5 Lessons My Father Taught Me From the Dead - Number 4

My father died in 1964. I was 6 years old. Even though most of my life has been lived in his absence, his life has taught valuable lessons. This 5 part blog series is about those lessons.

4. Be Playfully Mischievous

I'm not sure I can illustrate this lesson clearly, but here goes. It is more the way my mother tells the story than the facts of the story that tell the tale.  My mother is not and never has been a morning person. She does well to drag herself out of bed and make a pot of coffee. Somewhere between the first and second pot, she will become somewhat awake and mildly social. She would sit, head in hand at the kitchen table - internally fighting her way into the day. My dad would always offer a cheerful "Morning Lib!" and lean over and give her a kiss. She would fain a greeting and turn back to her coffee. There was however a wickedly playful side to my father for at some random and totally unpredictable occasions he would lean over to kiss my mother and instead, playfully tap her under her breast. This always startled her and - as she would tell it even today - cause her to be aggravated to the point of amusement.

I believe it was the impish intent of his actions that always charmed her. Void of any ill, he was often playfully mischievous. He kept all of us one our toes and smiling. 

5 Lessons My Father Taught Me From the Dead - Number 3

My father died in 1964. I was 6 years old. Even though most of my life has been lived in his absence, his life has taught valuable lessons. This 5 part blog series is about those lessons.

3. You need some regular time alone.

My father dug a hole under the house, poured some concrete and laid a few concrete blocks to create a workshop for himself. It was his place and we were not often allowed. I'm sure this was partly because of the many pieces and parts (see #1 below) too valuable and/or dangerous for children's hands. As time has passed, I came to know that this was also his place of solitude. When dad went down to his shop we didn't bother him. He would return soon enough and he always seemed happier than when he left.

This was his place of working it out. It was his time alone creating, repairing, and fixing things that refueled him. I think we all need that time away. I know I do.

5 Lessons My Father Taught Me From the Dead - Number 2

My father died in 1964. I was 6 years old. Even though most of my life has been lived in his absence, his life has taught valuable lessons. This 5 part blog series is about those lessons.

2. Profanity is a sign of a limited vocabulary

My father, reportedly, never swore. My mother claims she can count on 2 fingers (i think that means twice) the number of times he used profanity.

In a moment of frustration, my mother uttered the "S*#!" word to which he calmly replied, "Lib, you've got something in your mouth I wouldn't want on the bottom of my shoe." My mother and my father encouraged me to learn new and exciting words to express myself. To this day I marvel the power and expanse of words.

Dictionary.com has an iPhone app that delivers a "word of the day" to my phone.  Why, just this week I had the good fortune of having the word "spatchcock" taught to me. Finding ways to properly spatchcock new and unusual words into my daily speech sure beats the "H#&^" out of profanity. :)

5 Lessons My Father Taught Me From the Dead - Number 1.

My father died in 1964. I was 6 years old. Even though most of my life has been lived in his absence, his life has taught valuable lessons. This 5 part blog series is about those lessons.

1. You can learn from taking things apart. 

My dad was a tinkerer. Because he rebuilt and repaired watches for a living, he was accustomed to dealing with pieces and parts of things.  He was always taking things apart and sometimes reassembling them to repair them. Sometimes, they just remained in pieces in his workshop.

As I grew I was encouraged by the memories and stories of my dad's repairs and fixes to take things apart. Radios, TVs, Hair Dryers (the kind with the plastic cap), door knobs, toys - nothing was safe around me. I learned from those disassemblies and often would bring broken things home just to dissect them and learn. Sometimes I could make a good something out of two broken somethings. Through this process I learned to be quite handy. I enjoy fixing things.

My philosophy is that if it has screws - it was meant to come apart. Go ahead. Take it apart. What's the worst thing that could happen and I promise you, you will learn something.

Roadway Epiphany

[NOTE: I've not shared this piece here before, but it isn't new. Enjoy.]


Introduction

I stood in the gallery, surprised. The new Rural Life photo contest had caused me to leave my normally secluded life and travel to Charlotte to view the collection of photography from across the state. I had been enjoying the various landscapes, pictures of freckled faced, overall clad youths and studies on various farm-life objects: plows, daisies growing in tin pots, wagon wheel sentinels on dirt drives. Then there it was; a black and white photograph of a too familiar road, that road. That road, eternally dark and damp, always leading out of town to the same house, the same now seldom remembered history. The story is all but gone as are those who where there, but I, I alone drift back again tonight, to a time before I knew of malformed creatures and a darkness so completely void of light that it could seized your spirit in terror, a time when I was waiting beside that road.

Chapter 1

Evan strained with the tire iron, once more, trying to loosen that last lug nut. The muscles on his back burned, he felt a spasm grab between his shoulders, as the sweat dripped from my brow onto his hands. The iron slipped and he bashed his knuckles on the rim, again.

"Damn it! " he cursed under his breath, dropping the tool and standing, shaking his hand. He checked to make sure he wasn’t bleeding...a little drop hung on his knuckle. "Shit. That hurts," he mumbled to himself.

"How do I do these things?" he thought. He stood, the left front tire, flat and torn. One final lug nut remained immovable, between him and the installation of a perfectly good spare

"Gentle now. Breathe man. “Just calm down,” he told himself.

His frustration turned to internal condemnation. "This road. Nobody drives this old road. It goes nowhere. Well, I guess it goes somewhere, or at least did, but, in the last two years of living in this county, I’ve never been down this road. So, why today? Why today do I decide to let my mind wander, clear my head with a drive?"

"Simple. Kelly. I can see the words from her note. They followed all sorts of comments about growing a part...traveling different journeys...yada, yada....then there they were in her own characteristic simple, wonderful, lovely, elegant hand...'so, I’ve decided that the country is not for me at this point in my life, and since you need the space, I’ll not crowd you with my needs. Goodbye.'"

Evans mind started to swim just remembering those words. "Crowd you with my needs," what the hell does that mean? Women!" he shouted to the empty road.

The old truck turned the bend in the road, back toward town where he had come from. "Finally," he sighed in relief. He brushed the dirt from his jeans, grabbed his shirt off of the roof of his old Sebring, made a metal note to get the thing painted soon, and pulled on his shirt on over his chest, just as that rusted old hunk of junk-truck slowed and stopped by him. Evan leaned in the passenger window as the driver asked; "flat?" The voice was as thick as he had heard leaden with a southern twang that almost hurt to hear. The face from which it came had a toothless, unshaven, floppy eared crooked eyed look that made him think of one word, "Deliverance."

"Wanna ride wid me," the driver asked as he grinned and revealed his green teeth?

"I'm ok," Evan lied, "just about finished changing the tire. Thanks anyway."

"Hum,” he grunted, in what was certainly some sort of hick code for disappointment and off he drove. Evan stood and watched as he passed around the bend, and felt relief that he had avoided the world of deliverance, today.

He turn to face his car, again, and reality set in. He was still stranded and the only hope of “deliverance” just drove away, without him. It was getting well into the afternoon, and the only option he could figure was walking. He gathered a few things from the car and decided to hoof it back the 20+ miles. Stiffing his well worn red canvas backpack with a half full bottle of Aquafina, he pulled his ball cap out and flapped it on his head. Turning back to the car, he grabbed an old jacket, watch, and keys from the driver’s seat, tossed them in the pack, zipped it up, and with a click of the key remote, locked the Sebring and began the walk toward town.

The sun was instantly warmer than he'd like, building its heat on his neck and back. Flipping the bill of his cap backwards to shield his neck Evan walked toward town and soon found a rhythm to his stride and room to think. His mind went back to Kelly. Last week...

Happy Birthday Daughter

Do You Feel Lucky Punk? A Thought on Luck.

Luck doesn't exist. I'm  not a believer in luck in the sense of it being some externally provided leg-up - any fool would succeed with it - contribution to life.  What I do believe in are two very real experiences: Opportunity and Preparation, and if you combine these two you will get something that looks remarkably like LUCK.

Preparation - hard and regular work to develop ability and wisdom. Time practicing, studying and experiencing life-on-life's terms can make us ready for success.  We become able - to mow a lawn in a speedy and immaculate manner (ok so not a real complicated skill, but work with me here).

Opportunity - the availability of a space (time and place) to use one's skills to be successful.  We have a chance - the neighbor  asks us to mow the lawn hours before they return from vacation and have a large party (again, a bit simplified, but you get the idea)

When opportunity meets preparation - as 'luck' would have it you are able to mow the lawn beautifully and subsequently, the head of rapidly growing gardening company attends the party and decides to hire you to train his 100+ member crews - for a nice salary (I know - but it could happen).  Some would say you got lucky - I say opportunity met preparation.

I'm not really saying I don't believe in LUCK - I'm saying we can view it differently. Do you feel lucky, Punk? Well, do you?

In Between

dusk and flickering 

candles. 

sensations of 

in between

gentle caresses

the last scent

yesterday's 

cookies, baked 

and eaten. 

in between

a leaf falling 

upward, riding on 

the breeze 

summer's heat

in between

silent breath

your voice 

pausing between 

words

measured with 

care

in between

the end

the beginning

the alpha

the omega

the dream

the reality

we can't live here 

for more than

a moment

in between

Dusting Off An Old Saying

Do you ever hear someone cut loose with an old saying or figure of speech that brings a blast from the past?

I heard a man say to a colleague last week, "Your getting a little long in the tooth for that." I haven't heard that one in a long while.

Do you know what "long in the tooth" refers to? No fair searching Google - ok, go ahead - I won't tell. 

To Tweet or Not to Tweet - 5 Tips

Twitter is a rapidly growing platform. I enjoy using Twitter both personally (@WilliamsKim) and professionally (@BEMinteractive). A recent Tweet from (@PracticalWisdom) about tweeting in a meeting got me thinking: As more people value Twitter for communication and information sharing, when is it ok to Tweet in a meeting and when should we refrain?

I'll share a personal prejudice and then 5 tips for your consideration. I'm over 50, so my educational era (error?) is one that preceded much of the technology that we enjoy today. I was exposed to classrooms, lectures and presentations when the speaker was due unwavering attention. To talk, shuffle papers, or read something other than handouts/outlines was disrespectful. I'm accustom to something akin to lofty respect for those who stand before you to teach, inspire and guide. Multitasking electronic communication - even electronic note taking - fractures this paradigm.  I've experimented with tweeting in a variety of settings and had some useful and some embarrassing (that's another post) results. So, what of tweeting during meetings and other gatherings?

 I think there are certain environments that are more appropriate than others for tweeting. Here some suggested guidelines:

1. Consider the setting. If it is a Tweet-Up event, then a certain amount of twitter activity is expected. However, don't assume that everything is up for grabs. There may be moments when someone is presenting or speaking and needs you attention. If you are meeting with your boss, tweeting about the conversation might be a bit much.

2. Ask the Speaker/Leader. If an event has a formal speaker scheduled, ask about their preference regarding tweeting.

3. When in doubt don't tweet. You can always make notes to tweet or blog/tweet about later.

4. Consider your followers. If you are a 3-4 tweet a day person, you can alarm your followers if you start sending 10-20 meeting notes or quote snippets out while attending a 1 hour Tweet-Up.

5. Determine your goal for the event. If you are there to promote or share information "real-time" via Social then your use of Twitter is helpful. However, if you are attending to learn something new, there is some research that seems to indicate that electronic multi-tasking (especially via twitter) may interfere with your ability to hear and retain complex information.