just a smile

Have you ever walked into a coffee shop, just an ordinary coffee shop - maybe even an internationally successful coffee shop - and you just had an inkling you were about to enjoy the friendliest clerk & barrista team in the world?

It's a simple pleasure, really. He stands at the cash register, greets you and rings your purchase. She leans toward you from behind the bar, cup in hand, ready to start your drink. They both seem to be loving life and loving this moment with you. It's magic!

It's magic worth celebrating. Here's to the spectacular people making spectacular moments out of the routines of life. You are wonderful!

It's nice to be nice to the nice!

The path to the local park,
under a heap of fresh fallen snow.

Frank Burns once said, "It's nice to be nice to the nice!" It was a classic Frank Burns moment on my favorite TV show, M*A*S*H.

Sometimes, that quote comes to mind at a time and place that is completely out of context. Like today. As I slogged down my street through 19" of fresh fallen snow, I watched and admired scores of neighbors shoveling sidewalks and driveways. Helping one another. Smiling. Laughing. Being neighborly.

ah, It's nice to be nice to the nice!

In the mid-1990's, Robert Putnam published fascinating research on America's declining civic engagement. He titled the piece, Bowling Alone: America's Declining Social Capital. It was an in-depth study of bowling league memberships and other yardsticks of social interaction. In short, he found that adults weren't participating in society as much as previous generations. I remember hearing him speak on NPR radio; I remember thinking, "Sad but true.... Today, we drive straight home from work. We prepare a quick dinner. We watch TV. And that's about it."

Fast-forward fifteen years. I see my neighbors more these days. Do you? They're walking outside, and they're on Facebook, too. Thank goodness for neighborly neighbors, smiling under heavy hats, waving wet gloves. Here on Dawson Drive, we are blessed.

The Gift of Amateur Photographers

Last week I  took a photography class. I bought a Nikon d5000 last year, but I haven't done much with it. To be honest, all those buttons and knobs overwhelm me. I don't remember being overwhelmed by my Olympus OM10 in 1981. Fast-forward 30 years ... Is the root problem the exponential number of settings, or is it my advanced age?  (maybe a little of both.)

The class was filled with folks like me, except they were all quite a bit more experienced.

My mind keeps going back to that class. Lens littering the floor, people pulling flashes and flash covers out of their bags, passing and sharing their favorite gear. I remember smiling to myself, and I'm still smiling to myself, at the thought that all my classmates ~ all those fabulous, creative people ~ love life so much, they can't wait to snap a really good picture of it.

Sometimes the world appears bleak. We're in the depths of winter. It's cold outside. The wind is howling. The limbs on the trees appear bare and lifeless. But in the midst of the cold and dark and dreary, strangers are encouraging each other's creative endeavors. They're sharing their talents. And they're recording the beauty that surrounds us. Thank goodness.