Sunday, November 16, 2014

Eulogy for Walt

Last Saturday I attended a memorial service for Walt, my oldest sister's brother-in-law. It was held in a small mid-Michigan town. A town I hadn't visited in over 35 years. In fact, the last time I set foot in the town was when my sister and her soon-to-be-husband were engaged. It was one of those classic families getting to meet each other type of gathering.

At that time, I remember Walt was unfailingly polite, at-ease and had a ready yet shy smile. He had a great sense of humor and seemed to put everyone around him at ease.

Throughout the years I saw Walt very infrequently at other family gatherings. He was always the same and didn't seem to age much. He continued to wear his easy-going demeanor well.

Until the past year or so, when I noticed, mostly from family photos and reports, that he had gotten a full head of white hair and slowed down a bit.

On the way up to the memorial service, I kept thinking, "I really didn't know Walt all that well."
But at the very end of the service, his youngest brother, Dale (my sister's husband) had a chance to bless us with some of his remembrances.

There was at least 20 years age difference between the two brothers, and Dale began by noting that he, as well as many others in the church audience, had entered Walt's life (of 92 years) at various points along the way.

Dale then told some stories to illustrate that his brother was an adventurer (jumping into Lake Michigan from a dock, holding a stone heavy enough to bring him down to the bottom, daring others to see how long they could hold their breath underwater), a traveler (WWII, and trips to France and Germany afterwards), and a businessman (let's just say he knew how to get pretty cheap tickets to Notre Dame football games).

At the end of Dale's talk, I felt like I had known Walt all my life. And isn't that the way it goes some times? We all know people, even family members, from a distance. Sometimes it takes a memorial service to make it clear exactly who they were, and what they meant to others who were invited into their lives.

I left the service feeling a lot closer to Walt, and to his family (siblings, in-laws and friends) who had the privilege of knowing him a lot deeper that I had. As Dale summed up: "Today we're burying a good man."

Rest in peace Walt. I know you're already in heaven smiling down on us.

Saturday, October 25, 2014

Poised to Retire

After 27 years at the Food Bank of South Central Michigan, I'm poised to retire soon. The Battle Creek Enquirer was kind enough to send out a reporter to interview co-worker Cheryl Proctor and myself earlier this week. What's interesting is that Cheryl and I were born within a day of each other, as the article points out.
http://www.battlecreekenquirer.com/story/news/local/2014/10/24/retiring-food-bank-duo-ready-new-challenges/17854323/

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Book Signing Coming Up Oct. 18

Just a note to say that I'll be at the Family Christian Stores on S. Westnedge in Kalamazoo, on Oct. 18, from 1 to 3 p.m., with two other authors (Roxanne Fawley and Joseph Padghal). I'm excited about a mutual book-signing. It should be a lot of fun. If you are in the Kalamazoo/Portage/Battle Creek area, please plan to stop by!

Click here for link to Kalamazoo Gazette article

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Faith Like a Monarch Butterfly


Yesterday was a classically beautiful autumn day in Michigan. I went to Lake Michigan, and at one point, was looking out from a deck next to a small sand dune above the water. Soon, from off to the side of the dune, as if by magic, a series of Monarch butterflies began to fly by. One right after another, sometimes 3-4 or more at a time. Amazed, I started to count them and when it reached past 20, I began to laugh at the wonder of it.
After a few minutes an older couple who had been biking came up on the deck and sat down to eat lunch on a bench behind me. I turned around to look at them, but they had no idea what was happening. They weren’t paying attention to the lake or the butterflies. So for them, the butterflies didn’t exist. The beauty, the fun, the wonder were lost on them. Their reality wasn’t big enough to include more than 50 monarch butterflies gracefully gliding along the lake, on their way south.
If had the ability to run into that same couple today, if I could find them, knock on their door and tell them about the butterflies, they would have a choice. First of all, they could choose to simply not listen. Then they could choose to not believe. In order for them to accept what I saw, they would have to have faith. Without it, the experience and the wonder of what had happened would be lost to them.
That’s how faith works.

Friday, September 19, 2014

A Bit of Business... and a Lot of Fun!

You can get in the running to win a copy of 20 Short Ones (my book), by going to goodreads and registering. 10 copies will be given away on September 28. The giveaway ends on that date.

If you live in Kalamazoo, I'll be at a book-signing with two other authors (Roxanne Fawley and Joseph Padgal two fine writers and even finer human beings), at Family Christian Stores on South Westnedge, on Oct. 18, from 1 to 3 p.m.  It's going to be fun, so please come and say hello!

To all of the folks who registered to win a copy of the book through two previous goodreads' giveaways, thanks, so very much, for taking an interest! Outside of book giveaways, 20 Short Ones is available through: Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, Family Christian Stores and WestBow Press websites.

It's been a lot of fun learning about the publishing industry. Mostly by trial and error, with a lot of help from WestBow Press. One of the main things I've learned is: If you have a dream, go for it! When I was very young (maybe first grade) I began to write. As a teen I wrote for the local newspaper for their Youth Today Page. As an adult I worked as a freelance journalist writing human interest stories. But writing an actual book is unlike any of these experiences. It truly is a dream come true!

Friday, August 8, 2014

Spaghetti with Olive Oil

I came home from work today tired and uninspired to cook. But looking in the refrigerator I found some leftover (plain) pasta. So, I took out a fourth of a zucchini, diced it, stir fried it in olive oil and sprinkled on curry powder, basil, ground black pepper and sliced up three small, juicy ripe tomatoes.

Once the zucchini was almost cooked, I added the pasta to heat it up while tossing all the ingredients together.

Sounds very simple, doesn't it? But it was spontaneous and healthy and delicious!

Being conscious of what I eat, of what I do, most of the time, isn't a big deal. It requires a few seconds of forethought. The strength of will to slow down enough to let your spirit guide you.

The meal turned out fine. I was refreshed.



Friday, August 1, 2014

It's Hailing

Just a few minutes ago we had a hailstorm. And it was coming down in sheets. About the size of a penny. Within a few minutes the temperature dipped by about 20 degrees as the sidewalk and street became full of bouncing bits of frozen rain.

As it turned out, I'd been outside mowing the lawn about a half-hour before the storm and heard thunder (it's actually thundering still).

While I'm sure there would be some folks who would view a hail storm as a threat, or inconvenience, this particular time I'm seeing it differently. I see it as an adventure, even as something to refresh my spirit on a late Friday afternoon as we head into the weekend.

Yesterday my workplace held a staff retreat. That too was a time of refreshing, a time of reflection and a time to recharge. The occurrence of a hail storm the day after our staff retreat only serves to underscore the importance of taking the time to step aside from daily activities. Isn't it ironic that it's part of human nature to gravitate to the familiar and the known; but at the same time, our spirits long to be lifted above the daily routine.

I encourage you to deliberately take time to step out of your routine. You decide the activity or the place. But take the time to be refreshed!

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Last Day of School - Chinatown Kindergarten

A long time ago, I used to live in New York City. Although it's been about 3 decades since I left (excluding a stint as a missionary doing kids' outreach from Brooklyn), folks still ask me, "do you miss it?"

Here's a link as a partial answer. It's from the New York Times, a video of a bunch of kindergartners in a Chinatown school singing, "Start spreading the news... I want to be a part of it... first grade, first grade!" as they look forward summer break.

http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/06/26/new-york-today-last-day-of-school/?_php=true&_type=blogs&_php=true&_type=blogs&hp&action=click&pgtype=Homepage&version=HpHeadline&module=second-column-region&region=top-news&WT.nav=top-news&_r=1&

Thursday, June 12, 2014

A Simple Supper

Earlier this week I had the good fortune of having supper with a good friend (since first grade!) his wife and two of their kids.

The younger of the two kids had finished up her first semester at college and her parents were in town with one of their sons, to pick her up.

I helped the family clear out her dorm room. All of the things had been neatly stacked in the hallway, and truth be told, there wasn't much stuff there. She's a very practical, no-frills sort of person.

So, after loading up the family Suburban, we headed over to supper in the school's cafeteria.

We spent about an hour seated together, eating and talking. I was struck at how easy the give-and-take among their family was, and how they genuinely enjoyed each other's company. There was real conversation happening around the dining room table.

Sometimes I wonder to what extent the art of listening and sharing - talking - has been tarnished by our reliance on technology. I was very pleased to realize that in this case, it hadn't.

Saturday, May 31, 2014

Photo from Booksigning

 
Thanks again to family and friends who came to the Battle Creek Barnes & Noble store last Saturday for my first booksigning (of 20 Short Ones). It went well. It's been encouraging to see "movement" of the book, starting in little ways. In case you are a fan of Goodreads, from May 20 through June 20 you can register to win a free copy of the book. If you do win a copy, I hope that you'll review it. It was especially meaningful to have the Battle Creek B & N store host. That's the store that my Dad loved to visit with family members taking him there. Dad enjoyed his Starbuck's coffee and towards the end of his life we'd usually pull a book off the shelves - usually a humor book - and read a few pages to him. Mom also enjoyed the store as well!


Saturday, May 24, 2014

First Book Signing

This afternoon the Battle Creek Barnes & Noble hosted a book signing for 20 Short Ones (my first book). It went well.

But what was fun was having friends and family stop by. In the middle of the store, close to the Starbuck's Café, there was a spontaneous family/friend reunion. I had a chance to introduce friends from work to three of my siblings.

It meant so much to have such a nice turnout (and to sell all of the copies of the book that were available - 20 of them, a perfect match to the book's title).

Earlier in the morning I had prayed that the experience would be fun and joyful, and there was a lot of both. For me, there will never be a first book signing experience again. This was it. And it was made especially meaningful to share it with family and friends.

I also need to thank other family members who couldn't make it who have also helped tremendously by encouraging me and offering wise marketing tips.

Right now, I feel a little like Buddy (one of my cats) who is laying on the living room carpet, on his back, paws up in the air, giving in to the need to relax. Wishing everyone a peaceful, enjoyable Memorial Day Weekend!

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

A Different Sort of Mother's Day

On Mother's Day one of my brothers and I were on the road, going to visit a sister and her husband.

Along the way a mini-ramp (like you would use to hoist up your car when changing the oil) fell off the back of the vehicle in front of us. I didn't have time to react by swerving out of the way as we were on the highway when this was happening. In a matter of a few seconds I ran over the ramp.

Half of the front bumper of my car was pulled off, along with the shroud (plastic mold that protects the underside of the car).

There was a bit of an adrenaline rush as this was happening.

The final result was that my car was damaged but driveable and no one was injured. We called my sister and she and her husband came with duck tape - which we used to keep the front bumper attached to the car so we could drive it.

Afterwards we followed them back to their house for a Mother's Day meal. (She  had celebrated Mother's Day with one of her children and their kids the day before.) This was the first Mother's Day for our own siblings without our Mom who passed away in January.

All told, my brother and I were on the side of the highway for about an hour, with non-stop traffic rushing by us. The immediacy of the incident didn't really leave much room for thinking about anything else, including how great a Mom we had been blessed with.

Now that time has lessened the impact of that afternoon journey, what's left isn't concern about my car, but sheer thankfulness. Being thankful that no one was hurt (my brother, myself or any other motorist). Being thankful that we made it to my sister's house and were able to share a meal together, honoring the memory of our Mom. Being thankful that I had car insurance that will pay for most of the damage. Being thankful that I could drive the car home, and, the next day find a good body shop a five minute drive from my home. Being thankful that I could get a rental car from a company that comes to your home to pick you up, for free.

Being thankful for the realization that what's truly important in life aren't the things we own but the relationships that we share.



Friday, May 2, 2014

Visiting A Friend

A friend of mine and I have been visiting a mutual friend who is in a specialized nursing care facility for individuals struggling with dementia.

Today our mutual friend was uncharacteristically at ease.  We found her sitting down in an easy chair in the Activity Room, eating a bag of Cheez-its.

Our friend has reached the point where she really can't contribute to a conversation, other than responding to a direct question that only requires a "yes" or "no" answer.  But we still try to catch her up on current events.

At one point, she reached into her bag of Cheez-its, looked right at me and then handed a single Cheez-it to me. She kept this up at intervals during our time together. And it impressed me: What a generous, gracious act to offer a bit of her snack. A strong sign of the loving, thoughtful person she had been and was trying to remain, even though the loss of memory had severely curtailed her ability to contribute to the conversation. She wanted us to know that she was still present somehow.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

On Writing, From Anna Quindlen


Anna Quindlen is a Pulitzer Prize-winning writer whose new memoir, Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake, explores her past, present and future.

Here's words of wisdom I read in today's Parade magazine. It's from the writer Anna Quindlen and was taken from Parade's "Sunday With..." column.

Here's how Anna responds to the question: Do you ever have writer's block?

"Some days I fear writing dreadfully, but I do it anyway. I've discovered that sometimes writing badly can eventually lead to something better. Not writing at all leads to nothing."

Saturday, April 19, 2014

A Family Photo



A few weeks ago my oldest sister gave me a copy of a photo taken in the late 1920s.

My Mom is in the center of the photo, about four years old. Her two brothers are on either side of her. In the back are my Grandma and Grandpa.

They are both smiling. My Grandpa, especially, seems very happy. He's got a big grin on his face. His straw hat is tipped to one side, giving him an almost debonair look. And his arms are spread out, akimbo style, giving him a sense of pride in his family.

My Mom looks like she's leaning into her Dad, with both her hands in back of her. Maybe a bit shy that day, not used to having her picture taken? (In those days I'm not sure how many families had a camera). And her face looks like she's thinking about smiling, but hasn't gotten there yet (again the possibility of shyness comes through). Ironically, my Mom was not a shy person and you'd be hard pressed to find another photo of her where she doesn't have a smile on her face.

At any rate, of everyone in the picture, my Grandpa, by far, seems to be the happiest. I'm guessing it was a workday, because he and his boys are dressed in overalls. It was definitely into the growing season, because a tree in back of them is fully leafed out and the grass under their feet is green (or would have been if the picture were in color).

I'm also guessing that the picture was taken before the summer heat of southern Illinois kicked in because they are wearing layers of clothing. (In the summer the heat doesn't really leave the earth there, and mornings can be very warm and muggy, sapping the energy right out of you by mid-day, and none of the family seems to in the least bit tired).

My two uncles don't especially appear to be happy. Maybe they are thinking of the farm chores they would shortly be doing, or the game they were playing, before the minor distraction of having their picture taken?

I would love to ask my Grandpa: Why were you so happy that day? What were you thinking of? What caused such a carefree look on the face of someone who farmed, making his living with so much uncertainty?

When I see him in heaven, I think I'll ask.






Monday, April 7, 2014

Happy Birthday Dad


Today would have been my Dad's 96th birthday.

He was born in 1918 and lived 12 years into the 21st Century, passing into eternity in 2012.

Dad was first-generation in the United States, with both parents coming from Sicily. He grew up in a household where Italian was the primary language spoken. From the very beginning he was immersed in two cultures - going to public school where he learned English and the American culture; while having strong roots to the "old country" within his own home, and neighborhood. My grandparents lived in a section of a New Jersey town that was heavily Sicilian.

He was less than a stone's throw away from an Italian baker, and an Italian grocer. His friends were mostly kids of Italian parents who had very recently gone through Ellis Island, which was a tipping point for one of the biggest migrations in human history.

When I moved to New York City as a young adult, one of the first things I did was take the Number One IRT subway to its downtown terminal stop at Battery Park. I got out and took the ferry to Ellis Island. Back then (this was in the mid 1970s) the Island was in a state of disrepair. It was mostly abandoned but you could still walk through some of it under the watchful eye of a park ranger.

I count myself fortunate to have experienced Ellis Island in that state because it made the whole experience very surreal. I remember walking into the Great Hall and looking up at what seemed like a mountainous series of steps. It wasn't too difficult to imagine what my own Grandfather must have felt, decades before, getting off the boat, full of hope yet full of anxiety. The park ranger explained that those steps, along with everything else on the Island, had been built for a reason.

Back when tens of thousands of immigrants came through Ellis Island daily, there would have been doctors stationed at the top of those stairs, carefully looking at each person as they walked up. If a person was slow, or stopped along the way, or got to the top and was breathless, they were marked with a "L" for "lungs" with chalk on the back of their coat, indicating the possibility of an infectious respiratory disease, which would be grounds for quarantine and possibly being sent back to their home country.

Such tests were crude, but they were necessary when there were so many people speaking different languages and of different cultures going through the immigration process, with 99 percent of them not knowing English. Hence they couldn't respond to any questions asked during a typical physical exam.

So my Grandfather went through Ellis Island and passed. So did my Grandmother, a few years later. Eventually my Dad was born into a family that already had a few kids ahead of him.

My Dad, as many children of immigrants, was exceptionally smart and practical. Among the things I  inherited from my Dad were:
. an appreciation for education
. an appreciation for following current events
. a respect for the institution of journalism, as the guardian of truth
. a deep sense of humor
. an appreciation for the ironies of life
. a natural empathy for the "underdog"
. a love for social justice

Dad, on your Birthday, I want to say "thank you." I am truly grateful to be one of your children and to have had you as my Dad.

Saturday, March 29, 2014

Pascal's Decision

Yesterday a friend and I visited another, mutual friend who is living in an assisted care facility for people with dementia.

My friend is especially torn because of the onset of dementia with our mutual friend.

So, at one point, just the two of us were sitting in the lobby while our mutual friend was enjoying herself having a cupcake in the activity room.

My friend said things like dementia, and social injustice, cause her to question the existence of God. It's a classic case of, "If God's so good and all-powerful, why does God allow..."

Blaise Pascal came up with an approach to handle this question which is called Pascal's Decision or Dilemma. It goes like this:

If there is a God, and you live a moral life, then you've satisfied the criteria to be in Heaven when you pass from this life.
If there isn't a God, and you live a moral life, then at least you've lived like a decent human being, regardless if God exists or not.

Now, there are lots of arguments, pro and con concerning Pascal's Dilemma, and I'm not a philosopher and I'm not writing this post to prove the existence of God. (Actually, it would seem that if there is a fail proof argument that absolutely, without a need for faith, proves God's existence, then we would have discovered it by now; or God would have given it to us).

My main point is much less ambitious and pretty simple. It's that God, if God exists (and I want to say that I happen to believe that God does exist), decided to require faith to establish relationship with us.

It seems like it really comes down to that. Each of us either decides to believe, or not. On faith. That's the essential question. You can debate God's goodness or any other aspect of God that you like, but it seems like those other questions are philosophical icing on the cake.

I don't mean to minimize tough questions. Or ignore the fact that awful things happen in life, oftentimes, without our ability to make sense of them. I'm only trying to grab hold of the broader, bigger issue, in light of my friend and I's conversation in the lobby of the assisted care facility.

Friday, March 21, 2014

The Lithotripsy That Wasn't

I should probably explain that a lithotripsy is a medical procedure involving "blasting" a kidney stone so it breaks up and you can pass it.

For guys, passing a kidney stone is roughly akin to the pain level involved in having a baby, or close to it.

My brother and I arrived at the hospital out-patient department around 9:30 yesterday morning, and the usual pre-op stuff happened - including a not-so-usual part where the nurse tried two times to insert an IV in my arm. It turned out my veins "rolled" too much and the needle kept on pushing out of the vein. (I don't know if that's the correct term for it, but that's what it felt like).

When the anesthesiologist mentioned that no anesthesia would be administered if the technician couldn't detect the kidney stone on their scanning equipment and that the procedure would be cancelled, I didn't think anything of it. (I'd had at least two other lithotripsies and this had never been an issue).

So, I was wheeled into the procedure room, and after 15 minutes spent unsuccessfully trying to pinpoint where the kidney stone was, the procedure was cancelled. Which was about the emotional equivalent of finding out that the team you were rooting for in the state semi-finals lost in overtime by one point.

The only actual treatment I was given during the three hours I was in the hospital was a dose of motion sickness medication, which works to counteract nausea when receiving anesthesia (which I didn't actually receive).

I left the hospital with my brother, actually feeling disappointed that, with all the preparation (including taking magnesium citrate to clear my stomach and intestines the night before) it was a no go.

Isn't it funny how even potentially unpleasant experiences can result in disappointment if they don't come to pass?
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Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Ash Wednesday Reflection

Today is Ash Wednesday.

Growing up, I went to a Catholic school where we had Mass each morning before class. (This was a long, long time ago!)

I vividly remember the priest putting a liberal thumbfull of ashes on my forehead at some point during the service, saying: "Remember man, that thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return."

Especially in grade school, it made quite an impression on me - ushering in 40 days of fasting (on Fridays), and being asked to "give up something," enjoyable during that season. It was all in preparation for the joy of Easter Sunday.

This morning a co-worker gave me something her own pastor handed out recently. And, after reading it and thinking, "this is really, really good," I'm passing it along to you. The only thing I will add is that you don't have to be of any particular religious persuasion to benefit from it.

ASH WEDNESDAY CALL TO SPIRITUAL DISCIPLINES

"Fast from worry, and feast on divine order by trusting in God.
Fast from complaining, and feast on appreciation.
Fast from negatives, and feast on affirmatives.
Fast from unrelenting pressures, and feast on unceasing prayer.
Fast from hostility, and feast on tenderness.
Fast from bitterness, and feast on forgiveness.
Fast from self-concern, and feast on compassion for others.
Fast from the shadows of sorrow, and feast on the sunlight of serenity.
Fast from idle gossip, and feast on purposeful silence.
Fast from judging others, and feast on the Christ within them.
Fast from emphasis on differences, and feast on the unity of life.

Fast from apparent darkness, and feast on the reality of light.
Fast from thoughts of idleness, and feast on the healing power of God.
Fast from words that pollute, and feast on the phrases that purify.
Fast from discontent, and feast on gratitude.
Fast from anger, and feast on optimism.
Fast from personal anxiety, and feast on eternal truth.

Fast from discouragement, and feast on hope.
Fast from facts that depress, and feast on verities that uplift.
Fast from lethargy, and feast on enthusiasm.
Fast from suspicion, and feast on the truth.
Fast from thoughts that weaken, and feast on promises that inspire.
Fast from problems that overwhelm, and feast on prayer that undergirds."

(Source unknown but generally attributed to William Arthur Ward (1921-1994)

Sunday, March 2, 2014

I Have an Author's Page on goodreads.com

In case you are a fan of goodreads, I've got an author's page there.
To view it, please go to:
www.goodreads.com

And plug in my name under search.

Thank You!

Saturday, March 1, 2014

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

One of my favorite poems by Robert Frost is "The Road Not Taken."

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Through as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I'm not exactly sure what got me to thinking about this particular poem. Maybe because of its mixture of adventure and sentimentality and how they both color our decision-making. It's an oversimplification to say that youth is drawn to newness while older adults seem to drift towards the familiar. Is a taste for adventure confined to the youngest generation? Do you have to wait until you're older to appreciate the past?

In his poem, Frost wisely doesn't give any clues as to the age of the observer. And although it seems as if "the less traveled" road wins out, it's important to note that the observer appreciates the fact that, years later, when he tells the story, it will be with the perspective of a deep appreciation of that fateful day in the woods.

Monday, February 17, 2014

What Does It Take?

Recently during a supper with my oldest brother, he mentioned that the only thing that separates success from failure is persistence. I'm sure you could fill in your own examples of people you know - famous or not - who stuck it  out, and as a result, they got a better job, moved into a better home, rekindled the fire in their marriage, reunited with a loved one, set up an event for their favorite charity that was remarkable, went on a mission trip or something equally inspiring.

Whatever it was, whomever it was, the challenges didn't determine the outcome.

Of course, there's also the added caveat of: What's your definition of success? What does the outcome look like? Is it dollars raised? Or illness cured? Or converts made? Does a change of heart or strengthening of character also count?

Last week I happened across a thought-provoking article written by a local journalist who made the point that there were enough people out there talking about change; what was needed were people to actually have the courage to initiate it. In other words, actions speak way louder than words.

But is that always true? Would anyone say that Martin Luther King, Jr. was wasting his time by spending time writing and then delivering his "I Have a Dream" speech? How about Abraham Lincoln? Was he in a stall pattern when he gave his Gettysburg Address?

Maybe the answer lies in the blending of the two - action, fueled by a thoughtful process that continually refines the activity of accomplishment.





Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Mom's Passing


My Mom left this earth on January 30. Our family had the memorial service and burial yesterday.

Before the service, there was an opportunity for family and friends to gather. I walked into the reception area where my brother-in-law Barry had posted two photo collages. I saw my recently retired boss looking at the photos and went up to him.

I pointed out my favorite photo among what seemed like a hundred. In it my Mom is sitting on a blanket on the grass, looking down on one of her children, who is just born. There is such a expression of pure love in her face that it's overwhelming.

Of all the words that I could use to describe Mom, that's the first one that comes to mind: loving.

She had a lot of it, and she gave a lot of it away. That was the way Mom lived her life to the very end.

After showing my former boss the photo, I talked about his own retirement and a special event that happened to honor him a few days before. Among the many accolades that evening a co-worker and I presented our perspective. At the very end of it, I found myself choking up and almost crying. I told my former boss, "I realized afterwards why that happened. It's because it was a death." He looked at me and said, "I choose to use the word 'ending.'" Meaning a chapter may be finished but the story isn't.

So, Mom, I'm still grieving but even though the long and beautiful chapter of your life on this earth is now ended, the story goes on!

Monday, January 27, 2014

Leaving a Legacy

As this post is being written my Mom is getting ready to leave this earth, just about a month and a half shy of her 90th birthday.

Yesterday while visiting her I was struck by how influential Mom has been to all eight of her children and their spouses and children. In fact, she is leaving us a very rich spiritual legacy, one that includes the life experiences of almost nine decades of living.

This thought hit home during lunch, when four siblings and a brother-in-law were gathered around the dining room table, eating a great meal (spaghetti with homemade sauce, garlic bread and salad). Mom wasn't able to join us at the table, being too tired. But as she lay resting in her bed, her spirit was definitely with us.

It's pretty powerful stuff to be reminded so concretely that we are all in the business of forming a legacy that will live on after us. No matter if it's consciously done or not, the choices we make when interacting with others determine much of what that legacy will be and how wide its influence.

Saint Francis of Assisi was supposed to have said, "Preach the gospel. Use words if necessary." Mom took his advice.

Sunday, January 19, 2014

Patience in Eternity

This morning you could say that I've got a celestial nudge to think about impatience, from an eternal perspective.

Which got me to thinking, how much of my own impatience is caused by short-sightedness? How often do I speak or act rashly, being rooted in the moment, instead of the evermore?

I remember looking at the clock on the wall in our first grade classroom, and thinking: "It's nine o'clock right now. But I know that later on, I'm going to look at the same clock and it'll read 3 p.m. And I'll remember when I looked at it just now."

It was a kid's way of dealing with the concept of eternity. Even now, with the advantage of sixty-one years of living, the reality of eternity is still being formed more completely.

Ironically, the more I'm rooted in "forever" I'm better able to appreciate the "now" and yet not get so hung up in the moment by responding in judgment or haste, allowing eternity's perspective to work its magic. 

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

A Walking Testimony

Two years ago yesterday my brother-in-law Charlie was released from a (physical) rehab hospital. He had spent almost two months in three different hospitals, due to a life-threatening illness that happened the day after Thanksgiving.

Initially he was given a 20 percent chance of surviving, but, miraculously, he not only survived, but he came out of the ordeal almost 100% totally healed.

I'll never forget sharing a last dinner in the hospital with Charlie and my sister Dorothy (his wife). After we had the meal in his room we went down a couple of hallways to the main lobby. We had it all to ourselves, (this was a very small facility!) so Charlie watched as Dot and I danced around the place - filled with happiness that he was finally on his way home.

We were alternatively dancing and laughing and Charlie was laughing along with us.

How often do we forget to be thankful for the little things until a huge challenge comes along that forces us to count our blessings?


Friday, January 10, 2014

What's Important?

The Saturday before Christmas I visited one of the Fresh Food Initiatives (distribution of fresh produce) operated by a church not too far from where I live. The food came from the Food Bank where I work.

At the church there were about 25 volunteers getting ready to give away about 7 skids of food (each skid weighed between 500 and 1,500 lbs.) A lot of helping hands, a lot of food and a lot of folks in need waiting to receive it.

After spending time there I came home and, on a whim, quickly went on line to check the status of my retirement plan (not a pension but an alternative).

When I logged on I was surprised to find that the balance read "0" and that every penny had been taken out the day before!

My initial response was "YIKES!" what's going on? My second response was to make a decision to pray about it. It was the weekend, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

After the retirement account check-in, I went to work for a bit. It was a Family Matters Day, when we invite families, service clubs, neighbors and others to come and volunteer with us for a few hours on a Saturday; outside of the normal weekday, workday routine.

I was still concerned about my retirement account (or at this point, what I thought was a lack of one!) But as soon I walked past my desk and out the door that leads to the volunteer area, a miracle happened.

There must have been 40-plus different volunteers busily helping to sort out a grassroots food collection. Even better, half of them were kids, Scouts, who were literally getting into the big wire totes (collection bins) to pull out canned goods. The positive energy level was enormous.

As if to set the mood, there was Christmas music playing. And as I walked from one group of volunteers to another, each of them had a smile on their face and a "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays" greeting to share.

In no time, I found myself coming under the influence of the holiday spirit. All of a sudden it didn't matter what amount of money I had in my retirement account, or if I had one at all.

Once I got back to my desk, a memo that I had put aside without really reading it was staring me in the face. It's title? "Notification of Switching Retirement Accounts." The memo had been written three weeks before, explaining that our retirement accounts were being reorganized, resulting in a "withdrawal" from the existing account as they were being placed into a new one. The memo went on to explain that no money would be lost. It was simply an accounting procedure, nothing more.

For me, the lesson I learned on the drive from my home to the Food Bank that day was: Where do I choose to place my trust? For me, by the time I got to the Food Bank I had already made a decision not to ultimately trust in money. Sharing holiday joy with volunteers only confirmed that decision.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

A Second Look

For the past few days we've had some extremely cold weather up here in Michigan, and in much of the northeast. My workplace has been shut down for two days, and I've been hanging out with my two cats (Abbott and Buddy) at home while working remotely.

All of this to say that life sometimes offers us an opportunity to sit back and reflect on things. Yesterday morning Abbott jumped up on the couch, staring intently out the window. At first I thought he was watching the bush that grows right against it. But when I got up next to him, I saw beneath the outer branches was a beautiful cardinal. It's brilliant red made even brighter against the fresh-white snow.

Sometimes the most beautiful things in life lie just beyond a surface look.




Sunday, January 5, 2014

Welcome!

Welcome to lifesomethings!

I recently published a book, 20 Short Ones, a collection of 20 short stories about the beginnings of relationships. To give you a sense of the flavor of it, here's a short excerpt from one of the stories titled "Patience."

Sure, patience is a virtue. But for Lissie Finkel, it was getting downright ridiculous.

She was thirty-seven and had wanted a baby (lots of them actually) and a husband, ever since she could remember. In fact, in first grade, Lissie got sent to the Principal’s Office for bringing her baby doll to class. Fast forward to junior high and she was still at it. This time, she got caught with back issues of Bride Magazine in her locker. Boy, did she catch holy-heck for that. And don’t get me started about high school.
It was senior year. Mid-April. Just after spring break and everyone was focused on the Prom. It was all anyone was talking about. In the halls. In the locker rooms. On the stair wells. In the cafeteria. Everywhere. The whole school had prom-on-the-brain. Including Lissie. Why would she be immune? She was all of five-feet, two-inches and holding, bright red hair – the color of actual carrots. Hazel eyes that you would die for.

Lissie was having a difficult time lining up a date for the prom because of an inexplicable drive to tell the truth. No matter what. And the ‘what’ in this case turned out to be going through high school dateless. But she solved her dilemma by going with Stefan Merkle, the school janitor. Stefan was 65 years of age and from the old country. He was proud of the fact that he was an authentic Swedish Jew. His Dad was from Stockholm and his Mom from Russia. Although he didn’t attend synagogue, he nonetheless was very spiritually minded and out of respect for his father, wore a yarmulke. Stefan had a thick head of snow-white hair and was a very good dancer. He also looked a lot like Michael Douglas, which didn’t hurt. And he had a definite sense of humor and was great at making small talk, which helped immensely when Stefan knocked on Lissie’s door and had to explain to her parents why a senior citizen Swede was taking their daughter out.

Besides her physical attractiveness, Lissie was a brain. Her most favorite topic happened to be Einstein’s theory of relativity. She had a poster of Einstein famed on her bedroom wall, right across from her bed so she saw it, first thing, when she got up every morning. It was the one with him riding a bicycle. A reminder that you could like quantum physics and still keep your sense of humor. She was known to start her day by sitting up, smiling and saying (out loud): “Good morning Albert! Let’s make it a great day!”
-----

If you like this preview, you can purchase 20 Short Ones at the Barnes & Noble or Amazon websites.
Here's the link to Barnes & Noble:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/20-short-ones-dan-salerno/1117689549?ean=9781490805801

Here's the link to Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/20-Short-Ones-Stories/dp/149080580X/ref=sr_1_1_bnp_1_pap?ie=UTF8&qid=1389025297&sr=8-1&keywords=Dan+Salerno

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