“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”

- opening line of “A Tale of Two Cities”, by Charles Dickens

Well, it ain’t exactly Dickens, but please allow me to share with you the following tale of two corridors…

Corridor #1

I was moseying down (that’s “walking”, for y’all non-Texans in the audience) a fairly long hallway at my workplace the other day (see the photo on the right) when I noticed an interesting phenomenuh an interesting phenominom something unusual.

As I gradually approached the double doors at the end of the corridor (it’s that small black square waaay down there), it almost seemed as though, instead of getting closer, the hallway was growing longer. An optical illusion, to be sure, but still a bit disconcerting. Only as I finally neared the end did everything sorta go back to normal again. (Of course, “normal” in my world is a relative term – but that’s an entirely different skillet o’ catfish.)

Needless to say, it was an odd little bit of perspective shift – almost claustrophobic, if you know what I mean. Strange.

Corridor #2

Another day, another corridor, this one on the way to the company cafeteria…

Not surprisingly, there was a distinctly different feel to this one. Unlike that other weird, Twilight-Zone-esque corridor, this one engendered no odd sense of eternity stretching out before me. This time it was just a pleasant walk. (Of course, the prospect of, y’know, food at the end may have had something to do with it. Just sayin’.)

So what was the difference?

Well, obviously one big difference is the fact that the second corridor is lined with windows, right? Not only does the outside view make the corridor “feel” bigger, but the scenery is a lot more interesting.

Also, I think the vertical window frames serve as a sortof, well, let’s call it a “progress meter” (at least to the subconscious mind, anyway), silently ticking the moments by as I made my way down its length (the two corridors are pretty much the same length. Unlike the first corridor, which seems like a gray, almost unbroken tunnel, this one is light and cheery with, as I mentioned before, something delicious at the end of it.

So What?

By now you’re probably wonderin’ to yourselves just what the heck this all has to do with the price of a side o’ beef in, say, Timbuktu. Well, I guess the best answer is, “Not much.” On the other hand, though, thinkin’ of these two corridors did make me reflect a bit on life, the universe, and… well, you get the picture, right?

If your life is anything like mine, you’ve surely experienced a period of waiting at some time or another. Yep; thought so. Sometimes it feels almost like life is a nothing but a never-ending series of momentary events, preceded by periods of restless waiting, doesn’t it?

Take job-hunting, for instance (please!) I’ve done my share of it, and every time it’s the same thing: work like mad to generate job leads, send a stream of resumes out to even the remotest of possibilities, and no matter what, leave no stone unturned in that quest for employment.

The biggest problem with this sort of thing is, it’s really hard to tell if you’re getting anywhere! Kinda like moseyin’ down that first corridor, y’know? Trust me, I know; most folks have been there too. You’re walkin’, walkin’, and still walkin’ – but you can’t tell if you’re makin’ any headway. In fact, it may even seem like you’re losing ground.

Conversely, other times the job hunt has progressed relatively steadily. From initial contact to the resume submittal, then on to that first interview, negotiation and then – employment! (sound of crowd cheering) Yeah, I’ve had that one happen, too, and when it does it’s more like that second corridor, the one with the windows, the view, and the reward at the end.

Strange how life seems to imitate art corridors, isn’t it? But still, I find it’s not the waiting that gets me down. It’s the fact that I can’t see if things are progressing. (And it’s not just that they’re not progressing as I want them too; it’s that they don’t seem to be progressing at all.)

Sad to say, most waiting periods are like that. You get no sense of what’s happening outside of your own personal world – of the things going on behind the scenes. Whereas, if you can actually see things progressing, get some feedback from the outside world – well, it makes the passing of time and the waiting a whole lot easier, don’t you think?

What to Do?

Anyhoo – I brought all this up to offer an encouraging word or two, should you happen to actually be in a waiting period right now (uh, is anyone not?)

First of all, suffice it to say I know exactly how you feel, and it ain’t no fun, I can tell ya. The good news is, there are some things you can do to help alleviate that stretched-out eternity feeling.

Don’t shut your spouse out. OK, obviously, if you’re not married then this one won’t apply to you. But if you are, then you have a built-in support mechanism from someone who once said they’d be there for you through thick and thin. It never ceases to amaze me how many folks (sadly, we men are especially guilty of this one) would rather try and “work things out” for ourselves. It stems from a feeling that by admitting we’re troubled we’ll appear weak or something. Hey, I’ve been there; I know. All I can say is, if you’re blessed with a spouse who loves you, then share your life with ‘em – all of it. Trust me when I tell you it can be truly rewarding!

Keep in touch  with your friends. I’ve noticed it over the years, and I bet you have too: having a friend to talk to makes time pass a whole lot faster than if you’re spending it all alone. Especially if you’re spending your time alone thinkin’ oh, woe is me! (Been there!) If you’re in the waiting room, find a friend to spend some time with. If you don’t have a handy friend, go make a new one! Even better, find a friend who’s down in the dumps and, instead of you both sobbing into your root beers, try passing along an encouraging word or two. Nothing dispels self-absorption like lifting the spirits of someone else!

Learn something new. One of the things I promised myself long ago was to never stop learning new stuff. Whether it’s discovering photography, learning to appreciate Masterpiece Theater, or finally getting good at juggling chainsaws (better make sure your Life Insurance is paid up for that one!), it’s always a good thing to expand your brain into new pathways. A bonus: you’ll be surprised how it’ll give you new insights into all those old challenges, too. And there’s nothin’ like stirrin’ up the little gray cells now and then to breathe fresh air into otherwise stagnant thinking.

Keep on walkin’ Bubba! (Or if you’re in Texas, keep on moseyin’.) Put this one in blazing letters a foot high, my friend! The worst thing you can do is… stop. Stop trying, stop learning, stop talking – to stop living. Hey, waiting is one thing – we all end up there sooner or later. But stopping is a whole ‘nuther animal altogether. Keep doin’ what you know to do, and never lose hope. Trust that outside of your perception, outside of that dark, long corridor, things really are happening. Use your imagination and put some windows in that long, dark corridor you’re traveling. (OK, no more metaphors, I promise!) You have to believe that and keep goin’ with all your heart because, in fact, it’s true! One thing we can all agree on is that life is all about change, and change happens all the time, all around us. Just because you can’t see it happening…

This Too Shall Pass

Just remember, Bubba; these things haven’t come to stay in your life. Nope, they’ve come to pass. And in passing, we grow.

Are you in life’s waiting room at the moment? Then join the crowd! Trust me; you’re not the Lone Stranger in here – not by a long shot! In fact, at the moment, I’m right there with ya! (Why not come on over and we’ll visit a spell? Just look for the hat.)

Care to tell us about it? What other techniques have you learned over the years that have helped you – and maybe can help the rest of us as we wait? Take a moment, why don’t you, and share ‘em with us down there in the comment box. Hey, we’ll surely thank you!

____________________________

I don’t know if you’ve ever had the opportunity to check out the inside of a piano, but if you can, do yourself a favor: go find one and take a good look. I mean, these things are a marvel! What you’ll find is an amazing intersection of three completely different disciplines: engineering, craftsmanship, and physics.  the embodiment of the blend of form and function.

You know what I like the best about a piano, though? It’s that, when you look inside the (usually) beautifully handcrafted wooden case, it’s all so wonderfully, I don’t know, analog! And in today’s digital world, I find that kindof refreshing, don’t you?

Busy, Busy, Busy

Let’s see… inside, there’s about a zillion moving parts: wood and/or metal levers, little wooden hammers, strips of felt, metal pins, not to mention hundreds of wires ranging from very thin ones to thick, multi-wrapped monsters. I’m tellin’ ya; it’s a veritable Rube Goldberg-esque device, inside there.

One of the first things that always impressed me with your average piano is the internal structure of the wooden case. There are smooth wooden ribs and structural members running every which way in there. In fact, it’s amazing how they manage to get all that stuff in there and still leave room for the mechanical parts, too.

The thing is, a piano really needs that strength. Why? Well, there are 88 keys on the typical piano. And for each key, there are actually three piano wires. That makes a total of (hrm, let’s see now… I’m gonna have to take my shoes and socks off for this calculation…), uh, 264 wires! And all those wires, when properly tuned, produce an awful lot of… tension.

Did you know, in a modern grand piano, the total force created by the tension in those wires can be greater than 10 tons?

That Thing We Love To Hate

Ah; tension – it ranks right up there as one of the things we most love to hate, doesn’t it? Sometimes we call it stress, or strain, or even opposition, but it’s almost always the same thing. It’s that thing that opposes what we want to do.

Funny thing, though. Most of us spend so much time doing our best to avoid stress and tension in our lives (and I must admit to being no exception to that crowd), but we sometimes completely miss the fact that tension is actually a pretty useful thing to have. (sound of incredulity from the audience) No, really!

Let’s use this piano as an example. I mean, when you get right down to it, the very reason for a piano’s existence (and pretty much any stringed instrument, for that matter) is to provide a way to stretch a series of strings out in such a way as to produce music. And to do that, you have to have two anchor point (one fixed and one adjustable), and something to string between them.

Now, to produce the proper musical sound, you have to do what? (Yes, you in the back with your hand raised.) That’s right: stretch the dickens outta that wire! (or string, or gut, or whatever) Yep; ya gotta put the thing under a great deal of tension. And isn’t tension just another way of saying “getting pulled in two different directions”?

Otherwise, instead of, say, Mozart we’d get, I don’t know, maybe something that sounds a lot like a war between rogue gangs of alley cats. Believe me, when you’re sittin’ there in front of thousands of folks in Carnegie Hall, about to play your first virtuoso performance, well, that wouldn’t do at all! (Unless, of course, you were, y’know, going for Theme From: Cat Fight. Hey, I never know what passes for music these days).

Time to Make Music

Now, I think most of us experience the same sort of thing pretty much all the time, don’t we? I mean, we all have a little of this, that, and the other thing, all pullin’ us in different directions, with never a letup in sight. Life is like that, y’know?

But in fact, isn’t it also true that those tensions, stresses, and strains, once we learn to “tune” them to the proper note, are what help produce the beautiful music that is our lives? It’s somewhere there in the balance, isn’t it?

So next time you’re tempted to curse, rant or rail about something in your life that’s pullin’ you in two different directions, just think about that piano. After everything is said and done, it isn’t all about the tensions we face every day. Hey, welcome to life!

Nope, I think life is really all about the music.

_____________________________

Howdy, y’all, and a big ol’ tip o’ the Monday hat to ya!

Hey, around these parts Spring has pretty much sprung out all over, so to help celebrate that blessed event, I thought I’d share a bit of poetry I’ve had brewin’ for awhile now. It was sorta inspired by this photo of the seed pods from a sycamore tree in a local park. It happened to spark some great memories of summers as a child long ago, and, well, tell me what you think:

Spikey Balls

Memories of my childhood in a less-than-wealthy place;
Simple joys and happiness, and sunshine on my face.

Jumping into piles of leaves, exploring secret woods,
Searching creeks for giant frogs (I’d catch ‘em if I could!)

Together with my faithful friend, ol’ General Joe McLong,
(He was a weiner dog, you know) my bond with him was strong.

The two of us could romp and play with free and wild abandon,
Bare-footing it through grassy knolls with nothing sharp to land on.

Except -

There was this one big sycamore, with leaves of yellow-green,
I’d climb it to the highest heights to see what could be seen.

All summer long its branches filled with green and patient fruit,
No problem while still up there, but when fallen, more acute.

Over time, though, they transmogrified into these spiky balls
And then fell in such great numbers it resembled Nightmare Falls.

They laid in wait to prick my toes once fallen to the ground,
Oh, how I hated spiky balls wherever they were found!

Still, to this day I find myself remembering those times,
Of spiky balls and General Joe and silly little rhymes!

_______________________

Hey, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me what you think! Just leave a comment in the box down there, won’t you? I’d kinda like to try this a little more often, so you never know, y’know?

_______________________

[Note from the Proprietor: This post is an entry for this month's Middle Zone groupwrite project, What I Learned From Colorful Characters. It's open for entries until March 7, 2010 and you're invited to participate - just follow that cute little link and read all about it.]

Over the years, I’ve met my share of colorful characters; I bet you have, too. Despite that, I’m surprised to say can’t really pinpoint exactly what it is that earns someone the description of “colorful”.

I know, I know; chances are you’d agree with me there’s no shortage of folks who are different. But is different the same as colorful? Not necessarily; I’ve run across plenty of folks who are different – yet I no longer remember them.

Maybe the word unusual is a better qualifier. Well, maybe. Whatever the quality is that makes someone colorful in my mind, of all the folks I’ve ever met, ol’ Hollis has to be one of the ones with the mostest.

Just Call Me Bubba

Now, Hollis was what we down here in Texas call a Bubba (also known as a “good ol’ boy”): friendly, big-hearted and generally easy-going – and I’ll tell ya; he sure fit the bill!

Hollis was one of four of us back in college who roomed together during the semester I decided to live off campus (this was back in the early ’70′s). And if you think the name “Hollis” says volumes about him, well, you’d be right. I mean, this guy was a walkin’ stereotype!

His parents owned a “nice spread” (otherwise known as a ranch to us city slickers) in central Texas. Oh, it wasn’t as big as the King Ranch (which at 1,289 mi² is larger than the U.S. state of Rhode Island), but at least it was “comfortable”. (Maybe just the size of Long Island? Er, never mind.)

I always suspected his chosen course of study – range management – had more to do with his parents wishes than his own (I mean, would he have chosen it if they didn’t already own the ranch? Well, maybe.) But one thing I can say with complete confidence – it certainly suited him.

I can still picture as if it were yesterday, that first fateful day I asked Hollis just what in tarnation range management was. He adjusted his big ten-gallon hat, spread his feet apart to get a firm stance, and made fists of his big, ham-sized hands. Then he put ‘em on his hips, stared off at the distant horizon and boomed out, “All right you ranges out there! I want you to form a line for me! Hey – straighten up, you!” (You think I’m kidding? Hey, if you’re readin’ this, Hollis, back me up, won’t you?)

When he went out he wore that hat (seriously – a huge, somewhat worse-for-wear white one), and in more ways than one, reminded me a lot of Hoss Cartright from that old western, Bonanza. He drove a typical student’s car, an old land-yacht-sized rattletrap named, of all things, Maybelline (or maybe it was The Deathmobile; I forget).

Memorable in More Ways Than One

In fact, there were a lot of things about Hollis that were really pretty memorable. (I mean, besides the hat.) For instance…

Every other weekend he went home to visit the folks (and, of course, do what every other student did: get his laundry done). And every Sunday upon returning he’d go through the exact same ritual: walk in the door carrying two bags of groceries and gently set ‘em on the kitchen counter. Then open the cabinet doors over the sink, reach into one of the grocery bags and pull out the two cans of Spam his mom had thoughtfully packed. Put them up in the cabinet (along with the 123 other cans from previous trips home) and shut the door. Then and only then, he’d paste that goofy grin on his face, turn around and ask in all seriousness, “OK, guys, anybody for pizza?” (By the way, if you’re hungry, as far as I know those cans of spam are probably still there. They should be nicely, er, aged by now.)

Then there was the time I brought home a refurbished pay phone and hung it in the kitchen (this was back in the days when you had to buy your own phone from the then-still-a-monopoly phone company). We convinced Hollis he had to put a dime in it to make calls, and it was two weeks before he finally figured out we were kidding! (On the plus side, I did make $3.90 those two weeks. But I digress.)

Trust me; I could go on…

What I Learned From Hollis

Yep; ol’ Hollis was sure a colorful character. But one thing he taught me was that it was truly OK to be a colorful character. I mean sure, most of us know that’s true – and I know that now – but back then I was just a poor Freshman college kid with no idea who I truly was.

See,  all through grade school and high school, I saw other kids around me who were popular, witty, charming, and – dare I say it? – extremely cool. What’s worse, they all seemed to have a level of self-confidence I simply couldn’t match. No matter how I tried, I always ended up geeky, insecure, and just plain scared.

The problem was, I took that attitude with me to college, and unfortunately forsaw nothing that would change anything ahead, I’ll tell ya. And that’s when I met Hollis.

Hollis was… well, different. And not a bad different, he was… well, like a breath of fresh air (or maybe more like a smack in the face with a dead fish). He was loud, brash, a little crazy, and he had no problem bein’ someone who was smirked at by other folks – either behind his back or even to his face – he just flat-out didn’t care.

Yep; in ol’ Hollis, I saw someone who had something I’d always wanted: he was happy with who he was. And I had to admire that, y’know? It was quite the revelation, I’ll tell ya.

So, Did It ‘Take’?

By now you’re probably askin’ the question, Did the lesson ‘take’? Did I finally overcome my truckload of self-conscious mumblings and assert my rightful place in the universe? Did my fellow students point in awe at my overwhelming new-found Coolness as I walked by? Did women, from that moment onward, swoon whenever I entered the room?

Well… no. (In fact, I only know of one woman who ever swooned when I came into the room, and that was because I’d accidentally stepped on a skunk on my way in the door. But that, as they say, is a frog of a different hop.)

Actually, it took me a few further years to finally come to terms with who I was. Or at least, who I was beginning to become, anyway. To tell you the truth, I’m still on that particular journey, so there’s really no tellin’ how it’s gonna end up. One thing I can tell you – the trip’s been a blast so far, I’ll tell ya!

Anyhoo – I just want to send a big ol’ tip o’ the hat to my friend Hollis! Hey, thanks for bein’ you, Bubba, and I hope all those ranges finally lined up for ya!

_____________________________

Photo credits, top left to bottom right:
1. Colorful Character, 2. Beggars on Stockton Ferry, 3. Colorful characters, 4. colorful characters, 5. It’s good to be the King!, 6. Colourful character, 7. Send in the Clown, 8. No Clowning Around., 9. Four colorful characters

_______________________________

[Note from the Proprietor: This post is an entry for this month's Middle Zone groupwrite project, What I Learned From Colorful Characters. It's open for entries until March 7, 2010 and you're invited to participate - just follow that cute little link and read all about it.]

_______________________________

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

- Chinese philosopher Lao-tzu

I was walking in a park the other day and happened to notice this Mile Zero marker at my feet. This naturally got me to thinkin’ (sound of grinding gears) about life’s journeys, and how a person can end up where they are. (What can I say? I was in a pensive mood that day.)

If you take the time to think about it, where you are in life right now is the result of a rather long series of events.

For instance, take the leader of any given organization. I mean, whoever it is didn’t just decide one day to be The Top Dog, you know. Nope, they had to learn what it took to handle the role, make planned and skillful career moves, perhaps take advantage of opportunity as it arose. Eventually, if all the cards fell into place, they made it to the top.

Oh, sure; sometimes a leader gets the role by accident. But that doesn’t mean they’re not qualified and have the characteristics needed to lead. It takes time, effort, and sometimes luck to get there, no matter who you are or what your goal is.

Now think about where YOU are right now. Is it anything like where you thought you’d be when you first started out however many years ago? I’d be willing to wager – probably not! No, what characterized most folks’ journeys is the unpredictability of ‘em. You can make your plans, learn the ropes, identify the goals or whatever. But sometimes it’s still a surprise.

Despite that, setting goals and makin’ those plans is certain worth doing. I mean, if nothing else, it’s good training for wherever you end up. But there’s one more thing you need to get where you’re going. And without this one last thing, you might as well give up now.

Take the First Step

Sometimes that first step is the hardest one, isn’t it? You’ve spent a lot of time planning, scheming, working, hoping and, depending upon who you turn to for help, praying. Now all that’s left is the doing.

So today’s question is pretty simple: What’s keeping you from takin’ that first (or maybe it’s not the first, but the next) step?

__________________________

I was sitting in the lobby of our local car repair place the other day, thinking gloomy thoughts. I know, I know; you usually think of yours truly as a handsome, happy-go-lucky, always cheerful fellow with a big hat and a bigger heart. [Note from the Proprietor: If you happen to think differently, please don't disillusion me! Oh, and Mrs. MZM had me throw in the "handsome" part. Honest.]

Anyhoo – to those of you who have never opened up the hood of a car – I salute you! I’ll tell ya, I’d just as soon never have to do it myself. To be perfectly honest, what’s under there… well, it sorta scares me.

Oh, I know; that admission may jeopardize my lifetime membership to the Manly Men’s Association if it ever gets out. But I’ll freely admit that when it comes to cars I’m pretty much clueless.

It wasn’t always this way. Once upon a time (sounds like the beginning of a fairy tale, doesn’t it?) I was completely unafraid to tinker with my own car. Alas, those days are quickly receding like my, er, hairline (*sigh*). These days, when I open the hood I get absolutely intimidated by the incomprehensible mishmash of hardware, gizmos and spaghetti-like wiring that greets the eye. And all of it covered by a thick greasy layer of gray-black grime that would give even the redoubtable Mr. Clean heart palpitations. Ick.

Nevertheless, the sad, inevitable truth is, if you own a car, then sooner or later, you’re gonna have to fix something. This time it wasn’t anything major, just the battery. The old one wasn’t puttin’ out the power it used to, and it was only a matter of time before we got in the car, turned the key, and got – nuthin’. (Trust me, I’ve been there and there’s no experience quite like it.)

Needless to say, once the new battery was installed, our car was good as new again. (Well, as good as an 11-year old car can be. I’m a firm believer in driving a car until she drops.) But I realized that getting a tired battery isn’t just something that happens to cars. Nope; it happens to people, too.

Time for Something New?

Yep; it’s not all that unusual for us to experience something similar. Given enough time, you’ll probably experience a time when it seems as though you just don’t have all the emotional energy you need to face life as usual. I know I have. Sometimes the constant battle with getting things done can take such a toll that there comes a moment when you might suddenly look up and think, “Enough!”

Hey, don’t feel like the Lone Stranger, my friends; it happens to a lot of us. So what to do? Well, here’s three ideas I’ve tried in the past.

Take a Break. These days the pace of life seems to be getting faster and faster with no end in sight. It’s so easy to ignore the need for rest now and then. There’s nothing wrong with taking some time off, you know. I mean, the universe isn’t going to come to a screeching halt without you, you know. Hey, here’s a radical idea: try not working every day and taking at least one day a week off. (God Himself prescribed exactly that when He created Life, the Universe, and Everything, so just on that basis alone it ought to be something worth taking seriously, don’cha think?) But you’ll find, as I have, that regular periods of rest can actually make you more productive than if you never took the time.

Switch Tracks for a While. Sometimes when you find yourself completely overwhelmed with whatever’s, uh, whelming you, the best thing you can do is what I call “change the game”. I mean, take a little time to do a totally different task for a while. What happens, see, is you get so caught up in whatever it is you’re doing your mind begins to narrow its focus until that’s all you can see. It’s sorta like running a 400-yard dash. Because of your focus, the only thing you see is the lane you’re in and the finish line; everything else becomes a gray blur. Doing something different, though, will help your brain regain its normal equilibrium and even enable you to think more clearly.

Do Something Different. Maybe, in the immortal words of the Monty Python gang, it’s time for something completely different. And I’m not talkin’ about just for a short while. Nope, I mean maybe your life would be a lot more fulfilling if you were doing something, y’know, else. It’s happened to quite a few folks over the years, including yours truly: starting out in life going in one direction, only to find it just doesn’t satisfy them like they thought it would. The fact is, more and more folks do it all the time. And, there’s no need to feel like you’re doing something no one has ever done before, either, so at least you’ll have plenty of company.

OK, those are just three ideas. What about you? What else would you suggest for someone whose battery has been running dangerously low? Share your advice down there in the comment box and maybe you’ll be helping someone else who’s facing the same challenge right now.

____________________________

I was driving in our neighborhood the other day when I passed this poor excuse for a tree in a nearby empty lot.

Over the last three years, I’ve seen this thing gradually reduced from a somewhat taller and more, er, robust version of itself – to this. Pretty pathetic, ain’t it?

Every time we get a strong wind, I’m convinced I’ll drive by and see it has given up the ghost and finally assumed the horizontal position. When Hurricane Ike bulldozed through Houston over a year ago, I really thought that would be the final blow, so to speak. Yet every time I’m surprised to find it holding on just a little bit longer.

Oh, sure, it might be a little smaller, perhaps a little, er, less vigorous than is used to be (which may be considered the understatement of the century), but this amazing tree has managed to persevere no matter what’s been thrown at it. But no – this fellah is still hangin’ in there.

But more than that – it’s still growing! You can see a small clump of leaves there on what remains of the only branch left. What’s more, there’s even a few new saplings growing upward from the base of the trunk, too.

I’ll tell ya what, folks, if there ain’t a powerful lesson here, I’ll… well, I’ll eat my hat!

So I guess the million-dollar questions you have to ask yourself today are: What’s been knockin’ ya down, lately? And, what’s your response gonna be?

Next time you’re tempted to give up, just remember this tree. (And yes, I’m talkin’ to me, too.)

__________________________

I don’t know about you, but chances are fair to middlin’ at least some folks developed at least one or two false impressions about you (or your business) at some time in your life, right? Hey, it happens. Sometimes folks just flat out misunderstand what you said – or meant – or did – and the lines of communication get all snarled up like a fishing reel that’s gone haywire.

Hey, it’s bad enough when your customers get the wrong impression of you or your business. At least when you have a relationship with your customers, you might (at least, hopefully) get the chance to explain.

But what about when your customers give others the wrong impression? What the heck can you do then?

Bus Driver for Hire

Back when I was a starving student at Texas A&M, for spending money I drove shuttle buses around the campus. I’ll tell ya; that was one great job: flexible hours, good pay, and when you got right down to it, pretty easy work.

Probably the hardest part of the job was navigating through the sometimes narrow streets on campus. Generally speaking, that wasn’t too bad a problem – unless, of course, some bonehead parked their car where it shouldn’t have been. Many’s the time I wished we had a handy, er, dozer blade on the front of the bus. But I digress.

Anyway, one day my supervisor asked some of us if we wanted to earn a little extra income by working on an upcoming Saturday. Naturally we all perked up at that – until, that is, we heard what the job actually was. The task, he told us, was to drive the local Jewish elementary school’s children (about 200 or so of the little darlings) from College Station to downtown Houston. Turns out they had arranged a special showing of the stage version of Fiddler on the Roof for the kids, and the best way to get ‘em all there was using our buses.

Well, let’s see… on the one hand, the mental image of driving to Houston with 50 or so screaming elementary kids on my bus for approximately 3 hours – each way – was, well, a mite daunting. (For those of you familiar with the drive, what would normally take a little more than an hour-and-a-half or so would take at least twice as long for this trip because rules required us to drive no faster than 50 miles per hour.) Still, after due consideration, the lure of that extra spending money convinced four of us to finally throw caution to the winds and say, What the hey!

What’s This Got to Do with Beer?

By now you’re probably wondering just what the heck this image of assorted beer bottles has to do with this story. Hey, I’m glad you asked! The fact is, whenever I remember this particular day, it’s the only thing I can think of.

That’s because, for the entire 3-hour drive from College Station to Houston – and then again for the entire drive back – the kids sang what I consider to be the Worlds Stupidest Song: “99 Bottles of Beer”! Just in case you’ve lived under a rock your entire life and have never heard it (congratulations!), it goes like this:

99 bottles of beer on the wall,

99 bottles of beer –

You take one down,

And pass it around -

98 bottles of beer on the wall!

98 bottles of beer on the wall,

98 bottles of beer –

You take one down,

And pass it around –

97 bottles of beer on the wall!

97 bottles of –

Well, you get the picture, right? No kidding, y’all; they sang the entire stupid song down from 99 bottles to 1 – and then started over again. And again. And… again. I’ll tell ya; by the time we arrived at the Music Hall in downtown Houston, I was sorely tempted to let ‘em out – and then leave ‘em all there! Yeesh!

While the kids were inside watching the show, we four drivers found a coffee shop to hang out in. As I sat there, silently contemplating the trip back (with no small amount of dread), one of the other drivers finally broke the silence and asked, “Did your kids… uh, sing any songs on your bus?”

That was when the awful truth was revealed: it wasn’t just my group, but all of ‘em were singing that stupid song! What gives with that, we wondered. Just what the heck were they teaching those kids at that school, anyway?

Getting the Wrong Idea

After about 3.5 nanoseconds, though, I realized it wasn’t really the school’s fault their elementary-aged kids seem to have a fixation on, well, beer. Hey, kids are kids; they’ll do all kinds of things you won’t expect. Nature of the, er, beasts, if you follow me. And I reflected a moment or two on how easy it was to think of the school as bein’ the problem.

It’s really funny sometimes just what kind of impression your customers give of you, isn’t it? I mean, when you get right down to it, that’s something you really don’t have too much control over. Oh, sure; you can do your best to influence, mitigate, or even try to direct the conversation – but when you get right down to it, they’re pretty much gonna do what they’re gonna do.

If you were the principal of this particular school and just read this story, what would you be thinking along about now?

So the question is, how do you handle it when folks get the wrong idea about your business. Or even worse – what if the wrong impression is all about you?

________________________

This is my entry for this month’s “What I Learned From Children” groupwrite project. Hey, you’re welcome to join us – all you have to do is follow this cute little link and read all about it!

________________________

Ever had the feeling you were bein’ followed? It’s kinda spooky, ain’t it?

Not too long ago, Mrs. MZM and I decided to get out and enjoy the unusually pleasant Fall weather. (I use the word “unusual” because here in the Houston area, we typically have only two seasons: eleven sultry months of Summer followed by a month or so of cold, wet, yucky Winter.)

This particular day, though, was bright and clear, perhaps mid-80′s or so, with a nice, gentle breeze. It was perfect for taking time off to smell the flowers, if you get my meanin’. So we decided to go to a nearby park and see what there was to see.

This particular park happened to be built along a canal that wandered along for about a mile or so. After a few minutes, we decided to follow the sidewalk along the water. I’m tellin’ ya; it was a beautiful day, I had my Honey on my arm, and there was nowhere else I had to be. I mean, how perfect was that?

As we strolled along the waterway, enjoying the gentle warm sunshine, the delicious smell of pine trees, and the silly antics of an occasional duck or goose, I happened to glance down at the water at my feet. It was a surprising sight, to say the least: dozens of these tiny little fish were following us!

It seemed pretty funny, you know? I mean, it’s not like it was a school of piranha or anything. They’re just little fish, lookin’ for a handout. I imagine a fair percentage of folks who walk along this canal toss breadcrumbs or whatever into the water on a regular basis. So to them, any motion along the edges of their long, watery world spelled opportunity.

Unfortunately for them, though, we had nothing to give, so we just walked on. I’ll tell’ ya; I gotta give those little guys credit for persistence! They must’ve followed us for at least twenty minutes before finally giving up and heading for greener, uh, waters.

It reminded me, though, of the fact that while there’s opportunity all around us, sometimes it takes persistence to reap the benefits, y’know? (Not that it paid off for them that day, mind you, but they at least went with the odds.) So let’s take a lesson from my fine fishy friends (and I’m speakin’ to myself as well):

Keep on pluggin’ away, ’cause persistence can make all the difference!

_________________________

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.

_________________________

“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?

__________________________

“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!

______________________________

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!

_____________________________

Sometimes the urge to say what’s on my mind can get me into big trouble.

- Likely epitaph for Robert Hruzek

(hopefully a long time from now!)

OK, for those of you who’ve spent any time at all here at the Zone, that statement above will come as no surprise whatsoever. The trouble, though, is that knowin’ that little datum doesn’t always prevent me from, well, saying stuff anyway.

See, the thing is, what with this brand spankin’ new year and all, I really racked the ol’ brain to come up with a post that would sorta capture the essence, the nub of the gist, the je ne se quois for 2010. (In case you don’t know, je ne se quois is French for “duh”.) And finally it hit me (sound of dull thud) – this year, it’s gonna be all about words.

Therefore, I’m declaring the year 2010 to be the Year of the Words. An attorney friend of mine keeps reminding me, “words are important” (a heckuva understatement if there ever was one), so this first post of the year is going to be all about, well, carefully considering everything you say.

And trust me; this is experience talkin’.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s Summer Camp

Never was the importance of thinking about your words more true than one time back in 1978, when I was a counselor at a children’s summer camp deep in the woods of East Texas, smack in the middle of Huntsville State Park.

The way this camp worked, see, is parents would drop off their kids each Sunday afternoon (about 125 or so boys and girls, aged 8-12), then pick ‘em up again the following Saturday morning. Then this process was repeated with a different set of families for seven weeks in a row.

So far as I know, we always had the same number of pickups as drop-offs, so I guess in the large scheme of things you would consider our efforts a success. Still, every week produced its own set of unusual “situations” that had to be dealt with, plus a few challenges that spanned the entire summer.

One of those “all summer long” challenges, for instance, centered around breakfast, of all things. See, every morning we trooped our campers into the dining hall for their morning supply of energy. With the full days we routinely planned for the kids, their energetic little bodies needed to be well loaded with fuel. And what a breakfast it was!

Every morning’s menu was different. One day it was a selection of cold cereals, milk (plain and chocolate), about a billion kinds of muffins, assorted juices, etc. Another day it was scrambled eggs, bacon and assorted toast (including my favorite: cinnamon raisin bread).

Best of all, the food was, like, amazingly good, too, and there was always plenty for all. No one ever left the breakfast table hungry, that’s for sure. I’ll tell ya; those sweet ladies who cooked for us every day really outdid themselves.

Except, that is, on Wednesdays. See, on Wednesdays we had (sound of terrified scream) oatmeal.

Wednesday’s Child is Full of Woe

Now, I just want to go on record as sayin’ I personally have nothing – nothing against a big ol’ steamin’ bowl of oatmeal! Especially when topped by a thick pat of rich butter, maybe a little brown sugar, and a handful of fresh blueberries. I’ll tell ya; that’s something that really hits the spot with little ol’ me!

The problem, as it turned out, was an incident that had happened several years before. See, the thing was… well, they sorta accidentally, um, burned the oatmeal. Oh, not so you could tell by lookin’ at it, mind you. But when tasted, you could tell it was definitely “off spec”, if you follow me.

I don’t know about you, friends, but if you’ve never had the, er, joy of slapping a spoonful of burned oatmeal onto your taste buds, well Bubba, you simply ain’t lived! It sorta brings to mind that horrible, acrid smell of popcorn that’s been overcooked and burned by a microwave oven. You know how that awful odor kinda lingers in the air… well, it ain’t something you’ll ever forget, that’s for sure.

Nothing Travels Faster Than a Rumor

The thing was, quite a few of these kids had attended camp year after year, with the inevitable result that word had gotten out about the infamous Day They Burned The Oatmeal. So by the time Wednesday rolled around, well, you can guess can’t ya? Yup; even though it had happened several years previously (and had never happened since) the very sight of a big ol’ bowl of oatmeal on the breakfast table was enough to cause every kid in the building to run screaming into the woods.

To be sure, we heroically tried everything to head it off at the pass, so to speak. The staff heaped our own bowls with gobs of oatmeal, loading ‘em up with as many tasty extras as we could find. We loudly proclaimed the virtues of the stuff. One guy tried lathering his with gummi bears, but alas, to no avail. We even tried contests and other incentives. Alas, it was all for naught. It seemed nothing could overcome the dire tales of disaster and woe already passed down to the younger children by The Grapevine.

I mean, it was bad enough the kids had blown this thing all out of whack. But the stories! By then they’d pretty much reached, well, epic proportions. “Whatever you do, don’t eat the oatmeal,” they’d say. “It’ll make you grow a third eye right in the middle of your forehead!” Or, “Don’t eat the oatmeal; you’ll never ever have children.” (That one was for the girls.) And then there was my personal favorite: “Don’t eat the oatmeal, it’ll turn you into a blood-sucking zombie!”

But even more serious, since there was always so much oatmeal left over, it caused the cooks to waste perfectly good food. (You’d think they would’ve taken the hint and prepared less – but I guess hope always springs eternal, y’know?) Leftover food was definitely not a good thing, though. As with any camp, money – and the wise use thereof – was always a primary issue.

Lightning Storms on the Brain

Finally, the Camp Director had had enough. Determined to resolve the situation once and for all, he called for a Council of War later that evening after all the kids had gone to bed and settled down for the night. We left our Assistants in charge of the various cabins and gathered in the dining hall with the Director and the cooks.

“OK, you all know the problem,” he began without preamble. “Let’s brainstorm some ideas on how to solve it.”

Within minutes, quite a few ideas had been proposed. The most popular was kinda obvious: serve something else. Unfortunately this simply wouldn’t do – for a couple of reasons. First of all, the food for the entire summer had already been purchased. There were no funds for an alternative breakfast; somehow they would just have to make do.

Another idea was disguise it with more toppings – more fruit; more sugar, M&M’s, snails, whatever. Unfortunately, that one wasn’t working too well. No amount of fruit could hide the fact that it was, y’know oatmeal, and too much sugar was, well, pretty unhealthy, to say the least. As for the M&M’s and snails… well, never mind.

After about 20 minutes, we managed to narrow it down to two possibilities: One was, call the kids’ homes and have their parents make the kids eat it. Unfortunately, there were too many parents to easily reach, and cell phones hadn’t yet been invented. So scratch that one as too impractical. Besides, we kinda wanted to handle this one internally, if you know what I mean.

The other idea was to find a way to stop those ridiculous stories. To which the following question then applies: Have you ever tried to stop a rumor?

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

Yep; that’s about the size of it. Here we were, the best and brightest of the entire camp organization (at least, we liked to think so), and this was the best we could do. Pretty sad, I’ll tell ya. Nevertheless, we all decided there might be some merit in that last suggestion, so we concentrated on it for a while.

As I heard idea after idea (not to mention some pretty profound silences), that’s when it began to happen – the apparent gravity of the situation seemed to give rise within me to say something silly, just to lighten the mood. Now please understand, this was serious; it was a genuine problem that needed a genuine solution, no mistake about it. But I just couldn’t help it – inside I was doing my best to stifle the ingrown chuckle that was steadily sneaking up on me. There we were, wrestling with the ramifications of serving oatmeal for breakfast. I mean, fer cryin’ out loud!

But I knew; if I were to say the thing that was desperately trying to break out into the light of day, it would not only ruin what little headway we’d made, but it might possibly irritate the Director or, even worse, the cooks. And believe me, the last thing I wanted to do was get them mad at me!

Still, it kept on building up inside me, ready to burst out into the open like a grape in a microwave. I squirmed and squiggled, got up and then sat down again, tried to count to 100 backwards, but alas, nothing helped. Finally, as everyone else was in the midst of trying to figure out ways to keep those stupid stories from spreading around, and I couldn’t stand it anymore and the following fateful words escaped my lips:

“Well, you could always threaten to glue their mouths shut with the oatmeal!”

I’m tellin’ ya; you could probably have dropped a live hand grenade – without the pin – in our midst with less effect. There was at least a full minute of shocked silence while everyone sorta looked up, then down, then pretty much everywhere except at me. The Director had a stunned look on his face, then quickly turned to look at the cooks to see what their reaction would be.

I think everyone sorta “braced for impact” as we awaited the Head Cook’s no-doubt righteously indignant reaction. And I distinctly remember thinkin’ to myself, “Self, we’re a long way from civilization; I wonder if they’ll ever find my body?”

Great Moments in History

For a moment, all she could do was stare at me with wide-eyed incredulous disbelief. Inwardly, I cringed, waiting for the boom to be lowered upon my unprotected head. But then… a miracle!

She suddenly put her head back and began laughing so loud, and so hard, she very nearly fell off the stool! You’ve heard of folks laughing with their entire body, right? Well, she did that, and before long every one of us was rolling on the floor with gales of laughter I’d swear (if my Momma hadn’t taught me not to) you could’ve heard in Dallas!

It was one of those genuinely memorable moments, y’know? We all laughed, tears in our eyes, for about 15 minutes until finally the Director raised his hands for silence. “You know what?” he told us. “I was reading in my Bible this morning from Proverbs, and I saw something that definitely applies here.” He opened his Bible up to chapter 11, verse 14 and read this verse: “Where there is no counsel, the people fall; but in the multitude of counselors there is safety.”

“I want to thank you for coming tonight to help us resolve this unusual and strangely thorny challenge we’re facing. Although I’m not sure we’ve quite solved it yet, it gives me great comfort to know that with the multitude of Counselors we have here tonight,” – and here he looked straight at me, and with a big smile, no less – “well, it’s good to know you guys are on the case!”

The Proof is in the Pudding Oatmeal

To tell you the truth, although I can’t remember if we ever did solve that “thorny little problem”, I look back on that event with a great deal of nostalgia. Besides, for the rest of that summer we were stuck with the oatmeal anyway, so what the hey, right? The cooks continued to serve oatmeal every Wednesday and, at least as far as I know, nobody turned into a zombie or grew another eye or anything.

That was the last summer I spent as a Counselor (no, I wasn’t barred from returning, smarty pants; I just got too busy after that), so I don’t know if they still serve oatmeal on occasion. My guess? Probably not. Sometimes ya just gotta bow to the inevitable, y’know?

But as I look back on that memory, I still can’t believe I said what I did. I mean, c’mon! What if those fine ladies who slaved over a hot stove all day to feed us incredible food had been angry instead of tickled by what I’d said? What if the Director hadn’t been the kind-hearted understanding fellow he was? What if my careless words had hurt some feelings? It was a risky thing I’d done, and to tell you the truth, I hadn’t really thought it through.

Still, I like to think I’ve matured a bit since that day, y’know? After all, not every situation can be rescued with laughter – nor is it appropriate to do so. Oh, with enough time and distance humor may come to the fore anyway. But that’s not always the case as a given situation is happening.

I admit it; I was pretty lucky that day. If the other folks hadn’t been who they were, things might have turned out very differently. Come to think of it, they might not have ever found my body! My name would have become the stuff of legends, whispered around campfires as yours truly, The Wandering Dutchman of Summer Camp, would still be wandering around that lonely, isolated camp on damp misty nights, forever doomed to search for that elusive perfect bowl of oatmeal…

Anyhoo, this story and thought seemed like an appropriate one with which to begin this brand shiny new year, y’know? The lesson is this: Be aware of your words! After all, if you can’t learn that, you just might not make it to next year, if you get my meanin’! I’m just sayin’.

Happy New Year, y’all!

_________________________

[Note: This is my entry for Joanna Young's groupwrite project, Essential Lines of 2009. Care to join the fun? Don't worry; you have until December 27 to join us; just click on that cute little link and read all about it!]

If I had to pick what I would consider to be my “essential” post from 2009, well, it would have to be my very favorite post of the year:

The Day I Went Flying

It’s a story from ‘way back when I was a mere child, a day that will genuinely live in infamy (at least in my memory banks, anyway). I’m tellin’ ya; there’s chills, thrills – and luckily, no spills! After all, when you’re faced with what amounts to a genuine, bona-fide Life Choice (and one of the more desirable alternatives is, “Be killed by a falling meteor”), well, you know you’d better get it right the first time.

What’s So Special It?

So why did I choose that particular post, you ask? Well, it’s like this.

This story, of all the ones told in 2009, epitomizes pretty much the whole spirit of the Middle Zone. After all, it’s about “lessons learned from life”, right? Well, combine that theme with storytelling – something else I love to do (and am fairly good at, if I do say so myself) – and to me, that’s what makes it a winner.

But what makes this one stand out above many other stories from 2009, though, is really pretty simple. It’s because it perfectly epitomizes how I do things here in the Middle Zone, which are, to wit:

• Get your attention and keep it (story-telling is a proven method)
• Make you laugh (or at the very least generate an ingrown chuckle or two)
• Teach you something (the benefit of bein’ here in the first place)

Now, in my humble opinion, this particular story does all three of those very well, if’n I do say so myself (and I think I just did!)

The Money Quote

Here’s what I consider the main thought, though; the nub of the gist, if you will:

These days, folks all over are facing things they’ve never had to face before. It’s like they’re tearing along in one direction, then – maybe even through no plan or fault of their own – they suddenly changed direction and found themselves launched headlong into space!

Does that sound like you? I’ll tell ya; I’ve been there more times than I can count. Well, don’t feel like the Lone Stranger! More and more of us are feelin’ exactly like that.

All I can say is, I hope you never have the same experience I had that fateful day. But if you do, then Bubba, get ready for the ride of your life! And take heart – you can survive it!

_________________________