A Welcome Interjection

As we settled into our airplane seats, I admired the flight attendant's classic bright blue uniform  - complete with pillbox hat! - in a private comment to Steve.

The gentleman in the row ahead of us overheard my comment and turned in his seat. "Aaaah, the old Pan Am uniform." He then regaled us with tales of a circa 1970 Pan Am flight from Jamaica to New York City. "Best flight of my life...."

"Oh, except the Air France flight from Paris to New York City. First class ticket; they poured the finest wine and oh! everything was just exquisite...."

Some people object to strangers interjecting themselves into private conversations, but I welcome the intrusion, because I am so often enriched by the experience.

So here's to our fellow traveler on the Denver to NYC flight - thank you for sharing the best of your travelog with us. And here's to interjectors everywhere: Welcome to my conversation! I can't wait to meet you.

A Sweet Lesson in Love

Yesterday I stopped in to see Chris and Bernice.

Okay, I stopped in to buy a pound of Mountain Man’s Chocolate Pecan Caramel Clusters. Yep, the big bag.

But Chris and Bernice make such a handy excuse to pop in and buy a bag of chocolate. They’ve owned the sweet shop that’s just a short walk from my house for 15 years, now, and in all the years I’ve known them, they’re always sporting smiles; they’re always a pleasure to visit.

Today I had the special joy of hearing all about their 50th Anniversary plans. 50 years. They must’ve married when they were twelve; they look so young!

As Chris was ringing my purchase, I asked them how they order their merchandise. “It must be difficult to predict what folks will buy and what they won’t," I observed. Together, they said, “Is it ever!” I asked if retailers ever get the hang of it, and they said, no. Bernice said, “We make mistakes. They’re all in the corner, we call it the clearance shelf.”

We chuckled, and then we broadened the subject from retail order mistakes to mistakes in life, in general. We all make mistakes; happily for them, they’ve learned to laugh as they grow.

It was wonderful to spend a bit of my weekend in the sweetshop. To enjoy the simple pleasures of a bag of chocolate and a young couple in love.

Gorgeous, to boot!

Tonight I went shopping for a new wardrobe. My friend Stephanie started the process, about a week ago, when she took me to Macy’s during the lunch hour. “Here, buy this. And this. And this. Aaah … fabulous!”

They were fabulous, but they were just two outfits. I needed more.

So I wandered into a shop tonight and asked a clerk for help. Soon, there were three clerks and two shoppers helping me create a whole new look.

I have often enjoyed good service in clothing stores, and I have enjoyed the girl-thing that happens among confident women, albeit strangers, in a dressing room. But I don’t think I’ve ever been cognizantly grateful for it. Tonight I am.

Here’s to women helping women leap beyond the comfort of blue jeans and button down blouses. And here’s to stepping out in a gorgeous pair of boots!

Dames Who Give ...

I've recently joined a group of gals who have the right idea when it comes to fundraising. How is this for brilliant: Let's meet after work, no pomp or pretention, no glittery gowns. We will each toss money into a bowl. And then we'll give it away!!!"

For the past five months, this group of (mostly) Leadership Douglas County graduate women have met for a glass of wine and a brief presentation by a local non-profit. We gab and we giggle (as girls do), we listen, we learn, and we give.

I'm not sure who the brainchild is, I suspect it is Susan. She's an "ideas" person. In addition to Susan, there are a few key women who make sure the broadcast email is sent and the bottles of wine are purchased. There are a few little chores like that. But for the most part, it's simple giving, the way giving should be. That's pretty cool, to me.

"I'm Great!"

This morning Rick and I grabbed a quick cup of coffee at Starbucks, lucky me. Have you ever sat at a small table, across from someone ‘jazzy’, someone who just couldn’t contain their excitement for life? That was Rick, today.

Rick is a commercial Realtor, and if you’ve read the news about commercial real estate in 2011, you know the industry is suffering perhaps it’s bleakest hour in fifty years.

But when I asked, “How are YOU, Rick?”, he smiled and said, “I’m great! I’m at the front end of several projects that are going to work out quite well; I’m great!”

One of Rick’s projects is the funding, development and opening of the Lone Tree Arts Center. This is not a business deal for Rick, it’s a personal, civic endeavor. He has tremendous passion for the project and it shows. The new LTAC, which opened in August under Rick’s volunteer leadership, boasts a 500-seat auditorium and big plans for an artistically rich future.

So he might not have a real estate deal in the works; he might not have clients to meet today or tomorrow or next week. But Rick has a passion for people, he has a passion for his community, and he has a personal philosophy that dictates he will give the best of himself today.

As I sipped my coffee and listened to Rick, I couldn’t help but capture his joie de vivre; it’s contagious. There’s something spectacular about people who work hard and have a positive outlook on life, not in the best of times, but in the challenging times. Rick is someone I aspire to emulate, so it was a very good start to the day.

A Midnight Poem

Are you into poetry? I’m not, really. But every once in awhile, I will pick up a book of poetry and find myself surprised again that I don’t read it more often.

This week, I picked up Nikki Giovanni’s Bicycles: Love Poems, and found a gifted writer whose voice resonates with me. (She titled the collection, Bicycles because "love requires trust, and balance".) I flipped from page to page, which is my standard way of perusing a book of poetry. Among all the great poems in the little book, I keep reading and re-reading -

Bicycles

Midnight poems are bicycles
Taking us on safer journeys
Than jets
Quicker journeys

Than walking

But never as beautiful

A journey

As my back
Touching you under the quilt

Midnight poems
Sing a sweet song
Saying everything
Is all right

Everything
Is
Here for us

I reach out
To catch the laughter

The dog thinks

I need a kiss

Bicycles move
With the flow
Of the earth
Like a cloud
So quiet
In the October sky
Like licking ice cream
From a cone

Like knowing you

Will always

Be there

All day long I wait

For the sunset

The first star

The moon rise

I move

To a midnight

Poem

Called

You

Giovanni, Nikki. “Bicycles.” Bicycles, Love Poems. New York: HarperCollins, 2009. 29. Print.

Finally, we're talking ~

For the past six years, I've stopped at a little Mexican hole-in-the-wall for lunch, about once a week. It's the sort of place that serves food on paper plates with plastic forks, which is just fine with me.

My standard order is 2 carne asada tacos, extra cilantro & lime, for $3.20. But since my first visit six years ago, I've never spoken my order; the cook/cashier always says, "Dos carne asadas?" I respond, "Si, gracias". And that's it, because I don't speak Spanish and she doesn't speak English.

Or didn't.

Today, for the first time EVER, she brought my order to my table. And then, she smiled an animated smile & started jabbering! She talked about the incoming snow storm in broken but exuberant English, clearly happy to finally talk to me. And I was thrilled to finally talk to her!

It was such a wonderful moment! Of course, right on the heels of it, I thought again that I really must become proficient in Spanish, the sooner, the better. There are so many beautiful people that I can't experience, can't enjoy, because of my linguistic limitations.

So here's to English/Spanish language acquisition, hers today & mine tomorrow. And here's to all the good it will bring.

My "Stranger-Friend"

A few days ago, I walked into a new salon in Castle Rock. The business owner, Beth, looked like an old friend.

“Hi!”, I said, as though happy to see an old friend. “Hi!!!”, she said, with heightened emotion.

And yet, we didn’t know each other. Well, we did … but we didn’t.

We spent 20 minutes trying to figure out why we felt like we were long-lost friends, why we were so very, very sure that we were connected. But we didn’t even know each other’s names ….

We reviewed our children’s schooling and sports lives. We reviewed our church and club and neighborhood connections. We even reviewed our employment histories! But nothing matched.

We talked about hair (of course) and I planned to stop back in a few days to talk to one of her stylists. And then I left, my curiosity piqued about my “stranger-friend”.

Today, I dropped in to meet the stylist, and Beth said, “I can’t get you off of my mind.” I felt the same way. So we went through everything again, and then, suddenly, her green eyes grew wide and she said, “I was your favorite BARRISTA! … remember, at the coffee cart?”

Ah-ha! That was it.

Every morning one autumn, I would stop by her coffee cart in the lobby of my professional building. And every morning, we would fall thick into conversation. Gosh, I loved that little part of my daily routine. But that coffee cart was just a stop-gap between salons; she didn’t even count it in her employment history. And RE/MAX moved office locations, and I never saw her again.

 The memory is a funny thing. As soon as we made the connection, we instantly recalled specific information about one another. Her daughter’s going to college in Florida, my empty nest. Her back problems. My empty nest.

Friendship is a funny thing, too. There are some people on the periphery of our lives who are really very important to us. We might not realize the very positive influence they have on our routine existence, but priceless they are.

I’m so thrilled to have become reacquainted with Beth. She’s a rediscovered treasure. I am blessed!

Namaste

Today was such a beautiful day! The sky was a deep blue, the leaves were an intense auburn and gold, and the air was warm and inviting. The streets were teaming with cyclists and joggers and folks just out for a stroll. I was tempted to join them, but I dutifully went to the yoga studio, and for that, I was richly rewarded.

Today’s instructor was the best instructor I’ve ever had, in any field or discipline, period.

What made Julia such a singularly great instructor? It was the combination of several factors. She has a gentle yet sure voice, clearly speaking in a confirming tone, the exact process of how to form the poses – which muscles to contract and which to relax – and how to gracefully move from one pose to the next. On three occasions, she came and stretched me a bit further, deeper into the pose. Normally, that would have been very intimidating, but Julia was so gentle in her touch, and she didn’t say a word, she simply assisted. Twice, she moved directly in front of me, so I could see her precise body movement, so I could shadow her. But again, she did it in silent grace; it was encouraging, not intimidating.

Afterward, she asked me and the other students a few questions that were specific to our own bodies, questions that she could not have asked if she had not been so very attentive of her students. And she asked her questions in such an assuring manner, and we all answered openly and without hesitation.

I am really looking forward to rearranging my schedule to attend Julia’s classes. With her, I feel confident and sure there isn’t a pose beyond my abilities. Thank you, Julia … Namaste.

Que Sera Sera

Today, as I biked up Lookout Mountain, a car passed me. A big ‘ol bloodhound was leaning out the window, howling the most mournful happy howl I have ever heard. And not once, but on and on, he howled. He made me laugh!

This blog isn’t about dogs (that would be too easy!) but I had to share my happy hound dog story with you.

At the top of Lookout Mountain, I met Mike, a journalist who is currently working on a film about a group of injured veteran cyclists. He just finished a 900 mile bike trip with the group of vets, and he was very excited about his work. We had a grand time, talking while we caught our breath from the ride to the top.

I was supposed to ride with Nick this morning, but that didn’t work out, so I found myself riding alone. At first I was bummed, but after meeting Mike, I was reminded that everything happens for a reason. I wouldn’t have enjoyed that chance meeting with Mike, if I had been riding with Nick.

So here’s to chance meetings, howling hound dogs, and super-cool indy film journalists who are totally jazzed about their creative projects.

Kristof & WuDunn

Have you ever read Nicholas Kristof's columns in the New York Times? If you have, then you might know what I'm going to write. If you have not, then you owe it to yourself to read his work.

Often, I wander over to NYTimes.com to catch up on world news. I see the title of Mr. Kristof's column listed on the main landing page, and I pause. Do I want to read it? Right now, in the middle of my beautiful life? Because I know it's going to remind me that precious few people live as privileged and free as I do. Mr. Kristof, you see, has a habit of using his soapbox to draw attention to the most disadvantaged people on earth.

I admire that about him. Turns out, so do others.

In 1990, Mr. Kristof and his wife, Sheryl WuDunn earned a Pulitzer Prize in journalism for their coverage of China's Tiananmen massacre. And in 2006, Mr. Kristof won another Pulitzer Prize for what the judges called "his graphic, deeply reported columns that, at personal risk, focused attention on genocide in Darfur and that gave voice to the voiceless in other parts of the world."

The judges hit the nail on the head when they described his writing as "deeply reported columns." That's exactly how I would describe the feeling of reading a Kristof column, and it's exactly why I so often pause, before clicking. But Mr. Kristof has a special talent, and that is, though he writes of horrific injustice, he always writes with a palpable hope for a better day.

Today I learned that Kristof & WoDunn published a book last year that advocates for international women’s rights, education, and empowerment. The title is *so Kristof*: Half the Sky: Oppression and Opportunity for Women Worldwide. Injustice and Hope, all in one title. I can't wait to read it.

Virtuosos of Pen & Paint



Smoke and Mirrors by Chuck Forsman

I stopped by the Robischon Gallery at 18th and Wazee Streets and enjoyed Chuck Forsman’s creative genius for a few minutes. I love doing that, just popping into art galleries.

Chuck Forsman is a local artist whose work is inspiring to me. His paintings are real and yet surreal. They have a unique intensity about them. They are pastoral and whimsical, together, in the same moment, sort of like the animation in the movie, “UP”. It was a fun diversion.

Painters and writers are both “super-geniuses” to me, because they can take a thought and turn it into a masterpiece. Later in the day, I picked up Andre Aciman’s new book, Alibis. The dust jacket calls Alibis ‘a luminous series of linked essays about time, place, identity, and art.’ Sounds a little stuffy, there, doesn’t it? But each essay, and especially “Roman Hours” flows on the pages and in my mind, the words dancing gracefully together, never a misstep. Aciman definitely knows how to arrange his words.

It was a pretty fine autumn day, made spectacular by Forsman’s paintbrush and Aciman’s pen. Thank you, gentlemen, for sharing your creative genius with me.

Perfection

"Details are but trifles, but trifles make perfection." - Benjamin Franklin

Kirk tossed that quote in the air as Mike (another customer) and I chided him about his very, very, very organized Bike Shop. He was fun to chide, but gosh, that quote really fits Kirk. He is exceptionally meticulous in his work, and that, in tandem with his caring demeanor, really sets him apart.

I recently bought a gently used bike and brought it in to Kirk's shop. I needed someone knowledgeable to assess the bike, and then advise and guide me. "Should I keep it, or should I buy something else instead?" Kirk made my day by not giving an immediate answer. He carefully measured the bike and me, and as he did, he asked probing questions about my goals and aspirations with regards to cycling. It was only after he had considered the bike's merits, my fit on the bike, and my intentions with the sport that he pronounced, yes, this was a good fit.

Kirk then advised a few improvements and carefully explained the benefit of each suggested change. He also suggested ways in which I could broaden my experience with cycling. I left the bike with him for a few days, and when I picked it up this morning, I couldn't have been happier. It's such a great feeling when you know that your trust is well-placed, when someone takes exceptional care of you and really looks out for your best interest.

And look at that bike! Isn't she sweet?!

An Important Question

Today I witnessed the most precious interaction between a mother and child at the library. Mama was balancing an infant in one arm and a handful of books in the other, when her preschooler asked, “Mama, why does it get dark at night?”

That amazing, amazing woman set her books down, repositioned her infant, and shined her eyes upon her daughter’s inquisitive face. And then she carefully explained, in the best simplest words, that the earth turns away from the sun each evening, and toward the sun in the morning.

I watched out of the corner of my eye, and admired her skill, her patience, her eloquence. What a beautiful moment. What a beautiful Mama.

That Someone

Last July, I hiked Grays and Torreys peaks, two 14’ers in the Colorado high country. It was a beautiful day, but the winter snow was still melting and the trail was a mess. I sloshed with hundreds of others through Horseshoe Basin toward the top.

On the ascent, I met a young guy heading down the trail. He carried a fairly large dog in his arms. “Aaaaw,” I said, “Is your dog tired?”

The guy said, “He’s not my dog, but yesterday he fell off a ledge and broke his leg and couldn’t be rescued.” The hiker went on to explain that he had climbed the mountain at dawn, in the hope of locating and rescuing the injured dog.

I’ve been haunted by that chance meeting, that opportunity to talk a moment with a great tender-heart. The hike up Greys & Torreys Peaks isn’t technically difficult, but it’s long and strenuous. And getting off the beaten path at higher elevations can be dangerous. That young man gave something of himself to find that dog, and then carried the dog for several miles, by no means easy miles, back to his owner.

Most people are waiting for someone else to change the world. On that day, for that dog, that guy was that someone. And I wondered, what other sacrifices does he make in his life?  And what am I willing to give of mine? It’s a tough question, one worth wrestling over.

Here’s to all the rescuers among us. Thank you for the passion and compassion you pour into this world.

The Good Qualities of Men

"I look only to the good qualities of men. Not being faultless myself, I won't presume to probe into the faults of others." - Mohandas Gandhi

This blog has been a long time coming. I considered writing it more than a year ago, but I guess the time wasn’t right. Now, the time is just right. My goal is to journal about "the good qualities of men," to celebrate the beauty in humanity that I am blessed to experience each day. 

There will be spectacular days where I blog about true heroism, days when I write about someone passed whose work lives on, and days where the subject is a seemingly mundane deed, the natural act of an average person.


Thanks for stopping by and reading. Please register – I welcome and appreciate your thoughts on this blog. And if you’re interested in guest blogging about someone who has caught your eye, just let me know.