A shy woman delivering a lost wallet to the attendant.

Gassed

A shy middle-aged woman walked at a moderate pace across the hot concrete pad toward the station attendant.  She held something leathery and brown in her right hand.

“I found this at the pump.” She said while reaching out to hand it to the young man wearing a bright vest.

“Thank you!” He said with a smile.  “I’ll hold on to it for the owner to come and claim.”

At the same time, a preachy man, dressed in a cotton, vertically black and white striped jumpsuit, stepped away from the adjacent gas pump to exclaim, “Thanks for keeping our town the great place it is!”

The shouting caused her to glance over at the jail-bird-like-dressed-man and then back to the attendant, before turning and walking bashfully back to her car. Then, as the preachy-man shifted his tirade toward his personal crusade she got back in her car and drove away.  Her work of kindness was done.  Or, so she likely thought.

Less than two minutes later, a man with a worried look on his face and hast on his mind approached the attendant quickly.  He began to open his mouth upon stopping in front of the brightly vested man.  But, he didn’t have time to utter a word.

The attendant had already completed the puzzle that stood before him, so he said, “Is this what you’re looking for?”

The anxious man changed instantly, right before the eyes of all who were paying attention and in the process of purchasing gas.  His worry was gone.  His harried demeanor vanished.

“Yes!”  He almost whispered in gratitude.  “How did you?”

“A good woman brought it to me a couple of minutes ago.  She found it on top of the pump.”  He responded.

“Thank you!” The grateful man replied as he turned and walked toward his recently gassed car.

That’s when the jail-bird-like-dressed man drove past me; his car filled with fuel and his mouth was seemingly out of gas.

I pushed the pump’s nozzle back into its place, turned the cap tightly on my car’s tank, and smiled at the attendant standing next to me.

“I’m sorry for that guy’s rant!”  The attendant said, while standing next to me.

“Thanks.”  I said.  “It doesn’t matter one bit.  What I’ll remember is the image of that shy woman walking to you, across the hot concrete pad while holding that leather, brown wallet in her right hand.  And, I’ll never forget the relief displayed on the owner’s face when you returned it to him.”

One honest woman made a difference.  Her unselfish act provided relief to one who needed it.  

And, for once, the rest of us felt less gassed.

“This is a direct result of my team’s lack of communication!” – Tony Westerberg

Talent for Communication

“I’ve been building the wrong financial model this whole time!”  Tony Westerberg exclaimed toward the end of a long, long conference call.  “I’ve never been in a meeting where our desired partners are so angry with us before.  This is a direct result of my team’s lack of communication!”

The meeting we were in was coming to an end after a long four hours.  I dragged my right hand through the hair on my tired, hurting head.  Tony’s statement was progress enough for the moment.  And, it pushed me toward the recollection of another hard moment in which my ability to communication was also deficient.

It was in 2015.  My father, Paul Butterfield, was lying in a care facility bed before me.  He was dying.  His eyes were open and he was trying to communicate.  He just couldn’t.  Neither could I!  It was a moment of frustration until a hospice worker walked in and changed the room.

She had a bright, cheery demeanor from the moment she came through the door.  Upon entering, she walked right to my Dad’s side and took his hand, while looking deeply into his eyes.  His response was immediate and telling.

“Oh my,” I said to myself in amazement.  “I can see their communication.  His eyes have brightened and he’s understanding a meaning far beyond the words she’s speaking to him!”

I watched their interaction in awe.  He abilities were both instinctive and verbal.  She seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.  She knew how to soothe his yearning soul in an all-embracing manner.  She had a talent for communication that I’d never imagined to be possible.  And, because it was foreign to me, it was also personally impossible during this significant, life culminating moment.

She is, perhaps, the greatest of the two best communicators I’ve ever personally met in my life.  The other, Ronald Reagan, was much more famous.  Yet, her work is, in many ways, more vital.  Because, while in terms of fortune and fame its rewards are meager compared to those proffered to the “leader of the free world,” her communication skills touch people more deeply, because her compassion and caring are freely given on a one-to-one basis.  She communicates in and out of pure love.

“Communicating in and out of pure love!”  I thought much later, a day later, “is still a valuable and much needed talent.”  It was a consideration that allowed the memory of the conference call with Tony and others to morph.  

That singular variation in thought began to work its own specific magic.  It was as if that one particular caregiver had opened another door and was standing as an example by my side for the continuing calls I was involved in with Tony’s team on that day, and the next.

“I’ve been building the wrong financial model this whole time!”  Tony Westerberg exclaimed toward the end of a previous long, long conference call.  “I’ve never been in a meeting where our desired partners are so angry with us before.  This is a direct result my team’s lack of communication!”

Because that one particular caregiver was, emblematically, communicating with me for the after calls and is remaining, in the front of my heart, for those to come.  My ability to communicate is improving, becoming a talent.

Hopefully, I, and all of us, will continue to progress toward offering our own particular, peculiar, talent for communication; one based in compassion and caring, freely given to others on a one-to-one basis.

“The best way to heal a broken heart is to love something new.” – Shelly Dahl

Renewal

“Our dog, Molly, died about three weeks ago. And I just about crawled in the grave with her.” Shelly Dahl said.  Then, without a hitch, she continued.  “But alas, the best way to heal a broken heart is to love something new.”  And, she sent me a photo of her two-days-ago something new.

“She’s the same kind of dog as Molly and oh so sweet.”  Shelly mooned.  “We named her Maggie.”  The two of them have coalesced to renewed Shelly’s broken heart.

There are many ways in which a person’s heart can be broken.  In fact, there are seemingly an infinite number of ways, over a lifetime, in which to become troubled in both spirit and heart. And, here are a few things that Shelly, over the course of our long association, has taught me about how to seek and receive relief by dynamically seeking renewal.

First, recognize that life is characterized by constant change.  This change can come in many forms; activity, progress, decline, etc.  Living is synonymous with change.  There is no way to avoid it.  And through it all, I’ve watched Shelly and her family focus on looking forward by planning, as best they can, for events they’re able to anticipate.

Second, it’s impossible to anticipate every change that can affect your life.  Sometimes events can seemingly come as a complete surprise.  There is no way to fully anticipate some life-events.  This kind of thing has beset the Dahls on several occasions while I’ve known them.  During such times they’ve always slowed down, gathered information and then spent essential time to plan a new pathway forward.  There have been times when this process has taken them a great deal more time than anticipated.  That’s an oft used portrayal of time.

Third, understand the nature of time.  Time is more than a unit of measurement.  It’s also a tool, an apparatus, used to require persistent change.  When understood and used as such, time will always open a path for a person to become unstuck, to leave painful moments behind.  And, wielding it so is always a personal choice; such as welcoming in a means to heal a broken heart by offering love to someone or something new, while still holding love in your heart for someone or something that has passed.

Finally, allow your heart to hold on to your Mollies while letting the trivial and invaluable to flitter away vis-a-vis the relentless flight of time.

“Our dog, Molly, died about three weeks ago. And I just about crawled in the grave with her.” Shelly said.  Then she continued.  “But alas, the best way to heal a broken heart is to love something new.”  And, she sent me a photo of her two-days-ago something new.

“She’s is the same kind of dog as Molly and oh so sweet.”  Shelly mooned.  “We named her Maggie.”  And, Maggie has indeed renewed Shelly’s broken heart, in a way that personifies the marvel and possibility of renewal, which is available to all.

May we all find our Maggie when we need them!

“He stops to look around to see why.”

Harry’s Wheel of Reason

My dog, Harry Pupper, has a problem.  It’s me!  You know the saying.  “There are no bad dogs, just bad owners.”  That is a perfect description of our relationship.

Oh.  Don’t get me wrong.  We have a wonderful, loving relationship.  Except when he exhibits poor social skills.

He is strong willed. It could be said that this is, perhaps most of the time, one of his greatest character traits. Yet, there are times when he just can’t seem to help himself and that’s not a good thing.  He barks incessantly at people when they walk or drive by, and wants to give chase.  Often times, it’s all I can do to keep him at bay and I regularly struggle to keep my hand attached to the handle of his leash, while walking together each morning.  So, I decided it was time to become a more responsible owner by teaching him new habits.

As a person approaches us I say, “Off the road.”  Then, we step aside to let them pass.

The next command I give him before our neighbor passes is, “quiet.”  That is supposed to be his prompt to sit quietly as the car or person passes.

We’ve been working on this for months now.  Gladly, sometimes he’s been pretty good about it.  Other times he’s not.  So, I decided to increase our practice when there was nothing tempting him.  That’s when something else about Harry was revealed.  Harry has an internal, mental, wheel-of-reason that turns in his mind!

“Off the road.”

“Quiet.”

Harry hears and looks one way.  Then he looks the other way.  He pauses.  He looks back the other direction.  He sees nothing!  So, he thinks!  He wonders!  I can see the wheels turning in his mind.  When he sees no valid reason to get off the road and be quiet, he chooses to do neither!

“There are no bad dogs, just bad owners.”  I say to myself, as I watch Harry make his clear, reasoned choice. 

That’s the moment I realized, “Harry and I are more alike than I had ever imagined!”  And, while maddening, when he does that, it has allowed me to comprehend that, like my best friend, I’m the owner of my own choices.  It’s just that I hadn’t thought of the way my sometimes-poor reasoning has doggedly-delayed my personal development before.  The way my own mental wheel-of-reasoning can turn short at times. In other words, just because I look around, see nothing and then check by looking the other way as well, doesn’t mean my own wheel-of-reason will travel the distance to the ultimate benefit of long-term wellbeing.  Just like Harry.

My dog, Harry Pupper, and I have a behavior problem.  Perhaps that famous saying should be, “There are no bad people or dogs, just poor reasoning skills.”  That is a perfect description of how similar Harry and I are.

Oh.  Don’t get me wrong.  Harry and I have a wonderful, loving relationship.  Except when we chose to limit the travel of our personal wheels-of-reason.

We’re both strong willed. It could be said that this is, perhaps most of the time, one of our greatest character traits. Yet, there are times when we just can’t seem to help ourselves and that isn’t a good thing.  We bark incessantly, and want to give chase toward not-so-good choices, even though we’re working to keep ourselves bound to a path of maximum personal and societal benefit.  

So, I’ve decided its time to become a more responsible owner, driver of my own wheel-of-reason.

Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks!