Don't have enough time?

Cherie was on her way to her part-time barista job after having worked graveyard shift as a supervisor at a well-known freight company. She cleans houses in her spare time. She’s finishing up her accounting degree in a year. She’s 24 and a single mother.

And she finds time to hand-write thank you notes to her driver(s)? Yes, the afternoon guy got a card and a chocolate bar, too.

Isn't that the sweetest?

Maybe she's got time to give classes to people without enough time.

Feed the hungry - volunteer on The Farm

I recently met Amy, the volunteer coordinator, of The Farm for the Hunger Task Force. She puts together the teams that help on the farm. There are youth camps, corporate work groups, and individuals that help bring the harvest to the hungry of Milwaukee County.

Two hundred acres for fruits, veggies, and the fish hatchery used to stock Milwaukee County ponds. Two hoop houses might  coming in the next year so that they might experiment with year-round farming. 

If you’d like to get some sweaty exercise on behalf of the hungry, contact The Farm.

https://www.hungertaskforce.org/volunteer/volunteer-at-the-farm/

Felicia Monrovia Liberia

As we neared the 2014 mid-term elections and the ebola scare was all over the news I met Felecia. I did not touch her car or her keys. She was not drooling, hacking, or wheezing.

She was mostly on her phone actually. And when she spoke she sounded vaguely Caribbean. Maybe that’s because the service advisor said that’s what he thought.

She had not traveled home recently or even known anyone in Milwaukee to have traveled home during the outbreak.

I was not concerned in the least. I came home, told my wife (just in case) and no one else. 

The elections came and went. Ebola was not eradicated but it’s usefulness as a boogeyman came to an abrupt end for the US political system.

It’s been well over 21 days. I can mention it to you now as I add Liberia to my list. I am now somewhat over fifty countries. The actual country count is somewhere in my notes.

I'll keep you posted.

Variety is all there is

Monica is from Cincinnati and she's been here 25 years. All her family is elsewhere in warm places and so she travels a lot on holidays. She just retired last September after 16 years at Froedtert in the Medicare reporting division.

Before I knew she was going for a ride in the shuttle I saw her alone in the waiting room. I told her how to change the channel if she wished.

"I don't have a television any more.” 

“Congratulations. Maybe you could give a course or something. Some people need help.” 

Apparently she wanted to paint a back bedroom. Her TV was also a VGA monitor for her desktop and it all sat on a large desk. She didn’t really like the desk. She took it apart, set it on the curb and never saw it again. Maybe that’s what happened to the TV. Or maybe she donated it. I forget. She has a laptop and an iPad. Monica does not miss the TV at all. It’s been six months now.

So she retired, changed gears and didn't slow down. She's the co-administrator of the food bank at her church and on Thursdays she stocks shelves at a food bank downtown and … something else. And, she is looking into volunteering at the local NODA chapter. NODA stands for No One Dies Alone. Apparently they coordinate with hospice teams ... no one should die alone.

Her job took her to Chicago for awhile years ago and then called her to Milwaukee. She had certainly heard of Milwaukee before. She drove out of Chicago clean and dry. The weather was fine until she hit the state line. All of a sudden there were 12 inch drifts and she fell in love. It’s been home ever since.

She also is taking Spanish lessons from a Russian born woman whose second language was Polish, her third language was English, and her fourth language is Spanish. Now she's actually teaching Spanish at the Wilson Park Senior center for five dollars a semester.

"Isn’t Wilson Park wonderful?” I asked.

Then I said something about my wife signing up for the upcoming woodworking class.

“Oh, I just took that last fall. My instructor hollered at everyone but me. Apparently I know what I'm doing.”

~~~~~

If it actually hits fifty degrees this balmy weekend of December, Mark is going to put his canoe into the Mukwonago river for a little bit. He's never gone canoeing in December. He's done nine other months and this would be the 10th month so he's kind of looking forward to it.

~~~~~

And Jeffrey had been in architecture since college. He started his own shop about five years ago and is managed to keep himself successfully busy. A lot of people he knows started their own architectural firms after that after the crash because they were pretty much otherwise unemployed. We talked about condos, high-rises, and the Milwaukee sky line.

~~~~~

I so enjoy the people I meet. The old expression is variety is the spice of life. While that may be true variety is also the meat and potatoes, the rice and beans, the peanut butter and jelly,  and the ham and cheese. 

Variety is all there is.

Step away from the latte

He was not the first man from Iran I met in the van. But Reza was in the Iranian Air Force training at Bergstrom Air Base in Austin TX in 1979 when I was there. 

"I did meet some Iranian airmen at a party once at least."

“I was there then."

"Maybe we already met?”

And then the revolution. 

He has plenty of perspective on world politics that he is more than willing to share. Don’t get me wrong - he’s glad to be an American - but he does see that things were different and better here some time ago.

Alyson is in administrative work at an agency helping people with no health insurance. I’m sure there are plenty of stories there. Somehow we started with food. Maybe I was hungry.

We began at soup and the bone broth I started the day before, turned the talk to a morning brew I’ve been tweaking the last couple weeks. I can take coffee or leave it. 

I have also been enjoying Honey Water lately. I’ve read that one should drink lemon water. Or, honey/lemon water. Or apple cider vinegar, or this or that or the other. So, I put them together all on my own. Now, instead of slurping down industrial coffee I have been doing variations on this more often.

This is a recipe of my own device. It’s a place to start.

Heat 4 cups water

1/2 cup honey - stirred into hot water

1/4 c apple cider vinegar

1 T level turmeric*

1 cinnamon stick

Powdered chipotle

Powdered ginger 

(Add several shakes each - use fresh when possible).

Top off with about 3 C water.

Heat a cup or two and add to your individual mug or tumbler

Add lemon to taste 

I mentioned the Penzys catalog and heard her hum. 

"I was reading a page on chai tea once taking note of the spices and wondering what I had and what I needed. A few moments later I had flipped over to the curry page and was looking at those blends spice by spice. I noticed quite an overlap. I actually have the Sweet Curry blend right here right now."

That’s the story. I mixed some spice blend into hot water. Yum. I even emailed the note to Penzys corporate office hoping to get a spot in the catalog. So far - not.

https://www.penzeys.com … Mmmmmm

This is just me and my little fist taking some greater control over my commercial feeding tube. I can think for myself sometimes - at least a little bit. One can educate the taste buds. One can stretch the imagination. 

Put the sugar down.

Step away from the latte. 

…..

*Note: Turmeric does stain and it does not stay long in suspension. Don’t spill. Shake before sipping.

Sister Margaret

I was not given a slip for this woman. We got in the van with Jim we were going to take home first. She was in the front seat. He was in the back. It was a quick trip and we were all quiet for the five minutes until we arrived at his house. I let him out with the customary procedural farewell. And then she and I were off.

“So, good morning.” I said,  "What’s your name?"

"I'm a nun.” she said. “Retired."

"Okay?"

"You know what a nun is?”

“Sure.”

“Well, not everyone does.”

“Well, I do and I am not even Catholic.”

“Oh. Good.”

“So, what is your name?"

“Sister. Margaret.”

“Welcome aboard, Sister Margaret, I said, extending my hand, "You are the first nun I’ve met in this space. I’ve met priests and pastors and you are my very first nun."

A few minutes earlier, before we left, and as I was about to leave with Jim, I asked if she was going to wait or did she need a ride. She asked me if I could take her to Pick and Save so that she could shop for groceries.

“Well, we take people home and to work. We don’t really take people shopping, you know, grocery shopping.”

"Well, if you could drop me off, I’ll walk back.”

It’s 45 degrees - balmy for mid-December - but foggy, therefore humid. It's like a long way for a little old lady carrying groceries. How many groceries could be key to this question, but it’s a mile. One mile.

I did say that, if, and I mean if, I was not called to other missions, when she was done I could pick her up. She’s retired as I said. She does have a cell phone but it is not turned on. Of course. 

She never did call and I did not see her the rest of the day. Her car service was to take about two hours. I did ask her why she couldn’t shop when her car was done. She didn’t have an answer. 

And then I have Warren and Trevor on board. Trevor's younger, Warren’s older and they got to talking about fixing cars and fixing motorcycles and stuff way out of my league. I am so happy sometimes when customers can just run the conversation themselves. Warren invited us to take a look at his Bugatti 900 when pulled up in his driveway. Thanks Warren, maybe some other time is what I thought.

People ask about me and my past and this job and I've always said that how I got here had to do with 'I don't have an education' and 'I was self-employed' therefore 'I can't do one thing all day long’.  It’s me making excuses.

This very morning, for the very first time, I'm thinking I had a hand in the co-creation of this particular gig. This is so custom fit for me it's hard to imagine it existed without my own wishes and intentions. Yes, we could make a graph of the days, step by step, turn by turn, or we could begin to see that we got here (yes, you, too) by designing a dance, a tango perhaps, of fate and freewill.

I no longer insist on maintaining the divide or further widening the gap between I and Thou. If I was created in the image of God, who is the creator, then I am also a creator. What do I get when I diminish myself? And I pretty much don't think that God wants anything from me or for me either way. My God does not want. God is not in the state of wanting.

Further, my God also doesn't exhibit other human emotions. My God isn't angry, my God isn't happy, my God isn't smiling to see me on Sunday morning whether I am in the pew or otherwise engaged. (Even so, when I am singing What a Friend We Have in Jesus, I do get a little misty. Can’t explain it. Don’t care to. I give up.)

I spoke with a gal named Lois today; the same age as my mother, Lois. 

“Not many of us named Lois.”

“Yes, I know. Rare birds."

She used to be a buyer at Bucyrus Erie. In one of the high points of her career she went out to a mine site in New Mexico and actually sat up in the operator seat of piece of equipment that she purchased. She’s not yet been to the Bucyrus Museum. I talked it up a little. I could see a little gleam in her eyes as she remembered the good times.

I was taking her to the nursing home where she had to do some paperwork, as power of attorney, on behalf her sister with dementia. It was some kind of emergency change of residence that seemed to be under control. The last five years have been nothing but trouble for Lois. One big thing after another and she named many of them.

But she keeps it all under control with gratitude. It is her saving grace. And, so we segued into one of my favorite projects; giving thanks by giving thanks, sharing words of praise and seeking those opportunities first rather than gunning for trouble or having to be right.

I gave her a card. She beamed and nodded her head. I gave her a couple more to share. She said she would not be seeing the caregivers at this facility any more after the next few days and she did have people to thank. And she started with me.

When she was done with the paperwork she would walk the mile home. Same day and another old lady walking a mile in the balmy fog.

Tuesday December 9th

I met this guy Dan who's been a nursing home administrator for 40 years. He works at the mental health complex. He was hired to shut down a couple facilities and reintegrate the populations elsewhere. 

His job will be over in a year. The first one is closing within about a week and he's on track with that. Then the next one will be done about a year from now. He thinks maybe he'll retire. Except he doesn't know what to do and can't imagine sitting around.

 We talked a lot about caregiving and the system. I mentioned the surprising number of people I meet that need additional help. I told him I called Interfaith to see if they were offering such services. He told me they were great people doing great work providing many kinds of services that fill in the gap for caregivers. He mentioned the directors name and said that they used to have each other on speed dial.  

He talked about the importance of crystal clear directives and power of attorney. You can get those forms online and have them notarized at the bank. If one is not clear in one’s wishes and the system takes over … well, the system takes over.

And as we were pulling up he’s fishing around to give me a business card. He gets out, puts both feet on the ground, and looks back at me.

"I'm serious," he said, "you can use that number.” 

This morning I met Sujata and she told me how to pronounce the word kitchadi. Well, she didn’t just blurt it out. I asked her.

She looked at me a bit quizzically as if to ask how I know about this dish. 

“That’s not something you can get in an Indian restaurant.” she said. “We only cook it at home. It’s for times we don’t feel well.” It’s comfort food.

I said I read about it online. It’s white rice and moong dal as a base. A easy-to-digest, near-complete protein. 

KITCHadi, sometimes spelled kitchari - with an ‘r’ - and if you can say the ‘d' and the ‘r' together you’ve gotten a lot closer to the pronunciation.

I said I use basmati rice and she said plain white is better; less flavor. It’s kind of strange about the rice flavor when the complicated spices may include ginger, cardamom, cumin and any number of vegetables including onion and perhaps even garlic.

She indicated that one should not believe everything on the internet. Of course. Then I tried to interject my research on Arabian Seven Spice and my finding that every country or region has it’s own recipe. None of them are wrong. Right?

Anyway, at least I can now pronounce basmati rice the Indian way. Accent on first syllable. Basmati.

~~~~~

When we say everything changes we have some understanding about what that means. What I hear by using the word changes, is that there might be some changes in the future. We can look to a time in the past where there have been changes. 

A way that describes the actual activity is this: everything changing. That means ongoing right now. 

Look around. Pay attention. Soon it will be something other.

~~~~~

Not a Toyota commercial

My God how Jim and Judith must hate to have to put up with each other in their new condo since August. 

"We were forty-two years in a house by the airport. There used to be services around there. I got used to it. I had a routine.” Jim says.

It’s complicated now that they are down to one car and decided to go condo out at the edge of the county country. Nothing and nowhere to walk to.

“You like the condo. Don’t you, Jim?”

He’s looking out the window for several silent seconds.

“Jim?”

“Why does it take two days? This is a recall and we’re not paying for it so they are probably putting paying customers before us.”

Jim can't imagine, can not fathom, why they (we, the dealer) had to have the goddamn RAV4 on the hoist for two days to put a seal on. 

He wants to - needs to - vent about car service. I say I don't know anything. They don’t tell me anything. I am out here, with you, away from the shop. I don’t know policy or procedure.

"They probably move cars through as efficiently as possible so that we do not get a back-up of cars.” I say. I forgot to tell him that Toyota pays the dealers something.

“Don’t tell me they’re taking up valuable hoist space with our car for two days.”

"He doesn’t know anything, Jim.” Judith says, “Leave it alone.”

Grunt.

"We’ll be going to Florida for a month with a couple we know that has been going for five years.” Judith says.

“That sounds nice. Warm. You’ll have folks that can show you around.” I say.

Jim just wants to keep on keep on keep on that goddamn seal on his RAV4.

Finally.

“Jim, shut up, he doesn't know anything. He really can't talk down about his employer. 

“Well it's not like he's a lifelong employee. He's going to find another job at some time."

“Jim, why don’t you talk about football or something?”

Silence.

He turns to me and says "How about those Packers last night?"

"Well," I say, "I don't know much about that actually either."

"Jude, oh my God, we got a communist for a shuttle driver."

Well, I told him the 6 point win over the Falcons the night before. I don’t recall if I actually said “So what?” or not, but it was on my breath. 

Fortunately, me and Judith and her chronically cantankerous old coot were just a couple minutes from the goal line. The crowd quieted down. We wondered about punting. We decided to take a time out and go to commercial.

Getting called a communist on the job? Another first for me.

What pleases you

What pleases you? 

It could be a question or it could be a command fragment. It might be other things. Do what pleases you as soon as is possible. For as long as possible. Your brain will love you for it. Your brain and therefore the rest of you, too.

Today is the day after I wrote about Mark, the Marine vet that’s watching over his blind, 94 year old mother, guess who boarded the shuttle? Ruth.

Ruth has been in nursing for 25 years and specializing at the Neurosciences Center at Froedtert Hospital for the last six years. She specializes in caring for people with memory disorders due to stroke and Alzheimer’s. Endlessly fascinating.

Mostly we talked about caregivers not getting enough care on their own and the very wide gap in services specific to having too much in the way of assets in order to get help. You can be poor and get a reasonably fine quality of assistance but if you have a little too much you don't get any help at all. I did tell her about the number of people that I meet who are doing these things and how often this is spoken of in this shuttle space.

Help at Interfaith.

And so she said she has a friend whose husband retired and he was looking for a little something to do and her friend was also going to retire in a year and wondered what to do and Ruth says it is best to do what pleases you; neurologically best.

Do what pleases you as soon as you can. The people that retire early are most at risk for cognitive degeneration. The people who are angry, negative, and pessimistic are at most at risk for brain disorders. The people who are happy and busy and engaged have a better chance of long-term brain health.

I did tell her about Jeanette that I met yesterday; 87, driving, cooking, baking and winning big at bingo. Go Jeanette.

And we’ve all heard it before … but it sounds so much more real coming from a real practitioner in a face-to-face place that is delivered in a non-stressful way. In other words, it’s not too late for me to hear about me … just saying’.

Ruth was telling her friend who is going to retire soon that she met a guy who's been doing things right … or maybe she met somebody from the dealership who's active and retired and has a job and is writing books. Ruth is not quite sure.

"I think that might be me you’re talking about.” I said.

Yes: brain games, puzzles, music, socialization, yoga, but most specifically more general exercise. More for the body. It is not all about the mind.

This ‘do what pleases you' reminds me of the heart/brain specialist at the VA who said that reducing as much stress as possible (naturally) will add to the quality and quantity of your days.

And this also speaks to a recent second favorite book; The Power of Full Engagement by James Loehr. Loehr is a sports psychologist consulting on peak performance.

Hard work? Yes. Play and rest, too? Yes, absolutely. Without the full spectrum of work, play and rest there is no peak performance.

Mind you …let’s not start meditating just because management says it’s good for the minions. And let us not wait for retirement. Let us move toward the joy … now.

Less stress. More fun. On purpose. For you. Yes, you.

Interfaith Milwaukee

I had been telling a few people that they might have some options as care-givers for themselves and their charges. It occurred to me that I should ask about it locally before continuing with that assumption.

I posted a request on the Interfaith Facebook page and got an invitation to call and a thank you for spreading the word.

lnterfaith has a Family Caregiver Support Network that is open to area residents. Whether the person is the person receiving or giving care. Call 414-220-8600 Monday-Friday, 8:30-4:30.

…

InterfaithMilw.org

CaregiverSupportNetwork.org

Living-Options.org

WisconsinCaregiver.org

Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/interfaithmilw

Veterans Day Care Giver

Mark was a marine for quite some time and on disability. His spine is turning into a sponge. Spongio-something. He also must have had some neck fusion surgery because it takes his entire torso to turn his head.

“You know, you just never think these things will turn out that way.” he said.

We talked about his service a little bit. He knows I understand that most folks don’t get it. I told him that I did not serve and yet we were able to find agreements.

And he's the sole caregiver for his mother while living in her house. She is 94 now and blind. I can tell he doesn’t like being away even while his car is in for service.

So I mentioned Dry Hooch on Brady and the vet center cafe in the building up at 35th and Wisconsin, is it? He was aware of it and hopes they stay open. It doesn’t seem like he has a mind to visit them. Maybe someday. He knows he needs to get out and stretch his legs and get away from the situation. He needs a caregiver for himself.

I tell him the story of Bernie and Patty, two people I met in similar situations, just a couple weeks ago. 

He thinks the only care for his mother is $200 a day for people who do everything. I’m talking about him getting his own butt out the door a few times a week. I should actually check it out so I know more about it. 

Later that day a fellow employee asks me if it’s alright if we have a chat some time so that she can get some honest input about a life situation. It doesn’t seem like a situation I have much experience in. Apparently I have the right stuff.

Now if I can just follow through and find out what kinds of services are available in the metro area. I need to speak with greater authority.

Tanzanian Ambassador Mudri

In the 80’s Mr. Mudri’s sister married a guy from Uganda. When Idi Amin, evil ruler of Uganda, was practicing genocide they escaped to America via churches that were taking in refugees. His sister later sponsored his arrival in the States. He’s been here about 30 years.

For a good while he had a grocery store at 12th and Vliet Street. A good while was over the day he was robbed at gunpoint and locked in the walk-in cooler.

He said something about cooking for one and I mentioned the senior centers around the county. His family is now all gone but he has his own community at his mosque.  We had just passed the mosque at 13th and Layton. He is not a member there. They are Sunnis. He is a Shia Muslim. And, he is not one of those Shia Muslims; the ones that famously kill people. He does not understand them either and is sad about the damage they are doing to the good name.

I said I was pretty much a Christian and there are many branches. 

“Are there branches in Islam?” I asked.

“Seventy-three” he said. “The main split is Sunni/Shia but they all have their own schools, branches, and beliefs.

He said 73 so quickly it seemed as though he had just been reading up on it. I don’t doubt him and do not care to count that high myself.

Speaking of counting … I stopped listing the countries after I hit 50. I have them all on my recorder but do not take time as often as I would like. I might be up to 55 by now. Tanzania is a new one on me and Mr. Mudri is a fine ambassador.

I should like to have a coffee with him someday.

House Keys

Keri has been back from LA for two months. She grew up in Milwaukee and had been there 'five winters’, as she put it. She works as a hairdresser and had no problem getting back into the place she’d worked for sixteen years before she left.

We were about to pull up to her place and she realized she’d forgotten her keys in the car. No wonder. She had been waiting because her service was going to be quick enough she could wait - right up until it wasn’t. Better to wait at home. She really wanted this to be her fault and I had to tell three stories about other people forgetting their keys and having to make the extra trip before she could let it go.

"It’s okay. People forget their keys all the time."

I asked her about the west coast water shortage. She said that the folks in LA were in denial. What shortage? Yes, there are ever-increasing fines but the effect is a long way from altering common behaviors. The way people water their lawns is criminal even without a shortage. Stupid wasteful.

While still in LA she rescued a Jack Russell Papillion mutt-puppy that seems to be putting on winter weight here in Milwaukee. He used to get melancholy when it rained and she was concerned that he might not do well here. She says her blood is thickening and she’s put on a couple pounds as well. 

“It doesn’t take long to forget a Wisconsin winter after you’ve moved to warmer climate.” she said.

We talked about hairdressers, bartenders, customers, stories, and psychiatry. She said she runs into quite a few that go over the line into inappropriate sharing. It has happened enough that she knows she will not be seeing this person again. They have shared way too much and they both know it. That does not happen to me in the shuttle.

Otherwise, yes, by the end of the day she, too, has had it up to here with superficial chat about the weather.

I met Daniel Z of natrecstudio.com, a musician that runs a recording studio. We talked about business, general creativity and passion more than music or the music business. He’s worked in NY, LA, Japan for six years before coming back home to set up shop. He’s glad he can make a living doing what he loves.

He’s got tons of vintage gear, current Mac software and would much rather have musicians do their own performance magic rather than him patching it up with digital effects just because he can. 

“Yes, I can fix the pitch of that note,” he says, “but it's not authentic and it so often takes time that doesn’t get billed out." 

I was glad to be able to run out and grab him again after his car was done. When I pulled up at his storefront on National Avenue he was sweeping the sidewalk while waiting for me. Good local citizen.

He had also forgotten his house keys this morning. However, he remembered before I even put it in gear.

Bernie and Patty

I’ve driven Bernie home three times since I’ve been at this job. I could just about tell you his story. He’s funny and intense. There is little actual conversation. He’s giving a high-paced history of his life. His wife of 62 years has had Alzheimer’s for the last 6 years and he has no help at home. I suppose that he has so little interaction with adults that he has all this pent up need spilling out.

He and I left with two other people. He assumes he gets to go first because he has to get back to his wife. This time the logical and obvious  order of our route would let him out second. Even so, he commanded the conversation space the whole way along. As he was getting out in his driveway he did allow that the next time we met he’d let us talk more. 

Later that same day Patty and I are driving along toward her house. I ask her about her hobbies and her spare time. She’s thinking about calling Interfaith to see if she can get someone to come in a few hours, a few times a week so that she feels less guilty shopping and getting the car fixed. Her husband had a stroke a couple years ago. He has trouble with speech and self-care. Their adult son lives in town and comes over a couple times a week.

I think about this a little bit. The best I can. It’s not until I see an episode of Grey’s Anatomy in which they are dealing with characters broken in this way that I get a clearer picture. IT brings me to tears.

The upshot of this exposure is simply another reason to be grateful for whatever wholeness one can muster.

First words

“Come on. Let’s go. Whadd’ya - running for governor?”

First words out of his mouth - I promise.

I’d gone down to the other building to fetch a guy off to Oak Creek. When I walked into the building one of the advisors was walking the customer toward me. I nodded and proceeded right past him eight feet or so to shake the hand of another long-time customer I know; Lee, from church.

“Come on. Let’s go. Whadd’ya - running for governor?”

“No, but if you brought a baby I’d kiss it.” I said, heading back toward the van.

So, the guy, whose name I do not yet know, is overly boisterous and manipulative in that passive aggressive, ‘it’s-just-a-joke’ way. He posed a few questions he knew the answers to so that he could interrupt when I tried to respond. He is used to being in charge. He did say he was a long-time customer and this was his first shuttle ride. He was making the most of it.

“You’re a Christian, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes … and …”  I started with gratitude - being thankful. I gave him a couple versions of my GoodWork Mini-Thanks cards. I talked about goals, motivations, gearing up for the day and finding what you expect to find: in my case, goodness and smiles.

He’s a 30 veteran of MMSD and a veteran of the fist-bump. The ’S’ is for sewer or sanitation.

“I don’t shake hands much.” he said. “You just don’t know where they’ve been.”

He’s also a long-time HS football coach. 

“Not a teacher, just a coach.”

“Well, you still understand kids, mentoring, and modeling behaviors, right?”

“Well, yes …”

Here I had a coach and an opportunity to ask about the rest and recuperation component of high performance. I gave him my standard little dance about one of my favorite books: The Power of Full Engagement, by James Loehr and Tony Schwartz. Amazon link here.

I might have said something like this: In high performance sports the athletes practice for an event or season. Then there is the event or the season. After that there is rest and recuperation. That is the recipe for high performance. Business, of course, does not do that. They whip the flesh from the starched-collars, the cube-jockeys, and general lackeys knowing there’s a line of fresh meat pressing at the front door.

“You’re making my skin tingle.” he said. We seemed to be heading off into his favorite topic: football coaching, but I stayed my course.

He thought maybe I should go into psychology or life coaching. I kid you not.  I took him home and a couple hours later I brought him back. 

“So, what about this life coaching thing?” he asked. “What if I were a drug-addled …. no, that’s too far out. What if …” and he named something else almost as far out.

“Well, as I might have said, I was in business. I refer people. I subcontract work to other providers as necessary. Simple, I think.”

“Of course.”

As we were pulling up he asked for a pen and paper and jotted down the name of the book. He asked if I thought it might be above his reading level. As if I would presume to comment on that.

“Some of it might have been above my level. Here’s how I read a book anymore,” I said, “I am no longer writing book reports and I really don’t need to prove anything to anyone. So, I decided that I do not need to finish a book just because I start it. I realized I am looking for a couple good ideas and a few quotations. I use a blank 3 x 5” card as a bookmark. I write down the page numbers of interesting stuff so that I can keep reading. Later I go back, look up the pages, and if the stuff is still interesting I might write it down in my notes.”

At the end of our ride he was asking for my boss’s name so that he could send along his praise of my behavior. Apparently I passed his audition. Unfortunately I gave him the name of an immediate upline worker that does not retrieve or answer his own voicemails, but now I am smarter about that little point, too.

You know, it all went by so fast I don’t even think I told him about my own books, blogs, or why I read at all.

And, I think this particular interchange has locked it up for me. 

I am goin' to school.

Soon. I have to finish my next book. Deadline: Christmas 2014.

Today. Tuesday.

I did not drive anybody anywhere. Period.

The day was as long as this story is short.

Synchronicity

Monday a gal I was driving opened up to me on something she was finally admitting to herself. She had sought help before on a number of occasions all to no avail. She recommended a book at the library where, in those pages, she found herself. And only recently had located a service provider that made her do some of the heavy lifting. A provider that broke through, made sense, got her; a real connection.

It wasn’t just that there is some overlap at our house. It’s that we had been up to our noses in it two days prior. It used to surprise me more often who jumped into the van and how the story they choose to tell has a direct bearing on some situations or curiosities of my own.

And, as I have come to understand it, I needed to see her that day. I needed her to get into the van and tell me that story. And she did.

Parked at the curb near her work we shared a hug; bonus for the hard work we’d done, a bonding moment for the many lonely moments ahead.

Be Reiki

Rhiana Tehan brought her car in for service Friday morning and I got to drive her to her day job. She’s a motivated creative writing teacher and we hardly spoke of that. She was called to Reiki in 2010, kept her day job, has continued her study, and opened a studio.

The peace and equanimity in the shuttle was palpable; remarkable. I have hardly a trace of memory of our conversation. Tension, strife, war, fear, health, educational philosophies; it all came up and it was all okay. And that fits rather well in a new recipe that I have been stirring up. I’m sure the ingredients are all here somewhere.

I’ll have what she’s having.

http://bereiki.com

Happy America Day, Joe.

Joe came to America on Oct. 1, 1967. That's 47 years for those of you playing along at home. He must have been 25 to 30 years old at that point.

Joe was not the name his mother called him and after 3 light-hearted attempts to call him something else he said, “Joe, I told you to call me Joe.”

Alright then. Of course ‘Joe’. He did seem a little playful for an older fellow, but only on his terms. He also seemed a little angry about the course that America has taken over his tenure.

“Excuse my language, but America is f@#$ed.” he said.

Where do you go from this point with a customer?

“I hear a little something that sounds South African, I said.

“People guess that and Australian and English all the time.”

“And you’re not going to tell me.” I said, after a lengthy pause.

"Maybe if I see you again someday.”

My gut said Rhodesia, but I searched that when I got home. There were a dozen African countries under British rule. It could have been any of them, I guess.

Thankfully, it was a short ride. Happy America Day, Joe.

Framing the day

Framing the day? Even a half day is sometimes too much to put into words. 

The honey locusts seem so bright yellow this fall. Extra bright. I wonder how much the cold dry winter had to do with this. I don’t remember last year. I ask people in the shuttle. Some have not noticed. Some do not know locusts. Some wonder with me as well.

Some predict a colder winter than last. My hope is that we read into the success of the Farmer’s Almanac what we wish to read. They may well be as wrong as the local weather person.

After the morning rush - and there was a rush - I met Mark again. We had had a lovely ride up to Glendale a month ago.

“You know that book about engagement and energy you mentioned?" he asked, as soon as we got into the van.

“Yes.” I said. “One of my favorites."

“It really clicked with me right now. So I’m reading it.” he said. “It’s great.”

“I’m glad you think so. I refer to it all the time in the shuttle and have just now taken it out from the library again to refresh myself. As a matter of fact, his ‘other’ book, The Power of Story, is even better. It’s about what we tell ourselves and how to upgrade that experience.”

“Really? And … how does he say to do that?”

“Well, the first thing is that a person needs to be aware that he is composed of the stories he has latched onto or has been immersed in. And then begin to examine them to discover their relative truthfulness or functionality. And then begin to rewrite their new story with an ear for improved performance.”

“Write their own story?”

"Yep. Journal. Diary. Captain’s log. Whatever you call it - write it down."

When we first met we found plenty to talk about and it was only as we were about to pull into his driveway that we spoke of his professional experience. I really thought I had missed out on something wonderful and I had.

He has been in high-tech start-ups in the energy field. That means fuel cells, hyper-conductivity, separating hydrogen and oxygen, membranes, molecules, pure water … on and on. He’s been ahead of the curve in several instances and sees that we are needing to think outside the fracking box and the sooner the better.

I said I continue to see great things coming from young scientists inventing new technologies and simply hope that we see how to wrest ourselves free from the fossil fuel dominance. He said he also saw hope in the young as evidenced by the interests and behaviors of his nieces and nephews as they grapple with the fast-arriving future.

We touched on several topics that could easily whisk us off in other directions Here's another guy I’d like to have a soup and sandwich with. Hmmm … he gave me his card.

…

My first group of 4 people out in the morning had all ridden with me before and one of them said she was glad it was me again. They all chimed in. Almost embarrassing. Almost.

...

My last customer was the festival choir director at Hales Corners Lutheran Church. Some of the folks from our church sing with their choir. My wife sings with them. He told me to say hello to her. I’ve seen him direct and run a half dozen rehearsals. It’s uplifting to watch him work. I asked him about his music selection process. How does he decide what to do next? It gets simpler when you cut the off-message offerings. Yes, he can hear music in his head by reading the sheet music.

...

Finally, if it had not been for the laborious transaction slogging along in front of me at the Parts Counter at Andrew Toyota I probably would have broken my record of miles driven in a 5.5 hour shift. As it was I hit 135.0 miles at 1 pm exactly on the freeway ramp at Silver Spring southbound. Two miles short of the record. A new second place record by 3 miles. The average miles-per-morning-shift is about 83. I worked an extra hour and ten minutes this day and finished at 162.9 miles. The only other time I drove more on the job in one day was last New Year’s Eve: 187 in 12 hours.

Today was a big day.

...

*The Power of Full Engagement: Managing Energy, Not Time .. by Jim Loehr

http://www.amazon.com/The-Power-Full-Engagement-Performance/dp/0743226755