Our family gathering to celebrate Independence Day followed the usual agenda this year.  We never plan an actual agenda.  It just happens.  We feast, toast the day’s importance, catch up on new aches and pains, marriages and babies. And then begins the trips down memory lane. 

It’s the stories we remember. Our favorite stories were told long ago around the coal fire.  The stories Dad told about Ireland. The ‘troubles,’ the fiddlers, cutting the bog.  Tiny Tim and the Cratchit family always made us cry.  Brave Robin Redbreast, who had to go to the barn to keep himself warm - and hide his head under his wing - poor thing. We all learned to feed the birds.

The same stories were told over and over.  We never tired of them, or said  ‘you’ve told us that twenty times.’   All the stories ended with … “see how lucky you are?”  In other words, things might be difficult, but others have it a lot worse.  Or, 'well now, see what happened because Jim stopped to help?'    Every story had a lesson – and because we did not know it was a lesson – we remembered.

There’s magic in storytelling.  Stories, told well, are lessons.   Tell me a story today, and I will tell it to my grandchildren tomorrow.   The magic and memories continue.

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At dinner recently, several friends and I observed one of our least favorite diners.  He was a pompous looking individual.  His frequent hand raising and clicking his fingers to get the attention of the server was annoying. An interesting source of conversation.

I recalled an old English tale about another all-important fellow in a London Club.  He felt he was not getting the attention he deserved.  Finally, he said to the server – ‘young man, do you KNOW who I am?’  To which the young man responded, “no sir I do not, but I will make inquiries and inform you directly.”  In other words, the young man had decided the fellow could not help his bad behavior, because he was confused.

The tale is humorous.  The question, we decided, is profound.  Why do some individuals believe they are more important than everyone else?  We acknowledged some, by virtue of their age, longevity as a customer, or special challenges should receive special attention.  They rarely demand it.

Our group included mothers, grandmothers and great grandmothers.  We decided these self-absorbed ‘do you not know who I am?’ individuals had missed a chapter in the book of manners. They missed the chapter spelling out the rules of polite behavior, in public and private.  We asked ourselves, ‘should we overlook their demeaning behavior?’ 

Final consensus: We should attempt to fill their missing chapter and teach by example.  Plus, as one of our less forgiving group added, ‘with steely-eyed looks of disapproval of their behavior.

Here’s looking at … who are you?

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Plumbers have my utmost respect and admiration.  Some of the jobs they undertake are most unappetizing. Their good humor, patience, and stoic attitude is priceless.  When you need a plumber, there is no short cut or substitute.  Plumbers are in high demand.

Recently, I needed a plumber.  You could say it was an emergency.  It looked like my guest room ceiling was ready to collapse because of an obvious leak from the great unknown. 

Hello Plumbing Company, I have an emergency.  I’m a long-time customer.  Here’s the problem… “We have a lot of emergencies today, “says Ms. Kind Receptionist, “I will send someone the minute they are free.”  It looks like water is still building up, and the ceiling could cave in any moment.”  “Yes, that does happen.  Our crew will take care of it. They will be there as soon as possible.” 

With the help of friends, I installed tarps, buckets, and tried to protect anything in the line of danger.  And watched the clock and the ceiling.  Where are they?  This is a disaster waiting to happen.

Three hours later the plumbing crew arrived.   The ceiling had not collapsed.  The crew tore open the ceiling, located the problem (a big one), and went to work.  “How long do you expect this to take?” I asked.  “No idea,” was the honest response, “we’ll do our best.”  And they did.

Why am I sharing this temporary misfortune?  It occurred to me that Ms. Kind Receptionist must make priority decisions with every call she receives.  She has to weigh the facts, the depth of the problem involved, who or what will be affected, how quickly this problem needs to be resolved.  Sound familiar?  Just like our life decisions.

So, the message - which I personally needed: Trust the service person you are asking for emergency help. They have usually mastered the art of recognizing urgent emergencies.  Because of their skills, we all benefit. 

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Earlier today I was talking with a remarkable individual.  He’s had an interesting life, filled with unique people, places and challenges.  He is an artist, a writer, and a life-long believer in carving a path for others to share.

My conversation was around a young woman who seemed to share similar talents.  She was becoming discouraged by what she called a lack of ‘real’ success.  What, I asked, would be his advice for her?

The response was so simple, prefaced by the words … this is not advice, it is opinion.  In his opinion, if you really enjoy doing something then do it without expectations.  Just keep doing it.  Stick with it.  Being a baseball lover, he used a baseball analogy … “observation informs me that the more you step up to the plate, the better chance you have of getting a hit.”  And proceeded to name friends who had done just that. Not necessarily getting hits, but continuing to try.

Enjoy what you’re doing.  No expectations. For the pure joy of it.  What a way to start each day.

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My family would be shocked to hear me share a ‘housekeeping’ tip from our sister Kathleen.  She was a reader, daydreamer, and not attracted to mundane chores.

In an emergency, and often because she just couldn’t be bothered, Kathleen’s remedy was to sweep offending crumbs, dust bunnies, or anything else that would fit – under the rug.

When I was younger, I thought this was a great solution to a messy or problem situation.  Hide it.

As I got older, I realized the ‘mess’ under the rug didn’t magically disappear. The 'mess' grew, ruined the floor underneath, and sometimes left a dreadful odor and bigger problem.  Eventually, and usually by someone else, what was under the rug had to be dealt with.

And such is life. Hard to hide embarrassing moments, errors, or smells-fishy deals.  Our sweeping them under the rug guarantees – come discovery day -  the dust bunnies will have multiplied.

That’s what bunnies and secrets do.

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I've never thought of  myself as super sensitive. Still, there are some comments and phrases that send annoying signals to my brain.  The words don't have to be mean, ill intended, or coarse.  They are usually oridnary words, spoken in an ordinary conversation.  And yet --

When someone says to me, 'just let me explain that to you ...' My heckles go up.   Or, 'you don't seem to understand..' Yes, I understand, I simply don't agree with you. Other  itchy words to my ears are, 'well obviously'.  No, it is not obviousor I wouldn't be asking the question.  When a self appointed critic looks at something and says 'that's WRONG' my eyes get a certain glint. Each of these remarks, and more, tend to suggest there is only one answer; and it's most defnitely theirs. 

What is it that affects my brain? Not the words.  It's the presention of the words. Instead of let me explain that to you, if the individual said ...'let's see if we can figure that out.'  All ears.  Rather than 'you don't seem to understand,'  perhaps 'that's a tricky one, let's look at it.'   Oh, thank you.  Change 'well obviously..'  to 'what do you think?'   For the scholar who announces 'that's WRONG' how about 'Does that look right to you?' I look again ...Hmmn, maybe not.

Words are powerful - the way they are presented makes them even more powerful.  We learn from questions.  We remember the answers.  We enjoy being part of a good plan or conversation.  It makes us feel like contributors.  

A message from Confucus.  "Tell me and I'll forget.  Show me and I'll remember.  Involve me and I'll understand."  Some of these old adages still hold mighty truths.

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I used to know how to type AND spell ... 

Sorry Confucius ... didn't mean to drop the 'i' out of your famous name.

And, not to waste good time and paper ... another Confucius quote:

"Be not ashamed of mistakes and thus make them crimes."

Thank you Confucius.

If your earlier Grasshopper had strange hieroglyphs .. apologies.  I have absolutely no idea from whence they came...and it would take this Luddite too long to figure it out.

This past week I attended a truly enjoyable luncheon. ​The event was to honor ​students and women who had made a difference. ​ I left there inspired.

My inspiration came from cheering the accomplishments of ​so many  women - both young and older​.  It came from hearing​ their messages of hope.  It came from listening to stories of failure, determination, and the real meaning of success. ​ 

Two​ quotes from the speeches - which, happily, were more like pleasant conversations than boisterous boasting​, hit a chord.  One speaker asked us 'not to confuse kindness with weakness.'  The other begged us to get comfortable being uncomfortable.  ​Both should be on our daily to-do lists.  This was the 39th year for this particular luncheon. Never during all those years have we needed those reminders more than we do today.

The luncheon was on a University Campus.  The room was filled with past, present and future leaders.  The speakers and our surroundings reminded us ​t​hat leadership and learning are indispensable to each other.​ The 'breaking news' junkies were jolted into realizing information is not knowledge.  Lots of heads nodding in agreement.

The final take-away was from Elbert Hubbard:  She/he has achieved success who has worked well, laughed often, and loved much.

Yes.  It was a memorable day.   Now I can just remember and put into practice all I #learned.

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What to do on dark and dreary days? The kind of days  when the outdoors do not look inviting.  Some of us read, write, play mind games, call friends.    And then there are the neat freaks.  We play a game called What can I get rid of?  I played that game again recently.

A lof of the decisions were easy.  Old CD's - out.  Pointy-toed shoes- away you go.  Pillows without purpose?  Gone.  And then we come to the drawer (it used to be a box) titled cards, letters, friend photos, kids drawings.   Each gets a new review.  Everything jolts a memory. Brings a smile.  Begs the question - whatever happened to?  Before you know it, hours have gone by.  Not a single item or memory has been added to the 'done with you' pile.

Strange, or maybe not so strange, what we value.  What gives us forever joy.  It's never the once loved 'stuff.'  It's the threads of our lives.  The message that says 'it's a  lonesome old town when you're not around...'  Aaaw.  Letters from your exuberant college aged kids. You really said that?   Baby photos.  Oh my gosh, look at them now.  It is the mosaic of people and places that have shaped who and what we are.

How could we throw any of our life away?  How dare anyone think of it as clutter.  Back into the magical drawer you go.  In the meantime, when the next decluttering urge hits; there will likely be two drawers titled 'this is life, do not throw away.'

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