Tag Friends

Who do you think you are

Michael 11 Comments

Recently I’ve been thinking about relationships. Someone dropped a “like” on an older post, “Golden Oldies” as a matter of fact, and it reminded me that I had said the longest relationship I’ve had in my adult life (which itself is pretty damn long) has been with my little roadster. I’ve used that line a few times in blogs posts. I’ve used it a few times in speeches. It’s true you know. That has been my longest relationship outside of family, although now she’s more like family than some family.

Lots of relationships, even the short ones, can become more like family than some family. My partner at ROAMcare is more family than friend, and I can think of another 2 or 3 friends who fit in that category. Along the same line of thought, some acquaintances turn into friends when they really have no good reason to have done so.

I’m not sure where to put those we come across in the blogging world. The ones we connect with are more than just fellow bloggerets. Some we may have actually made our acquaintance with though I would think they are more than acquaintances. I’ve never met another from the blogging world although quite a few have made an impact on me.

In a post about a week ago I quoted Kurt Vonnegut. “We need gangs,” Vonnegut said, “I tell people to formulate a little gang. And, you know, you love each other.” The comments made it clear that here too is a gang. Perhaps that’s how we identify. As gang members.

One of the first of our gang I ran across was Bill Fyfe. Author. Correspondent. Canadian. We’d converse by email, an occasional postal correspondence, and by comments. Nice guy. Bill died a few years ago. His site, WD Fyfe is still active. Three or so years ago I was entered in a Toastmasters’ contest, and I needed a character for a narrative speech. So now in addition to his books and still active site, he is memorialized in a speech on YouTube.

Gang member? Acquaintance? Friend? Other? I don’t know what we are. All of us. There is something that somehow attracted us to each other. Of the 1600 or so” followers,” why is it that there is only a good handful I can call, if I were to call them anything, my gang member friends. That seems a good enough compromise.

In this week’s Uplift we tossed out the idea that one of our needs as fellow humans is to connect with other humans, often other humans who are nothing like us. Check out Opposites Attract and see if you don’t agree.

All Gung Ho, err Gang Ho!

Michael 11 Comments

I was going through some articles I’ve saved and and ran across one from the Pittsburgh Magazine website from this May. The headline intrigued. Enough so that I saved the article to my reading list but not so intrigued that I actually read it. The headline in question…

… From Running Clubs to Naked Bowling, Pittsburghers Find Ways to Combat Loneliness.

I used to bowl a lot and I recall feeling naked if I wasn’t wearing an official bowling shirt, but I don’t think that was where this article was going. Curiosity finally overcame inertia and I decided to take a look at the words that came after those first dozen.

It was after the mention of the city’s Flood Club (which every city with three rivers running through its downtown should have) I came across this:

“We need gangs,” the novelist Kurt Vonnegut once said. Decades of research suggest he was right: In any given year, positive social connections can slash our chance of dying by roughly 50%. Without them, our risk of heart disease, depression and other ailments spike — health effects that Dr. Vivek Murthy, the nation’s former surgeon general, compares to smoking up to 15 cigarettes a day.

“So yes,” said Vonnegut, “I tell people to formulate a little gang. And, you know, you love each other.”

Naked bowling, the 1936 St. Patricks Day flood, and now gangs. I want to say one of these things is not like the other but really, none of these things is like anything else. I was intrigued-er.

The article went on to say many of the same things we’ve said in our ROAMcare Uplift posts, only like how a professional would write them. People need people. And it went on to detail several third spaces where people needing people gather. Exercise clubs, activity clubs, sports clubs, even a naked bowling league.

The author talked about people needing and finding their people “in gangs of music lovers, movie lovers and lovers of Non-Boring Books. They’re craft-beer lovers and Sick of Drinking Millennials, Nerdy Ladies and Explorer Chicks, Toastmasters and introverts.” Wait. Toastmasters.

Not too long ago I was at a Toastmasters district level meeting. Over the course of this meeting (and just about any Toastmaster meeting beyond one’s home club), the question was asked “why do you continue being a Toastmaster?” I’ve heard many, many long-term Toastmasters answer that question and never have I heard one say, “so I can speak better,” or “so I can become a better leader,” even though those are both in our clubs’ missions.

The most common reason members hang around Toastmasters is because we meet, and associate with, and enjoy the company of others we’d never otherwise spend time with. My personal home club has members who are in finance, engineering, medical research, and restaurant management. They are self-employed, unemployed, semi-employed. They are from figuratively around the block and literally from around the world. There is a tutor, a screenwriter, an author, an investment broker, and one of me. And twice a month we get together and talk about everything but what we do.

We found what Vonnegut said we should look for. Our gang. A gang where we love each other and love being with each other for a half dozen hours a month. Gang ho!

 

 

Sunshine Superman

Michael 12 Comments

Okay 1960s music fans, tell me all you can about Donovan’s musical valentine that made it to #1 on the Billboard’s pop chart in 1966. Other than the phrase “Sunshine Superman” is never uttered among the rambling lyrics. Time’s up. I don’t know that much about it either. He wrote it for his then girlfriend/future wife although they may have already had one of their kids by then. It was a confusing time.  I only bring it up because I personally am a Sunshine Superman. Or. Sunshine Blogger Superman, now having been twice singled out (once doubled out?) for the honor. This time you can blame it on Vicki at Victoria Ponders. If you were around in April 2018, you could blame Sue. I’d include a link to her blog also because why not, but she is no longer blogging.

It doesn’t seem like that long ago does it. Um, 2018, not 1966. Seven years. Your basic Statute of Limitations interval. In 2018 I was tagged with tagging 8 others for the Sunshine Blogger Award. A few weeks before that, in January 2018, I was tapped for the Blogger Recognition Award which included a requirement to nominate 10 others. My nominator for that award is also no longer blogging. In fact, of the 18 blogs that I singled out between the two awards, four bloggers are still plying these pixels, one of them quite sporadically.

 Enough Memory Laning, let’s get down to business with this year’s festivities. Fair warning, this a lot to this post. Pull up a chair and get comfy.

According to dear Vicki, the rules are:

  • Display the award’s official logo somewhere on your blog.
    • Thank the person who nominated you.
    • Provide a link to your nominator’s blog.
    • Answer your nominators’ questions.

Easy enough. Except it isn’t. More on that later. Let’s get started with the easy stuff, with a hearty Thank you [Yay!] to Vicki, and her remarkable writings on this platform at Victoria Ponders. The logo is here somewhere, look around. Now on to the semi-easy stuff. Miss Victoria’s Eleven Queries.

What is your morning routine?
Mornings and I have a complicated relationship. Even though most days I don’t have to be up at any time in particular I still crawl out of bed early, often just as the sun is rising (except in winter when it’s pert near noon(!) before the sun crests the horizon). Take whenever the exact time I get out of bed and go back about 10 minutes. That’s when I thank God for another day and take a few minutes of silent meditation.  We are then out of bed, heading for formal prayers, morning ablutions, a couple good morning messages, then juice and coffee while I make breakfast.

What is your favorite season? Why?
I just walked a similar path in comments to a blog by Ally at The Spectacled Bean regarding most and least favorite months. My favorite month is October so by extension my favorite season is Fall. I’m not a good cold-weather person. I want warmth and sun and one of my favorite spots in the world is Puerto Rico. Still, I could not go through a year without the crisp Autum air, the first hint of wood burning in fireplaces while taking a walk, picking apples and making fresh apple soup (delicious), and marveling over the colors, oh the colors. Yep. Fall.

What is your favorite childhood memory?
Childhood was so long ago. I’m not sure if the memories are memories of what happened or memories of what I thought happened. A lot of the memories aren’t necessarily the happiest things a kid can go through, like being lowered through the basement window to unlock the doors after a vacation because the keys were undiscoverable and I was the only one small enough to get through the little vent like window. I think the fondest of the memories all centered around vacations, which for us were road trips to visit relatives. I don’t recall many parks, or rides, or games, but I remember the trips to wherever from the back seat of the family car. I wrote about that back seat here.

Who or what has been your most unlikely teacher?
Now the questions are getting harder. I will give you a who. The artist, Andy Warhol. And it isn’t because I’m still looking for those 15 minutes. He once said “Don’t think about making art. Just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it’s good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art.” What I took from that is don’t spend so much time thinking about doing something that you never get around to doing it, or waiting for THE perfect moment that never comes around. I wrote about that too. That one is over at ROAMcare, Think less, do more, then do more again.

Who or what are you most proud of?
Without a question, that’s a who and that’s the daughter, who let me think I was teaching her how to be a good person when all the while, she was teaching me.

What is something that surprises people about you?
Without a doubt, that I have a creative side. My entire professional life has been analytic, whether in practice, or when teaching, or even in volunteer positions where I’d usually head some committee or be stuck doing the finances. There are few who realize I can paint, play piano, and write. Am I an artist, a pianist, an author? No, but I could play one of each on TV.

What motivated you to start blogging?
I dunno. I’ll get back to you on that.

What forms of entertainment do you enjoy the most?
This varies depending on mood but I’m always in the mood for an old movie, a 1930’s, 40’s, 50’s movie, preferably something with at least one murder and one that’s been adapted from a book so I can read it and argue with myself about which is better.

If you are a book reader, do you prefer a paper copy or a digital copy?
I’ll read anything, book, digital, magazine article or serial (do they do that anymore?), but I prefer a book. I really do geek over the feel and the smell and the heft of a book and the physical turning of the pages and seeing the story progress as much as feeling it.

What’s your favorite music genre, and who is your favorite singer?
That’s a little of a toss-up. For straight up listening or playing, it would be jazz, modern, smooth, traditional, any sort of jazz and by far my favorite artist/composer is pianist David Benoit. But… you can’t sing jazz in the shower. For that, it’s 1960’s ballads.

What societal causes do you care about the most?
Healthcare. Fair, equitable, reasonable, affordable healthcare. Between battling a rare disease, bladder cancer, and a failed kidney transplant all in short order, I nearly bankrupted myself. I’d love to see some equitable distribution of services so we at least can provide basic primary care to everyone. We never will because “they” have discovered most people will pay anything to stay alive so more providers will charge anything. I honestly do believe if I were to hit a lottery for $8 billion or so, I’d open as many free clinics as I could and treat as many people as possible until the well ran dry. Maybe it would encourage others to do the same.

So that’s the easy and the not so easy part of this assignment. Now according to the rules, which haven’t changed in 7 years. I must craft a set of questions to be answers by a group of unsuspecting bloggers. I hesitate to name “up to 11” fellow bloggers because you see what happened the last time. Most of them are gone, poof, disappeared. I’d hate that to happen to any of you.

But first, the questions. These will be easy, at least as far as I can tell.

  1. What is your worst bad habit or secret vice?
  2. Would you rather read or write?
  3. How do you describe yourself physically and does your go to ID picture look like that?
  4. How do you describe yourself emotionally?
  5. Are you an Oscar or a Felix? And do you understand the reference or did you have to research it?
  6. What celebrity, living or dead, would you like to have dinner with.
  7. What is the longest drive or ride (including bus or train rides) you have ever taken?
  8. Cat, dog, both, other, neither?
  9. What’s the most embarrassing thing in your refrigerator?
  10. Do you have a superstition or what do you do to avoid bad luck or encourage good luck?
  11. If you couldn’t live where you live now, what different country would you pick based on beauty, culture, what you know, what you hear or read about, and price is no object?
  12. If you couldn’t live when you live now, what different time or historical era would you pick based on however you pick such a thing?

Now for the hardest part of this nonsense, errr honor. Picking others to follow in my footsteps. First, a review of the rules:

  • Display the award’s official logo somewhere on your blog.
    • Thank the person who nominated you.
    • Provide a link to your nominator’s blog.
    • Answer your nominators’ questions
    • Nominate up to 11 bloggers.
    • Ask your nominees 11 questions.

I honestly hesitate to do this, but here we go.

First, Vicki at Victoria Ponders, I really would like to hear your answers so to you I extend my questions but you can skip all the other rigmarole, errr details.

I should stop right there. Some people I would forward this to have received the same from either Vicki or one or two levels up. There are a few people I’d love to hear from although I’d understand if these don’t fit your blog’s concept.

Kris at Around the Corner

Belle at Between the Lyme

For Rachel (Rachel Mankowitz) and Dayle (Tip of the Iceberg), I know this isn’t the sort of thing you would write about but you do bring me sunshine and I certainly won’t exclude you.

Wynne (Surprised by Joy) and Ally (The Spectacled Bean), I’d love to include you but it’s terribly unfair of me to asks you to do all this again. But then I am sort of telling Vicki I want her to do it again so what do I know.

And of course, anybody else who wants to have at it, have at it. Years ago, I was much more active writing, reading, and commenting. Today, I read a select but cherished few and comment even less, but I do read and I do enjoy. I think I’ll stop now.

one of one-plus

Michael 11 Comments

Last week I took a shot at regaling you with tales of spending a week in the hospital and coming home alone. Naturally the perfect followup to that would be (to take a shot at) regaling you with tales of spending that recovery week not quite alone. Yes, even though I made a big thing out of how hard it is to not be well and be alone, versus when you are a one of two, I wasn’t completely alone in my recovery week. Not quite not alone but definitely not alone.

I closed last week’s post with, “When one of two is missing, the void seems bigger than when one of one is gone. And when one of one returns, the welcome home is much less welcoming. I can probably write an entire post on that. Maybe I will someday.” Never to not pick up such a tempting gauntlet as that, I will accept my own challenge. Sort of.

First, to those who had asked, I am fine and anticipate I will grow even finer as the days march by. I made it through the first week out of the hospital without returning to the hospital and that’s not something I can say about all of my discharges. Fortunately, I had a lot of help. As I said, I was not completely alone last week. I had help. Not “one of two” help, maybe more like “one of one-plus.” Between my daughter and my sisters for some physical assistances and a handful of friends for mental, emotional, and at times even comical support, the week moved along faster than I figured it would.

It is a big boost when someone you typically connect with primarily through text messages makes time in her schedule to call at least once a day every day to check on how things are going. It is as big an aid to recovery as having someone stop in to do the heavy lifting portions of the never-ending household chores that one with a newly prescribed 5 pound lifting limit and prohibitions against bending and stretching cannot take on alone. Yes, it is not a secret that physical recovery does not happen, or happens very slowly, without mental and emotional recovery tagging along.

I recall that first discharge from so many years ago, the physical helpers were there but there was a distinct void where someone, some ones, or anyone who might call just to see how things were going could have been. What was most disheartening was that there should have been at least one someone, but the call that came rather than a message of support was of the “I didn’t sign up to be a nursemaid” type. And with it a rather rapid descent from the stratospheric one of two to the heartbreaking loneliness of a one of less than one.

Fortunately, over the years I discovered a handful of contenders willing to be part of my one of one-plus entourage. True, the other one of a one of one-plus won’t be there to help you into bed, or to wake you when your due for medication or a dressing change, or tell you, “Sit still! I’m perfectly capable of making us breakfast,” as I imagine the other one of one of two would, somehow it is easy to imagine they would if things might had been just a bit different. And a one of one-plus will always be there on the other end of a phone call or text message, or email, or even a card or letter when you least expect it, or at least when you least are thinking about it for a while and add to your emotional recovery.

The best one of one-pluses are those who take their role seriously, as seriously as a one of two partner would. Maybe even more. Let’s face it, a lot of one of two partnerships exist because of some compromise or even a little unspoken quid pro quo. Sometimes a lot of quid pro quo. A one of one-plus is more selfless and unconditional. There is nothing you are getting back for your love and concern except maybe someone’s love and concern. A friend of mine, a one of one-plus with me, said “Being one of one can be isolating. Being one of two is ideal. But being one of many makes a community. We all need each other and do better when we feel cared for and important to somebody.” I suppose if we put all my one of one-pluses together we can make a “one of many” community. (Now that might make for an interesting blog too. In fact, that sounds like just the thing we’d post at the ROAMcare blog, Uplift!  Maybe you should make a note in your calendar to check that out this Wednesday.)

Speaking of Uplift! In the latest post we wondered, if “In case” added to your declaration is a positive account of caution and a potential response to a situation, is “just in case” just a poor excuse for a poor choice? Read it here to see what we had to say about that.

Hey, here’s an extra thought if you know someone who could use a hand and you’re feeling one-plus-like. Dinners that can be heated and eaten are great but think outside the oven. Rides to labs or tests are great stress relievers and don’t often run unpredictably late like a doctor appointment may. And back in the food arena, if your someone is a big breakfast eater, a prepared morning meal is just as appreciated, if not more than an evening meal. A French toast casserole, or stack of frozen waffles makes a nice change for someone who may be too unsteady in the morning even to work a bowl of microwave oatmeal. My best meal “gift” ever was a bag of frozen breakfast burritos my daughter worked up. A few minutes in the microwave and a cup of yogurt with fresh fruit and I had a breakfast that kept me well through lunch and the only thing I needed to work was a spoon.

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Acquaintancegiving

Michael 2 Comments
Sing along with me… It’s the most confusing time of the year! 
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The week before Thanksgiving – ugh. (Non-American residents please hang in there, next week we’ll be back to more universal topics.) This week the food related sites and emails are torn between last minute meal prep tips, what to do with leftover turkey tips, and Christmas cookie freezing tips. Home decor posts are split between the Thanksgiving tablescape to die for and how to make this year’s Christmas wreath out of empty aluminum soft drink cans (the new skinny 8oz. models). And editorial writers aren’t sure if they should sharpen their quills for the annual “1001 Things to Be Thankful For” column or “It’s Time to Apologize to Displaced Native Americans” missive. The only ones who seem to have a handle on the week are the merchants who will be switching headers on the sales catalogs from “Black Friday Sale!” to “Holiday Sale Spectacular!!!” (Same ad, just a different name.) 
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A new confusion, one even I missed the early signs of, are what we call this upcoming holiday. Although there had been “Days of Thanksgiving” in what would become these United States since the early 1600s, it was by a proclamation by Abraham Lincoln in 1863 that the holiday we celebrate today was established. For years thereafter the President would proclaim one of the last Thursdays in November to be a “Day of Thanksgiving.” In 1941, Congress finally got around to formalizing the holiday with a resolution permanently stamping the fourth Thursday in November on future calendars as Thanksgiving Day. 
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And so it was for going on 80 years that about this time each year, people would greet one another with a jaunty “Happy Thanksgiving!” Sometime in my life, which admittedly spans more than 3/4 of those 80 years but a far smaller portion of the 300+ years since the Pilgrims made up the silent majority, people began to augment Happy Thanksgiving with phrases like Happy Turkey Day or Good Harvesting. Then in 2007 Friendsgiving reared its ugly head.
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“Thanksgiving is for families,” the argument went. “I want to celebrate my gratitude for my closest friends with my friends.” Sometimes people would actually verbalize that they liked their friends better than their families anyway. Now I am not against friends and friendship nor do I feel friends should be excluded from our celebrations, our gratitude, or our celebrations of our gratitude. In my world when we wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving with our friends we invited those friends to Thanksgiving dinner. The house was more crowded, table was a lot fuller, and not all the plates matched but we all squeezed in, gave our thanks, and proceeded to devour many pounds of food apiece. A couple of years we even tried a buffet style dinner and one particularly warm year we extended the festivities onto the back yard deck. What was important was that we all shared the wish for family and friends with the same expression of gratitude.
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By a totally unscientific review, this year that great marker of contemporary social acceptance, the Television Sitcom Holiday Special, featured more Friendsgiving celebrations than family Thanksgiving meals. I know next month the airways will be full of “Happy Holidays!” taking the place of yesteryear’s “Merry Christmas” and I’ve learned to accept that. I suffer through the growing number of Indigenous Persons Day recognitions where Columbus Day used to be and I am willing to concede Presidents Day actually exists even without ever having been recognized by any governing body outside of Madison Avenue. Valentine’s Day is for more than lovers and St. Patrick’s Day really is a test of who can drink the most green beer in a single seating. Can’t we leave just one holiday alone?
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If you’ll excuse me now, I have to make room in the refrigerator for some turkey hash, sweet potato pancakes, and green bean casserole soup. I want to be able to properly give thanks well into next week too!
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Happy Thanksgiving!
Turkey

Come Here Often?

Michael 3 Comments

I had a most unusual dream last night. I met a female hockey referee after a concert and we went out for the “best cup of coffee we ever had.” I was certain I would not have ever picked up a random person at a concert but since she was a hockey referee I knew she had to be a good person. I’m not sure why she was wearing her black and white stripe shirt with the red arm band but fortunately she was so I knew what I was getting into.

In my half-awake state I tried analyzing this one of so very few dreams I ever remembered. I couldn’t make any sense of it so instead I started wondering how people meet others today. Television commercials and on-line pop-up ads and promoted posts would have you believe dating services are the way to go.

Of course dating services are not new ideas. They’ve been around for most of my entire life and we all know that’s a lot of years. Match is probably the most recognized on-line service but it goes back to only 1995. Date Mate might be the earliest recognized computer assisted service but it dates to just 1965. You have to go into the 50s, 1959 actually, to find the first documented dating service when the Happy Families Planning Service matched 59 men and 59 women in a Stanford University class project.

So how did the ancients (you know, those who matched up before Sputnik) find their mates? Even some of us who connected in the age of enlightenment (or during the cold war depending on how you want to remember time) managed to do so without handing over 3 bucks to find the perfect mate. How did we ever do that?

Dating

(All Things Clipart)

That gave me the idea to post a survey asking how you connected with your spouse, significant other, life partner, person of interest, paramour, special friend, companion, steady, beau, boo, or better half. But…I don’t know how to add a survey to a post and I really don’t feel like looking it up. And a survey only lets you answer once. You might have had more than one one-and-only over your lifetime. Who am I to deny you the opportunity to remember fondly all your initial hearts aflutter moments? And no matter how many choices I could come up with I’d certainly miss something and be forced to include the dreaded “other” catchall.

So I invite you to tell me what service led you to your match. The ways I thought of might include:

  • One of the aforementioned dating services either modern online or classic computer assisted
  • A personal professional matchmaker ala Dolly Levi
  • A personal amateur matchmaker ala parents, siblings, or exceptionally nebby friends, relatives, or coworkers
  • A specific matchmaking activity ala speed dating, singles’ dance, or similar
  • Social media typically not affiliated with matchmaking (Twitter following, Facebook groups, old timey chat rooms)
  • At school (any level, from nursery school to community college adult education classes)
  • At work (while not impeding your ability to provide superior customer service, of course)
  • At church, hopefully not during actual services but perhaps after or at a social affair or sponsored activity
  • At a bar, tavern, pub, party, or other alcohol fueled social gathering
  • At a non-alcohol fueled social activity (there must be something that qualifies)
  • On vacation (That could be a non-alcoholic fueled social activity depending on your definition of holiday.)
  • At a sporting or athletic event including that Wednesday morning Tai Chi class
  • Some random meeting (I met who would become a close companion and still great friend standing in line at an ATM machine.)
  • In the produce section at the local grocery store (It’s happened in books, movies, and television shows so it must have happened sometime in real life, no?)
  • And the infamous “other”

 

How did you meet, or would like to meet, or are trying to meet your companion for all your days or a significant portion thereof? Feel free to comment away!

 

Every Day Is a Great Day

Michael 4 Comments
Hockey season started yesterday. I was there for it. In my seat, the one I’ve occupied for the past couple of years. It’s not a bad seat. Over the years I’ve sat in several spots around the arena. Lower bowl, upper bowl, center ice, behind the net, on the dots. In the old arena. In the new arena. None are bad seats. Amidst a handful of people in my little section amidst the 19,000 or so seats all occupied by people in their little sections we sat in not bad seats there just to see a hockey game. No other agenda, hidden, assumed, obvious, or imagined. Just hockey.
But before the game we stopped to pay respects to those who lost lives and loved ones in Las Vegas and all 19,000 were silent. Every one. Silent. Then we paid respects to the flag and all 19,000 sang. Every one. Singing. And I thought how once again all I know about being a gentleman I learned from hockey and how I was once so moved by that realization that I posted my thoughts on it right here. And I thought, just as “Badger” Bob Johnson knew every day is a great day for hockey, that every day is a great day to learn from hockey.
So I’m doing today something I’ve never done before. I’m reprinting “Everything I Know About Being a Gentleman I Learned From Hockey.”

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EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT BEING A GENTLEMAN I LEARNED FROM HOCKEY

Originally posted November 26, 2016

When I was at the hockey game this weekend I got to thinking how much as a society we can learn from hockey. Yes, the sport that is the butt of the joke “I went to a fight last night and a hockey game broke out,” is the same sport that can be our pattern for good behavior.

Stay with me for a minute or two and think about this. It started at the singing of the national anthem. I’ve been to many hockey, baseball, football, and soccer games. Only at the hockey games have I ever been in an arena filled with people actually singing along. Only at the hockey games are all of the players reverent to the tradition of honoring the country where they just happen to be playing even though they come from around the world – Canada, Russia, Germany, Sweden, Finland, even a few Americans.

A decent dose of nationalism notwithstanding, hockey has much to offer the gentility. Even those fights. Or rather any infraction. If a player breaks the rules he is personally penalized for it. Ground isn’t given or relinquished like on a battlefield, free throws or kicks aren’t awarded to the aggrieved party like victors in a tort battle. Nope, if you do something wrong you pay the consequences and are removed from play for a specified period in segregation from the rest of your teammates. No challenges, no arguments, no time off for good behavior. Do the crime. Pay the time. In the penalty box. Try doing that to a school child who bullies and you’ll have some civil liberty group claiming you’re hurting the bully by singling him out.

Hockey is good at singling out people but in a good way. At last Saturday’s game the opposing team has two members who had previously played for the home team. During a short break in the action a short montage of those two players was shown on the scoreboard screens and they were welcomed back by the PA announcer. And were cheered and applauded by the fans in attendance. There weren’t seen as “the enemy.” Rather they were friends who had moved away to take another job and were greeted as friends back for a day.

While play is going on in a hockey game play goes on in a hockey game. Only if the puck is shot outside the playing ice, at a rules infraction, or after a goal is scored does play stop. Otherwise, the clock keeps moving and play continues. Much like life. If you’re lucky you might get to ask for one time out but mostly you’re at the mercy of the march of time. Play begins. After a while play ends. If you play well between them, you’ll be ok.

The point of hockey is to score goals. Sometimes goals are scored ridiculously easily, sometimes goals seem to be scored only because of divine intervention. Most times, goals are a result of working together, paying attention to details, and wanting to score more than the opposing team wants to stop you from scoring. There is no rule that says after one team scores the other team gets to try. It all goes back to center ice and starts out with a new drop of the puck. If the team that just scored controls the puck and immediately scores again, oh well.

Since we’re talking about scoring, the rules of hockey recognize that it takes more than an individual to score goals. Hockey is the only sport where players are equally recognized not just for scoring goals but for assisting others who score goals. Maybe you should remember that the next time someone at work says you’ve done a good job.

handshakeThe ultimate good job is winning the championship. The NHL hockey championship tournament is a grueling event. After an 82 game regular season, the top 16 teams (8 from each conference) play a four round best of seven elimination tournament. It takes twenty winning games to win the championship. That’s nearly 25% as long as the regular season. It could take as long as 28 games to play to the finish. That’s like playing another third of a season. After each round only one team moves on. And for each round, every year, for as many years as the tournament has ever been played, and for as many years as the tournament will ever be played, when that one team wins that fourth game and is ready to move on, they and the team whose season has ended meet at center ice and every player on each team shakes the hand of his opponent player and coach, wishing them well as they move on and thanking them for a game well played. No gloating. No whining. No whimpering. Only accepting.

So you go to a fight and a hockey game breaks out. It could be a lot worse.

—–

So there you go. Everything you need to know about being a gentleman, or a lady. Courtesy of the folks who brought you hockey. They’re not bad lessons if I say so myself. And I think even Badger Bob would agree.

 

Look Who’s Talking

Michael Leave a comment

Use or lose it. Who hasn’t heard that at least with respect to vacation days or abdominal muscles?  I guess the same goes for voices. Since I retired there are precious few opportunities to replace the sheer amount of talking I once did. I guess it has taken its toll. Or more accurately, the non-it has.

When you stop exercising those abs you don’t notice an immediate loss of shape and tone. By eighths, maybe even sixteenths of inches you start a slow expansion from six pack to quarter keg. Someone who sees you daily or weekly may not even notice the transformation but run into somebody you haven’t seen in 3 years and you’ll probably hear, “Hey, you look great. Aw, no you don’t. You’re fat now. Just like the rest of us.” Or at least I imagine that’s what you might hear. Not ever having abs to die for I never had to worry about an unplanned belt explosion.

But not talking has resulted in somewhat similar observations. Apparently those I share my few words with hadn’t suspected an impending failure to communicate on my part. That makes some sense. Even the most common of my common conversationalists don’t hear much from me. Most of my chit chat revolves around a phone call or two to my daughter or sisters and much of my end consists of “mmm,” “uhhhh,” and “ok, talk to you soon.”

What got me thinking about any of this was the phone call equivalent of the friend who hadn’t seen you in 3 years, only this time played by the friend who you usually converse with via email or text messages but might actually speak with only once or twice a year. That call came last week and before I barely had “hello” out of my mouth I heard, “Oh my God, are you ok? If you’re sick, go back to bed or wherever you were resting and I’ll call back some other time.”

It was then that I realized I need a vocal version of the Ab Roller.

 

Looking Good

Michael 6 Comments

I’m going to do something today that I usually don’t. I’m ranting. Well…not exactly ranting. A rant implies wild and impassioned speech. I may be passionate about a bunch of stuff but I’m not wild. I’m not even undomesticated. So I’m not exactly ranting but I am upset. Maybe even a little annoyed.

I just read a post – no, that’s not true either – I just read two-thirds of a post, supposedly to make me, as one with a chronic illness, feel magnanimous towards those who have the nerve to say to me,  “You look good.”  Apparently before I had the benefit of the sensitivity of whoever wrote that drivel, err…. that post, I was supposed to be bothered, irked, and/or insulted by that comment. Really?!?

Yes, I have a chronic condition. Three actually. If you’ve read this for a time you know I have kidney disease and am on dialysis (and the specific target of the aforementioned post). I am also told that I am a cancer survivor though one really never survives as much as finds a way to eliminate its immediate danger. For me that meant the physical removal of the cancer and along with it two and parts of third internal organ while now still learning how to live without otherwise vital body parts. The third is a one of those rare diseases that is so rare you don’t even get to see commercials on TV for drugs that might or not might not improve my chance at a normal life. Instead that one has been kept at bay for 15 years or so by a relatively dangerous drug regimen that probably helped me join the ranks of the first two chronic conditions that I mentioned but at least it kept me alive long enough to develop them. Anyway, when someone tells me that I look good I say thank you. Apparently I’ve been doing that wrong.

If I read the part of the article that I read correctly, I read that first I should consider that the person who is telling me how wonderful I appear doesn’t mean anything insensitive by it. He or she probably doesn’t know how painful and depressing my ailment is. Ailments are. Next I should consider exactly how well I know this person. Perhaps some people are mistaking my healthy appearance for a healthy appearance because they don’t know the full extent of my painful and depressing ailment. Or ailments. Then I should thank them for their thoughtfulness but gently remind them how painful and depressing my ailment really is. Are. Is. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do after that because that’s when I threw my tablet across the room. (After making sure I was aiming it at a very soft pillow. I might have been annoyed but I’m not crazy.) (Not even wild.)

So, since I was unable to finish that drivel, err…. that post, let me tell you how to respond when someone comes up to you, whether or not you have a chronic condition, and whether or not he or she does, and says, “You look good.”  Say thank you and repay the compliment.

By that way, you’re looking pretty good. Have a nice day.

The Hi Guys

Michael 6 Comments

“’S’up.” “Hey” A nod up. Then another. One went east, one west. And the world kept turning. Thanks in part to the Hi Guys.

The Hi Guys are those guys (generically speaking of course – guys, gals, hims, hers, undecideds, too young to tell, too old to matter, too desperate to care – all of those) those guys are the guys that nod a “hello” to a perfect stranger one meets walking down the road, crossing a lobby, waiting for an elevator, or standing in front of or behind in a really long, really slow line – or on the line if that’s your geographic preference.

HiGuys

Drawing by me. Can’t you tell?

It’s just a nod, a recognition that says “Hey, you too are human and we are all part of a team and I recognize your contribution even if I don’t know you, don’t care if I ever know you, might never see you again, and will be just as happy if I do or if I don’t.” Sometimes that’s really hard to do. It’s easy to give that little finger wave over the steering wheel when you see a neighbor taking the dog for a walk along your own street on your way to work in the morning. But to acknowledge a total stranger, no, more than that, to show value to a total stranger is quite another.

Think of the number of times you run across somebody you don’t know versus the number you do of the number you do. (It might be awkward but if you parse that sentence you’ll see it works. Just like the Hi Guys!) An Oxford University study (Oxford, really) confirmed that the human brain can manage only 150 friendships. A simple “Hey, how ya doin’?” can expand your circle to unknown numbers. And make you smile at the same time.

Remember when you were a baby – probably not but you probably have seen babies. When a baby smiles at someone and makes that baby gurgle that only babies can make, everybody smiles back. Even me, and I’m usually fairly grouchy. So if a baby, who probably doesn’t understand that the world needs a little help to keep turning, can make a total stranger smile and feel good even for just a second or two, you can do it also.

So, keep the world turning. Become a Hi Guy*!

That’s what I think. Really. How ’bout you?

*I thought of this a couple of days ago when I was running into the store and stopped at the entrance to let a fellow carrying a double armload of grocery bags come out of the doorway before I went in. I didn’t expect a thank you for anything since I didn’t do anything. The door was automatic and wide enough for both of us.  As I passed him on my way through I did my usual nod and said something like hi or h’lo (the local equivalent of hello). He paused and sort of half-turned and said back to me, “Hey. Thanks.” And smiled. A real smile. I thought to myself, wow, somebody really does pay attention to that half-grunt I make now and then. That could be blog-worthy. Well, after I wrote this I thought I’d do a quick search for “Hi Guy.” I don’t know why, I just did. Maybe because I’m getting sort of up there in years and things sometime mean different things now than then. And sure enough I found something. My go to for stuff like this, the Urban Dictionary, defines “Hi Guy” pretty succinctly as a salutation to a man or woman. Clean enough for my purpose. Then I went one step further and plugged it into Google. There I found a link to “Lingomash” pronouncing that my Hi Guy in slang means “(1)Excl. When something outrages (sic) or unusual occurs. (2)Excl. When you don’t agree with one’s actions.“ Well that’s not right at all. Since I don’t have anything else to write about I’m going to ask that if you know “Hi Guy” as this completely antithetical twist to what I just wrote, could you please not tell anybody else. Thanks.

Oh, and one more thing. Some of you might remember “Hi, guy!” from the Right Guard commercials of the 1970s when two guys share a medicine cabinet and every morning they “bump into” each other in the bathroom. They were great. One guy would open the cabinet on his side of the wall and the other would be there and he bursts out with “Hi, guy!” It went on for years and the actor (Chuck McCann, an already well established actor) became known as the Right Guard Hi Guy. Except that in the very first commercial of the series he never said “Hi, guy.” If you should be wondering, here’s a link to it. Hi Guy.  (by Genius via YouTube)

I just realized my “post script” is longer than “letter.” I should stop now. In fact, I will. Really.