Houston being attacked by Godzilla? I mean, what could it be? I finally went home that day, still completely mystified.

The next day I tried again, but there were still no answers. Finally, the following day I received a call about midmorning – it was my boss! Hallelujah! I no longer had to play “Lone Stranger” with the client, pretending everything was still peachy-keen.

Ironically enough, my guesses hadn’t been too far off. It turned out there had been a sudden and very strong storm passing through Houston at the time, and along with it, record-setting winds (some were recorded at nearly tornado-strength!), particularly in the downtown area where the office was located.

See, our building was one of those that have an outer layer of big glass panes, right? Well, my bosses’ office happened to be in the corner of the 16^th floor, and it just so happened that as we were talking, the wind suddenly ripped one of those panes right off the building – quickly followed by just about every loose piece of paper in the vicinity! Yikes! Holy Cow! Not to mention Whooo-eey!

What would you do? Well, while this was going on, my boss, an experienced Vietnam Vet, dropped the phone and was under the desk in less than a heartbeat (he was very proud of those cat-like reflexes he’d developed while ‘in country’), clinging to the metal supports for dear life.

Hey, I’m not ashamed to admit that, under the circumstances, I’d have done the very same thing (with the possible addition of screaming like a girl). I mean, it’s not everyday you get an up close and personal encounter with an almost-tornado!

It had taken the building crew a couple of days to restore power and put a big piece of plywood over the opening, and finally work resumed. But for a couple of days it was pretty messy. Ah, well, at least everyone was all right; no permanent damage done.

Although my boss did move to another desk away from the windows.

Hello? Hello? Are You Still There?

It occurs to me this is something we do with each other, too. Are there friends, acquaintances or contacts you used to keep in touch with on a regular or semi-regular basis – but now you don’t?

I’m sorry to say over the years I’ve been the worlds worst at keeping in touch. Oh, I’ve had good reasons, mind you. After all, we’ve moved quite a bit over the years, plus there’s the inevitable “out of sight, out of mind” thing, too. Sadly, some folks who were once close to me are no longer even on my radar screen anymore.

The unfortunate results? Well, although it took a while for me to see it (since I’m apparently something of a slow learner), I’ve found my own life is somewhat, well, smaller now than it could’ve been. The addition of my friends’ insights, their friendship, even their laughter – well, it’s simply missing. And even worse, now that I’ve (finally!) noticed the loss, it’s anywhere from difficult to downright impossible to reestablish the connection. I mean, they’ve moved on, too – and who could blame them?

All I can say is, it doesn’t have to be that way. With today’s technology, there are plenty of ways to find people you once knew. Facebook, LinkedIn, and any number of other social networking sites are surprisingly good at that. Even using Google, if their name is unique enough, can be useful. (For instance, as far as I’ve been able to tell, when you Google “Robert Hruzek” you’ll find that, like Tigger, I’m the only one. Maybe that’s why I feel a special kinship with the furry little critter.)

All I can say is, I wish that I had been better at it keeping in touch; I really miss those folks sometimes.

Take a lesson from someone who knows (albeit a bit late). Take the time to keep those connections alive. I mean, you never know; you might just need them one day!