I love them, I love them not

Oregon Duck football! The team this year is rocking the house. Twenty straight victories at Autzen Stadium. The only loss this season to LSU. And have you seen the depth of that team?  Two star players are sidelined by injuries, yet the back-ups are every bit as good.

I should be happy.

I love Oregon Duck football. I just don't trust Oregon Duck football.

I became an Oregon fan in 1982.  Back in those days the Oregon football team was bad.  There were times where I thought the team got lost on the way to the stadium.  Fans' hopes and dreams were dashed year after year.  Each season ended with a litany of "would've, should've and could've" laments. Then something magical happened in the early 90s.  Things began to click. In 1994 the team went to the Rose Bowl.  The ROSE BOWL! This was huge for us die-hards who braved rain, wind, sleet, and darkness of night to support the team.  But the ups and downs continued through the 1990s.  Just when you got your hopes up, the team found some way to implode mid-way through the season. 

The team is really very good today.  But there is a part of me that can't forget the dismal seasons of years past.  There's a part of me afraid to get my hopes up for a national championship or even a Pac-12 championship.  What if they let me down again.  Will I just be disappointed?

It struck me that I have not been very willing to let the team change over the years.  In my mind - whether consciously or not - I've kept the image of the bumbling, fumbling, unable to execute team of the 1980s.  That's not really fair of me.  The team has worked hard over the years.  They've turned the corner. They have more than proved their desire and drive toward excellence.

I wonder in what other areas of my life have I failed to recognize change in a person?  Am I still holding friends or family to a certain expectation because that's what it use to be? 

Change is hard enough, especially change in our personal lives. I need to find ways to help others celebrate their changes, support those changes, and not force them back into a role they no longer need or want to play. 

Have you ever struggled with accepting and embracing a change in someone's life?

I will remember you

Birthday card mom left for dad

Epitaph, noun

1. - an inscription on a tomb or gravestone in memory of the person buried there
3. - a short composition in prose or verse, written as a tribute to a dead person

I wonder what my epitaph will be. I was thinking about that yesterday
as I strolled around the Willamette National Cemetery looking at the
markers on the Columbarium 5 wall. I thought it might be beloved daughter
and sister or maybe loyal and devoted friend.

But then I as I was looking at some of the sayings on the markers, I started smiling and then laughing. I found myself wanting to the know their story - wanting to know the person behind the name.

As I said when I started this blog, I love stories. And each one of
these epitaphs conjures all kinds of story possibilities.

FARRETTA, Thomas Albert. US Army - WWII, Korea, and Viet Nam

I am a soldier  

WAGGONER, Charles Albert. US Navy - Viet Nam

Cozmic jammer

BURKERT, Donna. US Navy - WWII

 Loved books, kids & nature

CARTWRIGHT, Farnandeze. US Army Air Corps - WWII

An ethical man

ARON, Morris. US Army - WWII

He sparkled

CAMPBELL, David Dean. US Air Force - Korea, Viet Nam

And that's that story

JONES, William. US Coast Guard

Just plain Bill

CLARK, Karl Edmund. US Army - Viet Nam

Shine on you crazy diamond

JOHNSON, Dale D. US Army - Korea

I love taters & gravy

SHIPMAN, Charles J. US Navy - WWII

I went to see for myself

HANABLE, William S. US Air Force - Viet Nam

Historian Dad

I thought about the family members and friends who came up with the epitahs for these people.  I appreciated how well they knew the man or woman and how they were able to sum up that person's life in a few words.  And I really think those short phrases speak volumes about the life at that person.

Mom said when she joins Dad in Columbarium 5, she wants to following added to the marker:  Holy shit! What a ride!  I'm not sure the staid Willamette National Cemetery will allow that complete sentiment, but I bet we can tweak it enough so that it works. 

And I think I know what I want: She kept us laughing until the end.

A cold long winter

Late December and early January must be excellent baby making weather. How do I know?  Let me count the birthdays this month.

It kicks off on September 2 with my friend Marie's birthday.  This is followed quickly by Charla's birthday on the 3rd.  Shelley comes along next on the 7th (Happy 40th!).  I stumble into the picture on the 11th still somewhat dazed from the birthday changing events of 2001.  My mom's birthday is today, the 14th (to which I've heard a million times how I should have been born on her birthday, but my OCD about arriving early to events apparently is in my DNA).  My mom's BFF, and my godmother, Helen's birthday is tomorrow, the 15th.  Rhonda and Stella give us a two-for-one combo on the 19th (also known as International Talk Like a Pirate Day). Rounding out my collection of friends is Susan's birthday on the 22nd. 

Maybe this is one reason I like September so much: many opportunities to celebrate, enjoy lunches out, and lots of laughter. 

Happy birthday beautiful women of September.  Let's do it again next year.

We will not forget

Americans have short memories. We are often easily distracted by the next shiny bauble that bounces along.  But there are some things we won't forget.

Tomorrow marks the 10 year anniversary of the attacks on the World Trade Centers, the Pentagon, and Flight 93. 

I had the opportunity to take some time off from work last Wednesday (another reason I like my job)  to help with the set up of the Field of Flags at Riverfront Park in Salem. After helping place some potted flowers besides the flags marking the fallen Oregon soldiers in the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, I headed back to the main gathering area.  I was given a page of about 75 names - the A's of the people who died in the World Trade Center.  As I began reading the names, other volunteers began placing the flags representing each person lost that day in the field.

Almost immediately in reading my list I ran into Andrew Abate and Vincent Abate. I wondered "were they related."  As it turns out they are brothers who worked at Cantor Fitzgerald, a stock trading company that lost over 600 employees that day.  This was going to be harder than I thought.

I focused on trying to say the names as best I could and silently prayed they would forgive me for any mangling of the pronunciation.

My favorite name in the list to pronounce was Ignatius Udo Adanga. Later, I looked him up in a book I have that lists all the victims of that day.  It told me that Mr. Adanga was born in Nigeria and had immigrated to New York 20 years earlier. He worked for the Metro Transportation Council in the World Trade Center. He was a husband, a father, and a friend.

I continued on reading the names, but my emotions finally got the better of me when I read first, Joesph J. Angelini, Jr. and then immediately afterward I read, Joseph J. Angelini, Sr.  Father and son. They were firefighters who did not survive the collapse of the World Trade Center.  The elder Mr. Angelini was a 40 year veteran with no thoughts of retiring.  His son, a relatively newbie, with seven years of service. 

The list of names continued as I handed off the next pages to the other readers.

Each generation has a defining moment. 

December 7, 1941

November 23, 1963

September 11, 2001. 

May we always remember.

Labor Day - Why I like my job

At church yesterday, Pastor Larry talked about loving our jobs.  Kind of a weird sermon topic, but fitting for the Labor Day weekend and it was in keeping with his summer long series called "Summer Lovin'". 

His sermon got me thinking about my job. I like my job. I really like my job.  I've been with my employer for 22 years. I've had five distinct jobs (and a few variations of the same job) while there. I've enjoyed them all. Sure I moan and groan along with the rest of my co-workers and joke in the elevator about how many days until the weekend. But when all is said in done, I do like my job.

Here's a few things that came to mind about why I like my job:

• I'm needed. The talents and abilities I bring to the table are needed. They are not special talents and abilities, but they are uniquely mine. When I can step into a room and facilitate a workshop filled with vice presidents, directors, supervisors and claims adjusters and the group ends the day with a clear vision and next steps, I'm thrilled.  Sounds like hubris? It's not - it's just the satisfaction of knowing I'm in the right place for right now.
• I have some measure of autonomy. That is, I get to work on things that I believe are important and will help the division and the company. I am allowed room to initiate ideas, to try things and fail, and to try things and succeed. In his book Drive, Daniel Pink writes that autonomy is one of the key elements in motivating workers today. When employees have some control over what the work is and how it is done, everyone succeeds. For too long management has assumed employees need to be cajoled, coerced, and badgered into performing well.  The old carrot and stick (sometimes more stick than carrot) routine. But new research is showing this is not true. I believe the vast majority of employees want to produce good work. It's just that sometimes management gets in the way and puts up too many obstacles. 
• I'm a true believer. I believe in the mission and vision of my company. I believe that every day the employees of my company make a difference in people's lives. Yes, it is an insurance company, but as our leadership principles state - and as my co-workers demonstrate every day - we are not just another insurance company.
• My boss and co-workers make it easy. Sure there are days when we are all on each other's last nerve.  That's bound to happen when you spend 8 or 9 hours a day, five days a week with people. But I don't doubt the sincerity and earnestness of my co-workers to do well.  There's enough success for all of us. There's no back-stabbing or manipulating to climb the corporate ladder.

These are just a few reasons why I like my job.  How about you? Do you like your job? Why?  If you don't, want do you plan to do about it?

The Help - a book and movie review

I don't usually jump on the bandwagon when a popular book or movie is released. In this case, I'm feeling rather smug that I read the book before it became a mainstay at the local book clubs.  But I really owe this to my friend SJ who kept after me to read the book. 

The Help - novel
There's so much to like about this book it's hard to pin it down for a blog posting. So here are my highlights:

• This is author Kathyrn Stockett's first novel. Imagine that! Isn't that all aspiring writers' dream? 
• The dialogue is compelling and deep. The book is told from the points of view of three women: Aibileen, Minnie and Miss Skeeter.  They each have their own voice - in the story and in the novel. Their perspectives are honest. The dialect used for Aibileen and Minnie is believable. 
• The characters where three dimensional. They had good and bad qualities. They were real people.
• The themes told against the backdrop of the budding civil rights movement are, nevertheless, timeliness and relevant today. Friendship. Forgiveness. Forebearance. Freedom. Family.

I was sad when the book ended. I missed all the characters and was left wanting to know more.  This, to me, is the hallmark of a well-written novel.

The Help - movie
It is always dicey to take a popular novel and turn it into a movie.  Readers conjure the characters to their own specifications and interpretations. I've been left wondering, at times, if the director and producer even read the book. (Case in point, the casting of Tom Cruise as Jack Reacher, the protagonist in Lee Child's series about a retired Army major turned heroic vigalante.) In The Help, however, the casting director did a very good job.  Miss Skeeter was a little shorter than expected and her hair was a bit more fashionable than the book led us to believe.  Aibileen and Minnie met my expectations, as did the supporting cast of characters.

But alas, while the movie is very good, I confess I was disappointed by how they handled the firing of Constantine. The act that led up to the firing seemed so unconsquential (even in the 1960s) that it seems hard to believe that it would have resulted in the firing of a 29-year servant.  *Spoiler alert! In the book, the offense was much greater. We learn that Constantine's daughter was fathered by a white man. Her daughter was born with much lighter skin.  Light skin African Americans in the 1960s fell into a "no man's land" - neither black nor white. Constantine's daugher arrives at the Phelan plantation passing as a white woman during Skeeter's mother's DAR grand party. The dispute ensues from there.

I wondered if the director (who I believe also wrote the screenplay) felt the subject of "passing" was too foreign a concept in the 21st century.  Perhaps he would have had to provide too much back story to set up this storyline.  I'm not sure - I am sure that the storyline was pretty weak and made Mrs. Phelan appear much worse than even Miss Hilly Holbrook.

That being said, you can't go wrong by seeing the movie.  I've actually seen it twice and it held my attention just as firmly the second time as it did the first.

Have you read the book?  Seen the movie?  Both?  What are your thoughts?

Why I can't have nice things

Aren't I pretty?

I love having the windows open in the evening.  That is until the neighborhood comes alive with dutiful companions walking their dogs. I don’t mind so much, but Gracie feels compelled to remind each passerby that this is HER HOUSE and that’s HER SIDEWALK.

My large picture window is a constant smudge of nose prints and overzealous bark slobber.  But the other night topped it all.

A sweet Jack Russell terrier trotted by with his companions in tow. With nary a backward glance to the barking –like-a-crazy-dog Gracie, he lifted his leg on a bush in the front yard.  Before I could say “Jack Russell” Gracie popped the screen out of the window and was half way through on her way to teach Jack a lesson. I only just grabbed her around the waist and hauled her 85 pound butt back inside.  The screen survived the punch – only slightly bent.  My heart slowed to a normal beat after a few minutes. And Gracie was pleased that she had so valiantly defended her post. 

And this is why I can’t have nice things. 

A visit to what was

Mom and dad lived in Seaside for 10 years.  Last weekend Mom and I travelled to the coast to visit the town.  (We were joined by the rest of the Willamette Valley trying to escape the 90 degree temps.)  The trip took longer than expected.  Even though I had cleverly checked Seaside’s event calendar to make sure we weren’t heading over on the Hood-to-Coast weekend, I forgot to check Portland’s event calendar.  Hillsboro was sporting to major events – the annual airshow and the LPGA golf tournament at Pumpkin Ridge. It took us an extra hour to travel through Beaverton and Hillsboro. 

Our first stop was for lunch at Pacific Way Bakery in Gearhart.  This is my favorite restaurant. Dad tolerated this restaurant when I would visit them in Seaside.  Not really his favorite, though.  We then headed back to Seaside to drive by the place they use to live – one block off the Prom.  We lucked into a parking spot near one of Mom’s favorite shops and stopped there for some quick shopping.  After driving around for a bit pointing out a change here and a change there and much of the same everywhere, we headed back to Salem.

Grief is a funny thing.

The text books talk about grief in five stages.  This mistakenly gives the impression that the process is linear and will come to an end. I don’t believe that is true. For me, grief comes like the waves at the beach.  Some days it laps quietly at my feet, hardly noticeable. Other days, the tide rushes at me a bit more determined. I stagger off balanced for a moment, but I am able to keep wading forward.  And then there are days when a monster wave knocks me down and I feel like I can’t catch my breath.

One of these monster waves caught me a few weeks ago. I struggled for a couple of days to keep my head about the crashing wave. Even as I felt myself slipping below the water line in a wave a grief, I resisted and battled on. The more I fought it, the worse it seemed. In addition to the emotional symptoms, I began to feel  physical symptoms – a sore throat from holding in the cry of despair and a tight chest from a breaking heart. 

And then I let go.

Instead of struggling against the current and crashing waves, I leaned back and floated. I finally recognized the moment for what it was:  a sneaker wave of grief.  I relaxed and allowed those feelings to roll over me. As I floated, the sadness became manageable. And as time passed I found my footing again and was able to stand up and continue walking forward.

We seldom give ourselves the chance to just float.  I remember as a kid playing in the backyard pool some of my friends didn’t know how to float. They had to be taught. I taught them by gently holding my hands under their backs until they got use to the feeling of floating.  I hope we can give ourselves permission to float when we need to.  And for those who don’t know how to float, I’d be happy to teach you.

What just happened?

For the last two weeks I've been caught in some sort of confusing loop like you might see on Star Trek: The Next Generation.  I was unable to log into my Blogger account to post new musings.  Blogger didn't recognize my password. But when I followed the reset steps, Hotmail wouldn't recognize my userid.  And around and around we went.  Then two days ago, I final found the right online help, but get things restored, I had to pay 30 cents.  Seriously?  But OK, I can do that.  I followed the last round of instructions and viola! Here I am back in action.

Now what was I going to write about before all this started...

Gloom, despair, and agony on me

One of my dad's favorite TV shows when I was growing up was Hee Haw.  He was a faithful viewer despite my mom's eye-rolling. The show must have made an impression on me because I occasionally find myself humming some of its signature musical (?) numbers ("I'm a pickin' and I'm a grinnin'"). 

Watching the news these days reminds me of one of the famous Hee Haw numbers with the two hillbillies slouched against bales of hay with jugs of moonshine singing "Gloom, despair, and agony on me." Then they would proceed to tell tales of the latest wobegon events in their lives.  Just like CNN and FOX!

I blame it on the 24-hour news cycle.  News reporters no longer focus on the major story, but instead get bogged down in the minutiae of day. So a lot of the stories deal with the "what if's" of life.  Some days it is hard enough to face the "what is" of life without also getting bogged down in the "what if."

Certainly there is bad news these days.  But there is also good news.  There are glimmers of hope in this broken world.  What if not just the news channels, but all of us choose to focus on hope?  What if?

Thoughts from the Summit

I just spent two days at the Willow Creek Global Leadership Summit.  The speakers were brilliant and challenging.  Here are some of my favorite quotes from the event.  Some may spin off into subsequent blog postings. 

So tell me, do any of these comments challenge or resonant with you?

The future is not a linear extrapolation of the past. If you can't predict the future, create it.  Act!    Dr. Len Schlesinger

Failure does not mean game over.  It means try again with experience.  Dr. Len Schlesinger

Stand up from the banquet your ancestors prepared and metabolize your blessings.  Mayor Cory A. Booker (Newark, N.J.)

As a leader, I am going to choose to show the best of myself every day.   Mayor Cory A. Booker

If it is to be, it's up to me.  Mayor Booker

Before you tell me what you preach and teach, show me first how you live and give.  Mayor Booker

As catalytic leaders, we have to be willing and ready to interpret the events of our time through the eyes of faith.   Dr. Brenda Salter McNeil

I dare you to pray for God to fall fresh on you!  Dr. Brenda Salter McNeil

The reason "they" want you to fit in is so "they" can ignore you.   Seth Godin

With the revolution going on all around us, there's so much on the buffet you're likely to just grab something convenient. Better, I think, to decide what matters first, and go do that.  Seth Godin

Revolutions destroy the perfect and enable the impossible. Seth Godin

Just because the tide is out, doesn't mean there is less water in the ocean.  Seth Godin

The difference between a visionary and a daydreamer is the audacity to act.  Pastor Steven Furtick

We choose to be sinners or saints.  Mama Maggie Gobran

True love is to give and to forgive.  Forgive is not between you and the other, but between you and God.  He holds the account.  Mama Maggie Gobran

Would you lead if God called you to a cause or a company that had no chance of being successful?   Pastor Bill Hybels

I'd rather deal with angry people than apathetic people.  Michelle Rhee

Humility is the noble choice to forgo your status and use your influence for the good of others.   Pastor John Dickson

Our culture today says "avoid pain at all costs!"  Don't be vulnerable. There are massive rewards for being vulnerable, but also huge risks.   Patrick Lencioni

An open note to Howard Schultz, CEO of Starbucks

CEO Schultz: I was looking forward to your presentation at the Leadership Summit tomorrow and was sorry to hear that the opinions of 799 people who have an incorrect view of Willow Creek and Christianity caused you to cancel your presentation. As a long-time Starbucks customer, I'm also sad that you did not have more faith in your customers. Please remember as you preach the message of community involvement to your global employee base that the local churches are a part of that community as well. 

PS: I'll be swinging by my Salem, Or Starbucks tomorrow for a carmel macchiato before heading to day 2 of the Leadership Summit.

What's in a name?

It’s a story, so you’ll have to wait for the reveal. 

A few years ago I started a blog to capture life with my chocolate lab, Gracie.  There was no shortage of stories about her and our trips to the local dog park.  She continues to make me laugh every day, but my dog-telling-story muse left me and I stopped writing that blog a few years ago. 

But lately I’ve wanting to resume blogging if for no other reason than to give me a chance to capture the stories I see around me.  I expect some postings will be about trivial things, some posts will border on the profound (at least in my mind!), and some posts will simply serve as a soap box for my points of view.

Which leads me back to the title.

At work, in meetings, when the topic of discussion does not suit a particular participant, I’ve noticed that they he or she will make a place for his or her opinion by announcing to the group “I’m going to take us down on a bunny trail.”  The person then proceeds to expound upon whatever it is he or she felt needed to be said regardless of its relationship to the meeting agenda. And, what's more, the other meeting participants generally forgive this tangent because an announcement has been made in adavance that it would happen.

That will be this blog.  I have no unifying theme to measure my blog posts against.  I may write about Gracie, but not solely about her.  I have not retired and moved to Mexico like my friend, Steve, who writes a fantastic blog about his adventures.  I have just my thoughts, my ideas, my opinions, and my stories.  I hope that those, tempered with my sense of humor and eye for the ironic, will make these blog postings interesting to read.

Thanks for reading.