I wrote all of this while sitting in my powerless house. The heat increased each day as the cool house lost it’s internal air. I spent the days running errands in my air conditioned vehicle (looking for gas in Pearland and El Campo), spending the afternoons at the movies and driving around charging up my phone and batteries. The power in a small portion of my subdivision came back on Thursday evening. I slept very well that night.

“One of the most important things you can do on this earth is to let people know they are not alone.” ― Shannon L. Alder

Hurricane Beryl blew through the Houston area late last night (early this morning).

No power today. That means few connections with civilization.

I took a walk through the neighborhood. Mostly leaves, small branches and limbs scattered everywhere in yards and the streets. We have large trees everywhere. Some fences blown over. A few trees and branches torn down. The creek is up.

I have a minor roof leak over my bed!

It’s always something.

Lately I’ve been thinking about people helping other people, or not. What keeps us from doing what we could and should with strangers in need and especially with those we love and care about? Expectations can be a dangerous threat to human relations.

What do we know about how humans react and respond to stress and unfamiliar situations – like a loss of control? Here’s what I think, so far.

1. People don’t help because they don’t know how. This can be especially true for the young and inexperienced. It’s not fair to put everyone on the same playing field when it comes to caring. Experience is the great teacher. Rather than make a mistake, often we feel safer just staying on the bench and hoping someone else will carry the ball down the field. Fear of failure can be a big obstacle for helping. Even helping people we love.
2. People don’t help because their lives are already full and complicated. It’s not that someone isn’t interested or doesn’t care, they are just overwhelmed with their own busy-ness. We all live in a world that is overblown with obligations, unrealistic goals, and a 24-7 work schedule. Add to this the addictive nature of technology. Who has time to even think about and put into action helping solve someone else’s problems – even others who are close?
3. People don’t help because they don’t have the resources. Let’s widen our thinking about what resources can really mean. This isn’t just physical stuff like money or items to donate (or a room someone can stay in overnight). Resources can also mean time, energy and ability. Gee, I’d like to help you pick up all those Lego’s off the floor, but I can’t bend down anymore at my age. A silly example, but think about all the times that someone just can’t help because they believe they’re not capable. All of us have an emotional reservoir that can get depleted. There’s also the know-how it might take to help in certain situations. Older people can access their larger social network for resources, but that’s difficult for young adults.

“No one is useless in this world who lightens the burdens of another.” ― Charles Dickens

Too often we get mad because people don’t meet our expectations to help out.  Remember that people who need help often struggle like the drowning person. Lifeguards are trained to approach from behind and pull the drowning victim face up – all in an effort to keep from being pulled under themselves by the thrashing panic.

When in need, there’s often no time or room to think about someone else’s situation. We are overwhelmed with the disaster flood that has overtaken us. The best advice is to be “quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry” (James 1:19).

I received a lot of help. Before the storm hit, people were communicating and checking on me to be sure I was prepared. Immediately after, that morning, I had more contacts offering all sorts of encouragement and offers. I didn’t feel left alone here in my hermit cave.

A few posts to follow to give you more than you ever wanted to know about surviving the disaster, despite our power company!

“You have not lived today until you have done something for someone who can never repay you.” ― John Bunyan

“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.” ― John Lubbock

I’m flipping through my Texas Monthly magazine. As summer approached, there were advertisements galore for all the wonderful getaway spots throughout the state. Places for vacations, most included water. We used to head to the beach, it was so close, BEFORE the Memorial Day crowds hit. I stayed in the very cold AC while my wife sat by the pool to read her one beach read of the year.

Looking at all promotions and beautiful locations, it reminded me of summers when I was growing up. In my teen years, my extended family bought a piece of property on Medina Lake just outside of San Antonio. We could get there in under an hour. The spot was in a secluded cove. It was one giant slide downhill from the top to the water. Of course we could access it from the boat, but needed to also truck in supplies.

Over the years, a very primitive road was scraped down the hill, and a little cabin was built – all homemade. My grandfather was a carpenter who knew how to get the basics all put together. I’m not sure how we ever got up and down that little road with our big vehicles. My grandmother would never ride up/down, preferring to walk and not risk her life. We would all gather at the bottom each time someone drove up the hill, holding hands praying, but also prepared to jerk someone out of the way of gravel flying from spinning tires. I think eventually we had asphalt brought in?

Everyone, mostly the adults, worked hard to carve out that private hideout up at the lake. As I remember, the bathroom being the most essential ingredient. It was a physical location hidden in the woods, but over the years became a collection of memory that we each have saved away like treasure.

We kids spent almost every minute in the water. Our uncle bought the property adjacent, so our cousins were there during the summers. We would bring friends and horsed around in that secret spot all day long. I still can’t believe we never saw a snake?

Of course, as I look at all of these glitzy vacation spots in the magazine, I’m also reminded of what a hillbilly camp we actually had. But that’s now, decades later, as an adult. Back then, as a kid, all that mattered was having a place to be together, jump in the lake, and wallow in the joy.

 

My grandkids just spent about a week with me. I tried to figure out some memories we could build and share. I always start out with best laid plans but end up with far less patience and stamina than I had hoped. We did get some fun accomplished. I wonder what they will write about in their own blogs?

“The past beats inside me like a second heart.” ― John Banville

The point I’d like to make is about the value of memory. Their value increases with time. Think about your own memories and how you can be a part of building more in the life of those around you. In the end, it’s those memories that last and live on.

I’m packing up another box of books each week to pass on. I can’t fill one up without stopping to remember when, where, how that book came into my life and what I learned. Mostly, these have been theology and church-life books, so far. Anyone looking for some fiction? I’m disposing of most of my house stuff right now, but all the memories are saved like treasures.

A young couple were over for dinner this week and I talked too much (as usual) but pointed throughout the room at all the props, telling my stories of all the people who meant so much to us. Not decorations, just signposts along the way.

Take someone to that place, attend that concert (before the band dies), have a great meal back where something special happened. How about a road trip? Make it simple, sit down with a friend, have a cup of coffee and share some photos off your phone. Maybe what’s even more important, ask questions and dig for some treasures in the life of your friends. Share those memories and help give life the meaning it really, really needs (have you been watching the news?).

 

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” ― Viktor E. Frankl

Viktor Emil Frankl was an Austrian neurologist, psychologist, philosopher, and Holocaust survivor, who founded logotherapy, a school of psychotherapy that describes a search for a life’s meaning as the central human motivational force.  (Wikipedia)

As you face those to-do constant lists, do you ever have trouble getting motivated?

I had lunch with friends and it seems I’m not the only one with this obstacle. When summer comes each year, I always start out with a big list of goals that I know I’m going to get done during this season. This year, as I plan to get my house ready to sell, I’ve really got urgent projects on my list. 

This is usual for me each Summer. A big list of projects and lots of anticipated success.  Typically, I don’t get much of it done and in September can never figure out what went wrong. It gets so “tropical” hot down here – maybe that’s the problem. Those annual to-do lists just melt away in the heat. 

“A happy person is not a person in a certain set of circumstances, but rather a person with a certain set of attitudes.” ― Hugh Downs

Actually this happens to me and to most people, not because there’s something broken with our brains or due to a lack of will power. People here in the West tend to have what’s called an Optimistic Bias in their thinking.  This is an error in our thought processing that causes us to become overconfident about how things will turn out. This can apply to life in general or our own specific activities. 

What this often leads to is what’s called a Planning Fallacy. As we begin a project, like putting together a summer list of things to do, we get too optimistic about the time it will actually take to complete a project. We get behind or never start because the list overwhelms us. Do you see the roots in that Optimistic Bias?

I’ve known about this for a long time. But this year, I’m being more deliberate in may awareness of my implicit biases. So, what I’m doing this summer is dividing and conquering. Doing just one thing from my list each day. Eating that elephant, one bite at a time. I’m two months in and so far, so good. 

Next time you’ve got a big list – why not break it down instead of letting your optimism foul your plans. 

“Chew off a little every day, because it’s hard to swallow a whole pie at once.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich

 

June 6, 2024

All day I have been watching reports about the the 80th Anniversary of the D-Day Allied invasion on the beaches of Normandy France.   This may be the last big celebration that many of the returning veterans attend. Their ages range from 90’s to 100’s. So many were being pushed to the celebration in wheel chairs.

People always ask, how did 150,000 fighters volunteer, get prepared and then hurl themselves into the jaws of death like they did that day? After asking how did that happen, there’s always the follow up question, could it ever happen again? Could we ever assemble a force like that if a similar crisis faced civilization again?

As a social scientist, I want to know, what kinds of external forces push and pull individuals to do what must be done – even at the risk of their lives. Have you seen Saving Private Ryan? That scene when they landed on Omaha beach was gut wrenching for me to watch. Americans are trained to be so individualistic that it’s difficult to think about external forces influencing us. Have you ever had a lump in your throat when at the stadium and the National Anthem begins?

Emile Durkheim was the first to have the academic job title, Sociologist. He was French and lived from 1858-1917. One of his major contributions to social thinking was his idea of “social facts.” There are things out there that we as a society create that turn around and influence us as individual members of that same society. Patriotism for example.

Remember the one child policy that the People’s Republic of China instituted between 1979 and 2015? Their society was too large (citizens producing too many children). This “social fact” was used by the government to mandate laws regulating how many children couples could have.

Crime rates are also infamous social facts. These are created by people committing crimes (or getting caught). We then create Three-Strikes Laws that punish repeat offenders by mandating jail sentences. This is another social fact, increased prison populations, led Governor Kevin Stitt of Oklahoma to authorize a mass commutation of prisoners. Huge prison populations were bankrupting the state.

Anyway, Durkheim wrote about suicide. He challenged the notion that these tragedies were ALWAYS explained psychologically. That each case had it’s own individual cause. This French professor used newly available social data to demonstrate that there were social facts that could also explain suicides.

He came up with four categories of suicide caused by integration or regulation (too much and not enough):

1. Sometimes people commit suicide people because they never get connected enough and, more importantly, the social world doesn’t get connected into them. People who are all alone. Durkheim thought that unmarried males were especially susceptible to this type of problem.
2. At the other end, he believed that people could get too connected to the needs of their social group. Even their own self-preservation and safety might be sublimated to the needs of the group. This is the soldier who throws himself on the grenade to save the rest of his unit. During WW2 the west was shocked by the number of Japanese Kamikaze pilots prepared to die for their Emperor.
3. There are periods of time when the rules seem to change overnight and we don’t know how to play the game of living anymore. Think of the people who lost their fortunes overnight in the 1929 stock market crash. So many successful businessmen threw themselves out of their office windows. It can also happen in the reverse. The norms of life can dramatically change with a lottery win. There are hundreds of examples, someone is suddenly rich and powerful and then live suicidal lifestyles.
4. Finally, Durkheim pointed out that when the rules, or regulation is too overpowering, people sometimes choose suicide. The prisoner or captive that has all freedoms stolen and is left with no hope for any future.

“Things perceived as real become real in their consequences.” ― Émile Durkheim

I don’t think the invading forces during D-Day were committing suicide. Even the 9000 that are buried there at Normandy, each man’s hope was to one day return home to America. No, what I was thinking about all day were Durkheim’s idea about social facts. These bore down on all those young men and women. These external forces propelled the Allied Forces, each fighter, onto those salty beaches, flying through the air, off shore in great and small ships, and even floating down on parachutes. These brave and frightened young people were pushed forward by powerful beliefs they had been taught and internalized about liberty and democracy. About a cause greater than themselves.

Of course, we’re probably mythologizing. That’s what we often do with the past. But, this serves a great purpose for a society. We must have heroes, we must find living examples of our essential beliefs. All societies must have stories to tell that embody their most precious abstract values.

Many of the veterans interviewed this week reported that they had no idea of how devastating and inhumane the circumstances were for the conquered people in Europe and those in concentration camps. We look with hindsight at all the horrors of the war. I’m not sure those young soldiers at the time knew as much of the facts as we do today. Yet they were still willing to risk it all.

What do you think it would take to get you to risk everything on an idea?

“Man cannot become attached to higher aims and submit to a rule if he sees nothing above him to which he belongs. To free him from all social pressure is to abandon him to himself and demoralize him.” ― Émile Durkheim

Did I already tell you about my experiences with birds years ago?

Back in 2017 I did write a bit about this. But that was way before all hell had broken loose.

“His days were full of nights.” ― Harold Hoefle

Years ago I was having one of those mid-life crises. Except I’d had several already, thought I was done with that.  And by the way, I was past mid-life, wasn’t I? A very familiar statement from one of Jesus’ teachings fell on me just when I needed it. Houston native Cynthia Clawson sings a rendition of “His Eye is on the Sparrow” that is just incredible and worth a listen.

In my mind, Jesus is sitting in the market that has been set up in the Temple to sell animals for people to buy for sacrifices. He points to the sparrows. These are the cheapest offerings one can purchase. He draws his followers attention to these least important creatures.

Look at the birds in the sky. They do not store food for winter. They don’t plant gardens. They do not sow or reap—and yet, they are always fed because your heavenly Father feeds them. And you are even more precious to Him than a beautiful bird. If He looks after them, of course He will look after you. (Matthew 6:26)

What fell on me at that hard time in my life was that statement, “consider the birds…” Over the next eighteen months or so, birds started showing up right in front of me. They would greet me at the front door, be in my house, looking in the window, and even singing very loud outside my bedroom to wake me up. It wasn’t so much the birds themselves, but the reminder they carried with them, “…of course he will look after you.”

When I had my first bird encounter the only real troubles I was facing was figuring out my place at work. I’ve got a terrible messiah complex, always thinking I’m on a big mission. One day at work my mission came crashing down and the realization that I was just spending my days at a job set in. That was when these encounters started. Don’t worry about your misunderstanding about work or how you are treated here, “…of course he will look after you.”

Then one day, the birds went away. Now, tonight, years later, I watched the Carolina Chickadees eating from the seeds I had set out for them in the cool evening breeze. They fly in fast, small and quick little birds. The seeds are too big. They dart up to a nearby branch, hold the seed in their feet and work to peel the husk off the seed.

I’m only putting out safflower seeds because the squirrels won’t eat them. The squirrels and I have our own pitched battle taking place. We are now at a standoff.

In the early Spring I will see pairs of cardinals when they’re courting, the male will offer a seed to his date. They don’t do it after they’ve gotten engaged. It’s purely a mating behavior. Typically, the red birds have a beautiful song. While this courting is taking place, I’ve watched other males looking on from a distance with that dejected sound in in their song. Maybe I’m reading too much into this?

The only other birds that eat these seeds are big fat doves. They plop down in the middle of the dish and fill up. Before the sun sets, in the quiet of the day my back garden is a place of escape. These early evenings are few in Houston. We run outside and enjoy them. Before the mosquitos invade.

“When the times are a crucible, when the air is full of crisis, those who are the most themselves are the victims.” ― Gregory Maguire

So much was to come into my life in the days since those first encounters with the birds.

That period of time when I saw those birds so near, it helped me get ready for what was to come. It helped me to know for sure that God would love and care for us just as he does for the insignificant birds.

Cancer soon arrived. My wife fought like a hero in a fairy tale for several years. She lived one day at a time and was able to welcome her first grandchild. Then we suffered through hospice for that summer. A birdfeeder was hung at the window. We were all reminded every day of God’s presence, by the birds but mostly by the people who loved us. She died five years ago. I was numb inside and out. But planted deep inside me was, “…of course he will look after you.”

“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.” ― Edna St. Vincent Millay

Soon after that disaster, my children kidnapped my grandkids and moved away, leaving me here really alone. There was no appropriate paperwork filled out, no committee consulted, no vote taken. They just up and left. As I watch my grandchildren grow up over Zoom calls and dwindling in-person visits, I mourn their loss each day. It’s like a slow starvation. I have to work hard to make sure I’m hanging on to the right life raft and when I hear a bird sing, know that,  “…of course he will look after you.”

After almost thirty years as a professor at the university, I was fired one day. No longer of any use. It took just two minutes over the phone by a stranger reading a script from a card. Feels like the third leg of my stool has been knocked out. How many legs have I got left before teetering over? This blow has many layers of catastrophe that keep pouring over me. But, when I sit in the back or look at all the bird images in my house, it’s right there, “…of course he will look after you.”

I’m now trying to figure out a mysterious future. Friends are asking, what will you do now? Some get a baffled look on their face when I tell them, I’m just waiting on what God has planned, “…of course he will look after you.”

I’m planning to sell my house, jam packed with memories. Slowly but surely I’m passing on my two libraries (work and home). Right now I’m trying to lose as much as I can. Including fourteen birdhouses that we collected and were given to us since 2017. All of this is loss as well. Leaving behind and passing on. Most of my identity and most of my possessions. My place, literal and figurative, in the world – all going away. I don’t feel any fear, anger or anxiety. There’s just a lot all at once. Those birds seemed to have gotten me ready for these mysterious twists and turns in the river, “…of course he will look after you.”

“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.” ― William Shakespeare

Back in 2017 when I wrote on here about my bird story, I had no idea all that was around the corners. I don’t believe that God is ever caught by surprise. Those birds and their memory reminded me that God is going to continue to care for me – one way or the other. I was having an angry fit the other evening. I passed by the window and there was a big blue jay peering in at me. I had to stop and get ahold of myself. This situation was better out of my turmoil filled spirit and in God’s hands, “…of course he will look after you.”

People fumble the ball all the time, myself included. In my experience, God hasn’t ever done that to me. He’s faithfully been with me, looking after me, each and every step I take.

“But the time is coming—indeed it’s here now—when you will be scattered, each one going his own way, leaving me alone. Yet I am not alone because the Father is with me.  I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”  – Jesus (John 16:32-33)

“A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.” ― Washington Irving

As time went by, my wife decided that the gift she enjoyed more than any other was a giant bouquet of flowers. What settled her on this were the bunches of flowers I was able to pile together from our upscale grocery store. They have an over-the-top assortment to choose from that can’t be beat. Completely different from what you find at the typical “grocery store” – those apology flowers that people grab on their way home from work, late.

My wife decided that she’d rather have flowers for her birthday, anniversary, Mother’s Day, and any other special occasion I could imagine. Including the apologies I was always behind in delivering.

I was just at the grocery store (again) and saw all the various “types” grabbing their gifts and flowers for Mother’s Day. I could sit in there for hours just watching and sorting everyone into their category. There were dads pushing carts with young children all on a mission to find something just right. I saw a young man, probably still in high school, with two bunches of flowers – each had chocolate bars sprouting up into the air. Older couples were putting together their contributions for the meal with a mother-in-law. That young husband, maybe he’s also a new dad, was concentrating so hard over each choice in the floral department. As if this year’s choice was the one and only.

“I love you every day. And now I will miss you every day.” ― Mitch Albom

Maybe you ought to think about celebrating the mom’s in your life more often. How about a big bouquet to commemorate the day YOU were born? What about celebrating anniversaries? Potty training day? Your driving license? First date? Those surely meant something big to your mom. What about your wife? How about a big bouquet for each of your children’s birthdays? Your first date with her?

The point is, find as many excuses as you can to celebrate motherhood – all through the year. What about breakfast in bed each Saturday? Take the kids on a fieldtrip and give her a break. YOU arrange for the babysitter and plan a date. Why not just cleaning up in the bathroom after yourself – every time? I just had a niece graduate from college – it went so fast. My grandchildren in preschool seems eternal, but I will blink and sooner than later watch each graduate. Don’t wait to remember.

“The timeless in you is aware of life’s timelessness. And knows that yesterday is but today’s memory and tomorrow is today’s dream.” ― Khalil Gibran

Buying a giant bouquet can seem like an extravagance. The flowers don’t last. Gone in a week if you’re lucky. But their memory is still here with me. And I wasn’t even the one to receive them. Those moments of happiness, that were here one day and gone soon after, were worth every penny, worth the time driving across town, worth wrangling with the florist, worth hoping I’d made the right choices and had enough to fill up a giant vase at home (I’m a cheapskate at heart).

It was especially heartwarming tonight to watch those children, as their faces lit up when they had chosen the right bunch of roses or mixed arrangement. You could see their anticipation of watching mom’s happiness. Worth every penny. Worth every inch of trouble it takes, once we get older and busy with what never really matters. As often as you can remember.

“But the thing about remembering is that you don’t forget.” ― Tim O’Brien

“The true atheist is the one who refuses to see God’s image in the face of their neighbour.” ― Shane Claiborne

As I’m getting my little house ready to sell, my neighbors are becoming even more noticeable to me. I’ve been here in this small cul-de-sac for over 25 years. There are eight of us living on this little street. Four of us have been here from the start, original owners. The other half of the houses are now a combination of newcomers and a rental or two.

My social science training has prepared me as a people watcher. But I confess I often feel like Mrs. Kravitz from the Bewitched television series. Preparing to pack up and move has turned me reflective.  Over the decades, we have become a very interesting mix in our little community. There are residents from all over the world. People from all age groups. Some are leaving for work each day, others working from home, some retired. I think all of the major religions are represented. A wonderful sample and slice of Houston.

A Priceless Few Moments

There’s a young dad across the street who spends time each day sitting in his little car parked on the curb. Sometimes he’s watching his children playing in the street, usually smoking. I’ve seen him on a phone a few times. He and his large family, I think I’ve counted five children, live in one of the two-story houses. Despite the extra space, he seems to need an escape each day.

When this family moved in – our neighborhood got very loud. When you’re in a family with numerous brothers and sisters, you need to raise your voice to be heard. So everyone hollers. Those of us who raised our families on this street now have grandchildren. It’s been a long time since we had the familiar sound of childhood bouncing all around. Every now and then our grandchildren visit and there it is again.

I think this young father has found a wise way to manage his very filled up life (there’s even a grandpa living with them). Dad retreats for a quiet time in his little car, his own private space, maybe taking a deep breathe or two. Great advice for the rest of us in the neighborhood.

“In order to understand the world, one has to turn away from it on occasion.”  – Albert Camus

Time Out Can Work Wonders

Recently, in another house, I see that they’ve stuck their grandmother out in the garage all day. She used to drive her own vehicle. It’s gone now. There are a lot of people coming and going from this little house. They are renting. Her husband, grandpa, used to bring a dining chair out and sit on the front porch, with the door standing open. It made me wonder who’s paying the AC bill. There’s no traffic to watch, we’re on a cul-de-sac. He’s not there anymore. Maybe he’s passed away?

Now, grandma has taken up a spot in the garage, against a wall, with the big door open. We’ve just had our first 90 degree day. I wonder how long she will last? Have they put her out here because she started smoking? Is she not getting along with her daughter-in-law? Is their cable out?

This reminds me of a Navajo custom. This tribe does not live in a collective community but instead on isolated family ranches. Property is passed down matrilineally. When you get married to your wife, you go to live and help run the ranch owned by her mother. To reduce the chances of potential friction, the Navajo have invented a unique custom. In the mornings, the mother-in-law gets up and retreats to her own “she-shed” out back. Once her son-in-law is up and has had breakfast, he heads out to start work on the far-flung property. Mother comes back in to the house and helps her daughter the rest of the day. Contact between mother and son-in-law is kept to a minimum. The potential for friction is reduced.

“We need solitude, because when we’re alone, we’re free from obligations, we don’t need to put on a show, and we can hear our own thoughts.” ― Tamim Ansary

I don’t know why this grandma is now sitting in her garage. My other neighbor thinks she’s become our crime watch observer. I need to stop waving and wander over for a chat. It does remind me of an important lesson. If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. There are lots of times in my past that I should have gone and had a time out in the garage and didn’t. Who knows why she’s really out there?

Keep On Keeping At It

Early in the mornings I drive past a very aged little woman who is working very hard on the same daily task. She is small and stooped, sweeping away in her front yard. There is a broom in one hand and a long handled dust pan in the other. Each morning she is sweeping up every single leaf and twig that has fallen into her yard. We live in an oak tree lined neighborhood. These are trees that are in constant leaf drop. She has a big job every morning. And she’s good at it. The yard isn’t manicured, filled with pretty flowers or green grass. It looks like every other yard fighting for life under the shade.

“I’ve buried a lot of my laundry in the back yard.” ― Phyllis Diller

Maybe when everyone else in the family has headed off to work and school, this little lady has her daily list of tasks to complete, her contribution to make. She is faithfully hard at it every morning as I drive past. Any teenager given this task would roll their eyes and complain about the futility, “the yard will only be filled again in a few hours!” Finalizing this job is not the purpose. For this lady, the daily activity, not the completion, has it’s own value. Isn’t that the way it always is for the house work? The dishwasher always needs to be filled and the laundry never gets finished for good.

As I make my routine, automatic drive off to work again, the same trip for almost 30 years, I am taught an invaluable lesson when I pass this little woman. All of my frustrations, fears, stumbles and losses get a better perspective when I see her diligently sweeping away, day after day. She gives me courage to keep at it, no matter what’s happening all around me.

“It’s good to be curious about many things.” ― Fred Rogers

 

 

And I hope when I get old, I don’t sit around thinking about it
But I probably will. – Bruce Springsteen, Glory Days

All Those Memories Made at the Rock Concert

Since moving to Houston almost 30 years ago, attending rock concerts became an exciting experience to join in with and attend with friends. My own daughter became a big fan over the years, getting pulled into the adventure with dad.

Most are late middle or senior citizens and white. That’s what the classic rock crowd has evolved into. Hard to keep them at the show too late. Not as eager to hang around for the encore. Even most of the geriatric bands are ready to get to bed soon after most of us.

One of the last great shows I went to was John Mellencamp. Had great seats right up at the front. The problem started about 20 minutes into the show when, one by one, everyone with bladder issues had to crawl down the aisle to go to the bathroom. On and on, all night long. Very rabid fans, but the call of nature always louder than any guitar riff.

“I’d trade all my tomorrows for a single yesterday.” – Lynyrd Skynyrd

We are all hurrying to each rock concert, hoping to make it before the aging rockers pass away. The classic songs of the 60’s and 70’s were written and performed 50-60 years ago. Also remember, you could still be kickin’ but unable to sing those notes anymore. Another tour might be out of the question. A couple of years ago, I saw one band member have to take a seat between every other song. At another show, the lead singer was sharing with us about all his surgeries and repairs. All night long, it seemed as if he was going to teeter off the front of the stage into our laps.

“You may be right, I may be crazy – but it just may be a lunatic you’re looking for.” – Billy Joel

All Those Unforgettable Characters

The guy who’s not aware that anyone else is there. Hard to imagine with hundreds and hundreds in attendance. He’s found a spot, stands and sits there and never adjusts to the crowd. Sometimes he’s taking pictures or filming. Oblivious to how his Steven Spielberg act is distracting or blocking the view of those nearby. He’s all alone in his moment – all night long.

There’s the lady in her early 60’s, dressed like a 20-year-old, gyrating away like she just got a new hip. She has a new dance move choreographed for each song. This is a special night for her – so much joy expressed unapologetically. I keep thinking, is that someone’s grandmother? What fun they must have at Thanksgiving.

RUSH concerts were always interesting because the audience was predominantly males. You had to look hard to find the other sex. I liked spotting all the dads and uncles who had brought the next generation of kids with them. Again, mostly males but every now and then a daughter. I introduced my own daughter to RUSH at a concert back when she was in high school. They are always exceptionally loud and everyone sings along. I think she had a good night.

Every now and then I end up a row in front or behind a pair of very happy female friends. Many times they will carry on a running conversation – through most of the concert, over each song. Raising their voices when necessary. All of us nearby leave the show knowing all the details about the cat’s upper respiratory tract infection or the guy at work that can’t get the hint he’s not her type.  I always wonder why they’ve paid so much for tickets and talked through the whole night?

Thunder only happens when it’s raining… Stevie Nicks

At one show, my friend and I spent the first half watching a young lady trying to talk the security guards (at each side of the stage) into letting her back to see the band. As I understand her urgency, she had to get to them because she had knitted tops for each member of the group. She was looking for the opening act band and didn’t seem to realize they had left the building an hour into her protestations. She was relentless and entertaining. A real groupie.

How about the true-blue fan who knows the words to every song and bellows them out for everyone in a 30-yard radius to hear. There’s a little voice inside asking yourself, you paid how much to hear this guy screech;

Jeremiah was a bullfrog.
Was a good friend of mine.
I never understood a single word he said,
but I helped him a drink his wine.

A friend and I go to the same band each year when it comes to town. We love them and it’s a way for us to nail down a big memory. It’s the best medicine. They sing the same songs but have such an over-the-top performance, we are eager to be a part of the show again and again.

Many times, I’ve taken groups of teens and introduced them to the classic sounds and lyrics. We still talk about those summer nights outside with the old hippies. Hearing familiar feelings that we could all understand. It also helped to share a part of our own youth with the next generation – to let them in on the secret.

“Don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy.” – The Eagles

Rock Concerts Help Keep Us Connected

These rock concerts I attend are joyous events for everyone. We are singing and swaying to the beat. All members of the same tribe. Sharing a common experience. There’s a recent survey that reported 40% of adults in their sample hadn’t had an in-person conversation in three days. We all feel like we are becoming a more isolated society. This tends to reinforce that belief.

When I go to a loud, familiar, and emotional concert, it helps to anchor my life back where it belongs. We were meant to live in the hustle and bustle of life, shoulder to shoulder with others. Sharing our lives with people is how we keep being human. Just get over it and ask that guy next to you, Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?

“If there’s a bustle in your hedgerow, don’t be alarmed now – it’s just a spring clean for the May Queen.” – Led Zeppelin

At some point in your life, you’re going to have a monster under your bed. These experiences are not reserved for childhood. They can even happen again and again. I’ve had four over the past five years!

Hurried folks were pushing their baskets as fast as they could on that Friday evening right after work. The darkening clouds of approaching rain added an urgency to the search for something to fix for dinner at the end of the week. All of this hurry and scurry was swinging past us as we hugged in the flower department that evening. She was filled up with the fear of that cancer monster that had crawled out from under their bed. I was stunned and just trying to find a way to comfort. All while the chaos of life careened all around.

My friend saw me as we approached each other from different ends of the store. She told told me that as she drove up, she knew I’d be there. Probably her soul knew she needed people to lean on during these very hard days. We caught up and I heard the grim news. Heartbreaking, about her husband. She was tired, worried and her eyes were filled up with that deep uncertainty about the days ahead. I’d been there, done that, so I recognized her expression at once.

Nothing got fixed, but she knew there was one other person on her team. She left the store that night, assured that she wasn’t alone in this hard, hard fight.

“Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.” ― Fred Rogers

Someone else lost their job. What’s going to happen next year? Will I find a new place to work was written all across his face as we sat together at lunch. What’s it been now, two years? He’s still searching. I keep wanting to come up with some sort of solution or wise advice. Males are like that, we want to fix things. The problem is, if we don’t have a solution in our pocket, we tend to avoid contact. That’s always the wrong choice. What people need is just to sit there over chips and salsa and have someone listen. I’ve been so blessed to have several guacamole friends who listen so well. I hope I can get better at it myself.

The beast under the bed is never as frightening when we have someone who will listen to our fearful discourse, no matter how silly it sounds once it’s out there.

“Don’t give in to your fears. If you do, you won’t be able to talk to your heart.” ― Paulo Coelho

As the hours changed, the students came in and lined up to get their drinks at the campus coffee shop. We never drank coffee when I went to college. How did we get through without all the caffeine and latte? My friend and I had worked here at the university for decades. All of a sudden, like a drunk driver crashing into your car out of nowhere, we were both widows. We sat together over our hot beverages, watching the students come in out of the rain and got caught up. There are so many tasks that must be attended to when a spouse is gone. No one ever explains this or provides a manual in case of emergency.

We don’t talk much about the jobs we had lost, but mostly about the lives that had suddenly disappeared. I walk away with great advice just listening to what he’s tackled or is planning to get done. You have no idea, unless you’ve walked this road yourself. Let me just give you a very brief list of what we casually talk about: possessions, adult children, moving, cremation, church, providence, friendship, grace, jewelry, couches, and grandchildren. I’m certain meal planning is on the horizon.

Whatever might be scary under the bed always seems less so after I’ve found a fellow traveler who’s been on the same road and can tell me it’s going to be okay. One who’s also found an easy way to get rid of that extra bed in the now shrinking house.

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing. At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me.” ― C.S. Lewis

I Those monsters under the bed don’t disappear once we grow up. What I’m learning, mostly the hard way, is that everyone is fighting a hard battle – or soon will be. There’s someone nearby who needs a lifejacket of your time. All you have to do is give a little nudge. It may a take a few texts, calls, notes or smiles to let ’em someone know you mean it. Chips and salsa usually works with everyone.

“A man is literally what he thinks, his character being the complete sum of all his thoughts.” ― James Allen

It’s Spring Break where I am. How come I’m still behind and can’t get caught up? Who decided to give out three long answer exams the week before – that all need to be graded this week? What’s wrong with me? Don’t answer that.

At the start of the week, I was able to travel up the road north and visit my family. It was non-stop center of attention for me with my two grandchildren. As hard as I tried, I could not stay ahead of either. One is two and the other is six.

My daughter and I were talking a little about the difference in how each handles misbehavior. The two-year-old needs a lot of direction and coaching from the outside. The six-year-old seems to know much more about the choices he’s making. Often, when he makes the wrong choice, he knows and expects consequences – if he gets caught.

If he gets caught. Have you ever noticed those signs in the dressing room at the store? The ones that let you know that there are cameras waiting to catch shoplifters. We call that external social control. The fear of being caught that keeps people doing the right thing. The police car parked under the tree as you speed around that corner. The instructor pacing up and down each aisle while you are taking your exam. Younger people who are still developing need more external controls. Society works better when its members do what’s right because they believe it’s right, not because they’re afraid of getting caught.

“To educate a person in the mind but not in morals is to educate a menace to society.” ― Theodore Roosevelt

This belief about right and wrong is called internal social control. The values and norms that we have accepted and implanted in our mind and heart. This happens because our family and school take such care instilling within us what really matters. This kind of control manifests itself in the voice of your mother haunting you as you contemplate poor decisions. A deeply felt sense of fairness and justice when you sit on a jury. The shock you feel when a friend at school asks to copy your research paper.

All of a sudden, at the end of almost 30 years in the college classroom, I’m having a terrible time with academic dishonesty. As I’ve aged, acting the role of police officer or detective is one I resist. Last year, I looked at a student who was using his phone while taking his exam. He looked back and me and knew he’d been caught. Instead of pulling the chain on the guillotine, I started an ongoing conversation with him about learning, his character and consequences. He wasn’t on the path to passing the class anyway. Maybe he was acting out of desperation. Maybe, like many students, he was unprepared for college or tackling too much all at once.

“Character is much easier kept than recovered.” ― Thomas Paine

The world that people are growing up in today provides harsh soil to nurture character. Fragmented families that are missing fathers are too busy trying to survive – while every member is on the their phone. Our media saturated environment pushes moral relativism instead of objective right and wrong that could be a roadmap. No wonder so many get lost. I fear that our schools are trying to play it safe today and keep their noses out of character – their work focused so much more on maintaining a civilized space for learning.

“Our children are only as brilliant as we allow them to be.” ― Eric Micha’el Leventhal

I believe that people need to learn how to think and act with character – one that embraces honesty and truth. It’s not something we are necessarily born with. Each time I witness another student cheating on something so completely insignificant, I know that she is unable to see that her character is in the balance.  Developing one’s character is a series of critical lessons. That student who copied his answers on that quiz has not had the lesson of character explained, modeled and learned.

The few weeks ago, a woodpecker was busy high up in the branches of a soft wood tree in my neighbors yard. It’s just a stone’s throw from my bedroom window. I can hear him violently tapping away as the sun rises in the mornings. He’s got work to do. Breakfast to wrangle. He is persistent on his task. The tree has been there for years. I have seen woodpeckers in the neighborhood often. This is the first time I have heard one banging away in that tree.

At this stage in my life, I often feel like just giving up when faced with the student dishonesty. I know that it’s probably a gigantic moral tangle that someone needs to start to do something about. Do I have the time or energy?  Some of my friends know that over the past seven years or so, the birds bring me messages that seem to really matter. That noisy woodpecker each morning for about a week reminded me, once I thought about it, that there are things that matter, like people, like young people, and it’s always worth keeping at it.

“The best way to show that a stick is crooked is not to argue about it or to spend time denouncing it, but to lay a straight stick alongside it” ― D.L. Moody