Two Strangers. Two offers of kindness

Cotton Club

It was to be a Thanksgiving adventure. And, it was. Yet it turned out to be a little different, a little unexpected, and soft as cotton while the evening rolled up and down rail tracks toward dinner and back home.  You see, on the day before Thanksgiving we decided to head up-town on the local “1” train to 125th Street, so we could have a family dinner at Dinosaur Barbeque in Harlem.

As soon as the train stopped at 125th Street we walked out onto the platform and our gaze was immediately struck by the Christmas lights and decorations gracing 125th Street. It made the damp-dark evening bright and the walk west toward Dinosaur Barbeque just that much more hopeful. The lights also radiated off the side of the historic Cotton Club, until it’s glowing exterior seemed to welcome all passing this way, including the four of us.

The greetings offered by the lighted decorations and glowing Cotton Club seemed to be especially wonderful on this particular evening. Perhaps it was because it was Lachlan’s, our newest grandson, first pre-Thanksgiving-adventure. And, even though the weather was drizzling a little, he was held fast and warm, wrapped in his mother’s chest, right up to the time we were drenched in convivial smells of delicious food which enveloped all of our senses as we soaked in the atmosphere and filled our tummies. It seemed to be all we could ask for such an anticipated occasion. Yet, there was more, unanticipated warmth to come.

It continued as Lachlan was gathered up into his wrap and hat in preparation to walk out into the now, more steadily-falling rain, for the stroll east on 125th Street toward the train platform and home. Even then, the Cotton Club’s glow was hardly dimmed as we passed its beaconing presence. It gave us the encouragement needed to pass through the rain and once again board the train, as Lachlan’s eyes drooped.

Upon entering the crowded coach there was not one seat to be found. Until one, unassuming, young woman instantly and quietly stood to offer her seat to my damp daughter and her sleeping lad. There was no question in her eyes and no hesitation in her rise. So, gratefully, my packaged family sat in comfort, until we disembarked at the 96th Street platform pass through the turnstile and walk the final two-blocks home.

No sooner had we four passed through the turnstile when we heard, “excuse me. Excuse me.”

We turned toward the unfamiliar voice to see a man of age leaning over the turnstile, through which he had just passed, offering an umbrella from his left hand.

“Do you have an umbrella to protect your baby from the rain?” He asked as he caught our eyes.

Warmth again drenched my heart as we, in unison, answered, “we have a hat for him, thank you!”

It was a pre-Thanksgiving adventure wrapped in the softness of human kindness, an Incorporeal Cotton Club, giftwrapped the evening as we glided down the final blocks outside, toward home.  You see, on the day before Thanksgiving we decided to head up-town on the local “1” train to 125th Street, so we could have a family dinner at Dinosaur Barbeque, and we were wrapped in the caring softness two strangers, two offers of kindness, members of a Cotton Club.

“The biggest question I had as a child was, ‘how would I leave my mark on the world?’” – A monument

The Biggest Question

“When I was young we lived in a camp trailer without water or a restroom,” my friend Crystal Shelley said over the phone as I slid into my car.

She didn’t say that to complain. After all, she and her family enjoy an exceptional life. Yet, her point was that such has not always been her experience.

“My father has owned several businesses over the years,” she continued. “There were times when his businesses did well and there were times when they struggled.”

She remembers Christmas celebrations at home when they didn’t receive any gifts. It was because her father made sure all of his employees were paid and received their annual holiday bonuses. She said she didn’t mind those occasions because she knew her father was doing all he could do to love and care for them. Then, she spoke of the joy they had during a time when their business was very successful.

“We were overjoyed when my father took us to our new dream home. We had an amazing life there until the economy collapsed. Then, I watched my father cry as he locked the front door of that house as we all walked away, sorrowing at our loss.”

Yet, while discouraged, her father never gave up. He continued to work to provide for his family. And, a few years later he discovered an opportunity to purchase a business he had experience in. He seized the opportunity and moved his family to the other end of the state and started over. Now they were celebrating another ending.

“He just sold his business!” She said gleefully. “He’s going to retire now. Well, he says he is, but I know he’s going to be starting a small, part time business, just to keep doing what he loves. This time he’s doing it because he wants to, not because he needs to.”

She went on to tell me how proud she is of her father and mother and how she cried tears of joy on the day he called to tell her he had successfully sold his business. 

“I have the best parents in the world,” she confided.

She communicated this tribute just after I had left a meeting at a children’s shelter and had accepted her call, upon sliding into my car, while parked in the shelter’s parking lot. On the way back to my car I walked past a monument which was prominently displayed near the building’s entrance. The words on display read, “The biggest question I had as a child was, ‘how would I leave my mark on the world?’”

I sat and stared at those words as Crystal delighted me with her story. And, I marveled at the telling, because it was a verbal confirmation of the steel monument within my gaze. How can you and I answer childhood’s biggest question and leave our mark on the world? 

Crystal’s answer: Love those around you, never quit trying and celebrate, with gratitude, at your good fortune when it arrives.

Watch a current segment of my television show on American Dream TV:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1VrtKwVnGHVODrj4B6cP5IbPCjEJfM5NZ/view?usp=drive_link

“No one else on this earth can do that for me.”- Stacie Mountain

Garden of Roses

Stacie stood near the front of the room. She’s not physically commanding, but something distinguishes her. It’s noticeable, even at a glance. That glance is merely an introduction.

When Stacie began to speak it was as if she whirled a lasso to fill the room and then began to draw it, along with everyone else, in.

“As a very young girl, and well into my 20’s, I honestly bordered on hatred of myself; hatred of how I looked, hatred of my body, hatred of how I acted, hatred of how I showed up in this world. I was constantly trying to obtain ‘something’ that was always out of my reach, whether it was a number on the scale or people pleasing. I wasn’t happy. I needed more,” she said.

Then she dug deeper.

“One of my early memories is that of being scooped up by my mother in the middle of the night. Our house was on fire! Once outside, away from the flames, my mother kept me wrapped in a blanket and held me, saying ‘everything will turn out fine.’ But, it didn’t.”

Not only did her step-brother burn their home down, he would chase her around the house with scissors. There was no stability in her family life, even after her family soon shrunk to just two again. This made her unsure of herself and led her to marry early; to another person unfamiliar with a stable, loving family. Not surprisingly, not long into this marriage, she abandoned it and soon found the bottom of her self-esteem. 

She took a long, deep breath, exhaled and continued her monologue, “My life has been a long, arduous process spanning nearly four decades, but I can honestly say I have learned to stop hating myself, and I’m learning how to replace it with love and compassion for myself. Now I see a one-of-a-kind, perfectly imperfect masterpiece, me.”

Stacie went on to say that she, “knows her story is nothing out of the ordinary. I could find you thousands, or even millions, of examples of people who, like me, have learned to love themselves over time.” 

So, why is she willing to share her story?  It’s because of the perspective she’s acquired while going through her years-long journey.

“We need to love ourselves, right now, no matter our flaws!” 

Stacie likens life’s journey toward self-love to tending a garden of roses, “it is up to each person to cultivate beauty from within.” 

“No one else on this earth can do that for me. So, I will choose to do things that are good for my body, my health, and my soul. I will feed each of them, and watch them flourish and create the beautiful woman I am destined to be,” she admonished. 

Stacie still stood at the front of the room. She’s not physically commanding, but something distinguishes her. It’s noticeable, as is her message. It’s possible to love and care for yourself, while, at the same time, improving yourself, as if tending a garden of roses.

Watch a current segment of my television show on American Dream TV:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1VrtKwVnGHVODrj4B6cP5IbPCjEJfM5NZ/view?usp=drive_link

“However difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at.”

- Stephen Hawking

Glimmers

It was turning into a bright morning. I stepped out of my car, which was now at the top of a downtown, multi-story parking terrace. Up to this point of the morning, though I was on top of the terrace, I was feeling down and unsuccessful. Nothing seemed to be going well. Not one thing; until a dawning occurred as a result of taking one more step. I say, “a dawning.” Yet there were two different dawning events that were about to happening.

It was the first dawning that caught my eye, my attention, as I stepped away from my car. I was the only person standing on top of the grand cement slab holding me and my car. And, it could have been a lonely moment, the height of feeling a failure. Yet, that’s not the feeling that grasp my chest, as if an explosion of light hit it from the inside out, a glimmer.

The sun was rising over the Wasatch Mountain Range and its light struck, first, my eye and then enlightened my entire being. So, I walked away from my car, toward the light. Then, I stood facing the glory of the sun, at the concrete barrier, on the edge of the terrace to appreciate it, to take it all in.

That’s when I received a new dawning message. “This is freely given to all!” 

Now I call all such events, “glimmers.”  And, they can come to you and me in many forms.

The most impactful type will depend on the person seeing it. But, here’s the thing. There are more glimmers available than one can initially imagine. I didn’t realize that until I received, accepted and integrated that one, memorable glimmer event. That was the introduction.

I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to see and acknowledge all freely offered glimmers, but the second discovery of that singular event is that seeing more of them is an acquired skill. To receive an increasing number of them you have to attuned to looking for them. And, passively seeing them from time-to-time is not the same as seeking them. 

Stephen Hawking, the great theoretical physicist, cosmologist, and author who, at the time of his death, was director of research at the Centre for Theoretical Cosmology at the University of Cambridge once said, “However difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at.”

Successful, appreciation and integration of inspirational-renewal from glimmers, comes one step at a time by deciding to seek them daily.

The day was turning into a bright morning. I stepped out of my car, which was now at the top of a downtown, multi-story parking terrace. Up to this point of the morning, though I was on top of the terrace, I was feeling down and unsuccessful. Nothing seemed to be going well. Not one thing; until a dawning occurred as a result of taking one more step. I say, “a dawning.” Yet there were two different dawning events that were about to happening.

It was the first dawning that caught my eye, my attention, as I stepped away from my car. I was the only person standing on top of the grand cement slab holding me and my car. And, it could have been a lonely moment, the height of feeling a failure. Yet, that’s not the feeling that grasp my chest, as if an explosion of light hit it from the inside out, a glimmer.

Actively look for glimmers. They’re there for you.

Watch a new segment of my television show on American Dream TV:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1VrtKwVnGHVODrj4B6cP5IbPCjEJfM5NZ/view?usp=drive_link