On finding stories...

Today, I came across an old cassette tape.  On it was a recording of me telling various stories to my kids at bedtime.  My now teenage daughter and I laughed hysterically.  A 5-second portion of it typified the personalities of my kids to this day.  It is true.  They are born with a little personality and it continues without deviation.  God help me.   Anyway, at one point when my kids were young, I was really good at telling bedtime stories and decided to start taping them.  I then thought of an idea for a website, which became the iTunes of audio stories, but unfortunately, without the same traffic...or sales.  It was, to this day, an amazing idea and site.  I still miss it.  But, life has a funny way of changing, even though personalities may not. 

Where am I going with this?  Well, first, it got me thinking again about how important it is to be creative in your life.  My current job is somewhat lacking in this area, so hearing the tapes was motivating to again create a hobby, or carve out an aspect of my work, that can bring out the creative side.  Humans all need to exercise this critical part of their brain and soul.  It really is a gift to be creative. 

Second, I noticed that nearly all of the stories I told held a message.  Be kind to others.  Don’t tease.  See the good in others.  Be kind to animals.  Be giving.   This, even more than creativity, is the essence of life.  I hope that a little rubbed off on my kids each night as they fell to sleep.  I never realized I was doing that in the stories, so it’s good to know that maybe I was a little better mom than I gave myself credit for.  The hardest job in the world never has a grade report, so one always tends to see the flaws and forget the good that was done.

Third, and last, love your kids.  They grow up too quickly.  Appreciate those little moments.  Record their sweet voices.  Soon they will be teenagers blasting the car radio as you sit white-knuckled on the passenger side.  Be a passenger throughout their lives.  Don’t miss out.  For they will too.  On those creative stories, on the hidden messages, and on your unflappable and unconditional love.

Stories and kids should always meet.  Love too.

A Poetic and Well-lived Life

In honor of my father’s recent passing, I am publishing a slightly modified version of his eulogy.  His five children each read a section.  We miss him dearly but will always remember, and be guided by, his poetic life.

On behalf of our Mom and entire family, thank you all for being here with us today.

We particularly want to thank you Father Arbel for all you have done.  Father Arbel drove to Sacramento on his day off last week to be with us and give our dad Last Rights. You were a source of great strength to us and we truly appreciate it.

And Father Miles – you know how much our Dad loved you.  Thank you for being here today and for your kind words.  And for Father Tassone and both Father Bradys we thank you for concelebrating this Mass for our Father.

Our Dad was a good-hearted and morally centered man.  He lived a hard working, simple, and honest life.  What many of you may not know is was how much he loved poetry.  He could recite long poems from memory.  He would often pay us a few dollars to try to memorize them – but we were never as good.

So today we honor him by drawing on lines from some of his favorite poems.  These are lines that he would say again and again to us throughout our lives.  We think they bear witness to his wisdom.

This line was written by one of our Dad’s favorite poets – Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

“More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.”

Our Dad knew the importance of prayer.  It wasn’t easy raising 5 children, so trust us, he needed prayer, lots of it.  He was a devout Catholic. 

Dad grew up just down the street from the church in Nevada City.  His first job as a young boy was to ring the church bell, which he did for several years.  He rang The Angelus every day – which meant ringing the bells three times a day:  at 6 am, at noon and again in the evening at 6 pm.  Every time we went to Nevada City, he would show us where he carved his initials in the bannister of the stairs leading up to the bell.

After telling this story to Father Arbel, he said he has long wanted to have the bell rope of this church extend from the loft to the vestibule floor.  So this week, to honor our Father, the vestibule ceiling was opened so that the rope now extends down.  They say that when a door closes, a window opens.  With our dad, ceilings also open!  

We think it is no coincidence that Father’s name is “Arbel”.  So, we hope that you stop and think of our dad every time you hear these bells, “Our bells”, ring.  

Dad always enjoyed being in the outdoors. Be it trout fishing on a mountain stream or hunkered down in a duck blind. He especially enjoyed hunting deer near a place called Saddleback Lookout, located just north of Downieville in the Sierras. He and his good friend would go ahead of the rest of us to secure a camp so that when we showed up on Friday night, the camp would have already been set up. Over the years the two of them would plan to leave just a bit earlier than the year before. So when at first they left...say...early Friday morning or perhaps Thursday afternoon, they could, in later years, be seen leaving town as early as Tuesday morning... to ensure of course, they got the best camp. But who could blame them really, it's a beautiful spot and we had some great times up there. 

One year I took the liberty of having a gold cup engraved with the names of those hunters (and dogs mind you) who were no longer with us. And on it, a short poem was also engraved which I'd like to read to you today.

Here's to those who have gone before us

They join us now in spirit.

And here's to the hounds whose bark echoes still

If you listen you can hear it.

A toast to them, to you and I

May we all be remembered well.

We'll meet again on this mountain with a saddle

And oh what stories we will tell

  

Here’s a line – not from a famous poet – but from Dad himself. 

“Your mother is a Saint. "

Our dad said this all the time – over and over.  And, we are pretty sure he is right.  Our father loved our mom.  They were a good team and worked side by side, mom doing much of the books and invoices and dad managing the rest of the business.  They were devoted parents to all of us.

Theirs was a true love, a real partnership in marriage.  Despite all of their time together, we never once saw them argue.

But now...back to a real poet...Dylan Thomas shared the poem:

"Do not go gently into that good night.  Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

In keeping with his character, our dad did not go gently into that good night.  He was a fighter to the very end.

We are so thankful to everyone who helped our family during his illnesses over the years.  He received such excellent care by family members, Firemen, Paramedics, nurses and doctors in this community and at UC Davis Medical Center.  We extend a very special thanks to those who helped our Dad in the business that was so important to him.  For his customers, vendors and those who worked with him over the years, he had nothing but respect and admiration for each and every person who touched his professional life.

We thank you all for coming today.  And, sorry Governor, while we truly appreciate you coming to share these services with us, you are not the most distinguished guest today.  Sitting next to you is Father Brady who was our family priest for years.  He and Monsignor McGarry meant the world to our father and we thank Father Brady for traveling from Sacramento to be with us all today and for all you have done for this church and community over the years.

We would like to extend a special thank you to all who have been here for us over the past week and in advance for those we hope will look in on our mom going forward as he did for his friends’ widows over the years.  For those who visited at the hospital, and for the many food, flowers and donations and for being here today we thank you.  Some have traveled across the country to celebrate his life and we are truly honored.  Our sisters have decided that they would love to move back to town after seeing how the community rallies together!  And, as dad would say about that:  God help us all, everyone!

We thank this man, now in God’s hands, for his poetic life and for the lessons he gave us through it.

...Remembrances from the juncture of a poetic and well-lived life.

Passions and Courageous Choices

Passions are interesting.  I recall seeing a documentary about a guy who created an entire village in his basement.  He had spent thousands of hours of his adult life creating a working town in his own home.  In a way that is fascinating.  I can admire the dedication and diligence it took to spend years of his life to create that dream.  But, you have to admit.  It's also a little crazy.  Ok, very crazy.  At least I didn't marry him.

A lot of people are passionate about sports.  I enjoy sports.  I like watching games.  I can even watch them on TV, although I will admit that I always say that basketball should be a 1-minute game.  The thing is, I really do wish I could care more because it seems fun to know every statistic, every player and who won what game last night.  Those people are much more popular at the water cooler.  My brain just isn't wired that way.

So, does this mean I have no passion?  Probably not.  Recall, that I do really love strawberry, frosted Pop-Tarts.  I guess my passions are either just a little less shiny on the outside or I am fairly adept at keeping them hidden.  Or, maybe I am just plain dull.  That's it for sure.

(Wait, I did eat Chobani Passion Fruit yogurt for breakfast.  Very good stuff.  Does that make me passionate?  Yes, I thought so.)

So, yes, I am a passionate person.  That's my positive affirmation of the day.

I guess passions really come down to being true to who you are.  Being passionate about your friends and their lives, your family and career can be every bit as interesting as knowing whether the Devil Rays beat the Angel's last Saturday.  And, arguably, even more so.

What got me thinking about all of this?  I just watched the Founder of Twitter's recent commencement speech where he talked about doing what you love and making courageous choices regardless of the consequences...the underlying message, do what you love and the money will follow.  Although the parents of every starving artist in LA may disagree, I think he's absolutely right.  Life is too short to not follow your passion.  Now, to just find one!  ;)

Benches and Neighbors

The Bench

Every day, we passed it by. All of us.

On the way to the pool. To walk our dog. To play with our children. In hindsight, we may not have given it the attention it deserved. The respect it had earned. But, it was there for us.

The bench. A child near it. That’s all it really took to get the others outside. Then, the games would start. Volleyball. Soccer. Wiffleball. Football. Simon Says. Mom says come home.

Children jumped from it, mostly. Onto the soft green grass below. Or, rested their skateboards against its side. Admittedly, the adults were the ones who actually sat on it most. Watching their children. Catching up. Getting advice. Did you hear this? Did you hear that?

If you listened, you could hear from the bench. The sounds of a piano, guitar and even a cello. Vacuums and an occasional bark. Did we really appreciate it at all? Did we need to? Come on, it was only a bench.

We avoided it at times. Late at night, a group of strange teenagers wearing all black, cigarettes burning. Turn your head. Did they really have the right to choke it, to chill on our bench?

It stood strong, at first. Made of concrete. It listed and crumbled. Gone. Replaced by a sturdier, more handsome iron. The grass surrounding it exchanged for drought-resistant landscaping.

It unknowingly, perhaps, but willingly participated in our rituals. On Labor Day, the entire street gathered around it, squeezing and crowding with barbeques and lawnchairs. We valued that day. Could the bench have known? It stood steady. Unwavering. 

On the first day of school, every child met at its side, cameras poised. Rows of smiling. Shiny new backpacks ready to face a new year. The bench seemed to grin as well. Twenty. Fifteen. Ten. Six. Four. One by one, the children were gone. High school. College. Paris. New York. Scholarships to accept. Landscapes to view, far away from the comfort of the bench.

This year, one child sat alone. A lone little girl. Enough room for her backpack and lunchbox by her side. She smiles. Click. She doesn’t feel alone. She, after all, is not. She is with her bench. Our bench. Strong and resistant. Ready to face the world.

One bench, under the sycamore shade. 

Appreciated by us all.


That's is...from the juncture of appreciating benches and the communities they help build.

Little Miracles and Everyday Life

In reading, Peggy Noonan's John Paul The Great, I was struck by the number of times prior to becoming Pope that others had premonitions that he would be.  Especially amazing was the young child who, when hearing him announced as the new Cardinal, blurted out in a crowd that he would now be pope.  While everyone laughed, he walked up to her and kissed her.  Out of the mouths of babes.

This got me thinking about the little miracles in our own everyday lives that we sometimes meet, but oftentimes don't.  Mainly because we simply don't pay attention.  Everyone has them.  One time, during college, I drove with a girlfriend through the town of Berkeley.  We passed by an decrepit old building  on the corner of Oxford and Hearst, directly across from campus.  A little old lady was outside the building selling junk, mainly dead plants.  As we drove past, I said to my friend.  With my luck, I will probably end up living there after college.  Not less than a year later, I did.  I moved a two hour drive away and ended up in that very same building.  That little old lady became my neighbor.  My mother would often visit and give her money for the dead plants.

Another time, while working in the Bay Area, a work colleague said to me.  "You should look into moving to Orange County and live in Irvine.  It's very nice.  I think you would like it.  Allergan is a good company, you should check it out."  At the time, I wasn't even considering moving to Southern California. And, where did I move just a few short years later?  And, where did I work?

My neighbor, from early on in her childhood always said that when she grew up she wanted a daughter named Jessica and a son name John. She ended up not being able to have children of her own.  But, when she went to the adoption center and selected the one boy to adopt, even though the staff there encouraged her to select more than one in case the adoption didn't go through, she said, "No.  That's him."  His name, she then found out, was John.  Two years later, a woman knocked on her door and asked if she could take care of her granddaughter for the afternoon.  Even though my friend had never met nor seen either the woman or the child before, she couldn't refuse.  The woman never returned and my neighbor ended up adopting the 5 year old.  Her name was already Jessica.

God speaks to us in many ways.  Sometimes we ourselves know in a mystical sort of way.  Oftentimes, others have the foresight that we may lack.  It may come to us through their voice.  Or through prayer.   Sometimes it comes directly to our door.  It is our job to listen.  To open the door.  And to pray that we recognize it when we see it.

That's it...from the juncture of our miraculous and everyday lives.

Overdressing at the Beach

Don't get me wrong.  I love my brother-in-law.  He is the most positive, energetic guy I have ever met.  And generous.  He lives by what he calls - The 7 Rules.  Some are just plain smart -  "Tip High, Early".  Some make life more interesting. "Talk to Everyone".  He's right.  Every single person has something to say that you don't already know.  Hear their story.  And no matter where you are, "Act Like You Belong."   Needless to say, he is a very well-connected and personable guy.

I thought one of his Rules was one I would adopt -  until I saw it implemented in, what at first glance, seemed to be absolutely the wrong venue.  That Rule is "Always Overdress".  I like it.  A lot.  It works for getting better treatment at Nordstrom's.  Might help you get an upgrade from United.  Make you look classy.  And, it may even make you feel better.  But, it seems my brother-in-law has taken this particular Rule to the extreme.  Whenever he is out, he is always wearing a suit, tie or sport coat.  Did I mention always?

One of the things we do annually is a New Year's Eve trip as a family.  We like Cabo.  Now, Flora Farms, amazing restaurant by the way, would be perfect for a light sport coat.  So would attending Mass in the square.  Or, maybe even Happy Hour in the hotel lobby.  But a walk on the beach?  Well, let's just say, someone is a little too Rule driven!

But, everything has a purpose and a reason, in this case even under the sun.  Wear a sport coat to a beach hotel, ask the security pool guard about himself and walk in like you own the place.  No one will question the color of your hotel wristband.  In fact, they may not even see it.  So, a walk along the beach at sunset wearing a sport coat may just turn into the best decision ever.  It's now Happy Hour with nachos and drinks at the all-inclusive resort of your choice along the way!  Just make sure to tip high and early.

The guy is brilliant.  And looks great.

That's it...from the juncture of looking smart (and feeling pretty happy) on the sand.

Male Speedos and This World

It's not always easy to find things in life that should never intersect.  There are those 7 degrees of separation and all.  Besides, life would be ultimately dull if things that really weren't supposed to meet never did.  See most Match dates, for example.

But, there are two things that really should never have met.  Male Speedos and this world.  True, a well-shaved, well-oiled swimmer dawning this teeny weeny apparel could arguable go a little faster in the water.  But, now, there is the body suit.  You know, the one that was so controversial in competitive swimming a few years back.  Come on people!  Who really cares about fairness.  It's NOT a Speedo!!!  And, that's a good thing.  The body suit has my vote, hands down.

A Speedo can cause extreme embarrassment for both the wearer and the looky-loo.  There's a guy I know who used to walk home from the pool across his college grounds wearing a Speedo and carrying only a towel.  He was from another country (maybe even another world), not realizing this was largely inappropriate and perhaps the funniest thing ever to happen on campus!  We need to protect innocent foreigners from future follies.

No offense, of course, to the hard working people at the Speedo company.  Thankfully, you can happily go back to designing next years' female suit models and even throw in some protective fabrics for the UV-conscious. Just remember, some girls still love to get tans of stars and stripes under their suit - there's still a market for that.  That's interesting.  Maybe even fun and useful.  Male Speedo's...not so much.

So, here is my suggestion.  Stop manufacturing the skimpy, male Speedo.  There are plenty of other places to get entertainment these days.  Harlem Shake.  Hugh Jackman.  Heck, even Honey Boo Boo.

That's it from the juncture of far too much information and this world.