Lessons From a Walk in the Mountains

Posted on March 22, 2019 by Bob Martin
Dirt Road
The Beginning of the Path

We are currently on our district’s spring break. After spending the first few days puttering around the house and checking things off the to-do list, we left the city behind to spend a few days up in the mountains. While my wife and I still do some work for our jobs, it seems like the stress of the jobs cannot traverse up the nearly 7000’. We have some great family time and downtime. However, I also take advantage of the area and go for some lengthy walks. The walk of yesterday is where I meander with this posting.

I love to go out early when the sun is just starting to peak about the peeks. The quiet of the time and lack of human movement allow me to let go and just let my mind wander while I move about the path of which I have chosen. Yet yesterday’s walk seemed to come with a more focused mind than other wanderings. My mind kept comparing this simple event to life. Parts of life and life as a whole.

My walk started within the warmth and love of my home. Since the temperature stood at a brisk 27 degrees, I prepared to leave the house by putting on layer upon layer. The home contained a loving, supporting family. I didn’t want to leave, but, much like a young person reaching adulthood, no matter the love and support, there comes a time when the door must be opened and out you step.

Standing on the back porch, it did not seem bad. I had a feeling of “nothing could hold me back.” That young 20 something came to mind as he might be graduating college, entering an apprenticeship, starting a new job, joining the military – any number of paths that would be awaiting – all that takes is that first step – of the porch I went.

So many different paths stood before me when I reached the end of the drive and the first intersection. I could go left, right, forward, or back. The path, while it could be suggested to me by others, was mine to choose. Straight-on with a goal in mind, I stepped.

The first part of my walk had me moving forward, making a turn when needed, choosing not to go down paths that looked to be dead ends, ignoring options that, I thought, might take me from my goal. My head stayed down watching the road for after the harsh winter, it was anything but smooth. There were potholes, cracks, rocks, and large puddles that I had to avoid. Eyes down from other distractions that might trip me up. I moved just like a young person trying to obtain their goal. I was full of energy and the goal seemed simple.

Soon I reached the first uphill. The road was still treacherous to the step and now the first incline started. I hadn’t noticed it while walking amongst the houses, but now I realized that there was a slight breeze. As luck would have it, the breeze was a tailwind, pushing from behind. I felt the wind as fingers and then a whole hand pushing me up that first obstacle. It was as if nature wanted to help me reach that goal. I thought of being the young person in school or shortly after joining the Air Force. I had so many people supporting me, rooting for me. Wanting me to succeed and pushing me up that hill.

Part way up that hill, a noise, possibly the call of a bird or some other animal, caused me to turn my head and look back. I could see how far I had already come. More importantly, I noticed that off my right shoulder clouds were beginning to form. A storm might be brewing. I knew that it would not start during my journey, so instead of fear, I took in its beauty. I realized that it had been there all along, but my head down walking had made me miss the awe of my surroundings. I once again equated it to my younger years when I was so focused on doing the right things, on reaching for a goal, that I had forgotten to take in how beautiful the world was, and I closed myself off from enjoying what I had as part of my life.

The top of the hill made me swerve off my path for a gate was closed across the road. How many times do we work hard at a path only to find that it is blocked, it is not the right path. We worked to only have to find a different path to move along.

I finally reached my first downhill. I can move faster, but it does carry several twists and turns as it goes. The downslope gives a false sense of security for the road is now paved and the hazards of the earlier roads disappear. I start to take in more of the scenery. I notice that the dry lake bed is now anything but. The flat area that normally allows for livestock to move about is now covered with water. It is due to this lack of concentration that I feel my feet slip and lose the normal stride. The “safe” road has a slight angle to it and with this the melting snow of the last few days had made a little stream to cross the pavement. Unfortunately, with the cold temperatures of the night, this temporary stream froze. I slid a bit – no fall or injuries, but I had been caught losing sight of my goal. Doesn’t this sound so much like life? You finally get to a point where you can have a little less stress, you can start to enjoy things only to be caught of guard when reality sneaks up on you.

The rest of the first part of the loop equated to finally getting in a position that works for you. It had some up hill and some down. You could enjoy the surroundings while keeping your eye glancing at the road. Then life sneaks up on you.

A dry lake bed – no more

I rounded the corner of the farthest point – not half way but turning to head in a different direction. I know this path and am looking forward to a nice downhill stretch. Just like life, this walk had different thoughts. Those winds that had earlier seemed to be friendly and wanting to see me succeed now turned on me.

I walked into a headwind. At first it seemed fine, but the more I moved into the open, the more it grew. While measuring devices probably tracked it at a mile or two, with the cold and nothing to block it, it felt like gale force winds. It did not help that I now walked on the opposite side of the no-longer dry lake bed. The choppy water slapped against the shore. As I walked, I could feel that it hit the shore hard enough to throw droplets of water into the air and right towards my face. The wet wind reminded me of the winters in England. The cold moisture would penetrate any clothes and go right through your skin and into the bones. I could feel my arms tightening up in the cold. How many times do you feel as if you should be in a coasting period of life only to find those who helped you in the past, or should be helping you now, are actually the obstacles trying to force you from your path.

Finally, I reached the area that had me back within neighborhoods. The winds, blocked, no longer held me back. I plateaued on the roads. Just like life there comes a time when you seem to be moving along nice and steady – not struggling but not coasting either. I moved forward now seeing the end in sight – I was well over half-way.

The point that really seemed to mirror my life is the beginning of the last third. The path turned to the left and it went up – really up. The point where your energy is starting to fade; you find the most difficult of the climb. I thought about how when people, like me, are in their fifties, it should be the start of the downhill coast – it’s not. It is at this point that the struggles to prove that you are still relevant begin. You are now set deep into making your goal happen and you must struggle to juggle all that life has given you.

Only during the last part of the walk did the uphill seem to disappear. Some of the path went down, most was just even. Even with the lack of uphill, the struggles of the damaged and icy road still popped up causing me to stay alert and get through the obstacles.

Finally, I came to the front door. I met and conquered my goal. Yet, the door was locked. I had to knock to gain entry. I saw this as one of two parts to life. How many times do we find the proverbial door closed and we must make a choice to knock or turn away? I also pictured this being the Heavenly gates, and I know I will knock at and hope that it opens.

It is interesting as I look back at this walk. I realized how many ups and downs my own life has had to date, and I know that there will be so many. I know that my working to be healthy is supported by many – my family and friends. I know that they are with me every step that I take. However, in the end, I see that my life is my path. No matter the support and love, it is up to me. I can decide to go an easy route but find that the end is nowhere as beautiful as one that requires more work. The twists and turns of my life might be slightly affected by outside items, but it is still my choice whether to stay the course or turn. I have turned at times when I shouldn’t have. I have stayed straight and struggled when there was an easier route. However, I am at the top of a beautiful mountain – both literally and figuratively. I am happy that I have reached this point and am anxious to see where the path goes next.

Reflections of Life

I must say that there were three other things that came up during this walk. I saw a lot of death as I walked. We are in the middle of winter (regardless of what the calendar says), and the trees are leafless and, due to drought, many dead trees waiting to fall. Yet, at the same time, I saw new life. I saw how the trees dropped the seeds for new life. That new life was growing and popping. I realized that I could look at the death and sadness or look at the hope of the future. This goes right along with the smells of the day. Many times, I took in the smell of pine, but nature made sure I knew that life isn’t always sweet. It also kicked the smell of the dirt road into my nostrils and horse manure.

The last comparison of life was this voice in my head. How often do we travel through life with a voice in our head telling us that we are not good enough? That was my journey as well. I had my health app running during the entire trip. Every half mile, the voice came on and she told me my overall time, my split time, and my current pace. It was a voice telling me, “You’re not good enough. You’re not fast enough. You should do better.” How often do we sit there and let that voice talk to us in that way? Do you realize that that is your own voice saying those things?

So, this was quite a journey for me during this walk. I went through an entire life span. I saw the ups and downs. I struggled. I coasted. I made my goal. I realized that life can only defeat me if I let it.

On a side note, I walked the same path today. The temps were colder but there was no wind. The walk was easier, possibly due to different music as well. It showed me that the same path can be walked twice, but due to obstacles or items both within and outside of our control, the path is different. I can sit and be upset that the path can be easier for some than others. I can sit and question whether I should have taken a different path yesterday. I can… There are so many I cans, I should have, I regret, I wish I had in life that we could spend a life just looking at those.

Calmness

I thank for you for allowing me to meander with you. I hope your path has less ups than downs.

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Thank you, Facebook???

Posted on September 24, 2018 by Bob Martin

Today was one of those days in which you get out of bed with excitement for the day, and then, with little warning or time gone, the day turns. I am not talking life shattering disastrous things – just little things – one right after another. The biggest problem is that with each thing that happened, I allowed myself to fall down the hole without a second thought. I not once tried to stop my mood from falling. I almost looked forward to seeing how far down, the day would go.

Then it happened. Facebook popped up with “We have memories for you.” I pushed it off. I didn’t want to walk down memory lane. I think in the back of my mind, I didn’t want something to cheer me up. I was totally ignoring everything I always tell our daughter. I totally wiped away the “no matter what happens, it is your choice on how you react.” Lunch came and I scanned my notifications on my phone. Once again, I saw that I had memories. I clicked on it.

Facebook reminded me, in so many ways that today is the second anniversary of my Mom’s passing. Stupid Facebook told me in memory post after memory post that she passed away on this day. The app took no worry in reminding me that this was the day in which we had to say good bye to the last parent – the woman who raised my brothers and me. I was ready to shut my office door and dig deeper into the hole. Then I noticed –

I saw that with the different posts from that day there were over 100, 150, 200 comments. I saw how many friends past and present reached out to me and my brothers that day. I saw the love, the prayers, the concerns, and the friendship.

Facebook reminded me of stories that people had shared. It showed me comments from people who never met my mom, but who just knew that she was a good person. I saw so many people wanting to help in any way possible. I saw that even on, one of my darkest days, I had a lot of love and support. I saw I was being stupid today.

My life today is in a much better place than I was on that day. I have been so lucky and fortunate in where my life has gone. My brothers are all still here and healthy. I have a beautiful wife who supports and loves me in so many ways. We have a daughter that trusts and loves us as she grows. We have friends that are dealing with so many problems.

How could I sit there and wallow away for such little issues?

I finished reading the posts. I wiped away my tear. I decided to work hard to change who I am.

Today, of any day, I have the right to be a little off. It would be easy for me to just toss in the towel. I cannot. I read those posts about my Mom and thought about how she would react had she seen me.

I will not say that this day does not have sadness connected to it. It also has love and support attached to it. In the last act of my Mom, I find love.

Mom – I still miss you every day, but thank you for smacking me in the head and telling me to knock it off.

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Lessons From a Mountain

Posted on June 29, 2018 by Bob Martin

Today I set out with a simple goal to climb up to the a place called Midnight Dome in Dawson City. We are traveling through the Yukon, and my wife saw this “little” hike listed on the local things to do. I asked at the front desk. The clerk informed me that the hike is on a paved road and not all that bad. She stated it took about four hours to complete. With that information, I decided to get up early and take on the challenge. What I didn’t realize was that I would come back very tired but also having learned a lesson on life.  So, where and how did this lesson happen?

My watch vibrated at 4 a.m. I hit snooze and started debating whether the trek would be worth the loss of sleep. Ten minutes later and our daughter tapped me on the head. She had woken up, and was having problems getting back to sleep. I sat with her for a few minutes as she quickly drifted back to sleep. I listened in the quiet of the room to hear the birds already chirping away outside. The sunlight peaked under the blackout curtains. It looked the same as when I looked over at the window around midnight. The sun, having never really set, called for me to get dressed and get going.

I walked down the stairs and pushed the doors open very much like a baby leaving the warmth and darkness only to enter a cold and bright world. The temps were in the mid-40s and the sun was bright and welcoming.

I had the joy of walking by Jack London’s cabin. The story of Call of the Wild bounced in my mind as I turned to start up the path. I plugged in my earbuds to listen to music that I had hoped would bring me closer to nature and God. I found it interesting because as I walked, I came to realize that what I thought was going to be a means of drawing me into nature actually took me out of it. A short distance into the walk and the buds came out and the music went away. Now my ears were filled with the sounds of the birds, the breeze through the trees, and m breathing – very heavy breathing.

Then the life lesson started. As I climbed up the mountain, I realized that with almost every turn in the road, I would find that the incline grew steeper. I swear that at one point I was waiting to go inverted. The road continued with very little respite. By respite I mean that we dropped to less than a 45 degree incline. As I put one foot in front of the other, I started questioning my goal. Why had I chosen this? What exactly was the reward for completing the task? Was it worth my time?

Somewhere along the way, I met three young Australians coming down the road. I mention the fact that they are Australian only because I think they have the coolest accents. I looked at them with possibly the reddest face possible and asked if I was close. They smiled back and the youngest of the group shook his head and stated, “Sorry mate. You have quite a ways to go.”

The young lady in the group must have seen some disappointment in my face since she quickly added, “But hey…you’re closer now than you were when you first started.” Those words stuck with me as I walked.

I turned the corner that they had just come around only to find, yes, a steeper climb. I realized that this mountain was a metaphor for life. I came out of the hotel like that newborn described earlier. As I walked from the hotel to the bottom of the climb, the roads were pretty flat – the walk was not all that bad. There were some inclines, but just little training hills. I was learning. My muscles were getting the feel for what was to come. I even passed the house of one of my idols – just like a child idolizes people who have done something they want to do.

As I walked up the road, the path became more difficult, more tedious. At first, while I could sense what was to come, I handled the path without issue. I could equate this to my time after high school and through my early 20s. A couple of spots went steep, but quickly went flatter. During the 20s I tried new jobs, I tried new experiences, worked through relationships, but in the end, I knew I still had the support and guidance of my family. The woods opened up and I saw my first glimpse down into the valley. The picture of what was to come – the same as young adults get an idea as to what life will bring.

Then the work really started. I knew there was an apex at the end, a peak showing that I had accomplished what I set out to do. However, that final view, the sense of being on top would not come without work. I leaned forward and started working. My pacer counted off the half miles. Some went quicker than others – some went slower. Yet the count continued and did not stop.

All the while I monitored my time for I knew that I had to be back to the hotel so I could shower, have breakfast with the family, and start the day. I knew that sometimes; the needs of a family could stop one from reaching a goal – especially when the goal was solely for my own ego. I set a time limit and kept trudging along. I could start to feel aches in my legs, but I kept moving forward. I thought of the times when I had to sacrifice or give up other things in order to reach a goal. Still that pinnacle seemed to be so far away – it was.

Finally, my watch showed my stopping point. I had no clue how close to the top I had come. I had set a time and that time ran out. I stopped in the middle of the road and stared forward. My goal was not visible. The time to re-evaluate my goal had come. I realized that much like life, we set goals for ourselves and some of those goals are not reachable. This doesn’t mean that the goal can never be reached, but, perhaps, it needs to be done at a different time – or not at all.

I told myself that it was time to turn back and that I did. I started down the mountain. Disappointment set in. I felt like a failure. I gave a self-pity party for a minute. Then I started thinking. I got up (late which affected the time), but I got up. I walked as fast as I could with my Santa belly stuck out in front of me. I never stopped until the time clicked to signal an end. So many others were still asleep in the town, but here I stood far, “Closer than I was than when I started.”

I walked a couple of more minutes wondering how I could have done better. I ran through the process in my mind. It was then that I thought about the fact that I forgot a simple calculation. I split my time in half. Yet, it would not take me the same amount of time to come down as to go up. I turned around and allotted myself an extra fifteen minutes to climb. Once again, I leaned forward and up I went.

This goal could be compared to any goal that we set for ourselves. For me, I kept thinking about people working. I thought about them climbing the mountain of promotion and raises. I thought of how many times, I have worked to get ahead while at the same time worrying about making sure I was back for my family. My strides grew – my pace did not.

Once again, the watch ticked away and I reached the point of no return. I had, with a smile on my face, accepted that it was not to be. Prior to turning, I did see a little clearing ahead so I hoped to at least get a few photos. I approached the clearing and saw the road went a little left and forward. I took it for the right shot. As I turned the corner, I realized that I had reached the top. I made my goal. I conquered my mountain. I took some pictures and knew that I really had to head back. It took me so long to reach my goal, that I had very little time to take it in. I tried to look around and memorize everything so I could remember it forever. I then started down. I wanted to scream for joy, but didn’t want to disturb the silence. I wanted to leave a mark of some sort, but you do not destroy nature. I reached my goal and left it with no mark – no way for others to know what I did.

The path down made me think of life when work is done. I thought I could coast down and not have to work. WRONG! I started letting my feet just walk – hey it was downhill. However, this threw off my pace. I needed to continue to concentrate on what I was doing in order to make it to the end safely. All along the road was loose gravel and fresh tar. I understood that by not paying attention to my path, I was going to end up sliding down a lot faster than wanted. I chose my steps carefully for I didn’t want it to end to quickly nor did I want to suffer along the way. I did realize that there was more to take in. I saw views that I had missed because I had my head down as I worked towards my original goal. I worked so hard to get to the top that I missed so many things. My trip down allowed me to take those things in and enjoy what I was doing. Had I continued to work in the same fashion, I would have missed the two small foxes playing along the road.

As I reached the bottom of the road, I tried to remember the view that I had seen at the top. I could draw it back into my mind, but it was not the same vivid colors as when I first viewed the valleys. Already the memory was fading. I thought of those of the older generation. I could still pull up my pictures and remember the view. The struggle to do it in my head made me sad for those who cannot pull up beautiful memories or the names of loved one. Once down and in a safe place to close my eyes, the memories came back. For those that suffer from dementia, they never come back.

So, there we go. I heard of a nice “easy” hike. I thought I would do it to get some nice views and instead took a look at my life and how it works. I will still have goals. I will still work towards them. Perhaps though, I need to rethink what those goals are and what they bring me. Today – my goal brought me views that I will never see again. Today brought me joy. Today brought me a sense of accomplishment. Not all my goals will bring me that. Not all my goals are worth the time I give them.

Thanks for wandering with me today.

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Lessons From Letting Go

Posted on June 19, 2018 by Bob Martin

Today I write for others and me. I write because I know that putting thoughts down on the fake piece of paper on the screen helps me to process all that is going on in my brain. I also write this post not for comments, but for people who are going through similar issues and can’t quite grasp what is going on. The last part is not an insult. I say that for it has taken me just shy of 53 years to just begin to understand.

Today’s lessons come from letting go.

This morning, for the first time in months, I headed out to exercise. This person who only a year and three months ago did a marathon could only walk – not even jog – 3 miles. I bet the sweat in my shirt could have filled a 2-liter bottle (I may be exaggerating that one). I so wanted to stay in the house. There were e-mails to read, news to watch, breakfast to make, etc. Yet, out I went – finally. Earbuds in, music on, and feet were moving – one foot in front of the other.

I really went today because I did not have the excuse of work. Today was day 2 of vacation. I had also promised my wife that I was going to try. So try I did. I let go of the excuses and “better” things to be doing and went.

I started off looking at the drivers and how they didn’t stop at intersections. I walked by noisy dogs barking. My pace not where it should have been. Then I let go. I let the music in (80’s revolution) and I stopped looking for the bad. I felt the warmth of the sun as it came the mountain. I relished the breeze that blew oh so gently. My pace quickened. I stopped looking for the bad, and started noticing the good around me. The smell of the flowers as they opened filled my nostrils. The gorgeous dogs that were being walked with what looked like grins on their faces. I realized that drivers were stopping at intersections and driveways as I walked along letting me pass instead of cutting me off. I waved an acknowledgement and received one in reply with a smile. Around the third wave, I realized that they were not just returning the wave, but the smile was reciprocal for I was smiling at them.

All of this set me up for a great day at the zoo with our daughter. I even found in the evening, while part of me was looking forward to a nap, I had energy so a second work out happened. But my walk opened up so much more to me about letting go.

I re-realized that I hold on to too many things – both materialistically and mentally. During my walk, I started thinking of what I would be giving up by letting so many of these things go. The answer was one I hated – life would be better. Why would I hate such an answer? It means that I have been wasting so much of my time and energy by holding on.

My wife used to watch a show called, “Biggest Loser.” I am sure most of you have heard of it. As the contestants struggled to lose weight, their trainers always worked with them to find out why they held on to the life that brought them to this point. They would tell the men and women that until they worked through that, they would just continue on the roller coaster of weight, but once they worked through the problem(s) the roller coaster would come in to the station and life would begin.

I know my current weight is my doing. Want the excuses – stress of work, the number of hours I worked, being too tired to get up and do it, obligations to the family, it’s not the beginning of the week (you can only start a program at the start of the week), it’s too cold, it’s too hot, I need to watch the news, I …

The real problem was none of these, but they sure made it easy to forget the elephant in the room. I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t give time to me for that meant (supposedly) I was taking time away from someone or many. I was afraid to see what I could become and then look back on what I was.

The bigger issue was that this was not only with my weight. I stopped writing thinking that my work wasn’t good enough – though I really write for myself so what does that say about me as a critic. I would post things on Facebook and then worry whether or not I offended people (and if I did – delete). I would volunteer time and then get upset when people would recognize my efforts.

I had/have to let go of worrying about how people perceive me. I know I have written this before, but this is a problem that is bigger than just me. I continuously worry about this, and to make matters worse, it is not just the living for which I worry. I often sit and wonder how my parents, grandparents, passed friends would feel about who I am today.

I realized that I have a lot of doo doo of which to let go. I envy those who, at least appear, truly go through life not worried about how people see them. If they make enemies that means that they have taken a stand. If someone doesn’t like what they are doing – oh well. I may not become someone like that, but I definitely want to be a different me.

This was one hell of a walk today. I realized (for the one hundred trillionth time) that in my house were the only people that mattered – my wife and our daughter. People who stand behind me and support me no matter what. Two people who, just like in the real marathon, will always be at the finish line cheering me on. People who I would go the end of the earth for and slay every dragon to protect them. I realized that I needed to let everything else go in order to keep holding them for my arms are only so big.

This is now the summer of me (ok. Work through this. Let go of the fact that you are worried that this sounds selfish). I am going to be working on being a better me so we can be an even better family. I sat and jotted things down that I will need to do to make this happen. This will involve some meditation, prayer, prayer, and more prayer. It will involve writing down goals and caring them out. I will need to get up and leave things behind while I work-out to find the healthier me.

I will work on figuring out how to let people have their own opinion of me without it changing who or what I am. I will not stop helping people, but worry less about how people see that help. Work will continue – an honest day’s work for an honest day’s wage. I will start writing more and if that writing bothers people then maybe I am saying something that needs to be said. I will no longer delete because it may offend.

I will also let go of those who have passed. The memories I have our wonderful, and those I will keep. However, I will no longer worry about whether or not I am making them proud. I won’t worry if my decision would live up to their standards. I will remember them with a smile, but no longer allow them to control me.

This last part is the hardest, yet I feel that if I am successful at the above – it will happen. I will stop hiding and shying away from going out and enjoying life. Our daughter is only young once, and I refuse to stay home anymore because it is a party of function with a lot of people. I will celebrate every day, hour, minute, second with my family.

So this seems to be all about me – why am I posting it? I am posting it because in my circle I know too many who suffer similar issues. I hope that by my being willing to put all of my faults out there and let them go – hopefully it may help someone else.

So here is to all of you – you know who you are. Let’s turn this into the summer of letting go.

 

 

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No Lessons – Just Happy Memories

Posted on May 27, 2018 by Bob Martin

Today’s writing is not about lessons learned. It is about happy memories that I write just to have down on paper for when I am older and things aren’t so easily recalled.

Today is an anniversary for me – one that I never thought I would see. 12 years have come and gone since the original event. A dozen, which is impressive since the longest I had ever stuck with anything, was the 9+ years in the military. Let’s face it, that was not something I could just walk away from – they frown on people going AWOL. These last 12 years have been totally by choice, and I would not give them up for anything.

Nancy and I had been dating for seven months. At the age of 40, I was over the moon knowing that I had finally found a person to be in my life. I was ready to take the leap. I quietly found a way to measure a ring of hers and made the purchase. We had plans to spend the Memorial Day weekend in beautiful Monterey, California. Based on comments she made, I felt pretty confident that I had pulled off the surprise.

My family knew especially my mom since the question would be popped on her birthday. I apologize to my father-in-law since I did not contact him ahead of time. So today, I ask, “Mr. Arlington? Is it with your blessing that I take your daughter’s hand in marriage?” I should have asked then, but I didn’t want anyone who talked with Nancy knowing.

The night finally came. We picked a nice restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf. A good meal, some wine, and a bulge in my pocket.

The conversation was light with a lot of laughs. At one point, Nancy hinted about us not getting any younger. A hint that she had used prior. I was prepared with my standard line. There were times that I had would hear Dr. Laura on the radio. I know a lot of people cannot stand her and her ways. I always found it interesting to hear the calls that would come in. The one thing I kept hearing her tell people was that they should date a year before taking the plunge. So when Nancy “hinted” again, I told her that Dr. Laura says one year.

Nancy pulled a fast one for which I was not prepared. She looked at me for a second, smiled, and said, “I wrote her.” What?!?!?!

I questioned whether this was a joke.

She then produced a printed copy of an e-mail. She had in fact written the show asking about this advice. I doubt Laura wrote the e-mail stated that at our mature age, we probably didn’t need to wait so long. I laughed and reached for the bulge.

The food was eaten and the wine was gone. It was time to leave the restaurant. I suggested that we stroll up to the end of the wharf to see the sunset. To my luck, the pier was empty except for a single couple at the other side.

We chatted. We looked at the waves striking the pier below. We took in the beauty of the sun setting in to the Pacific. It was quiet except for the calls of some seagulls. The time was right. I slipped the box out of my pocket while she looked west, to the future – our future. I silently dropped to a knee. She turned.

“Nancy. You are the person I was meant to be with. Will you be my best friend, my partner, my wife?”

Nancy let out a scream and hugged me like I have never been hugged. I could see the couple at the other end. The man started stepping towards us; I think he thought she was being attacked. The girl stopped him. She knew what was going on.

12 years ago this evening, this event took place. Yet when I close my eyes, I can still picture it perfectly. I can hear every sound. I can feel the warmth in my heart knowing that I finally had a person to be with me from that moment until eternity.

Thank you, Nancy for saying Yes.

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Lessons from Lessons We Teach Our Daughter

Posted on May 5, 2018 by Bob Martin

This past week has been interesting for me. I might be able to say that it was one of my better weeks. I still worked my normal hours. I still had the same amount of tasks ahead of me. The family schedule was still filled with activities. Yet, though most of my life was the same, one small change in my life made for a huge difference in how my week went.

Part of me wants to sit here wondering why I did not make this change earlier, and how much different things could be. Then again that would be falling back into old trappings. I am going to share this and then continue marching forward.

Here is the silly part of all of this. Had I just listened to myself or to my wife as we work with our daughter, had I just followed our advice to a ten year-old, I would have made this change so long ago.

For years I have suffered with wanting to have others like me, and worrying what I did wrong when that just didn’t happen. Even though we often tell our daughter not just be herself and understand that not everyone will like everyone. It is a fact of life. Yet, I am also struck with being a people-pleaser. This might be part of being the youngest of four boys or some other cause – who knows. I am who I am. It is not easy, and has caused me to be called a brown-noser and ass kisser. Things of which I am not.

Last week, I received an email that changed this. Who it was from or what it was about is irrelevant to this post. All I need to say is that it sent such a message that it changed things for me in a permanent way. The person made it quite clear that my help was not required and that in no way would it ever be requested. It also made it clear that no matter what I did or said, this person would never care for me.

When I received the email, at first my old-self stepped up. I wrote (and deleted) a number of emails trying to make things right. I wrote (and deleted) a number of apologies for things I may have done. I wrote (and deleted) emails asking if my assistance might be used in other means. Then, then it happened…

A voice went off in my head asking why I would even want to have anything to do with a person such as this. Why would I keep coming back like a beaten dog asking to be liked? What the hell was wrong with me?

I finally gave myself to permission to let go. I told myself that it was okay not to be liked by everyone. I realized that I was spending way too much time and energy on trying to make relationships where relationships did not exist. I followed the advice that we so often had given to our daughter. Be who you are. If people do not like you for that, so be it. Move on.

All of this leads me to this week. I started looking at more than just this one person. How many others had I been giving so much of my time and energy to who did not deserve, ask for, or want it. I stopped jumping in to situations solely on hoping to repair relationships that were never whole.

I cannot say that I no longer care about how people perceive me. I am working on that. I know who I am. I know what I have to offer. I have a better understanding of relationships. If I wrong someone, I will do all I can do to correct my wrong-doings. If someone doesn’t care for me just because of the person I am, well then I wish you well and I will continue on my path of life. I will no longer stop moving forward in hopes of having another walking the path with me.

The happiness I felt this week permeated into other aspects of my life. The weight off of my shoulders (weight I placed there) made me walk with a spring in my step (I actually danced at work – Okay, my version of dancing). I still had a lot to do. I still needed to help so many. The lack of worrying about how others perceived me made life easier.

Due to this, I am looking at other binds that are holding me back. Over the next week, I am going to be cleaning the garage and backroom. There are so many boxes filled with things from my past of which I store and never look at. How much baggage do those things bring with them? How much lighter will my step be when I start letting those things go?

I am so looking forward to what lies ahead.

Posted in Do right thing, Lessons, Thoughts | Leave a comment

Lesson About Priorities

Posted on February 28, 2018 by Bob Martin

Tonight’s post has many purposes. The one thing it is not for is sympathy. It does carry with it an apology to my wife and daughter. It holds a reflection of who I am. It has, I hope, a message for many people – people like me. It carries these responsibilities as I explain my morning to the world.

Like most mornings, I woke early, got ready for work, and prepared for the day. This included making our daughter’s lunch, and getting both of us out the door and on with the day. I promised our daughter breakfast out, so I had one less thing to worry about. I kissed my wife as she walked out. I checked the thermostat to ensure we weren’t heating an empty house. I poured the cats a snack and checked their water. I surveyed the house one last time, and off we went.

As we drove down the hill, our daughter and I chatted about the book she had just finished. She was writing a summary for class and was checking how things sounded. We talked about the book fair that is happening at school. Then we talked about her play and the upcoming basketball games. This morning was just like every other morning – until…
As I was driving, I start to feel a pain in my chest. It was a tightening, just discomfort. It wasn’t exactly in the chest but below it. I moved around a bit in my seat – no good. I sat up straight, I slouched – still there. It didn’t radiate. It didn’t move. Nothing else bothered me. I tried to use my diaphragm to see if it was just indigestion.

Funny side note here – I DON’T BURP!!! Never really have, and I figure after 52 years I won’t be starting any time soon. As a matter of fact, the only two times I can remember actually letting out a belch – it was followed by a flow. I get little bubbles that gently float up and out. I envied my brothers as a kid. Anyways….

I tried to see if I could dislodge some heartburn (something I never get so I didn’t know if that was this). I felt a couple of bubble, but no real change. I will admit that I did not panic. I did not fear. I accepted what this might be. Our family has a HUGE history of heart troubles, and I have already surpassed my dad by 10 years. I also know that medicine is different today than it was 30 years ago. I was ready to take this on. I continued moving about and using my diaphragm. The pain had not increased or moved, so I was pretty sure that this was whatever I ate last night. I continued slow breathing.

We stopped for breakfast and got out of the car, it started to subside. More bubbles surfaced and the difference in posture helped. It passed and I got on with my day. Physically I got on with my day – mentally was a different story.

Once I got to work, I played the events over in my head. I started to get mad at myself – not for the reason many are probably guessing. I was confident that this was just gas, so I was not upset with my actions. What bothered me was my thought pattern while dealing with all of this.

As I pondered the fact of what this might be, I started thinking about the work that laid sprawled over my desk. I thought of the finals that needed reformatting, printing, inserted into the proper programs. I thought about the work I still had to do to get our schools ready for testing. I thought about orders that had to be done. I wondered how anybody could step in and know where to pick up. I know that I am not irreplaceable. Any person can be replaced, and when the time comes, I will be replaced. I was just worried about the immediate tasks at hand and how to convey what needed to be done in what order.

After solving those issues in my mind, then I turned my thoughts to my family and how a stay in the hospital would do to them. My wife and I are a finely tuned unit. It takes both of us to get things done. I worried about the extra pressure it would put on her and how things would affect our daughter.

Funny, the one thing that did not cross my mind is what if this was the big one. I was ready to put my hand over my heart and yell, “Ethel, I’m coming.” Spiritually, I am accepting that when the end comes is not something that we get to decide, so I am doing everything I can to have that be the least of my concerns when the big one hits.

So why was I mad at myself? I spent the morning replaying the fact that work was the first thing that came to my mind. I thought over and over about how my worries were about completing tasks within my small office. My concerns first went to how much extra work this would cause others, and only after running all of that did I think about my family.
WHAT THE HELL?!?!?!?!?

I spent the day wondering about my priorities. How had my life become work first and family second? A friend explained that this is typical for men – They are hunters and providers. Men worry about taking care of their family and by doing a good job at work, we are providing for our families. While I can understand the idea behind that… WHAT THE HELL?!?!?!?!?!?!?

The sad fact is that I am not alone. I know many people who would have run similar thought patterns themselves. Too many people with whom I work would have worried about their classes, the papers needing grading, the projects due to their bosses. Not just those in education, but in so many career fields. We are a society of workaholics. Our priorities are work first family second.

The thing is that I cannot blame my job for this. I cannot place the responsibilities on the shoulders of my employers (they often tell me to leave work and go home at the end of the day). I cannot blame my family. My father, while I may have learned work ethic from him, is not responsible for how I am. The blame is squarely on my own shoulders. This is who I am. It would not matter if I was in my current job, a principal, working in a restaurant, or writing my books, this is who I have allowed myself to become.

So, I owe my family an apology. You should have been first. My love for them is bigger than any love I have ever had. They should have been first. They mean everything to me. They should have been first.

I am going to try to change. I cannot promise, but I can try. It will be baby steps. Turning off the phone at home, not worrying about emails after work. Always having my family first. I will still work the hours I do. When I am at work, work will be the priority. But I am going to try to leave work at work. I am going to enjoy my family more.

I will stumble. I will fall. I will fail time and time again. It will not happen overnight, and it may take years. I will try.

So, I ask those to whom I referred earlier. How about you? What will it take before you get the call to look at your priorities? Today, for me, it was gas. A little bit of gas. It did not frighten me. It did not make me fall to my knees and kiss the ground. It did make me think. How about you?

Posted in Do right thing, family, Lessons | Tagged | 2 Comments

Lessons From a Bouncing Ball

Posted on February 19, 2018 by Bob Martin

It is amazing what bouncing a ball can do for one’s spirit. I do not mean a little ball that fits in your hand or a basketball that can be dribbled over and over. I mean a large blue ball with green lines that you often find in K-Mart in one of those cages. That wonderful blue, bouncing toy helped me more than I could ever imagine.

This past week, month, beginning of the year has been rough. Not just for me but for so many people. In late January, we lost a friend and colleague. Only a week later, we received a call letting us know that our nephew was no longer with us. We traveled through a whirlwind weekend in order to get back to be with the family. Words cannot express those two weeks.

Then this past week, we watched in horror as the shooting in Florida took place. While we were not physically involved with that incident, since my wife and I work in education that hit home for us. It came back to us as plans were reviewed and checked. We listened to news story after news story where they talked about school shootings and said, “Not if, but when.” Then for other reasons, the last two days of the week brought other issues and stresses with them.

Add to all of this just the normal day to day life. We are a Girl Scout family deep in the sales of cookies and boothings. Our daughter is on a basketball team and has practice and games. In other words – for the last two months – LIFE HAPPENED! It is just that sometimes life can seem like this big weight just pushing down and getting heavier.

Even with all of this, I still consider myself very lucky and fortunate. I have a beautiful wife, a wonderful child, a challenging job to go to every day, a home, and so much more. However, come Saturday morning, I was sitting in a self-pity party. The worst part was that I did not want to be there, and yet no ladder was visible.

Then today happened. Our daughter had a friend come last night for a sleep over. I woke expecting to find them awake, but they were still out. I sat in silence drinking coffee. I did not turn on the television, I did not look at Facebook, I did not boot up my computer to work. I just sat and let peace happen around me. One of our cats rubbed against my leg and the other jumped into my lap and laid down (something she normally does not do).

Once the girls rose it was time for breakfast. I did something different and poured a ton of sprinkles into the batter. You would have thought that I handed them gold. “SPRINKLES!!!!!!!”, came the shout followed by giggles as chocolate syrup covered the pancakes. Healthy – maybe not.

Later the girls actually asked to go out on a hike. They wanted to go out in the 45-degree weather. A hunt was more like it since they were searching for the neighborhood peacocks. Our search did not take long before an entire family sat in front of us. The one male did not disappoint as it showed off his plumage.

Finally, the girls came home and wanted to play “handball” against our garage. This did not involve a little, hard ball, but instead big blue came to the rescue. Cold or not, they were out there swatting away at the ball, sending it hard against the door and back to them. They came in and invited me to play. Laughter, giggles, dancing, and jumping ensued for quite a while before our little friend’s mom pulled into the drive signaling an end to the visit.

The day started off nicely, but we had to get some work done. Our daughter offered to ride with me to accept a new delivery of cookies into the “cupboard”. What normally takes 10 minutes turned in to two hours as we had to move each box by hand instead of with the pallet jack. Our daughter sat there the whole time trying to keep herself busy but wondering how this little trip turned out to be never-ending. In the end, we moved everything, but the extra time with the truck cut out a couple of side stops for which she had been hoping. She was quiet the ride home.

Once we returned she walked in to find her blue friend waiting for her. She held it up to me with anticipation. I asked for 10 minutes to sit. She agreed, but her face told me her true feelings. After the ten minutes, the promise was kept.

The two of us went out into the drive and started hammering that ball against the door. We dodged each other, we side stepped, we played, and we enjoyed each other. While this was not a new game to me, it was the first day in which she asked to share it with me. For all she knew, she was teaching me something new, and I let it be.

I listened to her laughter as we played. I let her stop and look at the clouds and tell me about them. We just were.

That silly little ball that we have kicked around the backyard, that I have told her to remove from the living room, that has tripped me in the night, brought me the ladder that I needed. It brought me time with our daughter and it reminded me of why I do so much of what I do.

Today, I needed that little ball and the laughter of a child to bring joy back.

We all have those days, weeks, months, and, possibly, years. I pray that when it happens to you that you have a bright blue, bouncy ball to help you through.

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No Time to Say Good-Bye

Posted on January 28, 2018 by Bob Martin

As I have gotten older, I have started to understand my parents and grandparents a little more. Those silly old people somehow grew in wisdom as I grew in age. Perhaps it was hanging around me so much that they just could not help but glean some of the wisdom that, in my teenage years, I knew I had – and they were lacking. Perhaps one day, I will be able to accept that knew so much more than I will ever know, and they wasted it on trying to teach a teenager. Regardless, this past week taught me another lesson that the older generation tried so hard to get me to learn. I guess some lessons are learned when the time is right.

Part of the problem with growing older (I did not say old), is that we have more people in our lives, and more people in our lives means more people for who bad things can happen. My wife and I were looking at our friends recently and ticking off the number of people suffering from cancer, have heart issues, are dealing with addictions, or are suffering in some way. By suffering, we really meant people who are working hard to extend the time that they have here on earth. We also look at family and friends whose ages were numbers that we never thought possible when we were younger. The number blows us away. Therefore, whenever we can, we update each other on how so-and-so is doing. We tell each other about new treatments that are being attempted. We cheer their successes and weep for the losses. Nevertheless, these people, these fighters are the ones for whom I am writing.

We are accepting of the fact that our friends are going through very difficult times. We try to check in on them, find out what is going on, and when we can and no one has germs a visit to say hello. Whether we do it on purpose or not, the one thing I have noticed is how I talk with these friends. How I react when I am super busy and I see their number come up on my phone. I notice how my patience grows with these friends because I know the fight they are having. I am aware of the battle going on inside their bodies. I empathize with the struggle. Because of that struggle, I am willing to take that phone call. I am willing to do extra favors.

It is funny because even without thinking about it, we step up more for our friends who are suffering because they are our friends, but, possibly, if the worst happens, we do not want to feel as if we caused them any extra pain. We love these people and want to help – even if it is just saying hello. Still these wonderful people are not the subject today.

We recently lost a colleague, a friend. We lost a person who should still be around to say hello in the morning. Someone who should be able to share stories of her children with my wife. A person who 7 days ago was not even close to being on the list of friends above. It happened quickly. It happened without notice. It happened without the time to say good-bye. That is what today’s writing is about – not having the time to say good-bye.

In the last few days, this friend has been the topic of a number of conversations. We talked about how wonderful she was. People have written about her love was more abundant than all others. I have read about how she cared about so many and always worked so hard. Friends are pouring out their hearts with tales of their time with her. Except we never got to say good-bye.

I have played things over and over in my head. Were there times that she called me while I was in the middle of something and I let the phone go to voicemail knowing that I could always call her later? Did I ever let an email go unanswered? Did I avoid her because I just didn’t have the time to talk? Did I miss an opportunity to say one last nice thing to her?
Quite honestly, I do not know the answers to the above questions. Just like the rest of us, my day gets busy and has many people moving in and out of it. I want to believe that I always gave her a friendly hello when we passed; I know she always gave one to me.

The question today, though, is why are we willing to give those friends struggling our time and attention, and allow all the others to get what they get? We always want to believe that those friends will be back tomorrow. We can give them our time tomorrow. We can answer their call tomorrow. Our smile will be on our face the next time we see them. The extra favor can be done…

No. It can’t always be done tomorrow. This week was a wakeup call to a familiar song. We do not know what tomorrow will bring and if we will be part of it. All of our friends, family, co-workers, and others deserve to be treated like there is no tomorrow.

I know that come tomorrow (a Monday) the rat race will be off and running again. I know that both lines of my phone will be ringing and someone will step into my office wanting to talk with me. I am not naïve enough to think that there are enough hours in the day to handle what we are responsible for and give ourselves to everyone. But perhaps, just perhaps, tomorrow when I am unable to take a call, answer an email, stop and talk, I will remember to reach out to those people at a later time to let them know that I care.

I am well aware that there will be so many more days where I will find out that I did not get to say good-bye. Yet, I can do something from now on to make sure that those days might be a little easier.

Posted in death, Do right thing, Lessons | 1 Comment

11 years and counting

Posted on January 20, 2018 by Bob Martin

11 years ago, this morning, I woke up on the couch in my apartment. My small one-bedroom was filled with people sleeping in different places. It is funny, the feeling you have when you wake up in somewhere other than your bed. I sat up, wiped the sleep out of my eyes, and tried to remember why I was on the couch. Then it hit me, people were in my apartment to help celebrate my wedding later that day. It is hard to believe that 11 years have passed since that morning. Then again, it is hard to believe that it has only been 11 years.

I can still remember a sense of peace falling over me that day. In the weeks leading up to the big celebration, I worried about how I would feel on THE DAY. Friends joked with me about having an exit prepped and ready. Colleagues told me to expect nerves to grow and take over. Family members told me it was okay to question and worry about what I was promising to do. None of those things happened. I knew that morning that this was the right thing and that no matter the future, I had found the right person with whom to spend the rest of my life.

So today is number 11. The symbol of the 11th anniversary is steel. This represents strength and durability. I guess they figured if you make it past 10, you are solid. I feel that this is a great representation of our marriage. – Steel the material that can take a lot of hits and still be there carrying on. Steel – an almost unbreakable thing.

In those 11 years, we have grown closer. Each and every day I get to learn more and more about the person with whom I stood next to and vowed to love forever. I believe that is one of the things that has kept us together and growing. That and always being willing to talk – even the talks that you do want to have. It is only being willing to talk about issues when they are still small that we have kept things from growing. We talk, talk often and about everything.

More importantly, we listen. We try to hear not just the words, but what is behind the words. The old saying about having two ears and one mouth really comes in handy for conversations. It is not about preparing a reply or coming up with a solution, it is about just letting the words flow into your brain and processing what is being said.

I would love to say that we learned all of this on our own. I want to brag that we are brilliant and have solved the mystery of marriage, but that is not the case. We work every day at making sure we stay solid to each other and grow in love. We work and we watch…

I say we watch because we are very fortunate in the fact that we have so many couples from who we learn. One advantage of being married later in life is that we have been able to watch our family and friends work through their marriages. The number of family members and friends who have passed the 10 year mark, 20 year mark, 50 year mark and more is large. We have each watched you, listened to you, learned from you. So many great examples to follow and live up to. Thank you all of you, the list is too long to place here – you know who you are.

These 11 years have been amazing, fast, and only the start of many more.

 

Finally –

 

To My Wife,

 

11 years ago, I watched this beautiful woman walk down an aisle on the arm of her Dad. I stood in front of our friends whose eyes were all turned and watching this wonderful vision float towards me and the altar of God. I so wanted to drop to my knees at that very moment and thank God for bringing us together. I wanted to stop the music. I wanted to stop what was happening. I wanted to freeze time and be able to walk up to you and whisper how beautiful you looked. I wanted to thank you for being willing to take a chance on me. I wanted to promise you that I would always be there for you. Time wouldn’t stop, time wouldn’t let me do that. Time did allow me to keep that memory of your face and the happiness that filled it forever in my memory.

Time still has never stopped nor slowed down. It has been 11 years of pure joy for me. No matter the ups and downs, it is all joy because you are standing there next to me the same way you did 11 years ago.

I cannot promise that our life will always be smooth. I know that life resembles a roller coaster and there will be ups, downs, twists, turns, and even loops. Then again, that is what makes life exciting. I can promise that for as long as God allows me to walk this earth, it will be by your side. We will ride the roller coaster together until the end.

I cannot say you completed me since we were both whole individuals before meeting and never needed another to be complete. I can say you have changed me. You have made me strive to be better each day. You complement me in that you enhance who I am as a person. No one else could ever do that.

So even though we are not in front of family and friends, I promise once again to be your best friend, your partner, and your husband. I promise to take care of you, to cherish you, to honor you each and every day, hour, minute, second. I will make mistakes. I will forget things. I will screw up, but I will never forget who you are and what you mean to me.

My love – here is to another 11, 22, 33 years together.

Thank you once again for taking a chance on me.

Love

Me.

Posted in celebrate, Do right thing, family, Lessons, Love | Leave a comment