This morning I watched the funeral celebration for Queen Elizabeth II.  The pageantry, the history, the dignity was magnificent.  And yet, with all of that  - what created the emotional outpouring from British and world citizens alike was how she is remembered.  She was the people's Queen.  She is remembered with love and gratitude.

One speaker said, “We can honor her memory by following her example.” The examples included kindness, hope, civility, service, loyalty, and duty.  Another speaker said she followed the age-old challenge; ‘render to no one evil for evil.’  It occurred to me if more of our leaders practiced just one of these attributes, many of today’s grim problems would be softened or solved.

I grew up in England and was 13 when WWII ended.  At that age not a lot got my attention, except sports and staying alive.  My sister Eileen, however, was old enough to join the Women’s Land Army (WLA) and served during the same period as then Princess Elizabeth served in the Auxiliary Territorial Service (ATS). Her description of Queen Elizabeth was decency and dignity.

My sister Kathleen was presented two Churchill Medals by Queen Elizabeth, in Buckingham Palace; the first in 1974, the second 50 years later in 2014.  Her words for the Queen were kindness, graciousness and gratitude.

I was living in Chicago when Elizabeth became Queen in 1952; and stood on the sidewalk in Chicago in June 1953 watching her Coronation through a shop window.  Not many televisions in those days.

It’s been quite a journey for Her Majesty.  Yet never once has she veered from her promise to the British people which was ‘throughout all my life and with all my heart I shall strive to be worthy of your trust.’

What a life. What a woman. What a legacy. What an example.

How will you be remembered?

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Have you noticed family story telling times - around the dinner table, the fire, even in the automobile are disappearing?  Such a shame.  How will we learn, remember and pass down the family legends? How can we really know our ancestors?  Their biographies don't tell us who they were. Their stories make them come alive.

For a fee there is an online company to which family members can send their questions for grandmother, granddad,  mom and dad, or whoever is the giftee.  The company forwards the question to the indivdual .  The individual writes a response to the questions.  The company saves all the questions and answers, unedited; and compiles them into a booklet at year's end.   An easy solution to recording our history?  Yes. What's missing is our ability to capture the emotions, the face and feelings that belong with the words.

There IS another solution.  How about having  a memories meal or two, or three, or more?   Questions not yet answered get asked:  What was it like growing up in a family of nine kids? What are they doing now? How did you and granddad meet? Do you remember your grandparents? What were they like? What did they do for a living? You will never run out of questions. And the one answering the questions? Well, who doesn't like talking about themselves - and reaching back to include the people and places that made them who they are?

Forget those little cards people pass around at dinner parties to 'start' a conversation.  Each family has stories we tell over and over. No matter how many times they are told they make us laugh or cry. One of our family favorites, retold for more than seven decades is of our brother. Jim dramatically enters the small room; wearing a scruffy jacket, three cornered hat, and chest covered with as many medals and braids as he could find.  Standing with a military air, his hand thrust proudly inside his jacket he announced: I AM NAP-A-LON.  Just saying the word nap-a-lon in our family brings the memory into full focus.  We watch and see stories of Napolean, and we think of Jim.

There are so many questions I wish I had asked.  So many gaps in the little book of memories.  I have a lot of facts.  Facts are not  stories.  My father passed away  more than 60 years ago - and yet, when I repeat certain stories, there he is - Irish eyes smiling - and relishing the retelling of special times we shared.  Such a gift.

Take time to ask questions.  If the questions and answers are written and in person, even better. Whether the answers are sad, happy, unexpected, or quite amazing - I promise; you will be glad you asked the questions.  

Question: What's holding us back? 

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We were taught to try to solve a problem ourselves before asking for help. Remember the bosses (and parents) of bygone years? Don’t come to me with a problem unless you have a solution.  Perhaps that’s why the current tendency to immediately ask “who is going to take care of this?” concerns me.

Some suggest I have become a curmudgeon. Others suggest I have it all wrong.  Asking for help first is easier and faster, they say.  Our sons recall the stock answer when they had a problem was, “And what do you plan to do about it?”  “What would you do if we weren’t here?”  Maybe I was a curmudgeon in training.

Oh, we wanted to help.  We would have relished it.   Why didn’t we?  Because we believed solving someone’s problems before they try their own solution robs them of a learning opportunity.  It diminishes their self -confidence.  It teaches them to rely on someone else.  They become dependent, instead of independent.  They must be able to take care of themselves.

Our startup year in business, we had no money, no equity, no real experience.  Yet, we believed the bank should or would lend us money.  It didn’t happen. And that was a good thing.  We learned a lot from that banker who turned us down.   He made us face business reality.

Preventing someone from trying to solve their own problems is like not allowing them to learn.  Failing is learning. Success is learning.  Both spur us to help others help themselves.

Give a person a fish … you know the rest of the story.

Gone fishing …

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This past week I attended a celebration of the life of a wonderful man.  In their eulogies friends and family praised his accomplishments.  Well-deserved accolades from speakers and guests filled the air.  It was a heart-warming celebration for a man who meant so much to so many.

Eulogy is described by Webster as A speech or words in praise of a person, or what that person has done, a term of endearment.

Guests, family, friends took time to share hugs. They remembered good times. It was a celebration of many lives.  It included everyday eulogies among and about friends. The outpouring of affection was genuine and contagious. Smiles of appreciation were all around.  And, this same scenario plays out at most celebrations where we honor deceased loved ones. Why does this euphoric feeling of fellowship fade so quickly?

Why do we hesitate to tell friends and family why we appreciate them? Why do we seldom acknowledge their gifts of time and talent?  Why are we so stingy or shy with encouragement? Why do we wait until we are just part of a chorus?

Many of us in the ‘mature’ stiff upper lip and don’t be a softy generation still have difficulty being gushy. People must earn praise.  They don’t get it for doing what they’re supposed to do. We wouldn’t want any big heads is or was our philosophy.

Many of our younger generations consider praising others unnecessary.  They maintain the friend or family member KNOWS how they feel. Theirs is the age-old actions speak louder than words philosophy.  Each generation is different, thank goodness.

I asked a friend to consider these big WHY's.  She responded -- it’s not the praise, not the award, not the congratulations – it is the VALIDATION. Acknowledgement that what we are doing or have done is the right thing, that it matters.  It encourages us to do more, try harder.

All the more reason to practice everyday eulogies. To inspire others to keep doing what deserves our gratitude and admiration.

I have a lot of catching up to do.

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There’s a Forbes magazine women’s group named ‘Self Made.’   Complete with caps, t-shirts, and other outwardly visible products proclaiming its members as self-made.  If asked to join, which is unlikely, I’d have to refuse.  I have never met, and probably will never meet, anyone who acquired health, happiness, or success without help from someone else.

Forbes proudly lists America’s richest self-made women.  I’m also proud of these women.  However, chances are if you asked any one of them who helped them along the way their lists would be long.  The old saying ‘everybody needs somebody’ is true – unless you are a hermit dedicated to isolation.

Webster’s definition of self-made: People who have become successful and rich through their own efforts, especially if they started life without money, education, or high social status

Debating the dictionary is one of my favorite pastimes.  In this case I disagree one must be rich to be successful.  Success is not measured by your financial assets.  Real success is measured by the effect of the personal treasures you share – among them time, help, hope.

Who helped you along the way; and what did they do?  I could fill pages with those who helped me. The parents who said NO without apology.  The teacher who encouraged your potential.  The friend who listened.  The spouse or partner who cheered you on.  The wise ones who made mistakes become lessons.  The banker who took a chance on you.  (Yes, they do exist.)  The help we receive, sometimes without recognizing it as help, is what motivates us to both succeed - and pay it forward.

Education, hard work, resilience, skills, attitude are all important attributes.  The most important ingredients for success appear to be the combination of people who have entered our lives at just the right time.

Without apology to Forbes. Self-Made is a myth.

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It all started with a piece of salmon.   There it was carefully placed in a carton.  What do you plan to do with this salmon mother?  It was going to be lunch.  How long ago was lunch planned?  Couple of days ago.  That means it will never see the lunch table. Such a waste. I know how you hate waste.

And thus began the waste not want not stories. T-shirts no longer fit to appear in public, cut into pieces for so-soft dust rags. Aluminum foil rinsed and carefully folded for future use.  Rubber bands rolled into a ball for - well you never know. Coffee cans to hold nails that will never again see the light of day. The list is long for  waste nothing people.

What then in this world of abundance is worth saving?  Certainly, things someone else can actually use. Maybe one or two things we think we’ll need (but rarely do).  Definitely rainy-day cash.  Journals for your memories.  Books with special inscriptions.  Photo albums (real not digital).  And saving time for dreaming.

Does this mean my friends and I are ready to give up our quirky waste not habits?  Heaven forbid.  We never know when we might need an old piece of aluminum foil.

Remember the question:   If your home was on fire, what would you try to save?  The answers through time have been – my dog, my cat, my pictures – never once did I hear ‘that piece of salmon I have in the refrigerator.’

Tempus Fugit. Make memories.

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My Brother and niece who live in Lancashire visited recently. Lancashire is a county with its own dialect. Some would say its own language.  It was fun hearing words and phrases from my growing up years.  No matter how long we are away, hearing our hometown dialect brings back all kinds of memories. 

Not everyone, even in the rest of England, can easily translate some Lancashire sayings.  One that amuses friends is the statement.  Oh, they live next door but two from me.  Translation – but for the two houses in-between they would live right next door.

A phrase with more depth:  Our Marie got a scholarship.  Not just ‘Marie’ – OUR Marie.  She is one of our family.  We are responsible for her, and she for us.  Take note - She is ours.

You’ll hear: Arnold was really chuffed.  Lancashire: He was puffed up with pride. North Carolina: He was bursting his buttons.

During a rare heatwave Lancashire natives will say:  I’m sweating cobs, it’s cracking flags out there: Sweating cobs (large globules of sweat).  Flags means pavement.   In the South we’d say. It’s hot as Hades - you could fry an egg on the sidewalk.

Hearing the familiar dialect brought back hilarious and horrible memories of neighbors, juvenile misdeeds, and proud family accomplishments.  It allowed me to wallow momentarily in the good and interesting life I’ve been fortunate to live.  Maybe even recall a few still applicable lessons I can share with grandchildren.

My early days in the South caused a different dialect challenge. Running a little late for lunch (too many streets with the same name, and none on a grid) I hear:  Where you at? J’eat yet?  Notchet? Whyncha join us?  I loved it. It was like learning a new language.

Why share such trivia? Perhaps to emphasize the value in remembering where we came from. Good memories. Bad memories. Blurred memories.  People, places and things that made us who we are.  Refresher courses balance our lives.

Take that trip down memory lane.  Do not take up residence there.

Ta-rah (Lancashire for goodbye)

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My nieces and I share frequent emails across the pond. Recently I received one that gave me reasons to think about what and how I communicate.

Here is part of Lorraine’s message:

It isn't often I get thanked just for being me. I think we, most of us, go through life doing the best we can but too often it is our faults that are highlighted.  All too easy for us to forget to mention the good stuff!

She continued: I recently reconnected with several school friends and was amazed by their memories of me.  Rather comforting to hear I existed outside my everyday life if that makes sense.  It makes us realize it is important to share, to keep hold of the fragile threads that connect us with people who have touched our lives.

How true. How steadying. How seemingly difficult to comment on the good stuff.

Maybe, just for today, I will forget to mention the open cabinet doors and thank the ‘culprit’ for putting away the dishes. Perhaps I will not frown when my friend is late picking me up and thank them for such a generous gesture.  Heck, I might even tell the carwash youngster what a great job he did, even though he didn’t clean out the cup holder.  Keep doing these things, and – with luck - it becomes a habit to mention the good stuff. What a refreshing thought.

Think about it: Once we chase out trivial annoyances that consume so much of our brain; it’s miraculous how much that remains is good stuff.  Mention the good stuff.

Thanks Lorraine, I’m working on it.

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We all know them.  Sometimes we are them.  The joy killers.  They kill the joy of a compliment.

You’ve seen and heard it.  “Your son did a great job with the laundry.”  Yes, but – I had to refold all the clothes.  “Wasn’t that a grand party at Sue’s?”  Yes, but – there was nothing for vegetarians.  “What a beautiful new home.” Yes, but – it needs a lot of work.  “Your presentation today was excellent.” Yes, but – I forgot the great opening I planned.  And the list goes on.  It’s a conundrum.

When my mother heard the words ‘yes, but’ she stopped the next words being uttered by saying “No but’s about it … you heard the message.”  Usually followed by “I am tired of all the ifs, ands or buts. Get on with it.”  It didn’t cure us.  It did make us think.

Why do we sabotage ourselves and the one giving the compliment? Greater minds have pondered this question.  The answers given are we don’t believe the person being complimented – ourselves or another – is worthy of the praise. We listen for errors instead of information. We believe our ‘but’ adds worth or clarity.

What to do?  Let’s rerun: Your son did a great job … “He sure did. Saved me a lot of time.” Grand party at Sue’s. “Indeed. It was good to see all our friends.”  Beautiful new home.  “Thank you. We feel very fortunate.”  Excellent presentation.  “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Give it a try … no ifs, ands or buts.  Sometimes all we need as a response is a simple ‘Thank you.”

Thanks Mom.

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I read somewhere that millions of people go to bed hungry every night.  Not hungry for food.  Hungry for appreciation, a smile, a kind word, to be noticed, a sincere ‘well done.’

We all need that proverbial pat on the back once in a while.  No matter where it comes from.  If you are a Wordle fan like me and a million others – I’ll bet you nod and smile when the words Excellent, Splendid, or Awesome pop up.   What would be the point if no one acknowledged your genius for getting the right word in two or three attempts? Would you quit? Probably.

Why then are we so stingy with our appreciation and praise? A generous monetary tip is appreciated. It's soon spent.  Generous words go right to the heart amd stay there.  They make our day. We sleep well.

We lavish praise on children and pets for their efforts.  Eating with a spoon –- Big smile. Clap for Susie.  Fetching the ball – clever dog.  We do it without thinking.  It’s second nature.  Why and when does it stop? Why don’t we widen the circle?

The word 'thank you' is a good word.  It's even better when words are added that are special to the person being thanked.  The parking attendant who unjams your credit card. Thank you. I’m glad you were here to rescue me.  The checkout person.  You are really quick.  How do you do that? Thank you.  Acknowledging their skills means you noticed.

Some years ago, I took my grandsons to Chipotle.  The person bussing tables was doing a great job. What do you notice, I asked my grandsons? He’s working hard was the response. Why don’t you thank him, so he knows you noticed?  They did. And they pooled their enormous resources so they could leave ‘a bit extra.’

It’s that little bit extra that is often missing.  And it’s that little bit extra we miss.  The extra bit that tells us you really noticed.  It’s not just a courtesy ‘thank you’ – it’s ‘I noticed what you did, and it was good’ kind of thank you.

I got the wordle word my third attempt today. And wordle popped up and said IMPRESSIVE!  Wow.  I'll be back tomorrow.

That little bit extra makes a difference.

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