Category Archives: Communication

Weirdly Wonderful

I have no ambitions to become a restaurant critic. But I do feel the need to share something weirdly wonderful about the last two meals I’ve had at Geaghan’s Pub in Bangor. In the interest of full disclosure, the “wonderful” includes excellent food, beer, and fantastic service. The weirdness is also wonderful, but it’s also rare, unfortunately. It appears every time I eat there, something wonderful happens. A few months ago, I met a new young lady (nine years old) at the pub who showed me how to create hope and happiness by drawing a picture for the guy (me) sitting at a table near her. She doesn’t know it, but she  inspired the title of a book I’ve been working on. I learned how to . Last night, things were busy as usual. When my waitress stopped to collect my drink order, she leaned in and said, “See that nice you couple getting ready to leave? They gave me a ten-dollar bill to put towards your dinner.” I should also add that I do not think I looked particularly destitute or needy. I was stunned. The waitress’s smile looked even bigger than usual. Remembering my previous experience. I replied, “Why is it that every time I come here, something nice happens to me?” The management of Geaghan’s can be proud of Jolene’s reply. “You’re in an Irish Pub. Nice people come here.” To her credit, she seemed not the least bit surprised by this act of kindness–there was nothing weird about it. The couple stopped at my table briefly as they left–not to explain, but to wish me a good meal and a nice evening. I thanked them profusely for their generosity. During my meal, I continued to think about how strange these experiences were. I found myself wondering what would happen the next time I ate there—and already planning my next visit. A hand-drawn picture and a ten-dollar bill created countless winners far beyond the givers and receiver. The “weirdness” might not be in the events themselves. What might be strange is the fact I was surprised by them. Jolene later also encouraged me to order dessert, reminding me that she still had that ten-dollar bill in her hip pocket to put towards my check. Unfortunately, I had to pass—the shepherd’s pie had done the job. My stomach was full. But so was my heart and head. I laid my credit card on the table for the check. Jolene started to explain how she was going to process the check as part cash and part credit. As she reached into her hip pocket, I said, “Wait! You might as well leave it there.” She looked a little confused, so I added, “That’s going to be your tip.” Some people I’ve told the story say, “You paid it forward.” I confess I do not fully “get” that concept. Maybe that is because I find words interesting. If you pay for the coffee of the person behind you in the drive-through, wouldn’t you be paying it backward? What I do “get” is what the nine-year-old did. Even if you don’t have any crayons, you can put color into another person’s life and your own. And if you do have some crayons (or ten dollars to spare), sharing them with someone just because you want to is not so strange or weird. It can be—should be—a way of life. We can make it so.

How do you color a Rainbow?

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to claim I have a new friend. Considering how we met I am still surprised at how much I learned from her. Our friendship started while a number of us were waiting for a table at Geaghan’s Restaurant in Bangor. She happened to sit across from me. I noticed she was writing and drawing in a notebook. It started with some accidental eye contact and elevated to smiles and winks. Nearly everyone else was fumbling with their smartphones. She was creating.

When I was called to my table I waved goodbye. A few minutes after being seated, we were both surprised that she and her family were brought in and seated very close by. But the biggest surprise came a few minutes later. My friend and her Mom came over to my table. She slipped a piece of paper in front of me. Mom apologized for the fact they didn’t have colors to make the rainbow. In third grade lettering, it said at the top, “Enjoy your dinner.”

My enthusiastic thanks were not at all exaggerated. I was truly impressed and appreciative. We chatted long enough for me to learn that she’s in third grade and her favorite subject is science. Although, based on her hesitancy in answering, I suspect the answer might be different on a different day. One more thing to love about third graders is that they don’t get locked into beliefs and biases.

For those who believe in karma or planets aligning, it’s interesting that I have had several accidental encounters with kids lately that have left me happy and encouraged. I stared at my drawing for a long time.

Did my new friend know that I love rainbows because they represent hope? I didn’t get a chance to tell her so I’m hoping she does or maybe finds out somehow. Stranger things have happened.

I didn’t have a notebook, but I did have a business card. So I wrote her a similar message on the back, encouraging her to not only enjoy dinner but to save some room for dessert. I drew a small cat, writing “cat” underneath the drawing in case it wasn’t recognizable. I’ve had kids tell me I do draw a good cat. In a way similar to her presentation, I took it over and slipped it in front of her, evoking a big grin. Her Mom and Dad both thanked me. I’m not sure why, but in a world rife with suspicion they weren’t finding our new friendship creepy!

I kept her drawing in front of me during dinner. The more I looked at it, the more color I saw–not in the drawing itself but in my friend’s dancing eyes and smile. She gave me more than a drawing. She reminded me that there is hope. Kids know how to connect and they know it’s important to do so. It’s natural for them. They also know that sometimes you have to look a little farther and deeper to see the color. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that sometimes you have to make the color. She colored my rainbow with her smile and her dancing eyes and the obvious pleasure it gave her to do something nice for someone. That’s how you color a rainbow.

When she left, I held up her drawing and said that I was going to put it on my fridge when I got home. That seemed to please her. I hope she realizes how much it pleases me–not just the drawing, but her act of unselfish creation for a stranger. It’s such a simple life lesson. Making others happy brings us happiness. Offering others hope in any form brings us hope. If a nine-year-old can create hope and happiness, cannot we who are older do the same?

If we listen and watch, they’ll teach us how to color a rainbow–even if you don’t have crayons.

Happy New…?

My favorite quote from Anne of Green Gables expresses one of Anne’s important discoveries.

“Every day is a new day with no mistakes in it.”

Anne Shirley

If we are kindred spirits, dare we say the same of every year?

“Every year is a new year with no mistakes in it!”

Walter Boomsma

I suspect that some have already added “yet” to my version of the quote. Rationalizing that I’m a realist, I was tempted myself. After all, when we look ahead, we also tend to look backward too. As one year ends and another begins, media outlets will write “the year in review,” and some will sing “Auld Lange Syne,” perhaps without pausing to wonder who or what it means. (It’s Scottish in origin, suggesting “let’s drink to days gone by…,” certainly an appropriate toast for the beginning of a new year. )

Now I don’t mean to mix drinking and driving but I would call your attention to the fact that rearview mirrors are a lot smaller than windshields. That says something about perspective. Where should we focus?

Taken to another extreme, I’d offer another favorite quote–I heard it years ago in a presentation by Joel Weldon, a highly respected motivational speaker best known for his “Success Comes in Cans” presentations.

Jet pilots don’t use rearview mirrors.”

Joel Weldon

The truth is ultimately somewhere in both the past and the present. The world won’t magically change when the clock strikes twelve on New Year’s Eve. I’ve long ago given up waiting for that magical moment with party hats, noisemakers, champagne, off-key singing, hugging, and kissing.

Thanks to COVID-19, there definitely won’t be much hugging and kissing this year. I understand singing is also not recommended.

The challenge with using a rearview mirror is that it’s easy to fall into a “subtractive” mindset, romanticizing what was and what we miss. Almost without realizing it, we forget about the windshield. If you can stand another quote–this one not so famous–I’ll share the background first. It’s from an old television program. A distraught man was sharing his feelings with his therapist while pacing around the room. He happened to stop in front of the window.

“I just realized what my problem is… I’ve been looking in the mirror when I should have been looking out the window.”

Anonymous Mental Health Patient

So I’m not going to ask you about your resolutions–that’s looking out the windshield. I’m not going to ask you what was the best thing that happened to you–that’s looking in the rearview mirror. I won’t even wish you a happy new year.

I will ask you to do this. Remember that life is not just about where you’ve been or where you’re going. It’s not just about what’s happened to you or what’s going to happen to you. Life is about being and this year, with its uncertainties and unknowns, “being” is what life is about.

Celebrate that!

Good Job!

Can you stand another song?! This one truly needs to go viral.

We certainly need to be saying “good job” to first responders, health care professionals, firefighters, teachers… but there are lots of people doing a “good job” when, as the song says, the job is defined as caring, listening, and connecting.

The song comes with a tissue alert and a suggestion that you consider creating a ritual of watching it every morning.

And that’ll help you remember that you matter and you may be someone’s hero. You matter.

There are probably a lot of people who should hear “Good Job” from you! Just telling them that may make you their hero. We matter to each other, now more than ever.

“When it feels like the end of the road
You don’t let go, you just press forward…
Don’t get too down…
Know that you matter…”