“They gave me a box of pantyhose.” – Donna Sansbury

From Ashes

“They gave me a box of pantyhose.”  Donna Sansbury said.  “I could only drive five miles at a time, then I’d have to stop to remove the panty hose, from covering the air filter in my car, and replace it with one from the box, before I could drive forward.”

Donna’s father was ill when Mount St. Helens erupted.  She was living in the Tri-Cities, Washington then.  Her mother, grandmother and father were living deeper in the ash cloud than she was, so she went to bring them out to where their health would be less compromised.

“When I got there my mother and grandmother would not leave.  They were afraid of leaving their home under the ash.”  Donna continued.

She explained.  Volcano ash isn’t like smoke.  It is more like gravel raining from the sky.  It’s heavy.  That meant that her mother needed to climb up on the roof of their home and other outbuildings to shovel the ash off or the buildings may have collapsed under the weight.  It was a time of emergency, trial and darkness.

“It was a dark time.  In fact, the ash cloud made the daytime as dark as midnight!” Donna expanded.

And, that falling ash wasn’t the only trail the people of the region had been facing.  The Tri-Cities area was known for growing some of the best apples in the world.  Yet, over the few years prior to the eruption apple quality had waned.

“The soil had become too saline.  So much so that it began to negatively affect plant growth, resulting in reduced crop yield and even plant death under the severe conditions.”  Donna explained.  “The ground around the apple trees was cracked and a white salt border surrounded each crack.  Even the once lush grass in our yards turned brown and died!”

Then her eyes brightened as she explained what wonderous things happened after the ash had fallen.

“The ash delivered new alkalinity to the soil.  It counteracted the saline conditions and soon the apples were beautiful and flavorful again!  Our lawns were suddenly lush once more.  And, a new industry was born; pottery from volcano ash.  Increased quality of life arose from the ashes of disaster!” Donna brightly revealed.

She knows quite a bit more about struggling with adversity as well.  She’s fought cancer on at least two occasions.  And, during each battle she’s focused on the good she knows will, with certainty, arise from facing and overcoming tragedy.

“Difficulty creates great character and exceptional people!”  Donna reminds everyone who is struggling through personal challenge.  “It’s the ash that acts as unexpected nourishment!”

“They gave me a box of pantyhose to counter falling ash.”  Donna Sansbury said.  “I could only drive five miles at a time, then I’d have to stop to remove the panty hose, from covering the air filter in my car, and replace it with one from the box before I could drive forward. Ash-filled pantyhose is heavy!”

Knowing that ash-filled-times are a forerunner of more than just a bleak and heavy burden can help you and me during dark times, as we struggle forward.  After all, Donna has been through volcanic ash clouds and cancer to become a model of how facing and subjugating darkness can pave the way for enhanced living.

It’s the ash in life that acts as unexpected nourishment for creating hope as well as a path to become a great people.

“My uncle asked me to send the flag he had received to the family of the man who gave it to him in the hospital.” – Mike Stillo

Family-to-Family

“I was visiting my uncle in Ohio, when I was a child, one summer when I happened to find a flag.  I was so excited by the find that I rushed outside and affixed it to a stick. Then I ran and ran around my uncle’s yard so it could flow behind me.”   Mike said as he began his story.

When his uncle came out and saw him running around with the flag, he gently took it off the stick and carefully folded it.

“This isn’t something to play with, Mike.”  He lovingly explained.  “I am simply its caretaker.”

Of course, Mike was a little disappointed that his fun was at an end.  At the same time, he was touched by his uncle’s reverence for a flag that he’d never seen before.   Still, he knew that there was deep meaning attached to that piece of cloth, because it was clearly important to someone he loved and respected.  

He showed his love and respect for his uncle by following him back into the house where the two put the flag back in its box.  It remained protected there for the next several years as Mike grew into a man, living in Georgia, and his uncle grew older, while still living in his Ohio home.

Mike was at work when he received a call to go to his ailing uncle at that same home.

“I walked into his home with trepidation.”  Mike explained.  “My uncle had been a medic in World War II and the Korean Conflict.  He was a healer.  So, when he called me and asked that I be at his bedside I knew it was likely the last time I’d see him alive.”

It was a solemn and surprising time for Mike.  I say surprising because while he thought of his uncle often over the years, he had hardly remembered that one particular day.  The day he discovered the flag he had never seen before.  But, he remembered it vividly as soon as his uncle handed him the time-worn box that was still preserving that honored flag.

“My uncle asked me to send the flag he had received to the family of the man who gave it to him in the hospital.” Mike said as he choked on the emotion of his words.

His uncle was treating a man, in a military hospital, for wounds sustained during World War II.  His plane had crashed.  This enemy pilot had been rescued from the remains of his shot-down aircraft.  The Japanese aircraft, known as a kamikaze, was loaded with explosives and making a deliberate suicidal crash on an enemy target.  The mission had failed and now the pilot’s life was fading.

As the pilot lay dying he reached into his jacket and pulled a carefully folded flag out.  He then handed it to Mike’s uncle and said, “Please return this to my family.” He was gone a few moments later.

Now Mike’s uncle had passed the story and his sacred task on to his nephew.

“I happened to be working for a Japanese company in Georgia!”  Mike explained.

He bid his uncle farewell with his promise to return the flag to the pilot’s family and he went home with sorrow and determination.  He was sorry for the loss of his uncle and was determined to fulfill his promise.  So, as soon as he returned to work he showed the flag to a couple of men at work who were from Japan.

The three of them opened the flag together.

“These are very rare!” One of the men said.  “They’re usually sold for a great deal of money.  Do you want to sell it?”

Mike replied with an emphatic, “No!  I want it to be returned to the pilot’s family.  We’ve made a family-to-family promise!”

The flag had writing on it and Mike was hoping that his friends could translate it.  He also hoped it would contain clues as to whom he could return the flag.  It turned out that the hand-written notes were penned in old Japanese, so Mike’s friends were unable to decipher all of it.  But, they knew someone who could read old Japanese and sent it to be translated.

“They brought it back to me in a couple of weeks.” Mike said.  “They explained that the pilot’s family had written well-wishes on the flag and their family name was Suzuki.  I was excited because I worked for Isuzu Trucks and felt that my friends there in Japan would be able to help me find the right family!”

They did!  And, Mike returned the flag to them.

“They were filled with gratitude!”  Mike said.  “I was just grateful to have kept the trust of my uncle and our obligation, family-to-family.  My uncle and I were simply the flag’s caretakers!”

Mike began his story with, “I was visiting my uncle in Ohio, when I was a child, one summer when I happened to find a flag.  I was so excited by the find that I rushed outside and affixed it to a stick. Then I ran and ran around my uncle’s yard so it could flow behind me.”

What he didn’t know then, was that this particular flag stood for something much greater than one boy’s fun.  It was stood for love and obligation between families on different sides of the world.

Family-to-Family!

“All I’ve been through, the struggles, are for one purpose; the benefit of others.” – Diane Miller

Honeysuckle & Daisies

“My daughter saved my life!”  Diane said, while looking out over her land, which was laced with honeysuckle and daisies.

Diane’s smile seemed to be the perfect reflection of an already beautiful day.  A look past her smile, toward and across her forested property provided an almost endless array of honeysuckle, highlighted by bright daisies, displaying white petals attached to a Peanut M&M yellow center.  It was a sight to remember.

This very land was part of what changed Diane Miller’s life.

“I knew that if I wanted to create a solid future I’d need to purchase some real estate.  This was the first piece of real estate I ever owned.”  She continued and then halted.

Suddenly, her eyes began to glisten.  Tears welled in her eyes and she apologized for getting so emotional.  It was hard for her to believe that she had come this far into a future she’d begun with a dream.  A “journey” that began on the day her daughter had saved her life by making a phone call to local police.

“I never thought of myself as being abused.  But, when the police came to our home they would not allow my three daughters and me to stay, because we were all in danger.  We had to start all over again and at the time, I didn’t know how to even begin!”  She explained.

She started her new life in a shelter for women.  Next, she received training so she could become employed.  Then she got a job and worked, worked, and worked.  Her daughters supported her throughout it all.  As a result, they’re still very close and have expanded their family.

“All I’ve been through, the struggles, are for one purpose; the benefit of others.”  Diane said as she talked about the way she’s decided to live her life.

It’s all because of the way strangers helped her get on her feet and become successful.  And, she is the first one to acknowledge the goodness that others have given her along the way.

“I shouldn’t have been able to purchase the house I own.”  Diane expressed with clear gratitude.  “I purchased it from a builder directly and mine wasn’t the best offer he had received.  But, his office manager stood up for me and told him that he should choose my girls and me to build a life in the house.  If it wasn’t for her strength and championship (from someone I didn’t even know) I wouldn’t have gotten it!”

So, it was not just Diane’s daughter that saved her life!  Her life had been saved by the goodness of a countless number of noble people.  

And, while telling her story, Diane’s smile seemed to be the perfect reflection of that accumulated generosity.  A look past her smile, toward and across her forested property provided the perfect example of such tapestry; richness in design. There, on her land, resides an almost endless array of honeysuckle, laced throughout a towering forest, highlighted by bright daisies displaying white petals attached to a Peanut M&M yellow center.  

It, like the life Diane has woven, is a sight to savor, while appreciating that its true beauty has been created by bright details often overlooked, because of the magnificence of the whole.

Honeysuckle & daisies changed Diane Miller’s life.

“It keeps Bill a live, gives him something to get up and go do.  He lost his wife and his children are grown.” – Robert Farnsworth

Midnight Arrival

It was toward the end of the day.  I was walking toward a boarding gate at an airport, hoping to catch the last flight of the evening to an airport near my home.  I could read the gate monikers; Orlando, Chicago, and then Seattle.  It was the sign labeled Seattle that really caught my eye.  That’s because it’s where my friend Bill Webster lives.

I’d spent the day working with Bill and as he was leaving me earlier in the day he said he was on his way to the airport to catch a flight home. He was so tired after working all day that when he was getting into Robert Farnsworth’s jeep for a ride to the airport he almost didn’t make into the seat.  Luckily, I happened to be standing right behind him, saw him begin to tumble out toward the ground, and reached my hand up to his back to give him a gentile assist up.  He’s eighty-years-old and at that moment, I was hoping he would make it home!

So, when I saw that airport gate sign marking the flight to Seattle I wondered.  I wondered if I might have a chance to check on Bill once more.  After all, my flight didn’t board for another hour and a half, so I had a few minutes for a detour.

I began to detour, angle my path toward the Seattle-gate-area just as the gate agent announced boarding for those needing a little assistance.  It took me another fifteen steps, or so, before I saw Bill walking up to the gate.  The timing was perfect!

I reached out my right hand and put it on the back of his right shoulder, while saying, “Bill!  It’s good to see you!”

He turned and smiled.  “What are you doing here?”  He asked.

“I’m headed out to do some business in another state.”  I said.  “I’m so glad to see you’re doing well!  Have a good flight home!”

With that, he smiled.  It was big smile that allowed me to get some needed relief.  He had rested since I’d seen him a couple of hours earlier.  I marveled at his strength and endurance!

“Hi Robert.”  I said through my phone once I arrived at my own departure gate. “I just wanted you to know that I saw Bill a moment ago.  He was boarding his flight to Seattle.  He was rested and happy!”

I called Robert because we had talked about how hard Bill was working on our current transaction together.

“I think it’s what gets him out of bed every morning!” Robert explained. “His wife has passed.  He sees his children at least a couple of times each year during family vacations since they all live in different states.  He loves his work.  It keeps him living!”

“It keeps him living!”  I mulled over and over in my mind.  First, just as the gate agent announced the boarding of my own flight and then again over the next two and a half hours while flying toward a midnight arrival.

After all, I’m approaching another midnight arrival of my own.  People see that as they look at my gray hair, at least what’s left of it.  They ask, “when are you going to retire?”

“This is what I do!”  I respond. “What would I do if I retired?”

Yes!  I can see the clock on my wrist.  I checked it because the flight attendant just announced our final approach.  We would be arriving do deplane at 12:18 am.

Once at the arrival gate the door to the aircraft opened.  I walked briskly through it.

“It keeps him living!”  I reminded myself while walking through a near empty terminal toward a rendezvous with my parked car so I could drive forward.  

Just like my friend Bill.

Because that’s what my friend Bill does.  He keeps living!

“My mother and her sister went to school and to market in their village for more than four years without ever saying a word about the treasure hidden under the floorboards!  They were secret keepers!”- Andre Paczocha

Secret Keepers

“We’re you able to visit your mother over Mother’s Day weekend?”  I asked Andre.

“Not on Mother’s Day.”  He answered.  “I called her Friday and left a message.  She hasn’t called me back yet.  I’m sure she’s just busy helping Ukrainian Refugees where she lives in Poland.”

“I thought she was here in the United States.”  I responded in surprise.

“She was.”  He continued.  “But she went back to Poland with my stepfather, right before the borders were closed for COVID.  Almost as soon as they arrived he contracted the disease and passed away.  She contracted the disease shortly thereafter and wasn’t able to return.  Now, she’s decided to stay because she wants to help.  She’s a person that will give everything she has to another person, if they’re in need, even if she could use it for herself.  She’s done that since she was a young child in World War II.”

When Andre’s mother was a child, growing up in the same town she resides in now, her family took in four Jewish children and hid them in their home for the entire war.  They took up just enough floor boards, in their small one-story-home, and then scooped up sufficient dirt for the girls to lay flat on their backs, their noses slightly below the wood.  The four frightened girls would lay there hiding quietly every day, all day, as part of a bonded effort to keep their jointly held secret. 

This kind of secret keeping is in stark contrast to what one person, a teacher of children, said to me earlier in the week. “If you want to know anything about what goes on in a household, just talk to the children who live there.  They’ll tell you much more than you want to know.  They’ll tell you everything and anything; all the family secrets.”  Luckily, such was not the case for the children living above the floor boards during that gloomy World War II period of Polish and world history.

“My mother and her sister went to school and to market in their village for more than four years without ever saying a word about the treasure hidden under the floorboards!  They were secret keepers!”  Andre said with his sixty-something eyes brimming with tears.  And, his mother, now just shy of ninety-years-old, is still a keeper of secrets.  Secrets she has passed on to her son, as well as others.

“My mother has suffered through many hard things!”  Andre confided.  “But, she’s allowed her trials to lead her to live in personal peace and happiness through it all.  That’s because she learned life’s greatest secret as a child.  ‘Don’t gild yourself in things that have no life and let the hungry, and the needy, and the naked, and the sick and the afflicted to pass by you, without noticing or caring for them!’”

“We’re you able to visit your mother over Mother’s Day weekend?”  I had asked Andre as we drove to a hospital to attend to the needs of someone I barely knew.

“Not on Mother’s Day.”  He answered.  “I called her Friday and left a message. She hasn’t called me back yet.  I’m sure she’s just busy helping Ukrainian Refugees where she lives in Poland.”

That’s when I thought, “She’s still passing life’s greatest secret on to thousands more!  Even at almost ninety-years of age she’s still a secret keeper; a keeper, and spreader, of life’s greatest secret.”

“My son said, ‘Having the opportunity to start anew was so huge for me!’” – Taylor Oldroyd

Starting Anew

“You’ve been through hell.  But, you can be anyone you want to be here!”  Rex Reeve said to my much younger version in a new state and city.  That was then, many years ago.  And, now a bridge was about to be built, that spanned forty-three years, to the present.

There was a familiar face across the patio.  When four inquisitive eyes met and tentative nods were exchanged. Upon which, we both moved closer so as to confirm identities.  After all, sometimes it’s hard to recognize someone, even a friend, when the context is different.  And, sometimes you can recognize yourself for the first time, or after a long while of missing who you really are, only when the context has been altered.  That was the bridge to discovery being built as a result of a view.  The patio view of Woodrow Wilson Bridge, while looking out over the Potomac River on a sunny Tuesday morning, with a friend.

It had been a number of years since I’d seen Taylor Oldroyd.  So, I asked him to catch me up on his life and he began building a bridge from the past, into the present, and showed me how change had opened the way to a brighter, unknown future for those he loved most.

“When we moved from the state my daughter was angry.  We relocated to Montana and then again to North Carolina.  Happily, years later, she came to me and said, ‘Dad, those moves were the best thing that could have happened to me!’”  He said.

She noticed how she had become much more resilient as a result of the changes that had occurred even though they were outside of her personal control.  Having to face changed geography created more confidence in her ability to cope with the unknown.  She knew that she could be confronted with all-consuming change and not only survive, but find new talents and skills that lay dormant within.  And, she wasn’t the only one of his children to make this important discovery.

“My son said, ‘Having the opportunity to start anew was huge for me!’”  Taylor continued.  “I said, ‘That’s great, now the next thing is to learn is how to achieve the same result by staying in the same location!  You need to be able to seize opportunity, to chase your dreams and become the person you want to be, no matter your location or circumstance.’”  Taylor explained to me while taking in the view across the Potomac River toward Woodrow Wilson Bridge.  He didn’t know it, but he was bridging the way toward a new understanding of how to benefit from change, both forced and chosen.  

Sometimes a change in geography can be a catalyst.  The start of an important discovery.  The discovery of a personal strength you didn’t know existed.  After all, if there is one constant in life, it is change.

Most of us fear forced, external change.  It can be hard for us to embrace.  Yet, even with its difficulties, the way forward can be eased by taking the time to recognize what such change has awakened within.  And, this internal bridge building isn’t always a simple single span structure. Getting from who you are now to who you want to become often requires more.

It requires an ability to overcome outside, physical constraints that fetter most people.  It, more times than not, requires a journey to an oft undiscovered geography; one’s own heart and soul.  That sort of journey is most often an unforced and lonely move; the ability to seize opportunity, to chase your deepest desires and become the person you dream of being, no matter your location or circumstance.

“You’ve been through hell.  But, you can be anyone you want to be here!”  Rex Reeve once said to my much younger version in a new state and city.  That was then, many years ago.  And, now, on a patio highlighting exceptional beauty, a bridge was being built that spanned a forty-three-year journey, to the present, of embracing an ever-changing interior.

There was a familiar face across the patio.  When four inquisitive eyes met and tentative nods were exchanged. Upon which, we both moved closer so as to confirm identities.  After all, sometimes it’s hard to recognize someone, even a friend, when the context is different.  And, sometimes you can recognize yourself for the first time, or after a long while of missing who you really are, only when the context has been altered.  That was the bridge to discovery being built as a result of changed perspective through experience.

It offered a glimpse of wonder, of how to start anew, voluntarily, from the inside.

“The smallest deed is greater that the greatest intention.” – John Burroughs

The Smallest Deed

It was a small thing and it started with a short text message.

“Are you in town?”  Barry Smith asked.

“Yes.” I responded.

“Oh, good!”  He said.  “I’m out of town and I was wondering if you could help Andre.”

Andre Paczocha is a friend of ours.  And, not too many years ago he was almost given up for dead!  He was in an automobile accident.  A bad one!  In fact.  The steering wheel and the driver’s side of his car’s dashboard tried their hardest to replace his heart within seconds of an errant driver’s incursion.  After saving his life, Andre’s attending physician said, “All I can say Andre, is that you must be too stubborn to die!”

Yes.  Andre lived, but his life has changed in innumerable ways.  Things that were once simple and easy for him have become burdensome and difficult.  At least he can walk pretty well now.  He can amble forward for a way and then he has to stop and catch his breath, because his heart has never been the same after the accident.

“If you can think of every heart ailment, I have it.”  Andre once said to me.

Everything isn’t about his heart condition and bodily mobility though.  He can’t work. He can’t even drive his car.  That’s why Barry had contacted me.

The day after Barry and I communicated through text, I drove to Andre’s home and picked him up so we could drive to a meeting at the Social Security Administration.  It was an easy thing for me to do; to ride in a comfortable car, to visit a friend.  While doing so I wondered about the small nature of my deed just as John Burroughs must have done while writing one of his esteemed essays, in which he says, “The smallest deed is greater that the greatest intention.”

This thoughtful reminder perked up my spirit as the tires of my car met the gravel of Andre’s driveway a couple of minutes later.  My mood was heighted even more as soon as I saw him standing on his front porch with a smile of gratitude gracing his face.

We spent about three hours together; driving, talking, attending to his business.  Upon leaving the social security office I asked, “Where you able to complete what you needed to?”

Andre responded with a happy, “Yes!  And, I know a short cut back to my house. It will only take us about fifteen minutes to get there.”

So, we drove together once again.  This time the driving interval seemed to be completely insignificant.  Perhaps it was because we had actually completed our intention.  And, measuring this time together through life’s rearview mirror, our trip together seemed to be the smallest deed, ever.

It was a small thing to help Andre, and it started with a short text message.

“Are you in town?”  Barry asked.

“Yes.” I responded.

“Oh, good!”  He said.  “I’m out of town and I was wondering if you could help Andre.”

Barry and I did help Andre in a seemingly insignificant way.  Then and now, it is clear that Andre helped me infinitely more!  My time with him confirmed that what is inconsequential to one may be insurmountable to another and that the smallest deed is always much greater than anyone’s greatest intention.