Divine Intervention: When Angels Speak

(Off-stage there are sounds of jostling, shoving and whispering.)  What do you mean I have to go on instead?  I can’t go on.  I don’t talk in public; I have nothing to say.  Get one of the others to do it.  Not me.  God!

Announcer

And so, ladies and gentlemen, it is with great pleasure that we present to you, Gabriel.  Let’s have a warm welcome for this outstanding archangel!  (The audience applauds.)

Harold

(Harold comes out on stage as though he’s been forcibly pushed.  He’s a nerdy looking guy and appears to be quite shy.)  I’m not who you were expecting.   I am not who you came to see.  I am not Gabriel.  Gabriel has been detained.  Actually, Gabriel isn’t even here…well, he was here but he isn’t now.  He had to go somewhere.  He was called away.  Actually, he was here…oh, I said that already.  He, uh, he got mad and stormed out.  Yes, he left here in quite a fury.  (To someone in the wings.) Well, I think they deserve to know what happened.  They paid to see him and now they won’t.  They deserve the truth.  (To the audience.) The truth is, ladies and gentlemen that Gabriel overheard a joke someone told about him and it made him angry.  I don’t know why; it was just a little joke.  Well…someone said that when it comes to news you can tel-ephone, tel-agraph or tell Gabriel. (Laughs weakly.)  It was just a small joke; nothing to get all pissy about…it’s true, of course.  Just let God say something about someone or something at dinner and Gabriel takes off like a jet to announce it to the world!  That’s what he does.  He’s a good speaker.  He’s very good at making announcements; it’s his job.  He’s made a career out of telling people things, like Louella Parsons or Hedda Hopper.  Oh, I guess these days I should compare him to Liz Smith or Barbara Walters.  Absolutely nothing wrong with telling gossip as long as it’s true.  Gabriel always says if something is true it’s news and not gossip at all.  Anyway, he took offense and took off.

Me?   My name is Harold…that’s right, Harold Angel.  Oh, I know what you’re thinking:  Hark!  That Harold Angel sings.  I get that all the time; I’m not psychic or anything.  Sadly, no.  I don’t sing, can’t sing.  I can’t carry a song in a bucket as you say.  During services I just stand there and lip-sync.  I don’t’ know why really.  Everyone knows I can’t sing, have been forbidden  from singing, so I’m not fooling anyone.  I guess the boss thinks it helps to make me be part of the group.  Silly, really.  I shouldn’t have said that!  The boss hears and sees everything.  He’s older than dirt, but he doesn’t miss a thing, the lilies of the field, a sparrow…but you know all that.

In addition to not singing, I also can’t dance.  I guess I missed out on the music and rhythm gene altogether!  Speaking of angels dancing, will you take a good look at me? (He turns in a circle so the audience can see him from all sides, like he's modelling an outift.) I am one of the smaller angels.  The others are much, much bigger than me.  Now can you really imagine one thousand of us dancing on the head of a pin?  Where do you get these notions?  Oh!  And speaking of things you believe that aren’t true.  What is with all the bell ringing that you do?  Some old movie tells you that “every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings” and you take that as gospel!  You aren’t giving us wings.  You’re giving us headaches.  What do you think we are a bunch of celestial caterpillars, wingless until some idiot…sorry, no offense, but can you hear how irritating it is? Angels are created complete.  Nothing develops on our person as time goes on.  Where we are there is no time.

Thank you for letting me get that off my chest.  It’s been bugging me for eternity!  As I said before, I’m one of the smaller angels, nothing special about me, just your average angel.  I tend to blend in, as you can or cannot see. (Giggles.)  I don’t ever deal with people, or even with the grander angels for that matter.  I’m what you might call a personal assistant.  No that’s too important sounding.  Maybe I’m a go-for.  No that also implies a little more importance that I have.  No, I’m more of an elf, I suppose.  They get no respect.  We work hard doing what bits need doing in such a way that the Grand Ones are left with the impression they must have done it themselves and somehow forgot.  We are the ones who are never  to be seen, not be to heard, but who step and fetch and like tonight, fill in on a moment’s notice.  Wow, speech is power.  I shouldn’t be venting like this, but here on stage and actually being ordered to speak I’m thinking of all kinds of things I want to say!  (Glancing around, he suddenly realizes that he is being observed and heard by the boss. He resumes after this awkward pause.)  Enough about me, I’m meant to be telling you Gabriel’s story.

Gabriel is a big, strapping angel, archangel.  He works with Michael, Raphael, and Ariel.  The guardians are the angels you come in contact with, they watch over you and the other creatures of Earth.  The Guardians of Heaven are the Seraphim.  You would think they look like fire-breathing snakes, something out of Harry Potter’s world.  You don’t want to mess around with them, believe you me.  Best not even to talk about them.  I just wanted to be clear about the type of angels you’re dealing with when we speak of Gabriel.  There use to be another member of their group, Samiel.  You know how even now when you see John Travolta walk you can hear the Bee Gees singing “Staying Alive?”  He just has that beat going on with his walk.  Well, with this band of angels, you hear “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.”  Just wait until you see them next and see if you don’t hear it, too!  After the boss got all of us together, he told us rule number one is that he is the boss.  There is not now nor ever will be anyone else we should bow down to.  Suddenly he encounters Mankind and tells us we are to bow to them, too.  Samiel had a problem with this.  He loved the boss more than anything.  He would do anything for him, but he absolutely refused to honor Mankind as he would the boss.  So the boss told him to take a hike.  Isn’t that how youse guys on the Jersey shore would say he got thrown out? By the way, you know Samiel as Lucifer.  He uses an alias, though I don’t know why since the boss knows who he is and where he is at all times.  Guess it makes him feel safer.  I think it was all a tempest in a teapot anyway.  The boss soon got over Mankind and had them escorted off the estate.  That was one of Gabriel’s first assignments. 

It wasn’t long, though, before the boss eyes this new guy named Daniel.  Ah, Daniel!  Now there was one good looking Jew.  If we had known Daniel when the boss said we had to honor Mankind, we would have all bent over for that one!  What am I saying, bent over, I meant to say bow down.  Daniel was as smart as he was handsome and he was built like the Eastern Wall!  Solid, you know, small gate for a tight, exclusive entry.  At any rate, Daniel was royalty on top of everything else.  His parents sent him to the Babylonian court so he could get an education, learn diplomacy, and be a voice for Jews who didn’t exactly chose to leave Israel, you know what I mean?  Gabriel had seniority and his eye on Daniel.  He decided that he would make Daniel a star.  He taught him the art of interpreting dreams.  When Daniel was called before the Babylonian king to hear his disturbing dream, Gabriel was there, whispering to Daniel what the king needed to know.  Later on, the Queen awoke screaming one night because there was some kind of mysterious writing all over her bedroom walls.  None of her attendants or sons could read this to know what the message was.  Gabriel had written it while she slept and then told Daniel what it said, so he could be the hero of the day.  The message was that the king was going to be killed in battle, so the son needed to be prepared to take over.  So now you know why people say you should read the writing on the wall when you’re about to be fired from a job or dumped by a boyfriend or girlfriend.  You know something else I always thought was a bit queer?  This Babylonian Captivity of the Jews?  Daniel had free access to the royal family, to the royal court through it all.  Daniel was indeed the Star of the Middle East.  When the Jews were allowed to return to the land of Israel, Daniel stayed behind.  No one ever really understood why.  For once, Mary Hart kept his mouth shut!

When the boss decided that a woman named Elizabeth was to have a baby even though she was passed the child bearing age, Gabriel could not wait to start spreading the news.  When Zechariah heard this he didn’t believe it and didn’t want the story told.  Zechariah was a member of the priesthood.  He was too old to be a father and considered this to be the worst gossip.  Gabriel was quite indignant and said that if the father to be didn’t want to talk about the pregnancy he wouldn’t talk about anything at all.  Gabriel silenced him until after the baby was born, lest a curse be leveled at the child or its mother.

Elizabeth’s cousin Mary was also the subject of Gabriel’s happy news.  Not yet married she was told she too was having a baby.  Not great news in those times to be an unwedded mother, even if she was engaged.  So Gabriel convinced Joseph not only to proceed with their wedding plans, but to do it quickly. 

Funny thing about Gabriel is that he never contacted the parents afterwards.  He never had any contact with either of the boys nor the men they grew to be.  He simply withdrew.  Both men were murdered with no one to protect them or to come to their aid.  No one heard from Gabriel again until a particular man with a camel caravan caught his eye.  This man was very devoted to the boss and wanted  badly to know him and to know what the boss wanted him to do.  The boss had been so busy with the sons of Isaac that he had neglected the sons of Ishmael.  Gabriel was going to change that.

The man from the caravan had been orphaned and raised by the Bedouins until he was finally adopted by an uncle.  Since he had stayed with the Bedouins longer than was the usual custom for wet-nursing, the man had never learned to read.  This meant Gabriel had to repeat the lesson over and over until the man had it memorized.  For someone who loves the sound of his voice as much as Gabriel, this shouldn’t have been a problem.  However, the man kept straying off topic wanting to know more about the messenger at times more than the message.  He wanted to see Gabriel, to know what he really looked like out of his disguise.  Gabriel told him to be happy with the disguise because the real Gabriel would be too much for him and to stick to the sura at hand.  Finally, in exasperation and anger, Gabriel threw off his disguise and showed the man just how big and powerful and terrible his is.  The man went running from the cave where they had met for these lessons in sheer terror.  When he arrived home, he locked himself in his bedroom.  He refused to see anyone or to eat or drink anything.  His wife thought he would surely die.  Even seeing, he couldn’t believe it.  He couldn’t comprehend the enormous presence of Gabriel.  If the boss had paid him a visit instead of Gabriel, the man probably would have died.  Best to know what you ask for because you will get it.

I suppose in this light, you’re lucky Kitty Kelly left the building.  The moment a cell phone would go off, he would have, too.  

At some point during this holiday season, I’m sure you’ll either ask God or ask Santa for the things you want, for things you need.  Remember to ask for that and then a little bit more.  The little bit more is so that you can fulfill your greatest need, the need to give to others, to be generous.  I think of all the things Gabriel would have told you tonight, he would have told you to be kind to one another.  Generosity is how you throw off your disguise and show the world how enormous your being truly is.  How legendary you are!

Survivor Mom

The most important take-away concept of the book "The Survivors Club" by Ben Sherwood is that survivors are vigilant.  Such is the case of a New Jersey mom.  The name Amy Schmalbach probably doesn't mean anything to you.  No reason for it to, until now. 

When a census-taker knocked on her door, she says she expected the visit because she hadn't sent in her census form.  As she answered the man's questions, she had an uneasy feeling that she had seen him somewhere before.  She thought she knew where.  She asked him to step back so she could close and lock her door and then went to her computer.  She pulled up the New Jersey sex offender website.  There was a photo of the man at her door.  She called 911 and the man was arrested.

This man had all the correct government credentials for is job.  He had gotten them, however, under an assumed name.  Her vigilance in checking the list stopped this man who had been convicted of exposure and child endangerment.  She may have saved her child.  She certainly saved someone's.

We should all follow Amy's example.  Check the list.  Whether we're parents or not, we know children who need protection.  We teach them to respect authority, but these days recognizing true authority isn't easy.  The evening news is peppered with stories of fake policemen, fake firemen, fake utility workers all using official looking credentials to rob, assault and rape.  Making ourselves familiar with details can help to prevent us from becoming victims.

While cellphones can be very helpful in cases of emergency.  Misuse can also cause the emergencies. Every day I see people walking the sidewalks of New York while pushing strollers and talking on cellphones.  I have seem some that were so involved in their phone conversations that they didn't notice the traffic light had changed. 

Even without a cellphone, people can be dangerously distracted if they don't practise awareness.  At a grocery store a mother picked up her child and swung him around, nearly hitting me.  I had noticed her and was able to stop in time.  I could have just as easily been watching her and used the collision as an opportunity to snatch the toddler from her arms and jump into a car waiting at the curb outside.  When I suggesting being more careful, she snarled back, "You be more careful!"  I replied that I was and that I'm not the one with a child.  She told me I was rude.  She had no idea the tradgedy she might have had.

I try to be aware and anticipate the actions of others around me.  "Defensive Walking" is just as important as Defensive Diving.  Today, Amy has taught us a new lesson in vigilance.  Find the sex offender website  for your state (for NYC, there would be at least three state websites to check: NY, NJ, CT) and check it periodically.  It just might save a child, a neighbor, a co-worker or friend from abuse, rape, or even death.  This is certainly a lesson in living a legendary life.  Thank you, Amy!

A Legendary Case for National Healthcare

He was standing at the foot of the stairs of the Columbus Circle subway station.  As I got off the B train and crossed the platform to wait for the A train to arrive, I noticed him.  A young hispanic man with the brightest smile I have ever seen, was standing at the foot of the stairs leading to the 1 train or the exit, whichever.  That smile was so captivating that I almost miss the sandwich-board size sign hanging around his neck.  Like any other sandwich board sign it was professionally printed with large letters.  The smile was so engaging I had to force myself to read the sign: I lost my arms in a terrible accident.  I am collecting money to buy my prosthetics so that I can return to work.  Please help.

That was when I noticed that this young man with the beautiful smile with a large sign hanging from his neck was holding the sign in place with his upper arms which now ended just above where there should have been elbows.  Those elbows did not have the smoothe scars I have seen on other amputees.  These arm stumps had scars that looked like the mangled wounds that cost this young man his forarms and hands.  These were scars that reported on emergency care that was substandard to our expectations.  I know this because this young man wanted help badly enough to wear a short sleeved cotton dress shirt. 

Suddenly, I didn't know where to look.  I didn't want to stare at his wounds, but they commanded the same powerful attention as his smile.  In spite of whatever he had been through, all that he had been through, he smiled as his sign asked for a second chance to make a living for himself.

I counted 20 people on that platform.  Two of us approached him with cash, which we placed in a shoulder bag hanging on one side.  The other person who made a contribution was a well-dressed black lady carrying a Louis Vuitton bag, a new LV bag, a real LV bag.  I watched as she looked into his eyes, smiling at him and caressed his face as a mother would after putting her money in his bag.  The other 18 people on the platform this day chose not to see him.  They missed out on seeing one of the most radiant smiles they would ever see in their lifetimes.  They missed out on an opportunity to do for someone what our governemnt should be doing.  That is, to make sure that everyone has the best emergency healthcare possible.  To make sure that everyone has the tools they need to make a life for himself...something as basic as hands.

He asked for hands so he can work, not a lifetime of hand outs.  What he must of thought when people didn't see him!  It didn't seem to matter.  He kept smiling, kept trying to engage people.  If this isn't a prime example of how to be legendary, I don't know the meaning of the word.

If you seek truth you will not seek victory by dishonorable means, and if you find truth you will become invincible. ~Epictetus

Growing up Catholic and attending Catholic schools put me under the influence of the Sisters of St. Ursula, and later the Sisters of St. Joseph.  The Ursulines were my teachers in elementary school and high school.  Some of the older ladies of the cloth constantly reminded us to be "true to our school."  If we misbehaved in public, they would be sure to hear about it.  They taught me that it isn't what I do in front of them, or anyone else for that matter,  as much as how I act whenever I think no one would ever know.  Public sins are publicly repented, punished, and forgiven.  The secret sins are the malignacies that harm our well-being.  Such secrets create fear of being found out which leads to mistrust, paranoia, and often, even more bad behavior.

This is certainly evident in the current child abuse scandals rocking the Catholic Church on a daily basis.  It doesn't help that certain church leaders keep stirring the pot by blaming outside influences instead of taking responsibility.  The priesthood has long been one of the most honored professions in the world.  Now it is sadly one of the most despised.  Even within the American prison system, "snake eyes" as child molesters are called, are dealt with by the prisoner community.  Truly there is "honor among thieves," who may not respect themselves or others in general but respect the sancity of a child's innocence.

The first play Joseph Papp produced for a prison inmate playwright was "Snake Eyes" by Miguel Pinero.  The story centers around the treatment a convicted child molester is given when the other prisoners learn of his crime.  It is a tough show to watch, but the message is clear: children are off limits.  They deserve the opportunity to live and grow, to learn and to play, to make themselves legendary.  Regardless of the choices the people we send to prison make, they know this one truth and they honor it.  I was assigned this role once in an acting class, that of the child molester.  It was a very difficult role because there wasn't anything about him with which I could identify.  My only way into this character was to remember that this man was married, respected and well-liked by his community until his secret sin was discovered.  This wasn't a public sin that could bring easy absolution.  It was a sin that required punishment, degradation, and pain of the purpetrator, both outside of the prison as well as inside.  He may have thought no one was looking, but someone always sees.  God is always there.  The priests, bishops, and especially the Pope would do well to remember the lessons taught them by the nuns.  There are no secrets which cannot be discovered.  There are no secrets that can escape justice. 

When Pope John XXIII openned the Second Vatican Council in 1962, his theme was a command from Jesus: "Go, rebuild my Church, for it has nearly fallen down."  If Benedict is to walk in his predessor's footsteps, he had best adopt the motto of legendary the people he follows: "If you seek truth you will not seek victory by dishonorable means."  The Church cannot hide behind itself and expect to survive.  It needs to stand for truth above all else.

Legendary Bliss

There was a book-signing last night.  Or was it a class reunion?  Several of my former co-workers from when I first came to New York were there.  It certainly felt like a class reunion! We had come together to honor one of our own, and of course, to buy his book.  Sure, it was an exciting event, especially since we knew the author!

The man of the hour is someone I have long admired.  Scott Sanders left a management position to come to New York to work as a sales associate while he went back to school so he could make a major career change.  He had reached a point where he was compelled to follow his bliss, and had the courage to follow through.  It has paid off for him, after all the book is not only a compilation of his interior design work, but a journal of his career, his inspiration and the people he has met along his way.

Scott speaks very eloquently of the influence of his family roots.  He is not abashed to admit his taste comes from his mom and grandmothers.  What makes this even more interesting, is that he expresses his "genetic taste" through very feminine colors (shades of blue), accentuated by the masculine (fire engine red, orange and yellow).  His childhood clip file of magazine photos along with his own drawings are the visible seeds of his passion.  Family means a lot to him and it shows in the homes he has created for his clients.

He could have stayed in retail management and had a lucrative career, I'm certain.  However, I think his free time, his dream time would have continued to be spent  drawing and sketching fantasy houses/ homes for a community of fantasy people.  How much better that he said yes to his creative impulses and turned his passion into his career!

In one of my earlier pieces, I wrote that however high you throw your heart, the rest of you will follow.  As all of the people who write motivational books tell us, if you are following your bliss, working with your passion, your work ceases to be a job.  We simply have to be willing to let go in order to hold on to something else.  Scott did this, and in my book it makes him legendary.

Oh, by the way, his book is entitled "Picture Perfect: Designing the New American Family Home," by Scott Sanders.  You can purchase it right here through my Amazon.com associates link on this page.



 

Isn't That The Way They Say It Goes?

"Operator, can you help me with this call?"  There's a phrase right out of a lexicon of the past!  Not only are there no operator assisted calls, but there aren't many operators.  Today communication is all a "twitter" with instant messaging, emails, texting.  The human voice is bound to become a victim of natural selection, the "use it or lose it" evolution. 

No longer will we be wooed by a sweet voice at our ear, but rather the rapid clicking of a keypad.  Humans will become creatures with extended thumbs and index fingers.  Actually, we've seen this before.  Oh, yes, the hands and feet of the great apes!  Are we then "devolving?" 

The apes seen on National Geographic verbalize with one another.  They observe one another so carefully that they pick nits, and smoothe the appearance of one another.  If humans were to do that, they would have to set down their iPhones, Blackberries, or cellphones.  Furthermore, the stars of National Geographic, are always on the lookout for a mate, tracking their children, searching for and sharing food, watching for danger. I recently learned that Oranutangs are models of sharing.  They give away half of anything they find to eat.   By comparison, humans have developed to the point that they can text while driving or walking down a sidewalk, somehow with the full understanding that it is everyone else's responsibility to clear their way.  When it comes to health care or food, well, "survival of the richest" overrides any natural instinct to preserve the species.

Technology offers instantaneous communication as abbreviations, a sort of techie shorthand, all on a hand sized, hand-held keypad.  Every advance we make, takes something away in the name of progress.  Soon we will be incredulous when the "old folk" talk about the days when a man appreciated a great pair of women's legs, or breasts.  Men were worshiped for their broad shoulders and chisled chests.  The youngsters will giggle and ask, "But how could they text with those?" Those extended thumbs will be the new "turn-ons." We are approaching the point where to remember what it was like to be human in the "old days" we will have to watch National Geographic.  By observing the behavior of the great apes, perhaps we will see what used to be so great about being human.

In the Beauty of the Lillies

When you're walking alone somewhere, especially on a darkened street, do you find yourself humming or even singing a song?  It isn't just any song, either.  It's a special one that comes to mind whenever we need a sense of security and comfort.  While this tune swirls in our heads, our feet keep moving until we reach our destination.  This works not only for individuals, but for groups as well, marching armies for instance.

In 1861, Julia Ward Howe wrote a poem which was to become the anthem for the Union Army of the American Civil War.  It came about as a result of a challenge made to her to write  new, uplifting lyrics to the popular song of the time, "John Brown's Body." It quickly gained popularity and its place in history.

My favorite verse, "In the beauty of the lillies, Christ was born across the sea, with a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me.  As He died to make men holy, let us die to make them free.  His Truth is marching on," encapsulates qualities of being legendary.

Let's break it down.  Lillies are symbols of purity and truth.  The sea generally is used in literature to represent desire or freedom.  The bosom is the heart, and it's glory is love.  Love, or devotion if you will,  is the power that changes everything.  It is our call to action.  Is it any wonder this song carried an army to victory? 

When we discover something that we value enough to give our lives over to its pursuit, we find our passion.  The things we do as a result of that passion tell the story of who we are.  Hopefully, it will be said that we acted with an energy in our hearts that changed the world;  that we broke with old ways of thinking and doing, and raised up ourselves and the people around us to a higher consciousness and an exemplary way of life.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

There is nothing harder to overcome than addiction.  There is nothing harder to realize than the state of addiction.  There is nothing harder to admit to someone else than addiction.  There is nothing that feels so good as overcoming addiction.  And, there is nothing that requires more intestinal fortitude and vigilance than remaining free of addiction.

A lot has been discussed in the media about the various addictions of various celebrities, whether in music, sports or film.  A lot of negative judgements have been levelled against  these people which all begin with "He/she should have..."  Should have what?  It only takes 30 days to build a habit.  Addiction is so subtle and insidious that it hardly seems harmful. 

Cocaine is often referred to a "just a little bump" when energy flaggs.  Alcohol is just a drink with friends after work.  Cigarettes offer a rush with the first drag, followed by a feeling relaxation. When it comes to sex, some people can't get enough of that buzz that a "first time" with someone causes.  It's just that you can only have a first time with a partner once.  Nothing can kill that buzz faster than a commited relationship.  Of course, the partner is loved, but that buzz never comes back.  Now how many desserts have you devoured with the exclamation that oh, my god this is orgasmic?  Buzz.  Regardless of the source of the buzz, we all continue to want more of whatever it was.  What can it hurt; I know my limits.  Famous last words.

I'm someone who is very careful about health and nutrition.  However, I have always had a "sweet tooth," especially for chocolate anything.  The word for it is "choclaholic."  Hello, my name is Daniel and I am a choclaholic.  I work out at the gym 3-4 times a week.  I feel better than I ever have. I look good, but I don't have the body I envisioned when I joined the gym.  I decided that my "cheat treats" on the weekends were the cause for my lack of progress.  I had just ordered Girl Scout cookies, but I decided that I was going to banish pastries, candy, yes, including dark chocolate which I always referred to as vitamins, from my world.  I named Ash Wednesday as the day to begin my new commitment.  I am no longer a practising Catholic, but I figured the Holy Day was a great defense.  On my own, well-meaning friends would say, "Oh one brownie isn't going to kill you.  Start tomorrow."  Everyone respects the act of giving up something for Lent.  So Lent was my cover.  Easter is this coming Sunday, so it will be slightly more than 40 days since my lips met Little Debbie's.  It's a little more than 40 days because the Church doesn't consider Sundays as days of Lent, just so you know how I count.

I quit smoking 27 years ago.  I have never wanted one since.  In fact, the smell of cigarette smoke nauseates me.  I want you to know that breaking my connection to processed sugar was by far more difficult.  The cravings were incredible and the longer I went without, the more I wanted.  I rushed through the grocery store because Little Debbie's screaming was too much! 

I have resisted.  I have conquered.  The cravings have gone.  However, the voice of the addiction still whispers.  "Once Easter gets here, you should have a little something to celebrate."  Or the deal maker voice, "Now that you've come this far, you'll control it better next time."  Well, this would be like Sue Ellen Ewing having a glass of white wine to celebrate her graduation from Betty Ford!

While my Lenten battle is not on par with the problems of the celebrities the media thrives on, it was as powerful an inner battle as I ever care to fight.  I understand the pressure of the constant temptation.  I understand the resolve and the relapse.  I respect their battles and wish them godspeed in victory.  And more than that, I wish the media would give them the private space to heal. Someone's personal turmoil shouldn't be anyone's buzz.

The Late Great You Now

One of the best known characters Charles Dickens created is Ebeneezer Scrooge.  We may not like to admit it, but we tend to be a lot like him.  We get so caught up in the busy-ness of life that we miss out on the living of it.  As you recall, Scrooge is visited by three ghosts who help him transform his life.

The Ghost of Christmas Past, reminds him of his youth.  He is young and optimistic, fun to be with and loving.  He is just starting his career, working for a man who is a mentor in living as well as working.  Scrooge is happy, and in love.

The Ghost of Christmas Present is an interventionist.  This apparition shows him the person he has become.  He is fixated on the accumulation of money, but he has forgotten how to use it.  He is disdaneful of other people, but then he doesn't treat himself very well either.  He doesn't provide himself with proper light at night nor warmth. He doesn't even feed himself very well.  Inspite of his wealth, he is unhappy and unloved, except for his only nephew.  His late sister's son believes the soul of the person his mother loved is locked away inside of Ebeneezer somewhere.  He tries every Christmas to lure him out with the love of family.

The Ghost of Christmas Future takes Ebenezzer to a grave that is covered over with weeds.  The money he pursued doesn't maintain his grave.  The people from whom he isolated himself stay away.  His life meant nothing; his death even less.

In the current state of our ecomony, we naturally focus our attention on having enough money to keep a roof overhead and food on the table.  When money is tight and prices are high, people tend to become more frugal.  The danger is that stinginess is only a breath away from frugal.  Our world shrinks to fit our wallet.  When asked to contribute to charity, we claim we have nothing to share. 

You might be wondering why I'm writing about a Christmas story on Palm Sunday.  After all, we are just about to celebrate Passover and Easter.  Think about what these holy days are for.  The days leading up to Passover prepare us to leave our old lives, our old ways of thinking behind.  As we begin the journey to becoming our legendary selves, we will keep ourselves motived by reminding ourselves of why we're doing this; why this is important; why we have to suffer by breaking old habits, and perhaps, losing some friends; why we want so much to be happy and fulfilled.   Easter celebrates resurrection. Again, it brings a message of new life.  As the renewal of vision, hope and determination, it is the promise that we won't simply end on our final day.  Ebenezzer Scrooge was indeed "resurrected," giving him new life to do what he needed to do to be remembered as a man who was joyful and encouraging, who contributed to his community.  His friend and former partner, Marley, marked him to be passed over by Death, who awaited him with the chains he had forged for himself. Instead, He was to be remembered as a loving and kind uncle, and a mentor to Tiny Tim.

Several of the inspirational books I have read, including Dr. Norman Vincent Peale's "The Power of Positive Thinking" offers a very useful suggestion.  Write your own obituary.  Project yourself to the end of you life and write about your accomplishments, your contributions to your community, organizations to which you donated your time and/or money.  Include everything you are leaving behind that matters to you, or that you think will matter to someone else.  This will serve as your Ghost of Christmas Future.  This is what people will recall and say about you.  This is your legend.

Soundtracks

Film directors use music to heighten the emotions of a scene.  The music clues the viewer to suspense and danger,  or passion, love, exhilaration.  As we live through the dramas of our daily lives, it might be good to attune ourselves to our own soundtracks.  The attitude of Gratitude provides the music, but where do the lyrics come from?

I believe our lyricist is Kindness. It soothes our voices, taking the edge off what is said in irritation or anger.  The language of Kindess is respectful and loving, even when it expresses firmness or behavior correction.  Kindness invites people to approach us and lets them know that we intend no harm. 

There is a song recorded by Diana Ross and the Supremes that says, "Whenever you're near, I hear a symphony, a tender melody, pulling me closer, closer to your arms." When we review the events and personal encounters of our day, the soundtrack provided by Gratitude and Kindess will let us know we were legendary that day.  It is a song our hearts will sing through the final reel.

Definitions or Perspective

Someone recently commented to me that "the definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over, expecting different results."  I suppose that would be true to someone who "beats his head against a wall."  It could probably be said of someone who spends all his money on get rich quick schemes.  However, isn't this also the definition of practise?

When I was taking piano lessons, I would have to play the same piece, sometimes just a particular musical phrase over and over trying to get it just right.  In the meantime, my family was being driven mad!  There was no changing Mozart or Chopin.  The notes remained the same.  It was how I was playing them that had to change.  It was a matter of absolute timing, perfect fingering, the bridge of the hand, a lilt, or no lilt.  I wasn't insane, just determined.

Whether a student in speech or drama class, or as an actor learning a part, repetiton, repetition, repetition learns the lines to say, the action or gesture to make on the line.  The only person I have ever heard of who could skip the memorization element was Tallulah Bankhead.  She never even looked at a script if she could get someone to read it to her.  Two complete readings and she had every single one of her lines memorized.  For the rest of us, it's a matter of delivering the speech until we can do so letter-perfect.  Not insane, professional.

When we love someone, we may find ourselves performing some task repeatedly, with the silent hope of appreciation.  Mothers especially do this for their children and perhaps even their husbands; the picking up after them, hanging or folding clothes to put them away, placing toys where they belong, making beds.  Day in and day out, hoping that one day the people she lives with will catch on and do it for themselves.  In lieu of that, a thank you would be nice.  Insane?  No, it's just what Moms and wives do. 

People who pray, pray daily in one form or another.  Sometimes they get the answer they want quickly; sometimes it takes a while. Sometimes the answer isn't the one they expected.  They don't stop praying.  The act of prayer, the quiet time of "be still and know I am god," gives them a connection to something bigger than themselves.  It is the feeling of that connectedness that keeps them praying, not the results.  I don't know of anyone who keeps a prayer score card. When they hit a quota of unanswered prayers, they don't throw hands in the air exclaiming, "This is insane!  I'm not doing this anymore."  Prayerfulness is a practise, like playing the piano, learning a speech or a part in a play.  It provides a perspective and focus on the goodness around us.  We are led to yet another activity, gratitude.

We make a practise of giving thanks to the Divine and to each other.  The reason for this is twofold: the obvious is that every day, every hour, every moment there is something more requiring our gratitude; secondly, and most importantly, we give thanks over and over until we can do it sincerely and without expectation of receiving anything else.  We humans have a tendency of doing/giving in order to get.  We tithe, and expect to be blessed for it.  We thank someone expecting to be thanked when we do something for them next time.  Sometimes, people thank someone in a very public way, expecting the witnesses to hold them in high esteem.  Developing sincere gratitude takes practise.  It is a most worthwhile goal.

Legendary people get that way by practise.  Other people give up.  So who's insane?

Where's the pony?

Let's face it, when it comes to being critiqued we all want praise.  Anything else is thought to be hurtful, hateful, or mean.  Sometimes, the lessons we need to learn the most are the most painful.  Oftentimes, this pain comes from people we thought loved us or at least had our backs.  It is so much nicer when someone comes into our lives to show us how to have a good time, isn't it?

People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.  In school as the student progresses from one grade level to the next, teachers come and go.  It is simply the way school works.  The impermanence is a constant, accepted state of being.  The student is instructed, corrected, graded and graduates to the next level. In adulthood, the same coming and going of people can be a constant source of hurt and insecurity.  The lessons become more personal and internalized.  The system changes to a pass/fail, and our mentality is all or nothing.  Advancing to the next level is more subtle.

As a college student working in retail, I had a wonderful department manager.  He never openly criticized any of his staff.  He would just make a simple statement, observe the reaction and move on.  I well remember him coming up to a group of us who were chatting and saying, "You know, Gang, it's amazing that when the mouth opens, the eyes go shut."  In that moment we realized that our conversation had blinded us to the customers who needed our assistance.  Under his tutelage, I advanced from part-time, to full time sales associate.

Life lessons don't always come as easy.  The confrontations to our egos are the toughest.  These are the ones that are the pass/fail classes.  Sometimes love relationships evolve into solid friendships, if we allow them.  Ususally we don't.  We dig in our heels with the ultimatum, "If you don't love me, you must hate me."  There are fights and arguments until all feelings of love and friendship are destroyed.  By trying to "stake a claim," we utilize a "scorched earth policy" that benefits no one.  I am guilty of this one.  I once was involved with an actor-singer-dancer who came into my life at the best time and the worst time of my life.  I was absolutely obsessed with him.  At his 40th birthday party, I met quite a number of former beaus he has retained as really good friends.  Afterwards, I told my dancer, that if we were to break up I wasn't joining the chorusline of old lovers.  I was a headliner or else I wouldn't be in the show.  My all or nothing attitude has caused me to miss out any possible life sharing because we did break up.  I learned the hard way that one person can't argue another person to remain in a love relationship.  It isn't a court case.  Since then, I have had the opportunity to be on the receiving end of the love ultimatum.  I didn't like it; it also didn't work.  We are, however, still friends.   This is why I say that the dancer came into my life at the wrong time.  I wasn't really ready for the relationship.  I wish I had had the last experience first, and then I might have responded more appropriately to the dancer who offered, "Isn't something better than nothing?"  I said no, when I should have at least said maybe.

Occassionally, the life lesson brings with it a sense of betrayal.  The teacher is someone we really respect and like.  We think this person has our back.  Then something occurs that disproves that theory in our minds.  We get blind-sighted and "hit by a bus" when we should have at least had some sort of warning that the bus was coming.  Such cases, I believe carry lessons for both individuals involved.  The person the bus hit gets a "rude awakening," but it's an awakening just the same.  The driver of the bus is given a lesson in tact, diplomacy, and the meaning of friendship through the loss of the sacrificed friend.  Once again, a lesson in communication was failed because of an all or nothing stance.

I suppose the bottom line here can best be summed up with my favorite expression: Whenever you're up to your neck in crap, keep you mouth shut and look for the pony!  The pony may have created the mess, but it's also your ride out of it, and a step closer to living a legendary life.

Try This On For Size

People try on all sorts of things: clothes, shoes, philosophies, religions, even attitudes.  I remember when I was taking a college class called "Abnormal Psychology," the professor gave the class a warning in his first lecture.  He said we were about to enter the "disorder of the week" zone.  He explained that as we studied various psychological disorders, there would be elements of them that could make us identify with it enough to make us question our sanity.  The mathematical theorem if A=B and B=C, then A=C does not apply to extremes nor to breaks in the cognitive function of the human psyche.  Yes, there would be elements of dysfunction that we would recognize in ourselves.  The difference would be how we process and respond.  His warning was intended to ward us off the delusions of self-diagnosis.

My former partner use to exclaim that Americans are the great embracers.  The clever catch phrase enters the popular lingo almost instantly.  A new diet craze sells books, talk shows and supplements.  The lingo lasts until someone decides it's cliche.  A particular diet is nothing more than the flavor of the month, no make that the flavor of the week!  When it comes adopting a new attitude, well, the shelves at the local bookstore are sagging under the weight of "I'm Okay, You're Okay," "The Power of Positive Thinking," along with an array of books with titles that begin with phrases such as "seven things you should know, do, think, eat."  Don't forget "seven steps to a new you, finding your perfect mate, to success, to increased wealth, to happiness."  Funny that we can look at a plant and see signs of new growth.  We can watch a puppy grow into a favorite companion.  However, when we want to examine our growth, when we look for signs of our life, we look everywhere except the mirror.  Instead we watch a television show or read a book, well maybe part of a book.  Suddenly, our family and friends are wondering if we've been hit on the head because we are speaking differently and acting "totally weird."  After a while, we grow weary of the affectation and revert to our former unhappy, searching selves,  just like we did when the new fad diet made us fatter, and all the crap about getting rich left us in even worse financial shape.  Isn't that the way it always goes?  Americans embrace the quick fix, the cliff notes to living.  I'm reminded of Governor of Texas, Ann Richards, who once commented, "You can dress up a pig, put some lipstick on her and call her Monique, but she's still a pig." 

Self realization is a process.  It isn't the answer found in the back of the book or in an entire season of "Oprah."  Unless you happen to be struck by lightning while riding a donkey on the road to Damascus, or are visited by the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, or Future, the change we seek is not something that happens overnight.  The most important thing we can do is to be our most authentic selves possible while we grow through the process.  It's a matter of acting in the world from a foundation of truth, responding to the world in a natural, uncalculated manner.  When we can take from life and give back to it honestly, we are living the legendary life.  If we allow ourselves to grasp at whatever impulse we think will garner us the biggest reward, the most money, or will make people like us the most and dare to call ourselves improved or enlightened...well, all I can say to that is "Hello, Monique!  Nice lipstick you're wearin'!"

On the Mercy of the Court

There is an old story about a young man who murdered his parents and was to go on trial for his crimes.  At the arraignment, he threw himself on the mercy of the court on the basis that he was an orphan.

There are three important things to consider in this extremely short story.  First of all, the young man didn't admit or deny the charges.  The idea that he had killed anyone was not his concern. 

Secondly, there is no expression of remorse or sorrow for the deaths of his parents. 

Thirdly, he clearly is of the opinion that he is above judgement or reproach.  The trial should not move forward because of his status.

We're seeing this more and more in the world of politicians.  Sadly, there is a sense of entitlement of priviledge of the office.  Whether its to patronize prostitutes privately while publicly prosecuting them; secretly accepting gifts that by law are suppose to be reported; or not reporting income from off-shore real estate investments, the idea of being above the law prevails.  Using the prestige of office or social position is commonly referred to as an "abuse of power."  The key word here is abuse.  Those involved don't see it that way.  Instead, they claim to be the real victims, of some sort of conspiracy or the press.  Occasionally, the accused admit to what they have done, but claim it was within their rights and a trial is not warranted.  After all, they are the real victims.

Whether the abuse is political, sexual, or verbal it is an effort by one person to fulfill desire at the expense of someone else.  As the practise continues, the abuser feels more enpowered, more entitled.  There is a confusion between tolerance and acceptance.  He/she starts to believe that what they do is acceptable simply because no one speaks up.  Once confronted, this person immediately assumes the posture of being the victim.  "Someone should have told me," is the basis of the claim to innocence.  However, it is precisely because someone did speak up that this guise of victimhood has been taken.  It is the result of having reached "the tipping point" that the tolerance has been broken. Isn't it amazing the claim, "Well, they let me do it," is considered a reason for the chosen mode of behavior?

We are all human beings.  We all make mistakes.  Whether we learn from them or not depends on the attitudes we have about ourselves and others.  When we do something that clearly harms the well being of another person, we are accountable.  The Divine within us requires us to admit, repent and strive to do better in the future.  It demands all three steps.  We cannot admit and say we'll do better without the apology. The apology is the main ingredient in the admission.  We cannot appreciably admit to the action and yet claim it was someone else's fault, especially not the fault of our victim. It is crucial for ourselves as well as those we injured.  We cannot grow without this.  Our road to growth and fulfilment, to be truly legendary is barricaded until we we can take this step sincerely and without the expectation of forgiveness.  To be legendary, we do the right thing without expectation of reward. 

Happy Birthday, Mama Fran

When I first moved to Dallas, TX to be the Counter Manager for Charles of the Ritz in the Sanger-Harris Department store I received an unusual welcome.  That cosmetics department employed 40 people; I met 39 of them.  One of them was on vacation and she was reputed to be the "queen bee."  I spent my breaks and lunchtime alone.  The people were nice enough, but as one explained, "Mama Fran decides who stays and who goes around here.  She's on vacation, but once she comes back if she likes you, the others will come around."  This was on top of the fact that my counter mate had wanted the position I had gotten.  The temperature in Texas that week in early August lingered somewhere around 20 below zero!

Finally, Mama Fran arrived.  Everyone gathered around her to welcome her back.  I caught her eye and moved toward her.  I introduced myself.  "I'm Nanuck of the North," I said as I took her hand, "But you can call me Dan."  This henna redhead looked me over and replied, "You don't look much like an eskimo, Mr. Dan.  My name is Francesca, but you can call me Fran.  Honey, if you're cold in Dallas, Tx, it must be cuz you need to eat something.  How about you and me getting some breakfast and get to know each other."  I smiled and said, "Sure."  Fran grabbed her bag with one hand and my elbow with the other to move me along.  "C'mon, Honey, we have to get outta here before those mucky-mucks come around with their goddam break sign-up sheets!" So began one of my most precious friendships.

Francesca Slack is one of my life's most memorable characters.  She was born and raised in Florida before moving to Atlanta and then Dallas.  Her version of the great western migration.  She was Miss Florida of 1946, or maybe '48.  I have forgotten which.  She was also one of Pan Am's first flight attendants.  She did the Washington, D.C. to New York route.  Oddly enough another Sanger-Harris gran dame was also  a member of that first Pan Am team.  However, March Walker flew D.C. to South America.  March is another story!  All I'll tell you about her now is that she didn't like her birth name and had it legally changed to March, much to her mother's dismay.

Fran had grown into a good ole Texas gal with a wicked sense of humor and a tongue to go with it.  Some of my favorite Fran-isms include, "Honey, that man over there is slicker than dogshit on a linoleum floor...kinda cute, though."  The one I heard the most, usually on a Saturday morning on the way to breakfast following Friday after work cocktails was, "Honey, how in the world could your Mama Fran have been so cute and darling last night and feel like catshit under the rug this morning?"  Fran was a party girl from the word go, with a warm and generous heart.  She could get her own way either by batting her big brown eyes, or take it by force.  It was up to you; it didn't matter to her.  We didn't use the word "avatar" in those days, but Bette Boop was hers. 

One of those Friday nights, she was out with a lady friend at the bar of one of the finer hotels in North Dallas.  They were sitting at a table when a group of men asked to join them.  After everybody was settled around the table and introduced,  Fran asked them about their line of work.  "We're high school principals." 

"Principals," Fran repeated thoughtfully, "I ain't ever had any of those."  Everyone laughed and that called for a round of drinks.  One of the guys asked if Fran and Patty worked together and what type of work they did.  Fran explained that they did indeed work together as research surgeons.  "Really?  What exactly do you do?" someone asked.

"Oh, well, we're occu-proctologists.  It's an entirely new field."

"Occu- what?"

"We're occu-proctologists.  We're about to win a prize for our discovery.  We discovered that in some people the optic nerve doesn't stop at the brain, but continues to grow down the spine to the rectum.  Patty here, and myself have perfected a technique of severing that extended nerve."

"My, god!" exclaimed one of the guys.  "What good does that do?"

Fran smiled, tilted her head as Scarlet O'Hara would have done and said, "It keeps them from having a shitty outlook on life."  This was Mama Fran at her best!  Now you know why she and I were such great friends!

Then one day she was informed she had an advanced form of breast cancer.  She decided to have both of them removed.  "I don't want to be left lopsided; then people will know."  This brought out a spiritual side no one suspected was within her.  She joined a meditation group and took me and couple of mutual friends with her.  It was the first time I ever meditated.  It was the first time I heard the voice that instructed me to, "Be still and know I am God."  She gave me my first Shirley MacLaine book, "Out on a Limb."  I learned about the ascended Masters, teachers, and guides.  I was introduced to Matreia, St. Germaine, Dion Fortune and the Dalai Lama.  Fran became an avid reader and practioner of metaphysics and the spiritual realm.  She took me with her on her journey.  Our friendship truly reached a soul level.

At this same time, I became friends with her friend, Laurie.  This is an entire other story also.  I don't intend to be a tease, but there is one point about our mutual friend I wish to share here.  Laurie and I were as close as two people could be.  We used to say that we could only be friends because I am gay and she isn't.  Otherwise our respective partners would be jealous of the time we spent together.  Suddenly, the Laurie and Dan show was over.  I didn't know why then, don't know why now.  It doesn't matter.  Fran would try to discuss this with Laurie who would not answer and would not permit anyone to mention my name in her presence.  In the blink of an eye I had ceased to exist in her world.

Fran's cancer eventually returned and took up residence in her brain.  This time nothing could be done.  When she knew death was eminent, she called for Laurie to come see her.  Laurie rushed to Fran's bedside, held her hand and talked to her then semiconscious body.  Suddenly Fran looked at Laurie and made her swear a promise for after she had passed.  Laurie promised to do whatever Fran asked.  Now bear in mind, that Laurie and I had not spoken for two years before I moved to New York, and this was a couple years after that.  Fran made Laurie promise to be the one who called to tell me she had "moved on." 

When I answered the phone that evening and heard a voice say, "Dan, this is Laurie."  I said, "She left us, didn't she?"  Laurie confirmed that she had, and told me about the promise she had made. 

Fran was my spiritual guide, and still is.  Whenever I notice Betty Boop in a store window, I stop and say hello to her.  Sometimes I hear her tell a joke, sometimes she gives me words of encouragement.   Laurie and I call each other periodically and I am grateful to Fran for initiating our resumed communication.  My spiritual journey has taken me on paths I had never imagined.  It will no doubt continue until I meet up with Fran one of these distant days.  I am more grateful to her than mortal words can express. The only thing that gets me about Fran, is that she always said, "Honey, whenever I take the deep six to the other side, I'm gonna get you the winning lotto numbers."  Sometimes when she pops in during one of my meditations, I remind her of this.  I swear to you I hear her clear as day say, "Honey!  That's why I'm here.  Write these down.  The numbers are...." Then her voice fades out to an inaudible whisper.  It is then I remember another thing she used to always tell me.  "Dan, Honey, whenever you need an extra twenty dollars remember this:  it is a lot easier to find twenty men with a buck a piece than it is to find one man with the entire twenty dollars.  You just have to be willing to climb the stairs a few more times."  It was her way of saying there's no such thing as an easy buck.  I suppose there is only so much a spirit can do, even if it's as legendary as my Mama Fran!

Where Your Passion Waits

Have you ever thought you read a book, only to browse through it at a bookstore and realize you never did?  This is what happened to me when I spotted "The Power of Positive Thinking" by Dr. Norman Vincent Peale.  Originally published in 1952, this book is surprisingly contemporary.  Dr. Peale mentions the prevalent fear the public had of "terrorists ruining our country." This was the time of the "red scare" during the Eisenhower years.  The economy was weak.  People were losing their life savings as well as their businesses.  Sound familiar?

Dr. Peale was a very insightful man.  He had a knack of looking into people's hearts to see the disfunction in their thinking and beliefs and leading them to a remedy to their problems.  With a strong foundation of faith, anyone could take the action necessary to lead a prosperous and happy life.  People he came across who were agitated, argumentative, and disliked were people who in actuality had little or no self confidence, thrived on discord and chaos, and lost their ability to believe in anything.

We all invent and tell ourselves stories about ourselves constantly.  He taught that if people could tell themselves better stories, they could find the power within themselves to overcome any difficulty.  Even in the 1950's, people were stressing over deadlines, rushing to get things done.  In order to make more time for work, they sacrificed time for themselves.  They forgot how to relax, to "Be still and know that I AM God."  He admits that there were times when he was suppose to be on vacation, that people had to tell him to stop working.  A friend who happened to be at the same Florida hotel once told him to put his mail down and to come sit with him and feel the sun on his face.  We all get into that "emergency" mode from time to time.  Unfortunately, we get so focused on the task before us, that we can't find the resolution.  I remember several times when I went to bed exhausted and frustrated.  After some sleep, I bolted upright with the elusive answer!  Ureka!  The mind works best when relaxed.  Relaxation gives Divine Inspiration a chance to enter and give us the answer.

One of my favorite of Dr. Peale's many anecdotes involves a man who taught the art of trapeze.  After considerable discussion and demonstrations of holds and movements on the ground, along with some flexibility and strength training, it was time for the students to take to the air, so to speak.  One young man looked up at where he was expected to go and froze.  The compassionate instructor asked him if he was scared.  The young man shook his head yes.  He was so terrified he couldn't speak.  The instructor put his arm on the young man's shoulder and said, "Son it's really easy.  All you have to do is throw your heart over that bar up there, and the rest of you will follow."  Consider the power of what he said.  "All you have to do is throw your heart over the bar, and the rest of you will follow." 

Metaphysically, the heart is the chakra wherein resides the threefold flame.  It is the comingling of body, mind, and soul.  It is the seat of life, pumping power and life throughout your being.  When you put your heart into something, you are giving it your lifeforce, your soul.  The soul is that part of our makeup that comes from the Divine.  It returns to the Divine source when it leaves the body at the end of life.  Putting the Divine into an endeavor guarantees a happy outcome.  The Divine cannot cause unhappiness; only our ego can do that.

So find an endeavor that you feel that you have to do because it calls to you from the very core of your being.  This is the bar over which you will throw your heart.  It is where your passion waits. 

Looking Back to Move Forward

Thanks to the success of the PBS series about geneology hosted by Henry Louis Gates, jr., it appears we may be in for an onslaught of copycat shows.  The first such commercial venture is entitled "Who Do You Think You Are?"  Catchy title, but what a misnomer!  It should be "Who are your people and where did you come from?" as we often ask newcomers in the South.

These shows are tremendously interesting.  They are also indicators of a serious disconnect in American family life.  It seems that a lot of people don't know as much about their families as they would like. It's as though this generation as well as the preceding one was adopted with all the records sealed.

There are several reasons I can offer for this.  The main one, I believe, is the demise of the family dinner.  So many of us eat on the run, while working overtime or even two jobs, only to finish the day in front of a television or computer that we have become disassociated from our families.  Dinnertime is when the family used to gather to discuss the events of the day, which often led to stories the began with, "When I was your age" or "During the War, that's WWII, 'the big one,'" which brought a few moans, but also gave us a sense of continuity.  When I was growing up, 5 pm was an almost sacred hour.  My father arrived home from work; my mother had dinner ready.  We sat down to the table together and remained there until we all left the table together.  Saturday nights meant a visit to our grandparents.  The entire clan met there weekly.  All aunts, uncles and cousins gathered for conversation, coffee and one of my grandmother's special homemade desserts.  During these visits, aside from our own news, there were letters passed from my grandmother's sisters who either still lived in North Dakota or California.  There was also a copy of the newspaper from Lisbon, North Dakota.  This was mainly a gossip sheet, but kept us all up to date on the people my grandparents had known before they moved away.  Occassionally, there was even a letter from one of my grandfather's brothers still living in Sweden.  These were read by my Granddad and translated for the gathering.  We knew who we were and had an idea of our place in the world.  It was all first-hand oral family history, without the benefit of Google.

My recent trip to Sweden with my sister, while delightful, was enlightening.  We learned a lot about our Grandfather by seeing where he had been born and raised, as well as what he went through to come to the US.  What conversations we could have had with him on our return if he were still alive!  We also learned about ourselves, our attitudes and beliefs by meeting the Swedish people we encountered.  Our Swedish friends taught us a lot about hospitality, generosity of spirit, and humor.  Our concepts of family were reinforced when they made us a part of theirs.  Once again we experienced a context which told us who we are and our place in the world.

I hope these television shows motivate people to connect with their own families as well as their family history.  It's important to know where we came from in order to understand the significance of where we are, and see where we're headed.  Anyone living in the United States who was born here as the result of the immigration of a preceeding generation has a debt of gratitude to pay the ancestors by learning about the courage and sacrifices they made to live in this country and giving them proper recognition.  Our ancestors were searchers, movers and shakers that built this country.  They were indeed legendary.  Now it's up to us to pick up the torch and move forward to create something wonderful for those who come after us.  We want them to think we're legenday, too, don't we?

The Greatest Prayer

Meister Eckhart wrote, "If the only prayer you ever say in your whole life is 'thank you,' that would suffice."  Indeed, thank you is one of the most powerful phrases in any language.  It implies a lot more than gratitude.  It tells the other person, "I see you."  Recognizing the other person's presence is the quinessential compliment.  If you don't believe it, try an experiment.
 
Make yourself aware as you walk through an open door of the person holding it open for you.  When you are paying for groceries, notice the person who has bagged them for you as well as the one who rings up your purchase and takes your payment.  If you need to ask assistance or directions, be aware of the person you are addressing.  You will see a light switch on in their faces.
 
As the former greeter/concierge of an upscale Madison Avenue store, I can tell you that it made a wonderful difference in my day when people said thank you as I held the door open for them or gave them information about the immediate area.  Yes, it was my job.  Yes, too, I was a human presence. The difference that simple phrase made was that the person acknowledged me.  That consideration allowed me to feel like I was more than a doorstop or a signpost.  I'm sure some people never even realized they had walked through a doorway.  These people did not diminish me in anyway, but they did reveal a lot about themselves. 
 
I love the Hindu greeting, Namaste.  It literally translates as "not me, they."   They refers to all the gods of the Universe.  It says I don't do this for you, but God does.  The Divine has arranged for me to be in this place at this time for you.  In turn, the Divine has also arranged for you to be in this place at this time for me.  Now do you feel the power of this greatest prayer?
 
Legendary people are aware people.  Legendary people understand that there is nothing without purpose.  Part of their awareness is that there is so much in this Universe that people cannot possibly sense all the wonderful things that are here to benefit their soul's human experience.  Every time someone is aware enough to say thank you, brings that person closer to discovering more of the unseen treasures.  A simple phrase such as thank you or namaste engages the body in the soul's quest for the quinessential.

"Aren't We Lucky?"

When I worked in Dallas, TX at the Sanger Harris department store, there was a woman there named Eleanor.  Eleanor was a "good ol' party girl" whose mirror only reflected a high school cheerleader from a very long time ago.  This widow with grown children sported a curly blonde wig, false eyelashes over bright blue eyeshadow, the blackest liquid eyeliner known to womankind, pale frosted peach lipstick, a deep tan, a push-up bra under a scoop-neck sweater with a silk scarf tied around her neck.  She was our own Blanche DuBois.  This was a lot to take in, even in the early 1980's, but Eleanor knew how to work it.

She had to be in her late 60's, but that didn't stop her from being the comsumate flirt.  She sold men's furnishings. When she had a male customer of any age, she knew exactly when to lead forward on the counter, or bendover to pick a tie she had "accidentally" dropped.  She also knew how to speak very softly to these gentlemen so that they had to lean in to hear her.  She was one of the store's leading sales associates.  If the gentleman was near her own age, she was often invited to join him for a cocktail and perhaps dinner after her shift.  She was amazing!  Tennessee Williams should have met her!

The thing that made Eleanor so amazing was her attitude.  She put herself together in a way she (and a LOT of men) thought was appealing.  There was no reason on earth to look or act old if you didn't have to.  Anytime she was confronted with adversity, a car accident, a burglary, she would say, "Aren't we lucky?"  When she was diagnosed with cancer, she said it had been found in time for surgery to remove it completely and her response was, "Aren't we lucky?"  She never dwelt on anything that she lost, she simply considered herself lucky to have survived it.  She left the unpleasantness behind, and moved on.

She may have had more "gentleman callers" than a country dog has fleas, but what makes her legendary in my mind is that she was always kind, always soft and comfortable to work with, and she had a delightful spirit.  When I think of her I think always think, "aren't we lucky" she came our way.

The Way You Tip Your Hat

One of my favorite Ella Fitzgerald songs says, "We may never meet again on the bumpy road of [life], still I'll always, always keep the memory of...The way your smile just beams, The way you sing off key, The way you haunt my dreams, No they can't take that away from me." This is the essence of the meaning of legendary.

When I was very young, I was involved with a wonderful loving man. The difference in our ages was too great for the affair to last, but he taught me a lot. One morning I awoke to see him watching me sleep as he lightly caressed me. I asked him what he was doing. He replied that he was doing his memory work so that he would never forget his happiness with me when I was no longer with him. In a way, he was taking an emotional snapshot for the photo album of his mind.

No one awakens in the morning wondering what he or she can do to be legendary that day. It is impossible to plan ahead the quintessential experience we will create for either ourselves or someone else. It isn't a matter of what we do, but how we do it. There is another classic song that says "it ain't what you do, but they way that you do it. It ain't what you do, but the time that you do it."

The things that people will remember is how we made them feel when they were around us: how our smile welcomed them; how we stepped up to help when others stepped away; how we listened and comforted them without turning their story into one about ourselves. They will remember the tears we shed with them as well as the joyous, racous laughter we shared. In short, whenever and however we touch someone else, they are doing their memory work so that they will remember us when we have gone away. How we respond to others is the emotional snapshot we leave for them. This is what will make us legendary...or not.

Apples With a Peale

In the spring of 1975, a friend invited me  to go with her to see Dr. Norman Vincent Peale speak at Unity Village, just outside of Kansas City.  I was a huge fan of Dr. Peale, so I could hardly wait to attend.

When he stepped out on stage, I was dumbfounded.  I had always envisioned him to be a tall, robustly built man.  Here was a short, rather small-framed man.  I felt so disappointed and whispered this to my friend.

When Dr. Peale spoke, he did so with warmth and eloquence.  One of the stories he told that night had to do with one of his neighbors in upstate New York and an apple tree.  It seems that the apple tree in question grew where the two properties jointly met the road on Dr. Peale's side of the fence.  The neighbor was insisting that Dr. Peale have the tree cut down.  He complained that its twisted trunk with gnarled branches was an eyesore and a blight on the community.  Dr. Peale agreed that it was indeed an old tree, not as strong as it once was.  He had installed a sort of crutch for support, and to keep a strong wind from bringing it down on the fence.  He went on to say that it looked especially old and rickety in the winter.

"However," he continued, "every spring it is lustrous in a multitude of pink and white blossoms.  In late summer those blossoms turn into some of the largest and sweetest apples to be found anywhere.  That tree is doing the job God gave it to do."  Needless to say, the tree stayed.

As we exited the auditorium, I thanked my friend enthusiastically for such an inspiring evening.  "I was surprised he is so tall!" I exclaimed.  My friend simply smiled and said she was happy I hadn't been disappointed.

When someone is legendary all that shows is their intrinsic value.  That is their beauty.

Unlikely Giant

The soul engages the body in its quest for the quintessential human experience.  As such, it is important that we give the body the care and attention it needs.  Good health includes nourishment and hydration, exercise and rest.

As a teenager I could devour 2 double cheeseburgers, fries and a chocolate shake every day and not gain an ounce of weight.  Things change as we grow and develop.  Our signature hairstyles, clothing and make-up for ladies can either make us look current and young or dated and old.  Nowadays if I even smell cheeseburgers and fries I can feel my belt getting tight.

Like a lot of men, I kept buying the same size pants I always wore for as long as I possibly could.  It's just that the waistband hit me lower and lower.  I know you are all familiar with this look.  It's the gut overhang. It fools men into believing their waistline hasn't changed.  It is not attractive.

As my girth increased, my effectiveness at work decreased.  My hard earned credentials lost their value.  My rheumatoid arthritis was flaring up constantly.  I developed a problem knee that an orthopedic surgeon told me would have to be replaced.  My body was failing my soul's ambitions.  I clearly had some decisions to make.

I had never been one for exercise.  I was not athletic in school.  In fact, I was such a non-athlete that when my high school phys. ed. coach announced guys lacking any athletic ability excel at volleyball, I was the first guy picked for the volleyball team. I joined a gym once, but that didn't work at all.  I didn't know what I was doing.  The trainers didn't see themselves as miracle workers.  As a result, I was left with the most economical and best starter exercise of all...walking.

The first time I ventured out I walked 15 minutes out and 15 minutes back.  I thought I would die!  I tried it again the next day.  Same result.  I continued trying every weekend until I hit the tipping point.  Suddenly, I was walking at a steady pace for an hour, for two hours.  I amazed myself! 

One Saturday, I stopped off at a men's clothing store to purchase a new pair of slacks.  I automatically grabbed a pair of 38's and headed to the dressing room.  Yes, I had graduated in size selection, but I was still "poured into them."  I refused to go any higher as long as I could get them fastened.  To my surprise on this particular day, the 38's fell down.  When I picked them back up, I could see they were far too big for me.  I traded them for size 34.  They also fell down.  I traded these for size 32.  These were still a little big, but fine with a belt.  I made my purchase and rushed out of the store.  I wept my entire walk home. 

I realized that with the extra pounds off, I was more engaged with my friends.  I was capable of so much more that sitting in someone's living room to visit or watch movies.  We were taking day trips to south and west Texas to hike and climb.  We even went as far as Lawton, Oklahoma to hike and explore.  Just outside of Austin I climbed up Enchanted Rock, a small granite mountain.  Climbing up was easy, but with my fear of heights, getting down was quite an adventure!

Walking took the weight off and now the gym builds me back up.  Lifting weights not only gives me muscle definition and strength, but it also alleviates most of my RA symptoms.  By the way, I still have my own knees and they both work as they were designed to do.

At Gold's Gym I worked with a great trainer.  He showed me proper techniques and posture.  Just as important, he held me accountable.  "Don't cheat yourself" was his mantra.  I have also discovered Tom Venuto and Nick Nilsson.  Both of these trainers have very helpful websites.  I highly recommend them!

I have learned a lot about fitness and exercise by meeting good people and observing how they exercise.  There is always something new to learn and to try.  There is one guy at my gym who is the source of my greatest inspiration.  He's about 5'4" and weighs maybe 115 lbs.  He has a twisted leg and the opposite foot turns in.  He also has one arm that doesn't hang quite right.  I see him at Gold's all the time.  Every time I train, he is there on the weight machines performing his workout routine to the best of his ability.  He doesn't chat.  He is totally focused on the job at hand and he gets it done!  If you saw him on the street you would never guess he had just lifted weights.  His body is certainly engaged with his soul.  On a very real level, given his size and physical challenges, this guy is the quintessential weight-lifter.  That makes him legendary in my book!

Direction and Connections

I sat opposite a father with his young son on the subway yesterday.  The boy was probably 5, maybe 7, years old.  They got on at 96th Street.  Their conversation was comprised mostly of the boy asking questions and the father giving short responses.  As the train approached 86th Street, the boy announced the stop.  He also advised his father that if they got off there, they could take the such and such bus to continue their journey.  The father simply said they were going to stay on the train.  At 81st Street, the boy announced that they could get off there and go to the Natural History Museum.  At 72nd Street, they could go to Central Park and visit Strawberry Fields.  He wondered if people would be there this time of day singing Beatle songs.  Then at 59th Street/ Columbus Circle, the boy announced all the possible train connections to be made and which platform to go to.  Again, the father simply replied that they would remain on this B train.

This child knew every stop and every possible connection, highlighted by a point of interest for every stop until they got off at 34th Street.  He was incredible!  Adults don't know that much about the subway.  I don't know that much about the subway and I've lived here since 1993, long before this boy was born.

While his knowledge was indeed amazing, what makes this kid legendary to me is his persistence in trying to get what he really wanted.  Patti Stanger, the Millionaire Matchmaker, says that the person asking the questions on a date is the one pursuing a connection.  This little boy always followed up his announcements with, "Would you like to go there sometime, Dad?" or "Is this your favorite stop, Dad?  Why do you say that?"  He was obviously intent on engaging his father in conversation.  He was on a date with his Dad and he wanted conversation. 

I learned a lot from this kid, not only about the subway, but also about the importance of pursuing a connection with someone.  He will be an amazing man in a few years.  I hope his father notices.

Welcome to Living The Legendary Life

Whenever you encounter the word "legendary" who comes to mind?  Do you instantly envision Hollywood beauties like Garbo, Hayworth, Lombard, Loren or Monroe?  What about their male counterparts, such as  Grant, Gable, or Power?

Perhaps you think of world leaders like say, Churchill, Mahatma Ghandi, the Kennedy brothers, Martin Luther King, or The Dali Lama?

Then again, if you live for the theatre, you might well include Olivier, Gielgud, Berstein, Sondheim, Stritch, Selddes, and Lansbury on the list of legendary figures.

All of these people are indeed legendary.  Each in a most individual way has contributed to the culture that defines us and challenges us.  The famous are not, however, the focus here.  Our purpose is to discover what constitutes the quintessential human experience as we navigate our way to becoming legendary.  As C. S. Lewis once wrote: "You do not have a soul.  You are a soul.  You have a body."  When we use the body to do the bidding of the soul, we are indeed quinessential human beings.

Welcome to Living The Legendary Life.  I hope you will find it entertaining as well as thought-provoking.