Been to a museum lately? One thing they’ll generally have a lot of: some of the world’s greatest paintings. As a matter of fact, I’ve even been privileged enough to have laid my very own two eyes on one or two of ‘em, too. Van Gogh… Monet… DaVinci… Yep; I’ve been blessed, I’ll tell ya.

Having said that, though, I’d like you to take a good look, folks, at what I consider to be my very favorite painting of all time. At the moment it’s currently hanging on a wall in my house. But don’t rush for your “World’s Greatest Paintings” Almanac; you won’t find it listed.

Like I said, it’s my favorite. Not because it was painted by a world-renowned artist. Naw, the fellow who painted this (a French painter named Maurice Legendre) isn’t all that well-known, in spite of having been in the art world for a considerable number of years. And no, not because it’s worth a fortune, either. Although … if it was, I could skip step #2 of my plan to make a million dollars! (Step #1: Find a job that pays a million dollars an hour. Step #2: Work 1 hour.*)

No, this painting is my favorite because it’s a souvenir – and a reminder – of the trip my family and I made to Europe back in 1970. (And… just because I really like it.)

See, my dad, who was an engineer at the time for a large global chemical company, managed to wrangle a 9-month-long field assignment to Europe, so naturally he did what anybody else would do if they could – turned it into an extended family vacation for the rest of us! (And lemme just add here, “Way to go, Dad!”)

At least, it was a vacation for us – he had to work. (And yes, my sister and I did have to attend school for the remainder of the semester. But hey, it was, y’know, in Europe!)

Not Quite Reality

Funny thing about paintings, though. No matter how realistic they look, they just aren’t, well, real, y’know? I mean, go to any museum in the world and check out all those portraits. I defy you to find one single pimple on any face. I mean, c’mon; what’re the odds?

No, paintings don’t necessarily reflect reality (although some artists certainly give it a good run for the money). Heck, these days even photographs can be manipulated such that quite often my first thought when I see a particularly unusual one is, “I wonder if it’s been photoshopped?” Hey, am I right?

Anyhoo, this painting was created right there on the bank of the Seine river, just beyond those trees on the right. How do I know that? Well, I remember watching as the artist finished it with swift, sure strokes. (At least, that’s how I remember it, anyway.) The scene is the famous Pont Alexandre III (which is French for “The Bridge Named for Alexander the 3^rd”) as depicted on a rather gray, yet surprisingly luminous, rainy afternoon. (Or is it morning? Hrm…)

But here’s the thing. If you were to actually stand at the painting’s point of view, it wouldn’t quite look like what you see here. As a matter of fact, there’s quite a lot in this painting that, as the sayin’ goes, “ain’t quite right”.

What’s wrong with it, you say? Well, for instance…

The day this was painted – it wasn’t actually raining at all! Nope; it was a beautiful bright and sunny summer day. Oh, and if you check photos of the real Alexander III bridge (you can find plenty on the Internet), the Seine River actually appears to be quite a bit wider than depicted here (although I suppose that could’ve been an artifact of perspective). And, according to my memory (which admittedly ain’t what it used to be – *sigh*), you won’t see the Eiffel Tower from that spot, either.

Oh yeah, and one more thing: see that sailing ship? In order to get a ship that size into that amazingly picturesque position, they would have had to remove every mast on it. Not that you couldn’t; but it would be a huge pain in the, er, nether regions! Even so, I’m not sure you could fit the doggone thing under the bridges – most of ‘em are pretty low to the water. (See that tugboat lookin’ thing next to it? That’s how low boats have to be to fit under most of the bridges across the Seine.)

A License To…

So what’s my point, you ask? Well other than the one on the top of my head, my point is this: so what?

Lemme put it this way. You know what a license is, don’cha? It’s when you get official, recognized permission to do something – as in a hunting license, a driver’s license, or a “license to kill” a la James Bond. But here we’re talkin’ about something a mite “less” tangible: a creative license.

See, painters, writers, inventors – pretty much everyone who’s ever done anything creative in their lives (and yes, that includes when you were a kid and you tried to explain to mom that it was actually your little brother – or was it the dog? – who broke that lamp and not you) all have this wonderful opportunity before them to not only express something inside of them, but to express it in their own uniquely special way. After all, the artist who painted this scene had the real thing there right in front of him. But, by adding his own interpretation to the canvas, made it something unique. It’s not a photograph, after all (and yes, you can be amazingly creative with those, too), it’s an expression.

Speaking on behalf of writers everywhere, I think it’s safe to say we all do something similar. (And no, I’m not admitting to, um, embellishing all the stories you read here at the Zone. C’mon; even if it were true, do you think I’d ever admit it?) [Note from the Proprietor: Just kidding, folks! They’re all true – to the best of my memory, anyway. Honest.]

What I’m sayin’ is, it’s not what we say that makes it unique, interesting, boring, horrifying, humorous or (fill in appropriate descriptive here) – although that certainly plays an important part. Nope; the thing that makes folks keep comin’ back for more is the way we say what we want to say.

It’s like having your own license – a creative license!

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* OK, I freely admit it: I borrowed my “how to make a million dollars” plan from one of Steve Martin’s comedy routines. But that doesn’t make it any less brilliant. I’m just sayin’.

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‘Way back at the turn of the century (wow, that sounds like a long time ago, doesn’t it?), I spent four months clean on the other side of the world (from where I usually hang out, that is). I was working on a project in the city of Hsin-Chu, Taiwan. Just so ya know, it’s about an hour’s driving distance southwest of Taipei, situated near the western coast. It was my first time to visit what we in the U.S. call the Far East, and I really enjoyed to the adventure.

Unlike field assignments in the U.S., instead of providing a rental car, the company had assigned me a car and driver to take care of the daily commute from my hotel to the work site. I quickly discovered two wonderful benefits about this arrangement.

First, having a professional in the driver’s seat not only saved me considerable aggravation, it probably saved my life more than once. Man, I thought I knew what wild traffic was like! After all, I’ve been around, y’know? It didn’t take me long, though, to realize I was ‘waaay safer takin’ a back seat on this one, if ya know what I mean.

Second, I soon realized what most mass transit commuters discover for themselves: it’s kinda nice havin’ a little extra free time on your hands while someone else worries about the traffic. And bein’ a bona-fide stranger in a strange land, so to speak, literally everything outside my window was new and interesting. I’m tellin’ ya, Bubba, I could get used to that!

But let’s get back to that first point for bit.

The Joy of Rush Hour

Like I said, rush-hour traffic in Hsin-Chu is pretty bad (and from what I understand, pretty much every other major city in Taiwan, especially Taipei). Like any other city that’s experienced rapid growth in a short time, the number of cars on the road tends to far outstrip the capacity of aforementioned roads. Fact of life, I guess.

On the other hand, one of the benefits of having a professional driver meant we rarely took a main road anywhere. This guy knew every back way, driveway, and byway (not to mention every footpath, sidewalk and mule trail) in the city! I found myself really looking forward to my commute because after all, you never knew what undiscovered path we’d end up on. It was actually a lot of fun.

I mean, we’d go zooming down what here at home we’d call a sidewalk, but to them it was a regular street, with tiny little houses on each side of us, so close I could easily touch them as we zinged past. Every one of ‘em had doors that opened onto the street, and I often wondered what would happen if some poor unsuspecting homeowner decided at the wrong moment to step outside.

Sheesh, it was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. Especially when, every now and then, we’d meet a car coming the opposite way. It was a real challenge trying to find a spot big enough so one or the other car could pass and be on their way.

I was always impressed with my driver’s manner, too. No matter what we ran across (well, not literally ran across, you understand), he was the picture of imperturbability. I mean, nothing flapped this guy. Whether it was a case of squeezing by a truckload of ducks (likely not something you’d see too often in the U.S., I’ll bet!) or zooming down a narrow dirt road, dodging the occasional cyclist or two, the guy never once cracked an expression. It was amazing!

Well… except there was this one time…

Grand Prix, Here We Come!

For some reason, on this one morning he had a particularly difficult time finding a route to work that hadn’t been reduced to a parking lot by the omnipresent rush-hour congestion. My driver had to basically pull out every trick in the book, so to speak, just to keep us going in the right direction.

While on one slow car-filled stretch of road, he suddenly turned into what I had at first taken for someone’s driveway. For one crazy moment I thought he might be actually about to commit the cardinal sin of, y’know, turning around (sound of horrified scream) and backtrack for a bit. But no, as soon as we made the turn, I could immediately see it was simply another one of those exceedingly narrow back streets the city is laced with.

I guess the long unimpeded straightaway gave him a bit of inspiration, because as the car thrummed with applied power I saw him breathe deeply and sortof settle into his seat. Fortunately, no unsuspecting homeowners decided to step out their front door and meet their maker in a rather sudden and unexpected way! Unfortunately, the street was a mite narrower than the usual cow path and, just to make things interesting, was also spotted with occasional thick wooden light poles (you know, the kind with street lights and electrical wires strung between them).

I don’t mind tellin’ ya friends, this was a little unusual, even for us!

What was it like, you ask? Well, lemme put it this way: I’ll bet there’s still an imprint in that car’s armrest from where my fingers crunched down on it. At the same time, my stomach tightened up, sweat started seeping outta my brow, and just for good measure, had I been a swearin’ man I’da sworn my butt cheeks clenched onto that seat and held on dear life!

Yeah, it was sorta like that.

Hey, you wanna talk about a wild ride! We zoomed down that lane like we were running the Grand Prix, dodging houses, cyclists and little old grandmas (not to mention the occasional dog) like they were standing still! I don’t mind tellin’ ya, this was a tad more excitement than I had signed up for!

After a minute or two, though, I was able to accept the fact that we probably weren’t going to die just yet and that the driver had things well in hand. So, with a major effort of will, I began to relax a bit (although I don’t think I, er, let go of the seat, if you get my meanin’).

Then, just when I was (almost) able to breathe normally again – that’s when it happened.

As we zipped through one of the particularly narrow spots between a stone wall on the right and one of those previously mentioned light poles on the left, I heard a sudden sharp thump as our left mirror didn’t – quite – make it past that pole! Understand now; we never slowed down at all.

From the back seat, I could see my driver’s eyes in the rear view mirror, and to this day I’ll never forget his reaction. I looked at him, and he looked at me. Then, without cracking an expression of any kind, he briefly raised an eyebrow. Then, of course, his face immediately went back to its normal imperturbable expression as we kept on going. Yep, that was the extent of his visible emotion!

I’ll tell ya, folks, I’ve never forget that moment. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. And come to think of it, it was… inspirational!

I mean, here was a guy who was good – really good – at what he does. It reminded me of the old Pony Express – nothing was gonna stop this guy from delivering the goods (even if the “goods” was little ol’ me). He knew how to focus on the job at hand and get it done!

So next time you find yourself facing a challenging goal, take a lesson from my former driver. Focus on your goal and fasten your seatbelt. Then take a deep breath and clench those cheeks, Bubba…

Then floor it!

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Ever feel like you’ve missed the road to prosperity? Yeah, sometimes it feels that way to me, too. In fact, once I had the chance to make the turn – but passed it by. (Cue rimshot: ba-da-bing!

(In case you’re wondering, the road to Prosperity is in South Carolina, off Interstate 26, not too far from Columbia. Just sayin’.)

Yeah, I know. Sadly, these days quite a few folks are lookin’ for that opportunity to come knocking on our doors. And I’m not talking about having the next winning lottery ticket come floating in the window, either – although it makes for a nice daydream… No, they’re actually looking for the chance to, y’know do something.

See, I know what it’s like to have things swept out from under you; things like a job, a bank account, and perhaps even a direction in life. More times than I’d like to admit. But hey, who ever said life is supposed to be fair? It happens. The most important thing, though, is what happens after that. You know what I mean, right? It’s what comes next that really defines who you are.

So, just for the fun of it, let’s take a quickie test. Let’s say that life has suddenly taken a turn for the worse and the giant bluebird of happiness has just, ahem, pooped on your parade, if you know what I mean.

Would you:

a)   throw a tantrum
b)   blame “the system”
c)   demand somebody, y’know, do something
d)  try again, or try something else.

Now, chances are, if you are taking the time to read this, I would be willing to bet your answer is very likely d) try again, or try something else. Well… I’m afraid you’d only be part right. The real answer is e) all of the above. (Yes, it was a trick question. Please don’t sue me. I have nothing.)

In fact, every time I’ve experienced a sudden change in fortunes (meanin’ a downward change, of course – it’s not likely many folks would be too upset about an upward change in fortune), I’ve had to work my way through pretty much all of those reactions. (Surely you remember the stages of grief?) Hey, it’s the way we’re made, after all.

But the problem isn’t the struggle we experience while shuffling through those times. Nope, that’s not the point at all. After all, if you’re, y’know, alive, then it’s pretty much a given that life will occasionally hand you lemons. No, the thing that separates us from the herd is what we do choose to do with those lemons. And if you don’t make it all the way from a) through d) and on to e) – well, you missed it.

I gotta admit; it’s very, very tempting to sorta “hole up” at any one of those early stages. After all, wallowing in self-pity does bring its own strange kind of satisfaction. The only problem is, it gets you absolutely nowhere. You can’t actually solve anything while you’re there. I know; I’ve tried.

Nope, the only thing that really works is to get out there and try again. Or, if you’ve tried whatever it is you’ve been trying enough, then go for something different. (You remember the definition of insanity, don’t you?) Trust me; it’s the only thing that really works.

So, will you finally make it to Prosperity – or at least, on the road to Prosperity? Alas, that’s not for me to say. But I will say this: you’ll never make it if you don’t try for it.

I’m just sayin’.

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You work and you work to accomplish the things you want, right? Twiddle this, jiggle that, make sure those things happen in the right order; it’s just life, y’know?

Experience, though, has taught me that, generally speaking, there’s at least one thing more you’re probably gonna need: patience!

All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go

Our return from Brazil was an exercise in mechanics. We packed up our suitcases, checked out of our hotel, ate a great breakfast, and loaded up the bus. It was time once again to head to the airport and board that big silver bird.

We were nearly the first to arrive at the terminal that morning, and so we very nearly had the entire ticketing area to ourselves. Checking in was the usual semi-controlled chaos; in spite of that it went relatively smoothly. Eventually we finally made it past ticketing and baggage check and headed for the boarding area and gate number 5.

As I approached, though, there was just one little problem. I looked out the window and – there was no plane!

My brain did a quick mental reboot as I considered the various and sundry ramifications of the situation. I mean, we’d done everything we were supposed to do, right? Tickets, luggage, boarding passes – check, check, check. It’s just that, without a plane it was all just an exercise, y’know? Sorta like a fire drill.

It’s All in the Timing

‘Course, once the initial surprise passed, I realized it wasn’t really a problem. We were just a little early, that’s all, and the plane simply hadn’t arrived yet. Still… until I saw our winged chariot waiting there for us, there was always that little niggling concern scratching away at the ol’ subconscious. What if it’s not coming? What if it’s late? What if – well, the list of worries could go on and on, couldn’t it?

The issue, you see, was in the timing. We’d done everything we were supposed to do. But now – ah, now it was out of our hands. The only thing we needed now was a little patience.

Not a bad lesson for life, wouldn’t you say? Sometimes we get so involved in getting things done we forget that not everything is under our direct control, y’know? You might as well face it: there’s times you simply have to wait for that thing you expect to happen… to happen.

The lesson, of course, is simple – have a little patience, friends! Do what you gotta do – but don’t forget to bring along that big ol’ bucket o’ patience. Chances are, you’re gonna need it.

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“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

As most of you know, it is indeed possible to find treasure in the most unexpected places. Especially when you’re willing to take the time to really look.

One Man’s Trash

Quite a few years ago Mrs. MZM and I temporarily moved to Kalamazoo, Michigan so I could take an engineering job in a chemical plant for a few months. Since we knew we’d be there only a short time (maybe 6 months? who knew?), we decided to keep the apartment furnishings to a minimum. I mean, why spend money we’d never get back, y’know?

Anyway, after moving in, we drove around town, just sorta getting’ the lay of the land, so to speak. Suddenly Mrs. MZM pointed off to the right and said, “Pull up over there!”. I immediately executed a tire-screeching Bat-Turn safe, totally legal and non-life-threatening u-turn to the indicated spot.

Right in front of us was a large dumpster. I looked at her in disbelief and thought to myself, surely she couldn’t mean–?

But I was wrong.

Years ago I knew a guy who rode a trash collection truck to earn money for college. He used to regale us with tales of the many treasures he found every day – bowling balls, stacks of records (you remember vinyl LP records, don’t you?), perfectly good clothes of all sorts – you name it. I was always amazed at what folks will throw away, y’know?

Well, memories of that fellow came back to me now as I realized Mrs. MZM wanted me to take a look at something in that dumpster. Now, had I still been a kid, I’d have no problem, y’know? But hey, I’m an adult now! Adults don’t do this sort of thing! (Besides, it was probably filled with all manner of icky stuff, not to mention little creepy crawly critters, to boot!)

All this and more scampered briefly through my brain as I climbed out of the car and approached the rusty metal behemoth. It was one of those enclosed types with a partially opened sliding door in its side. That’s where Mrs. MZM pointed. “There’s a lamp shade right there close to that opening. Just reach in and grab it – let’s see what it looks like.”

Poised to make a quick getaway (just in case a rat, a snake, or y’know, a slime-covered tentacle reached for me), I tremulously latched onto the aforementioned shade and gave an admittedly hesitant little pull. It didn’t budge. I tried again, a little bit harder this time, and felt it give a bit. Finally I took a deep breath, threw caution to the winds, and grabbed it with both hands. Exerting a mighty heave, I stumbled backwards with my hard-won prize and was rewarded with – an entire lamp!

Another Man’s Treasure

And wow, what a treasure! Well, it’s not that it turned out to be genuine Waterford crystal or anything, but it certainly was pretty. I was astonished somebody would throw away a perfectly good and serviceable lamp like that. (And yes, it worked perfectly!)

As I returned to the car with my loot, Mrs. MZM couldn’t help the lightly smug “I told you so” expression, and rightly so. Our little treasure turned out to be far better than either of us had expected.

Funny how that saying can be so true, isn’t it: One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. Over the years, I’ve encountered countless instances just like this of how a piece of junk turned into something wonderful. In fact, we have a perfectly good antique clock on our shelf to prove it. Sometimes you have to clean things up a bit – but sometimes not.

To tell you the truth, the only difference between an object’s being trash or treasure is not necessarily in where you find it. Nope; it’s in how you look at it. So it sorta begs the question, doesn’t it?

What surprising little treasures have you been missing because you haven’t taken the time to really look?

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“You need to get rid of that baggage,” meaning let go of the past, or it’s time to pick yourself up and move on.

I know, I know; the term baggage is almost always used in a emotionally negative way, isn’t it? I’ve heard it often enough; maybe even said the words myself once or twice.

But is baggage always bad?

The Baggage Handler

It’s an off-the-wall thought, I know, but one that hit me (sound of dull thud) while sitting on the tarmac in Rio de Janeiro. (Well actually, I was sitting in a plane on the tarmac, not actually on the tarmac. Oh, never mind.)

I idly passed the time watching a baggage handler toss our luggage one piece at a time onto that conveyor-thingie, its slowly moving belt feeding them into the plane’s storage compartment below us like offerings to a hungry beast. How many pieces did that guy toss in an average day? Hundreds? Thousands? Sheesh, my back started achin’ just thinkin’ about it; especially if they all weighed as much as mine did!

Anyhoo – like I said, getting rid of emotional baggage is generally considered to be a good thing, right? I mean, if you spend your days moping about “what might have been”, well, you can build up a heavy load for yourself in no time at all. And pretty soon your back is achin’ with the effort of carryin’ all that stuff around with you wherever you go.

That’s why the idea of a Fresh Start is so appealing. If you can just unload all those old regrets and “what if’s”, well life gets so much easier.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

On the other hand… is all baggage necessarily bad? Maybe not. In fact, definitely not. The fact is, you can always turn at least some of that emotional baggage into something valuable by learning something from it. Yep; don’t just throw it out like garbage – take the time to identify what happened, why it happened, and how you can profit from it. Maybe – just maybe – there’s some value in what you’ve been through. That’s the sort of baggage you’re gonna need for later.

After all, I can’t imagine taking even a short trip without an overnight bag containing at least a few necessary things, such as a toothbrush, shampoo, or maybe an extra pair of those unmentionable things we won’t mention. (Besides, these days they look at you suspiciously if you’re not carrying something. Signs of the times, I’m afraid.) Experience has taught me what to leave behind and what to bring every time. And all that stuff becomes part of my baggage – necessary baggage I can’t function without.

So next time you contemplate getting rid of some emotional baggage (and who doesn’t have at least one or two pieces?), make sure you don’t throw the baby out with the bath, if you get my meanin’. Go ahead and get rid of the stuff that needs to go, but take the time to analyze it first, so you can hang on for dear life to the stuff you’re gonna need.

And have a great trip!

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GEORGE: You know what the three most exciting sounds in the world are?

UNCLE BILLY: Uh-huh. Breakfast is served; lunch is served; dinner . . .

GEORGE: No, no, no, no! Anchor chains, plane motors, and train whistles.

- From It’s a Wonderful Life

I’ll tell ya; I gotta agree with ol’ George Bailey; there really are certain sounds that tweak my imagination and, yes, even my excitement, y’know?

It’s like last November on the return from my trip to Brazil. As the plane lined itself up on runway zero-six to launch us into the wild blue yonder (which I believe is the third blue yonder on the left), I couldn’t help but experience a remarkable dichotomy of feelings.

On the one hand, it was a kinda sad moment because it marked the close of a truly amazing experience – going to a small town in Brazil to help build a church. What’s more, not only was it something I’d never done before, but it was one of the most gratifying events of my life. And so I was understandably kinda sad as it was ending, if you follow me.

But on the other hand, it was good to be heading home. After 10 days away, it would be wonderful to be back in the sweet and tender arms of my lifelong love, the incredible Mrs. MZM. I’ll tell ya, because of my work, over the years we’ve had some times apart – some of ‘em long and some of ‘em short. But no matter how strange, or fun, or interesting the place turned out to be, it was always great to get back to the ol’ homestead and start life over again. It’s almost like a new beginning, in a way.

Funny how that runway could signify both things equally: a beginning and an ending. And come to think of it, it’s almost the same every time New Year’s Day rolls around, isn’t it? There you are at the moment, the cusp, the hinge between the old year and the new, sayin’ “so long” to all things past while simultaneously sayin’ “howdy” to the things to come.

Yep; a new beginning, a timely ending. That’s about the size of it, all right. Not that things from the past don’t carry over, mind you. It’s that sense of starting fresh, and new, and – well, it’s something we all like to celebrate, isn’t it? And rightly so, if you ask me.

So take a moment with me to wave your hat at the things accomplished and the things left behind, won’t you? After all, you can’t do anything about the past, now, can ya?

OK, now turn and put your best face forward, Bubba, ’cause I’m tellin’ ya; judgin’ from the way the last year went, I think we’re in for one heckuva ride!

YEEHAW!

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