Last Words

I’m a fan of quotes, all kinds of quotes, and especially those that illuminate and underline truths that are self-evident if we just took the time to slow down and think.

I sort of collect them- I even have a word file that catalogs hundreds of quotes that made an impact on me, and still do when I read over them. I wanted to catalog them on the blog and back in 2006 posted them. Links to those quotes are in the label section under, you guessed it, “Quotes.”

I have the priviledge of serving as a pre-screener for the 2009 Nashville Film Festival. My responsibilities consist of screening dozens of films (my specialties are feature-length, animation, shorts and young filmmakers) and commenting on several criteria including writing/story, talent, directing, production value, etc. The screening ends with a thumbs-up (yes, lets show it in the festival) or a thumbs-down (nope, not this year). My screening notes are added to the larger group of pre-screeners and consensus rules the outcome for each film.

This morning I wrapped up the final film in this, my third, batch of projects to screen. Near the end, one of the supporting actors had this to say while laying in her death-bed and recalling the broken relationship with her daughter:

“Oh Inga, my Inga. Fire in my kiln. My love would want to stay and finish my work and heal all the cracks and grazes and imperfections in my love until I have made it perfect. Maybe even just a part of me, the part I gave to you.”

It struck me as beautiful this wonderful cool crisp fall morning… as the world around me prepares to die, and make ready to live again.

Sam The Fireman

Yesterday started out slow, but got busy quick. We arrived home the night before after a long road trip- we spent the Spring Break week at the beach.

We woke up Sunday morning groggy and slow, and couldn’t get out the door for church. We decided to watch our service live over the internet, only to realize that our church doesn’t stream the service live- it comes on line the next day.

I jumped on the mower at 11AM to get a quick 90 minutes in before taking L to fast-pitch lessons, week 3 of 4 as she gets ready for her first season as a softball fast pitcher. After catching for her for an hour and a half, it was back home and back on the mower. After finishing the yard I cleaned the mower and then went on wasp patrol. Pulled out the 27-foot jet stream can of wasp killer and circled the house eliminating any red wasps that were unlucky enough to be seen by me.

After shower number 2, and a short nap, the family went out for Mexican. Michelle was at her sister’s house helping pick up and deliver a couple outdoor chairs Jackie purchased, and the two of them met us at the restaurant shortly after 7PM.

I got there with our 4 girls about 15 minutes before Michelle and Jackie did, and noticed 2 huge full-size fire engines in the parking lot. Interesting. We walked in, and sure enough, there was a table full of firemen- about 10-12 in all. They were all smartly dressed in identical black dress shirts, black pants, and big radios on their belts. I wasn't aware fireman took their big rigs out for dinner.

The fun started after Michelle and Jackie arrived. Jackie is Michelle's younger sister, unattached, and like Michelle she's a looker, and a few of the fireman were a lookin.

There was one in particular that kept eyeing Jackie, and smiled at her a few times. Michelle and the four girls were giggling and thought it was cute. I was a bit annoyed- why would he bother with all this cutesy stuff and not come over and talk to her? Chicken. I was waiting for him to pass a note that asked Jackie to check the YES box if she liked him too.

The firemen finished their meal and got up. I noticed that they took a LONG time to pay their checks and leave. They finally did, and two huge fire trucks loaded with firemen headed out of the parking lot. As the second one went by our window, the fireman that had been watching Jackie stuck his hand out of the truck and waved to her. Jackie waved back, along with my 5 and 8 year old daughters. I thought once again- chicken.

Michelle and I remarked that the fireman had lost his opportunity to meet Jackie. They would probably never see each other again...too bad.

We finished our meal and the whole family left the table and gathered around the front counter waiting for me to pay and picking out their preferred treat- a chocolate mint or a lollipop from the candy jar. As I was dolling out the appropriate cash for the cashier the phone at the front counter rang. One of the waitresses standing nearby answered it and a confused look came over her face. She looked around the restaurant while holding the phone to her ear and said "red sweater? No, I don’t see anyone wearing a red sweater."

Jackie, wearing a maroon sweater suggested to the waitress that perhaps she was the one she was looking for. The waitress handed the phone to Jackie, and Sam introduced himself.

His story was that he didn’t think it was appropriate to interrupt our family dinner and talk to Jackie to get her number. I knew better- No doubt he couldn’t get up the nerve to come over and talk to Jackie. I am guessing that the long delay in leaving was due to Sam's buddies egging him on to go over and introduce himself. He probably chickened out, left in his fire truck, and was unmercifully roasted by his buddies for his lack of bravery.

He must have finally come to his senses, realized his missed opportunity, and hurried to fix the mistake. He probably looked up the restaurants phone number on his mobile phone and called. He barely caught Jackie. The whole episode reminds me of the movie “Roxanne” starring Steve Martin.

Jackie and Sam chatted for a few minutes while the rest of the family waited patiently at the front counter. Jackie gave Sam her phone number and said goodbye.

Let's hope Sam's timing during a fire rescue is a bit better.






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The Love Letter

We use the room on the bottom floor of our house as both my office, and a guest room when out-of-towners arrive for a stay at the DigitalRich Inn. I just pack up the notebook computer and bring it upstairs when I need to do work.

I have been on a two month journey to get the space completely organized. There’s plenty of room for guests, even with my desk, Brooke’s desk (we still call it that even though she doesn't work for me anymore), a queen size bed, treadmill and entertainment center. The room has tons of storage space too- 2 walk in closets that now store a massive amount of miscellaneous items- neatly categorized, boxed and labeled.

Michelle was with me one night when I was working on storing old pictures, letters, cards and notes. She found an old note from her sister J to a friend of hers when she was only about 15 years old. It was a status report on affairs of the heart to her friend, detailing how she was absolutely crazy about the guy they met at the mall. We gathered from the note that J and her friend had been at the mall, and they each met a different guy they liked, broke up into two groups, and spent time with each of their “finds.”

In the note she was telling her friend what an amazing kisser he was. She detailed her undying love for him, wondered if he thought she was a good kisser too, wondered when she would see him again, worried whether their love would stand the test of time and distance, and hoped this would be the guy she would always love.

I remember being a 15 year old guy. If back then guys wrote notes to each other, which under no circumstances did they ever do, no one would have mistaken the two accounts being about the same meeting or relationship. I would imagine if there had been mobile phones and text messaging at the time, the gent would have sent a message to his buddy that looked alot like this:

dude-met hote 2day @mall awsme bod-got XnYs-thats all. mayb nxt time more.hope so.she had frnd n I culd go4 eethr 1. think other 1 might have dun mor.u?

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Priorities

Right now, this very moment, there is need and suffering in my circle of concern. Beyond that circle, a far greater and unfathomably larger world exists with even more that I’m not even aware of.

In my circle of concern, RIGHT NOW…

• There is a man that just lost his wife to breast cancer and is spinning out of control.


• There is a woman whose father passed away and is carrying the weight of the family business and its overwhelming her.


• There is a woman that is broken and crushed by the fact that her loving, kind and thoughtful son is in jail for a night of recklessness- he was driving drunk while on spring break and killed a young woman.


• There is a man who just found out he has cancer and is fighting for his life.


• There is a sick three year old boy with a terminal illness who has little time left.


• There is a boy whose brother, a policeman, was shot and killed by a motorist he pulled over on the highway.


• There is a family that has lost all they had to a fire, just after the husband lost his job- they are broke.


• There is a man and woman with kids, divorced, struggling each on their own to provide for their families through a time of financial struggle and personal pain.


• There is a young girl whose parents are not engaged in her life who is experimenting with anything she can find to get attention and fulfillment.


• And on, and on, and on.

Tell me again why I should care one bit what politicians say are the things Americans should be most concerned about?

Please don't read into this that I am somehow a greatly thoughtful and caring person... I am not.

I have a LONG way to go. I am humbled when I hear of the struggles people are going through, and THEN hear of the people around them that are really doing something about it. That's what I need to start doing. Sharing concern and praying for these people are good- don't get me wrong, but I need to start putting legs on those and get in gear.

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Math On Moving Day

Saturday the dreaded day arrived. I had to help my sister-in-law move from her apartment in Franklin TN to her new home in Spring Hill TN. I dread moving days for three reasons:

1. No matter how well anyone prepares, if there is not a professional packing and moving service involved, there will be countless items still not packed that result in endless additional trips to and from the moving truck.
2. Murphy’s Moving Law #1- anytime you help someone move, at least one of the locations is NOT on the ground floor.
3. Murphy's Moving Law #2- People you thought would show up to help, don’t.

This move looked to be a bad one at the outset. Jackie’s apartment is on the second floor, and the stairway up was designed by a person that has never had to move out of, or into, an apartment.

7 steps up, U-turn on a tight landing with tons of wood guard rails and posts, another 7 steps up to a narrow walkway, hard turn left with posts all around to the ceiling, 6 paces, then another hard turn left with more posts, 6 more paces, hard turn right into the apartment whose door battles with the closet door right behind for the right to stay open.

As I walked up the stairs the first time, surveying the work ahead, and the boxes and storage bins to be moved, I quickly did the math. About 150 or so items to move, many heavy with books and over-stuffed miscellaneous items. About 100 trips up and down the stairway maze. 2,800 steps total, 1,400 up and 1,400 down. Oh- forgot- another 6 steps down to the street level on a gently slopping wide concrete stairway to where the truck was, throwing in another 1,200 steps, making a total of 4,000.

For your information:

• US National Monument- 897 steps
• Statue of Liberty- 354 steps
• St. Louis Arch- 1,076 steps
• Eiffel Tower- 1,665 steps
• Empire State Building- 1,860 steps

So, this move, just counting the steps up, would be like climbing the Eiffel Tower, except of course for carrying an extra 50-75 pounds in your arms to the top. Wonderful.

I told Jackie as I thought through the grueling hours to come, that laziness is the true mother of invention, and I wanted a minute to think through how to cut some of the work out. Then it came to me- she could drop each box and storage bin down to me from outside her door, about 14 feet up including the guard rail. She thought I was an idiot, but agreed to try it, since she would be doing the dropping, and me the catching.

It worked brilliantly, except for the heavy ones that I dropped, took in the gut (resulting in some light bruising), or jammed fingers with slightly greater bruising. No blood though. That didn’t come until we moved her stuff into her new house and I ripped open a finger with some pliers.

It was all worth it. We were able to drop almost everything from the second floor (including the mattress and box-spring), except for the couch, tables, and a few boxes that were too heavy for Jackie to drop over the edge to me. Fortunately.

We were able to cut the job down to roughly the Statue Of Liberty in terms of steps to climb. Cool.

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The Good Is Great, The Bad Forgotten…Until Someone Reminds You

Last week at a lunch meeting with a former co-worker I was asked if I missed working at my old job. I thought about it for a second and responded yes, in fact I did miss it.

I clarified to him that what I really missed was the people and relationships. My mind wandered to literally hundreds of people I worked with for the last 5, 10 or 15 years and great memories flooded my mind.

Seeing staff grow, develop and get promotions, dinners and hang time with clients or co-workers, travel buddies, conventions, attending weddings, bringing my daughters to “work with daddy” day, positive changes, victories, parties and celebrations.
Great memories.

Then yesterday I had a series of meetings at the old job site with several people I used to work with. All was going well until one person reminded me of a couple folks I used to interact with that made life miserable for so many people. She recounted for me a recent meeting that included those "couple of folks" and how they deflated her and others- a common occurrence for sure. It reminded me of hours upon hours of meetings that I attended with them as well.
Bad memories.

I had not thought about them at all in the past year. It is fortunate that we so often forget the bad experiences in life.

Most every person I worked with there inspired or challenged me, some were marvelous encouragers- my boss, my staff, several peers and co-workers from other areas of the business. But there are a few people there, and sprinkled about everywhere in life, that thrive on draining the life out of others.

Why people do this I don’t understand. I hope I forget them again soon.

“May I forget what ought to be forgotten; and recall, unfailing, all that ought to be recalled, each kindly thing, forgetting what might sting.”
-Mary Caroline Davies







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New Study Leaves Me Speechless

Perusing through the news last night I found this gem: “Women talk three times as much as men, says study.” I imagine Fiona Macrae, a writer for the UK’s Daily Mail, delivered this to her editor with a straight face truly believing she was reporting the news.

Meanwhile, 50% of the worlds population- the men- (well...maybe more like 48% or so if you catch my drift) see the report as just another 700+ time-consuming words thrown around about something they already know. Time wasted that could be better put to use watching sports or hanging out in the workshop (or for me, playing Battlefield 2 on the PC).

The key findings from the study:

• Women talk almost three times as much as men, with the average woman chalking up 20,000 words in a day - 13,000 more than the average man.
• Women also speak more quickly, devote more brainpower to chit-chat - and actually get a buzz out of hearing their own voices.
• Girls arrive already wired as girls, and boys arrive already wired as boys. Their brains are different by the time they're born.
  

Dr. Luan Brizendine gathered the data from this new study to put forth her findings in a new book titled 'The Female Brain.' My favorite quote from the “news” story is this from Dr. Brizendine:

"Women have an eight-lane superhighway for processing emotion, while men have a small country road."

Love it. So true, and apparently, so newsworthy to the good doctor from San Francisco. As I read the “news” story it became clear that this book and the findings in it mark a huge change in Luan’s life. She seems to have turned over a new leaf- pledging it seems to now favor truth over political correctness. She admits this clearly in her next quote:

"I know it is not politically correct to say this but I've been torn for years between my politics and what science is telling us. I believe women actually perceive the world differently from men.”

Torn for years between "my politics" and what science is telling us? Hmmm. I wonder how many other scientists and doctors in her field, or in other fields of study, have the same problem?

Perhaps after Dr. Brizendine uttered these words to the reporter, she remembered that soon after the publication of the “news” story, she would have to hang out with her female friends for drinks and deal with glaring evil stares and 10-20,000 words worth of bile. She quickly redeemed herself by throwing out a bit of reverse-sexist red-meat:

Fiona Macrae writes “Dr Brizendine explains that testosterone also reduces the size of the section of the brain in men involved in hearing - allowing them to become "deaf" to the most logical of arguments put forward by their wives and girlfriends.”

Hilarious.

So here’s how it boils down for me personally. My wife talks way more than I do. I do not listen very well. I have a hard time talking about what is going on inside my head and heart. That is why I started this blog. I am able to sit here and drink coffee, listen to music and pour out thoughts and ideas (and I guess feelings or emotions of some kind- but I hate admit that) without having to say a single word.

Later the same day my wife reads my blog and voilà- we are communicating!

Michelle- if you are counting- please include the 1000-1500 words per day from this blog to my normal 7,000 or so spoken words. That is somewhere around a 14.29% - 21.42% increase over the norm. Progress!

Our Family's Off-Road Adventure

I live in a relatively rural area, full of horse farms and rolling hills. We moved here three years ago from a large development about ten miles away. Living in Leipers Fork has been a dream of ours since we came to Nashville in 1994. Shortly before we moved into our new home I thought it would be a good idea to get a truck as I imagined having to haul manly things around since I would soon become a gentleman farmer (we don’t really grow much here on our land except for lawn grass and the occasional wild flower)- things like planks of wood, chain saws, stuff like that.

I’m not really a pick-up truck kind of guy, so I went with a hybrid (not the environmental kind- more of a mix between a rural truck and the kind of ride Tony Soprano drives- a black tricked out Chevy Suburban). When I bought it I instantly felt a bit of country bloom in me. Just the idea of pushing the button on the dash board and transforming my Suburban into a 4x4 was appealing. This lead to my demise, and taught me 3 things:

1. My wife’s concerns and worries can sometimes come true
2. Humility
3. A Chevy Suburban is neither a sports utility vehicle or a 4x4

Our eleven acres is flanked on one side by a 15 acre lot and a 60 acre lot on the other. Shortly after we moved in I secured permission from the land owner with the 60 acres for our family to use his land for taking walks and exploring. He lives in downtown Nashville and plans on building his dream home on the land when he retires in a few years. I got his name and number from my realtor. I didn’t specifically ask if I could go 4x4’ing on his land- I sort of put that under the “exploring” classification.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and for some reason I can not recall, our family took 2 cars on an outing. I think it was because I had to pick something up in my truck and bring it home, while my wife was going to stay out shopping, meeting up with her sister. After lunch, and after picking up whatever it was I had to pick up, I headed home with my two oldest daughters.

We turned into our driveway, and as we headed towards the house I made a fateful decision. “Girls- you want to take the truck out onto the land next door and do some off-roading?” The word “yes” rang loud and clear, and so I veered left, and made for the opening in the woods that took us “next-door.” We went through the clearing, down a small hill, and crossed the small creek in my new 4x4. Great so far. It was awesome bouncing and splashing over the creek like I was in a Land Rover commercial.

We spent the next 10 minutes bounding over hills and through sparse woods exploring the land, and it got real exciting when I told the girls we were going to speed up and shoot across the clearing up ahead- hoping to catch a few bumps and jumps that would cause some epic bouncing. As I accelerated and sped forward a strange sensation came over me. It almost seemed like the truck was on an elevator going down, and the horizon line seemed to unnaturally rise around me. The truck started to slide sideways, and then we came to a sudden stop. I noticed that if I reached out my hand from the window, it wouldn’t take much to touch the tall grass. We were stuck in mud.

If anyone tells you that the best way to get your car or truck out of stuck mud or snow is to slowly rock in back and forth, alternating between drive and reverse, don’t believe it. Especially if you are already in about 3 feet of mud. The result of doing that is to sink to about 4 feet of mud.

I decided to get out and take a look, and when I opened the door I had to push hard to get it open far enough to step out- and when I did the bottom of my door scraped about six inches of mud off the top of the ground. Big trouble. Bad. Very bad. The words my wife spoke to me only a half hour before were ringing in my ears- the words she said as a response to my mentioning that I might do exactly what I ended up doing…”Rich- don’t do it. I’m telling you something will go wrong- you’ll get stuck or break something, and it will cost a ton of money to get it fixed. You might even ruin your truck. Don’t do it.”

I had left my cell phone at home that day- of course- and so, took my shoes off, jumped into the mud (I sunk up to my thighs), and carried each girl, one by one, to the safety of the shoreline. The “field” I thought we would trek through was actually a large swamp that collected the rain from the surrounding hills. It was deep in the back part of our neighbors land, and I could not see any homes or roads from where we were. We walked home, I changed clothes, and set about fixing the situation- hopefully before Michelle got home.

Earlier that week I had seen my neighbor across the road working in his field with a tractor, and though I had not met him before this, I walked to his house and knocked on the door. You can imagine the conversation…”Hi my name is Rich- we live across the street…nice to meet you…you have kids?...so do we…its a nice day, isn’t it?...can I use your tractor to try to get my vehicle out of 4 feet of mud way back in the field behind my house?”

He agreed to help. He drove the tractor while I jumped on the side and held on, and we made our way to my car where we promptly got the tractor stuck.

I called a tow truck. The trucker got within 100 feet and started to sink fast. He was able to back out to safety, and informed me he couldn’t help me and drove away- charging me $50 to tell me so. I went back home and sat at the kitchen table trying to figure out what to do. I looked in the yellow pages under towing and learned there was a specialist in the towing field that was an expert at off-road/extreme vehicle recovery. That was the one. I called and they were out to our place in about an hour- right after Michelle pulled in and I gave her the update. That was fun and humbling.

The recovery team had a truck with 2 wenches- and seemed to know the drill perfectly. They purposely drove their truck full speed into the mud, sliding to a stop as close to my truck as possible sinking to the full four feet. They attached one wench to my truck, and the other to a tree behind the tow truck about 150 feet away. They pulled my truck to within 3 feet of theirs, and then turned on the other wench and pulled both of the trucks out of the muck while almost pulling the tree out of the ground. Success. 10 minutes. $250.

I have not, and will not again, take my 4 wheel drive off the road, I listen to my wife’s cautions (even though I don’t always indicate to her that I do), and I am content to stick to the excitement of navigating the pot holes in our 500 foot gravel driveway.

Ill Equipped For Deep Conversation

Yesterday my father and brother-in-law, along with my mom, sister and my family celebrated a family birthday. It was fun- insane amounts of pizza at Mellow Mushroom, followed by a sugar rush at home with cake and ice cream. All was going well until the inevitable happened. My dad and B-I-L dove into a mind numbing conversation about the foundation of morals, how and why US law enforces morality, liberalism vs conservatism vs libertarians (when will they figure out that they are such a small political minority they might as well join forces with the Green Party and finally attain a level just under 1% of the population?) and the recent ballot measures in several states regarding gay marriage.

My usual plan is to sit quietly and observe those two go at it. Its great theatre. I try not to participate too much because its just too fun to watch unencumbered by having to think and jump into the melee.

I blew it yesterday. I got sucked right in. No need here to detail the points and counter-points- the important part was to realize, yet again, how I wish I had more time to read and form well-thought-out opinions and positions on important issues. I inevitably end up saying things that when challenged, make me realize how much of what I think is based on a lifetime of personal observations and judgment, not necessarily studying facts, figures, and history. I really need to make time to seek out more solid information for the fuzzy edges of how I see the world.

I have resolved to make time to do the following:

1. Learn more about the foundation of morals and Judeo-Christian laws and mores
2. Read up on the spiritual beliefs of our founding fathers
3. Be able to more clearly state the tenets of liberalism and conservatism
4. Find out if Thomas Jefferson was really that good of a president (like my B-I-L thinks)
5. Stick to my goal of just watching these arguments (conversations) in the future