I waited.

Posted on January 13, 2016 by Bob Martin

I fe20160112_180614el the need to start by saying that this is not a religious posting. You will understand in a second.

 Anybody who knows me, knows that I am a man of my faith. I attend church, I pray with my family, and I teach confirmation classes. All the while, I try to not only attend my faith; I try to put it into practice. I teach our daughter and my confirmation students that faith is not just about believing; it is about acts. The two, faith and acts, go hand-in-hand. One needs the other. I teach them to go out and live their faith.

Now I promised that this was not a religious posting, and yet the prior paragraph, in its entirety, spoke of religion. Here is the turn. I try to practice what I preach, but I struggle with when it is okay to step in and do an act. The acts are done, not for glory or a pat on the back, but to quietly go about doing the works I am supposed to do. There are often times when I see an opportunity to ACT, but I stop. I do not stop out of laziness. I do not stop out of being two-faced. I stop because I am human. I stop due to my worries about what I am supposed to do.

This morning I had to stop at the local supermarket. I just needed a few things, and I had time while taking our daughter to school. We quickly gathered the four items – well three but who can resist splitting an Almond Joy at 6:40 in the morning. We went to the only open cashier and waited our turn. Ahead of us was a couple, perhaps about my age, maybe slightly younger, checking out. I had seen them in the aisles picking up groceries. You could tell that they were looking at prices. Now I stood behind them able to see their entire grocery list spread out on the conveyor belt before us. I did not see soda and junk food. I saw staples that a family would need to eat. I saw things that were marked down for quick sale. I saw nutrition on that belt.

The cashier rang them up. The bill came to $57.48. I was actually impressed on how much they were getting for that amount. I could overhear the conversation as the man pulled out his card. “I think we only have $40 left on this.” He handed it to the cashier to check. I could not see the card, but now I believe it was an EBT card. The cashier slid the card. The bill dropped to $17.48. The man had been correct. I waited…….. I hesitated.

I saw an opportunity to jump forward and tell the cashier that I would cover the rest. I stood. I wanted to do it, but something stopped me. The wife stated that she had the cash in her purse. She started searching the purse for money. I saw singles come out. I saw other items come out as she searched. The cashier looked at me with an apologetic look. I could read her eyes, “I am sorry that this is taking so long.” She did not do it to embarrass just trying to offer a little customer service. I saw that the wife kept adding to the pile with each pull. My hand moved for my wallet…..I waited. I hesitated.

Before I could make a decision, another employee had grabbed my items and told me to move to the next counter. I looked at my cashier. She looked at me. I think she knew what I wanted to do. Neither of us knew how to initiate the first step. I moved to the next counter.

In 3 minutes 14 seconds, I had been checked out, handed my receipt, given my items, and told to have a nice day. I waited. I hesitated. The woman was now counting out the 48 cents. We started walking out the door. The direction made it so we did not walk by the couple. After four steps, our daughter mentioned we had parked out the other door. We reversed and started in the other direction – past the original counter. The couple was now checking to make sure that they did have enough. I waited. I hesitated.

I heard an amount. Sighed and walked. The couple came out a minute later as I sat in my car just to ensure that they weren’t still counting or removing items. They had their full bags and moved on into their day. I waited. I hesitated. I became angry. Why? Why had I waited?

I have thought about this quite a bit throughout my day. I am not sure if this is an excuse or true reasoning. I waited because I did not know how to offer help. I so wanted to tell them to put the pile away, and I would cover the excess amount. But I was afraid. I was afraid of insulting the man. I was afraid that he would be embarrassed at not being able to provide for his family. I didn’t want him to have to accept a handout when he could do it. I worried more for his feelings than his family.

I spoke with a colleague. She informed me that she wouldn’t have waited. She actually paused when I explained my hesitation and said she never would have thought of that. I fear I have tainted her. Instead of my grabbing on to how she works, I may have muddied the waters.

I find it even more interesting that I commented on the fact that if it had been a woman by herself or with children, I wouldn’t have waited. It was because a man was present that I felt the need to wait – to hesitate. I do not believe that he would have been angry. I truly think he would have appreciated the help. But for some reason, we make it harder for men to accept help. We don’t want them to lose face. We hesitate.

This event made me stop and think. How many other times have I waited or anyone else for that matter. When have we let fears of feelings or anger stop us from doing the right thing. I don’t even limit this to helping someone buy groceries. How many times have we watched someone go off on a child – and waited? How many times have we had the chance to assist in some way, but hesitated?

I want to change. This does not mean that tomorrow I will wake to the sound of angels singing over my head. It does mean that maybe my wait will not last as long and I will get the courage to act. Perhaps, the change can start with those who read this as well. If we all start acting and stop waiting then perhaps it will not be as difficult for our daughter’s generation to act and not wait at all. Perhaps, she will never look back and ask, why did I wait?

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And The World Keeps Turning

Posted on January 12, 2016 by Bob Martin
Entrance to heaven, cloudscape over Oregon state and the Pacific Ocean, from Alaska Airlines jet, West Coast, USA from Flickr via Wylio

© 2013 Wonderlane, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio

I woke up this morning, January 11, 2016, to read that David Bowie died. I will admit that I was slightly taken aback since I had not seen anything on the tabloid covers while at the check out to indicate that he was ill. Out of nowhere, at least for me, he was gone. And the world continues to turn.

I am not trying to be sarcastic or uncaring with the last sentence of the opening paragraph. I am stating a fact. The world stayed on its normal orbit and did not slow one bit.

David Bowie was a good or great, depending on your taste, musician. I know that I liked his songs. I grew up with them. I was part of the discussion of who or what was David Bowie. He broke through barriers on many levels. I have embarrassed our daughter by singing “Major Tom” in front of her friends. I wait patiently to hear the Bowie/Crosby rendition of “Little Drummer Boy” each Christmas season. In my mind, there will never be a better performance of this song. As a matter of fact, I don’t even need the video. For some reason, I can remember being 12 and watching the original program being televised back in 1977. I fell in love with England that year. But now he is gone – and the world continues to turn.

Why do I keep repeating that? Well – it is true. It also says something about how star struck we have become as a society – not just in the U.S. but worldwide. We idolize stars, singers, and athletes and mourn their passing as if the world has ended. But…. the world continues to turn.

Today, other things happened. A good friend of mine lost his friend. This person, according to his postings, was not famous. He was a father, grandfather, friend, and biker. He loved life and people. People liked him. Now he, like Bowie, is gone. He will be mourned by a much smaller group of people, but he deserves to be mourned just the same. Possibly even more. I don’t know this man, and yet just from the few postings I have seen, he made a difference. His difference was not done through music or charity, but by his human interactions. In a way, I am saddened for the family for his loss is a shadow of Major Tom. Just the same, the world continues to turn.

I also read about the passing of a young girl to cancer. She fought valiantly but cancer won once again. Her family speaks of how much she taught them and others. She did not give up. She did not wish the pain to go on to another. She accepted her pain and fought it. She tried to stay longer, but life had other plans for her. Today, her family mourned her. A song has been written about her. Stories have been told. She touched lives in the way she lived. The world continues to turn.

All three lives mattered. All three lives deserve to be celebrated. All three lives deserve to be just as important as the other. Each day we lose people. We lose fireman, policemen, doctors, nurses, teachers, cooks, custodians, members of the armed services, mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters. Few live the lives that the news deems worthy enough to mention (unless the death occurs in an interesting way). In through it all, the world continues to turn.

I would like to think that, in a way, when we mourn for a “star” we are also mourning for all the others. We are not mourning the person himself or herself, but we are mourning for what they stood for and what they did. We are mourning for the same characteristics that the school crossing guard exhibited but people did not mourn. We are mourning for the music that they gave us whether it be in actual notes or the song of a person’s voice greeting you as they serve your lunch. I want to believe that the mourning is not because we care more about the celebrities, but it is because we did not get a chance to know those others – those who keep the world turning.

So Rest in Peace, David Bowie; Rest in Peace, Bob Ward; Rest in Peace, Natalia Garcia; Rest in Peace, John Whittet. May you all now be floating:

 

Far above the Moon

Planet Earth is blue

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First Date

Posted on January 10, 2016 by Bob Martin

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Yesterday evening I prepared to go out on a date. I was nervous. I wanted everything to be perfect. I went and took a shower. When I came out, I found my clothes set out on the bed. My slacks, shirt, tie, and shoes had been selected for me. My best cologne sat on the table. Everything had to be just right.

I have been on dates before, but this was a first date. This was no ordinary first date. I had the pleasure of taking our daughter to her first (formal) dance. This first date was unlike any other first date. When I was single, a first date was about making a good enough impression to get a second date. The second date allowed for corrections from the first. There was no second for this one. This dance would be the dance she would hold in her memories forever. I wanted this to be something that would bring a smile to her on those days in the future when I am longer here to hold her hand.

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The time came for us to meet. I held the corsage in my hand – I hoped she would like it. She came out of her room in a beautiful, white dress with black sweater. She smiled when she saw me. She liked her selection of wardrobe for me. I placed the corsage on her wrist and we took pictures. We departed for the dance.

The dance hall looked like a welcoming winter scene. We entered under a silver, white, and blue balloon arch between two white trees. Snow blew out at you as you entered the door. The hall had snowflakes, trees, white deer, big and small snowmen, and other items to make you think winter. The Girl Scout leaders, including my wife Nancy, did a marvelous job.

The music started and the dancing began. The night saw dads of all ages dancing with their daughters. I approached my date. We took hands and started moving to the music. She stepped up on my toes and let out a little giggle. We moved about the dance floor. We were the only ones there, at least that we noticed or cared. The song had a country sound to it. A man sang/spoke words describing his daughter growing up. It started with a description of him dancing with his daughter. Soon a boyfriend came into the picture and then she was walking down the aisle. Both a great and horrible song to play for Dads dancing with their daughters.

The night went on to include many dances. The girls danced with each other, the danced in groups, pictures were taken, and memories were made. Over a hundred young ladies, all dressed like princesses, danced the night away. With each note, I knew that this night was flying by and her first dance would soon come to an end.

An Adele song came on to allow for those moments once again. This time the stepping on shoes would not be enough. I lifted her. I brought her even with my eyes. I could see the smile, I could see the sparkle in her eye. Happiness was all over her face. She was making memories for herself. I held her. I stared at her face, and I prayed. I prayed that years from now, when I can no longer dance with her, when I am no longer here to hold her hand, I prayed that this would be one of the things she remembers. I pray that it is not the toughness I showed to get her through homework or other issues that comes back to her mind. I wish that this night is one of the things that comes to her mind.

The night is over. We go back through the parking lot to the car. Things in the hall are already being torn down. The winter wonderland has melted, and we return to the real world. All the way home, she talks about the night and what she loved about it. The list is long.

While the above is beautiful it is not quite reality. The hall was beautiful as were the young princesses. The calmness was a little bit not so calm. The dance was actually filled with little girls running around with their friends squealing with delight. Dads were sitting along the side waiting for their time to dance. Some dads tried getting the girls to dance old school styles with them. It was loud, but it was amazing. However, even amidst all of this chaos there were moments. Those times, as presented, when my daughter came to me to dance. She walked over, she took my hand, and the world stopped.

So no, this dance was nothing like those you see in movies from the 50s. It was better. It was great.

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Dance Little Balloon – Dance

Posted on January 9, 2016 by Bob Martin

balloonMylar balloons are cool little creatures. Well, they are as long as you don’t let them free to roam the world and bump into transformers. These items are much more than shiny metallic items filled with a gas that is lighter than air. If allowed to be free, it can become a playmate, a cat toy, a free dancing soul.

Though she is eight, most nights one of us will still go in with her and talk, read, or sit until she falls off to sleep. These moments are times to which I look forward. I get to find out what is happening in this little second graders life. However, there are nights when we ask her, or she offers, to go on her own. Since she doesn’t like being on her own or the dark, there are certain items needed for her to go on her own. She turns on the radio and needs lights on. We have yet to remove the Christmas decorations so there is still a string of lights in her room. Those lights kept the monsters away last night. It actually bathes her room in wonderful colors.

Last night I turned into the hallway to check on our little one. The Christmas lights aglow, the room filled with blue, red, yellow, and green. Then my eye caught it. A movement. Something dancing in the room. A star. A blue Mylar balloon that is now only partially filled with helium. Aged, losing its bounce, no longer the beauty it was when we bought it. But it was dancing none the less.

We purchased the balloon on New Year’s Eve – a big, bright, taut, blue star. Helium filled every inch of it. Yet, it was not much fun. It was aloof. The balloon soared as high as the ceiling allowed it to go. We pulled on the string to bring it close to us. We tried to make it part of the family. It stayed as long as we held it. However, as soon as our grasp loosened off it would fly.

Now the balloon is older. To us, it is still just as beautiful as the first day we brought it home. Others might question why we still have it. However, age has changed the balloon. It still floats, but it does not search for the heights. It hangs with us. We can now play with the balloon. It follows our daughter when the wind current is just right. It allows Kia, our cat, to play with its string. It wants to be part of us. Last night, as I peaked in on our daughter, the balloon danced around her bed (okay – the movement of the air coming out of the heater caused it to dance).The balloon acted as if it wanted to play more. Perhaps, it sensed that its time was short.

I thought long of the balloon last night. How much it can be used to represent life. Young people want to fly, soar, and float on their own. It takes time for them to want to be hanging at a level with the rest of the family. As people age, they start to realize that being with the ones who love them is the most important thing. They then seek to spend as much time with their loved ones as possible before the air inside is no longer.

Balloons are interesting. They can teach us so much.

Just FYI. The balloon came bouncing into the living room this morning. It is closer to the floor, but it is not willing to stop floating just yet.

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$700 MILLION!!

Posted on January 8, 2016 by Bob Martin

$700 million. Wow. That is a ton of money – okay, I am not sure how much it weighs, but it would be a lot. That is the current listed amount for this coming drawing for the lottery. Trying to wrap my head around that number is crazy. So, I will make it an easier number with which to work. If the winner takes the cash value, he/she would receive $428.4 million. If the winner choices payments then the number goes to $24.1 million. Let’s make it a smaller number since the government will take their cut. By current estimations the full pot would be approximately $257 million or annually at $14.5 million. Oh yes, those numbers are much easier for my brain.

How many readers have thought about that check being written out with their name on the Pay To: line? What would you do with it? How would it change your life? Would it be worth the price your life would pay? I recently had lunch with a dear friend, and we discussed this topic. The one thing about being a person who likes to write is that your brain runs through so many different scenarios and outcomes.

Of course the first thing that comes to mind is how I would break the news to my employers that my services would no longer be required. In my head, I believe that I am such a nice person that I would work through the rest of the school year. I walk around with my head held high knowing that I would finish off all of my current responsibilities. The money would not alter my work ethic. Honest – it wouldn’t.

My imagine also puts me working every day, after leaving the office, on my writings and being able to author a number of books. It is amazing. Winning the lottery turns me into a Pulitzer prized winning author. The money must be magical.

Next I start planning out the living arrangements. The house changes size and location with every passing moment. I think of us staying in the same place, staying in the same city but a different house, moving into Burbank so my daughter is closer to her friends, and finding a place totally off the grid and with no mailing address. It all depends on the time of day, what has happened, what I am doing, how much I don’t like people, and other factors when my thoughts wander.

Finally I think about how we can help out others. I think of our families and how to divide up the winnings. I think of current charities and creating a charity or two to help people. I think of how difficult it would be to manage such things and decide to hire somebody. Hey, that is a win-win. We would be helping a lot of people while at the same time giving somebody a full time job.

I think of so many things. Then I talk to my daughter and I hang my head.

My little one went with me before the New Year to buy some tickets. She asked why we were buying a ticket. I tried to explain what the lottery is and how it works. Her eyes lit up. I THOUGHT I could sense her dreams running through her head.

I asked her if she would want to move. At first she said yes. Then she thought about it and didn’t want to lose her friends across the street. Then I heard a gasp. I prepared for the list of things she would want.

“Daddy. We could help so many people in the community. We can give food to the homeless and build them homes. We could buy clothes for children. We can buy things for my school. We can help so many people.”

Not once did she talk about buying things for herself. She didn’t want toys, games, or even – the one thing she always talks about – a cell phone. This eight year-old only thought about how such money could be used for good. I smiled on the outside, I shrank on the inside. My daughter is a better person than I am.

So tomorrow, or today depending on when you read this, we will be going out and buying our chance at luck. We will hope for a win. And………if by chance we win, we will help people. Of course we will enjoy life, but we will take the attitude of our daughter and make sure some good could come from this.

Oh yeah. She still won’t get a cell phone, but she will get some toys.

 

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Oh to have the energy of the youth

Posted on January 7, 2016 by Bob Martin

I have written before about being an older dad and the joys of seeing the world through the eyes of an eight year old. I love having talks with my daughter and letting her share her imagination and point of view. Her innocence is uplifting. I envy her naïvety. However, today has nothing to do with her imagination or her dreams of the world. It is her energy – boy does she have a lot of it.

In my 50 years, I have often heard, and even at times muttered it myself, that people wish they could have some of their energy while pointing to a group of youngsters. They run around all day long and could go deep into the night if allowed. Many times I wonder if my daughter knows anything about being tired. According to her, she never gets tired.

I am finding that as an adult I, and from what I can tell those adults I hang with, wish not to be young but to have the feeling of youth. We want to be more energetic. We want to run. Hell – there are days I just want to stay up long enough to see Leno, no wait…… well whoever took over for Carson. Once again, I learned, through an eight year-old, that this is possible. It is not about the energy; it is about the attitude.

I came home the other day tired. We just started back at work after the Christmas break. No matter how rested you are when you go back, the first day seems like it will never end and it just saps you. My day did just that. I actually had a great day at work, but it just took a lot of energy. I longed to be back on vacation and taking walks in the snow. By the time I came home, I was ready to be a 50 year-old. I wanted to have dinner, sit in my chair, watch a little TV, and nod off. Life knows better.

After dinner, I had to sit down with my little one to practice piano. Sitting down to practice piano with a child can be related to … well I am not sure. You never know what you are going to get. If she is tired, there will be a lot of eye rolling and banging on keys with the “I can’t do it.” If she had a new song that she likes, there will be focus and quality attempts at the work. However, even this can become frustrating for her if she makes the same mistake over and over. The good days can be a lot of fun. The music just seems to happen, and I can enjoy rocking in my chair listening to the notes just float out about the room. Then there was the night in question, it was none of those.

My pianist had ENERGY!!! This little musician had joy and humor abound. Everything was funny. I had to make a decision. I could force her to sit and play or I could let things roll. I chose to let things roll. I wish I could say that my decision was based on making my daughter happy, but it was that I chose the thing that took less energy. I chose right.

She made mistakes, but would start again with a little giggle at her mistake. She started adding notes and making chords that weren’t in the music. She actually added to what was on the paper. She danced her fingers along the keys happily tapping out scales – scales!!! She hates them. Then it happened.

Kia, our four-legged, furry cat, decided to partake and jumped up on the keyboard. She walked all the way from the lower register to the highest key. Giggles could not be stopped now. The giggles were no longer a single voice. How could I not be laughing with Beethoven Jr.?

The lesson lasted longer than normal, but no one seemed to care. We ended it and turned off the keyboard. As we got up from the lesson, it hit me. I was no longer tired. I had some energy. I felt like I could run into the night. My daughter had given me some of her energy, and yet did not seem to be any worse for wear. Adults often want the energy of the youth, but cannot figure out how to get it. I tripped upon it. All I had to do was choose to let it happen.

Now I can see the world through her eyes and gain some of her energy. Being a dad is great.

Just for the record. The energy she provided does seem to run low quicker in an adult than a child. While she provided me with some energy during our time together. I still didn’t make it to see who is on after the news.

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Doing the right thing can be hard – Where is karma when you need it?

Posted on January 6, 2016 by Bob Martin

Tonight, while pulling into the parking lot to go see my daughter dance, I backed into another vehicle. The parking lot is dark and the gray car was difficult to see. I wasn’t going fast and my back end bumped in to the other vehicle’s back end. I immediately pulled aside, put on the four-ways and checked for damage. Both cars had a couple of scratches. Now the decision to be made – walk away, go into the dance school, and forget about it, or……….. do the right thing.

My mind brought forth all of the lessons that my wife and I have been teaching our daughter. They can all be summed up in a single thought – Do the right thing even especially when no one is looking. All of my scout lessons when I was a leader, my talks at confirmation class, and conversations with my daughter led up to this moment. What type of character do I have? DO I practice what I preach? Would I be able to live with the Catholic guilt?

I chose to do the right thing. The dance school is in a small little strip mall with about five businesses. I checked the dance school employees and parents, I walked to all of the businesses – even the one across the street. I could not find the person. I started thinking of just leaving a note, but with Los Angeles actually getting rain today, I feared that the note would fall apart. I stood in the parking lot and waited.

The gentleman came from a business outside the area. Wait a minute, he shouldn’t have been using this parking lot. Did I think that? I need to remain focused on the task at hand. I informed the driver what happened and we pulled out our phones to use flashlights. Inside I was hoping that he would say, “Eh. It’s just a little scratch. Don’t worry about it.” No such luck. He looked at me and said, “Well this will have to be fixed. It will be $200.”

Wait! How does he know the price? He informed me that the car just came out of the body shop for the front end. We started talking about whether it should be through insurance. Now he states that it is probably $300. I requested a quote on paper. Now it is a wait and see game. He got in his car and left. While I wasn’t expecting a bunch of pleasantries, a “thank you for waiting around” would have been nice. I could not help but wonder if this person would have stuck around had the tables been turned. STOP, STOP, STOP. I can’t think that way.

So how does karma play in to this story? After sorting out the above incident, I went in to watch what was left of my daughter’s class. My phone vibrated and the notice stated that I had memories on Facebook. I scanned through them looking for something to lighten the mood. Instead…..

Facebook felt the need to remind me that three years ago something similar happened. A person had dinged my car and left a note. I contacted the person and he asked for a quote. He also had his son apologize for being careless. When I found that a ding not even the size of a penny would cost $700 (the body shop said it was because it was on a door), I told the other person to forget about it. The dad was happy and even told me he might not have been so nice.

People always talk about how “what goes around, comes around.” I always here people tell those who have been slighted, “Don’t worry karma is a b…. and they will get theirs.” It would be nice if karma worked the other way as well. I knew when I did the right thing that it would most likely hit the pocket-book. I knew that most people would not walk away from a new paint job. It would have just been nice if it felt better.

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Mourn or celebrate?

Posted on January 4, 2016 by Bob Martin

It feels odd as we finish off the “Most Wonderful Time of the Year” to be writing about the effects of mourning. As I drive through my neighborhood, lights are still up, blow-ups are still full of air and waving, and, depending on the station, the odd Christmas song can still be heard. Love and joy are still in the air. You can still go to the supermarket and find customers being nice to each other. The eggnog has yet to wear off. So why go to such a sad subject?

In the last two weeks, I have read about or been notified of the deaths of two former military colleagues and one gentle soul from our church. There is an old saying that death comes in three. Once again, it has lived up to its reputation.

Death is odd. Every single day, you hear the news reporting a number of fatalities especially since I live in the Los Angeles area. I have the news on during breakfast and hear the reports in-between crunches of cereal. Some days the numbers are very high, others one or two. I take a moment and feel sadness for the families, and then the story changes to the next topic. I move on with my day. Death has been heard but it is not felt.

The odd thing is that when you hear of situations with large numbers of deaths the feelings are sometimes not felt since it is too much for the mind to wrap around. You sit in disbelief when you hear the number of fatalities from a tsunami, tornado, or war. It is hard to think of individuals when you hear those numbers.

But when Death decides to take people that you know – then it gets personal. You stop what you are doing. It is no longer news in passing, it affects you. The mixed emotions start. Do you mourn the loss of a friend or celebrate the life of the individual? Can you do both? If you are a person of faith, shouldn’t you have feelings of joy for the person? Death brings so many ingredients into the mix.

It is also interesting to examine your thoughts of those who have passed. The first of the three fell to a heart attack. He lived far away and it has been a long time since we last worked together. However, a sadness still filled me. I could not help but think of his family and the sadness; even more so considering the time of year. Keith’s services brought together a number of former colleagues, and I read each of their posts. They talked about Keith, but more about how we are all aging and how sad that it is something like this that needs to happen to bring everyone together.

Two days after Christmas, I read in shock of a second passing. This one was of another colleague who passed due to an accident at home after an illness. I could not help but stop and think that Julie should still be with us. She was too young to die – then again death does not judge based on age. Social media started filling up with how she was a bright light to the world. Comments came about how much Julie had done to make others feel better about themselves. Her young son put up a post about now living without a mother. Death cheated many people from knowing this beautiful person.

Today death once again surprised me with another passing. A dear friend, John Whittet, passed. John had lived a long and full life; he was just shy of 86. Some might consider his passing to be a fact of life at this age. However, while I am saddened by each; it is John’s passing that affected me the most. The world lost a gentle soul with is passing.

As I mentioned, though, death brings a mix of emotions. At first I had sadness fill my heart, but, oddly enough, joy, happiness, and celebration started to grow. It grew to the point that sadness had no choice but to leave.

My celebration and joy was not only for the life that John led in the time that I have known him, but I also celebrated the fact that I got to know him. I got to learn from John. John worked in many ministries within our parish. We sang together. He greeted people. He played sheriff at our fiesta. He worked hard to make our church welcoming. John also was the Safety Officer for our school. It was within this position that I truly got to meet and know John. Every morning he would stand at the gate and greet each and every student and family. He smiled. His smile was neither small nor a smirk. It was the biggest smile one could ever have, and it was genuine. He loved his job and it showed.

John also had stories. I am ashamed to admit that there were times that when I saw John, I would check my watch to see if I had time. Most mornings I did, some I did not. I am sorry for those mornings when responsibilities told me that I could not stop. I missed out on a great story each and every time I passed him by.

I think that this is part of why we mourn for people. We realize what we missed by the way we treated them. We understand that there is no longer a chance to rectify the wrongs. We immediately start to miss what was best about that person even when we did not understand it while we had them right in front of us. We see the good in them that we hope will one day be seen in us. That is what John was good. Good that the world still needs and now the rest of us must now carry on.

I celebrate John. I thank him for giving me the time of day even when I did not think I had it for him. I appreciate how he looked after my child and all the others at the school as if they were his own. I am joyful that he was part of my life.

So I hope that Death is done for now though I know tomorrow morning I will hear the news. I will hear more names. I will hope that those connected to those names will be able to, after a bit, celebrate the life that was.

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Words can hurt – when they echo back

Posted on January 2, 2016 by Bob Martin

I find it appropriate that my first entry occurs on New Year’s Day and that it centers on quitting. The two seem to go hand-in-hand for so many people. Many people might think I have this backwards. New Year’s has nothing to do with quitting – it is all about starting or starting again. Look at me, I am starting this site on that oh so special day of resolutions. This day is not about quitting or is it?

So why talk about quitting?

This morning, while trying to put together some writings, my daughter joined me with her little notebooks, pens, plain paper, and clipboard. She likes to sit and draw while I write. At the age of 8, she is determined to be an artist. The interesting thing is that this has been her choice of careers for over four years now. While she states this, she is not always willing to work towards the goal – she is 8.

As I sat at my keyboard, playing some great jazz, the budding artist kept asking to watch a YouTube channel. Her friend had introduced her to a great site for showing children how to draw. I played an episode and then she walked away to her place. A few minutes later she would jump off the bed with a huge smile and a finished product. She amazed me as she offered up almost an exact likeness of what had been shown in the video. Her smiles showed that she understood her talent and how much joy it brought. Then it happened…

We watched an episode on drawing an animated cupcake. So cute, yet much more difficult to get like the video. She went to her spot and tried. I heard a grunt or growl followed by the eraser removing the first attempt. The sounds went quiet. I looked over to see a totally focused youngin’. I could tell with the tongue hanging out. This attempt ended much like the first.

She brought her clipboard back to the computer. “Daddy. This is hard.” I could hear defeat. We watched the video once again. She tried while standing at the computer. No luck. She stopped drawing. “I can’t do this.”

I tried to talk her through her steps, but the decision had been made. It would not happen. “This is too hard. It doesn’t look like the picture. I CAN’T DO IT!” Words of encouragement failed.

My teaching brain kicked in and I saw this as one of those moments. “Are you quitting?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you a quitter?” I went too far. The tears started and off she ran. Daddy screwed up.

I let her be, I let her think. She returned within five minutes telling me that I hurt her feelings. Words I hear about all too often now-a-days. “I am not a quitter,” she whispered. We talked about what quitting means. We talked about the difference between setting something down for a while and quitting when things become difficult. She took up pencil and tried for fifteen more minutes before taking a break.

Yes, my words hurt her, but hopefully she understands. Then the echoes started and the words started attacking me. I realized once again that children take after their parents in many ways. I looked inwards and realized that she learned to quit from me.

How many things do we, as adults, start but stop as soon as it proves to be more difficult than first thought. How many things do we start with the best of intentions but stop due to – not enough time, other obligations, not the fun we thought, or worse – we stop without even realizing that we stop.

I have tried weight loss only to find myself nibbling a few days later thinking it is okay, one should not go cold turkey. The nibbling continued with that thought and the exercise waned as the days became busy.

I have tried learning languages. The first week, I worked at it every day. I learned a few words or phrases. Then I missed a day – no problem. I missed another day, must get back to it tomorrow. Tomorrow never came.

As I pondered my past, my daughter moved my keyboard. It is a cheap keyboard and one leg broke off days after getting it. The little artist found a harmonica propping up the keyboard, “What’s this?”

Outwardly, I tell her what a harmonica is and how it works. Inwardly, I stated – a failure. Something I quit.

So today I start this blog. I look to put thoughts to electrons. I will work to show my daughter that when you are doing something you want to do, quitting is the last option. Work, determination, and perseverance are the things needed to succeed.

So back to my comparison of quitting and New Year’s. So many make resolutions to better themselves, improve the world, start a new hobby only to drop off by mid-January. I wish upon all of you that if it is truly something you want that you don’t quit. Try each and every day and if you falter, oh well. If you falter, remember to get up and try again even if that means starting over.

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