Comrades/Competitors

A new experience awaited me this week as I prepared to go to LA for the week.
The flight from DFW boarded without fuss or furor, we were on time, passengers were quiet and orderly.
Boarding a plane is always a dance. You always want to board first. Why? Not for the seat, it is assigned (unless you submit to the cattle call of Southwest.) There is no reason to board early except one...overhead bin space.

When all the airlines started the ridiculous baggage fee fiasco, everyone carries their baggage on. Knowing full well that they aren't all going to fit. I fly 120+ segments a year and not once have I seen anyone check to see if their bag will fit in the little "sizer" next to the gate. I'm not an engineer, but you can tell from twenty feet away that the big roller bag ain't gonna fit. But they drag the thing on board anyway and spend 10 minutes trying to cram the monster into the overhead.
So us frequent fliers either pack smaller, or get free baggage check-in. But it is still important to get on board early and get the overhead bin space.

So all of us who are either first class passengers or priority fliers begin to edge towards the check-in as we see the gate agent preparing to start the boarding process. It is always a test of human nature to see how far up you can position yourself and not get called out by someone already standing there. Without fail, there will be a businessman who will sweep in at the last minute and take a position that the rest of us had sort of viewed as "no man's land" back a respectful distance from the gate and each other. But this guy just marches right up and cuts in front of all of us!
Now I don't know if that irks me because I find it rude, or because I didn't have the brass to do it. But the dance is fascinating to watch, each inching forward, waiting for the announcement so we can charge the gate agent and get on board as quickly as possible. This is a highly specialized dance and requires quite a bit of strategy, energy, boldness, and forethought.

But Monday we had to do it twice. We were all on board, belted in, electronic gadgetry turned off. Pilot comes on and says, "Well, this plane is going to Honolulu, not L.A., so if you need to go to L.A. you need to get off." I sat there for a moment and considered the fact that my week in L.A. was going to be brutal, with meetings and problems and a sales meeting at the end that stresses me to no end. So, can I just stay on and go to Honolulu? I bet not.

All 200 of us traipsed from one terminal to another, to the new gate. Great camaraderie about our inconvenience. Joking back and forth about our luggage getting a nice vacation in Honolulu while we fight to get our toothbrushes back in L.A.
Then as soon as we arrived at the new gate....the dance began again. This time,though, I knew to who to block out, like closing the lane in basketball.

I wonder if I just lack a generous spirit? or am I just too competitive? I think I would be willing to let the others pass in front of me if they would just not be so pushy, or entitled...because, you know, I've earned this prestige, umm. I think I see the problem.

Godspeed, fellow travelers. As the Godfather said to a rival mafia kingpin.."may your venture succeed as long as it doesn't interfere with mine."

Don

How Rude!

This was the day the lady comes who does the cleaning. I have not found a way to stick around when she is here, it is simply too uncomfortable for me. Man am I insecure.
So I go to Panera's for a mid-morning work, drink coffee, sneak a danish. The first hour goes great, computer cooperates, the place is virtually empty, I'm cruising along and getting a lot done. Then I had a scheduled conference call, which started out fine, but I realized the longer I talked, the harder it got to hear. Then I realized that the lunch crowd had arrived. Ambient noise was growing, I was having a harder and harder time hearing. A guy came in with his office staff and sat at the table right next to me, middle-aged guy and four younger women. Yak, yak, yak.

Hey! I'm working here!

Can't all you people see that important things are being discussed? Have you never heard of using "inside voices"?

Do you know who I am?!?

I had to laugh at myself. I have somehow become an old fogey. You know, the old guys with the baggy pants, black dress socks with tennis shoes, sweatshirt and khakis, muttering to themselves about all these whippersnappers. Impatience comes from a sense of entitlement, and man was impatience in full bloom this spring day.

So I finished my call, gathered up my stuff, and held the door open for a young family coming in the door. I wanted to stand up on the table and apologize for my thoughts. But how disconcerting would it be to have some old guy stand up and say, " It's okay, I apologize for being impatient with all you rude people."? For some reason it sounded more gracious in my head.

So Godspeed all you noisy diners, keep down a little, okay?
Don

An Unexpected Turn

This past week I played golf with a friend in which this was our main point of contact. We had gone to the same church several years ago, but events and life changes moved both of us to a different place. We get along well, golf games have been similar, same basic stage in life, we give each other a hard time, but all in good fun. He would frequently invite others to play, I rarely did. I just enjoyed being with him. One story in particular stands out in my mind.
I had been invited to play a really nice club in North Dallas by a couple of guys who were typical North Dallas guys. They said, "bring a friend" So I invited my golf buddy.
Physically my friend and I are not "similar" He's black, I'm not. He's trim, I'm more density gifted. He dresses very well, always neat, I always look like I have slept in my clothes.
As usual my buddy was running late, the two North Dallas guys and I were already on the putting green, visiting, practicing, and waiting. My friend shows up and for the first time it hits me...these guys were not expecting a black guy. I almost laughed out loud, but could not resist the enjoyment I was getting out of seeing their discomfort (my bride claims this is a mark of immaturity on my part)
To their credit, though, they were gracious. So we began to play. I noticed on the about the second hole that my buddy and I had chosen outfits that made us look like we planned it. White polo shirt with navy stripes and khakis. So while one of the North Dallas guys was getting ready to putt, I put my arm across the shoulders of my buddy and exclaimed, "We have to start coordinating our golf outfits better, we look like twins!"
It broke us up, but as we laughed, I noticed the other two guys were caught, not knowing whether to laugh, or ignore it, or say something. Golf is so much fun.

My golf buddy owned his own business. He told me last week he was shutting it down to work for a big, national banking institution. A desk job. 9 to 5. No more weekday, run and gun, early golf games.
We played this past week with the feeling that we were at an end of an era. The road had turned, with him on one path and me on another. It made me sad. Will we still play some? Oh sure, but on weekends, or tournaments, and certainly not with the same frequency. I will miss the conversations about everything; family, God, church, work, stuff.
I have one or two friends that are closer, they share greater portions of my life, but I am at a stage in life where making new friends, starting new relationships just seems like a huge task. I'm also at a stage where the road through the front windshield is shorter than the one in the rear view mirror, it makes me wonder how many more "unexpected turns" there can be.
Besides, where am I going to find someone who can share my capacity for shooting in the mid-80's and occasionally sneak up on the century mark?

Oh well,
Godspeed.
Don

A Little Warning, Please

This past weekend in my visit with the twenty-somethings, we talked about how God responds/interacts/ignores His creation. This is the same group that a few weeks ago had trouble articulating their ability to "find their spot." There was a lot of ground covered, abuses confessed, uncertainties revealed, and mistakes shared. But the one comment that intrigued me was the comment, " a little warning would have been nice!"
Here is a young person who has made some of the same mistakes we all make, I'm sure against the advice of parents and friends. Yet, the result was a slight shift of responsibility to God for not explaining fully the ramifications of decisions made. Not a full shift, mind you, but a slight shift.
as my mind was trying to fully understand the depth of emotional meaning in this statement, it occurred to me that the sentiment is being felt by all of us.
Banks being bailed out, insurance companies, mortgage holders, blah, blah, blah. And there is no mea culpa by any of them or us. Decades of excess, consumerism, and ego-centric actions and we sit and wonder why the sky is falling.
And we forget that a small town rabbi said that the love of money is the genesis of all evil. A sort of "I told you so" from 2000 years ago.
I had a very interesting visit with my boss yesterday, following a strategy meeting on changing the culture of the company and everyone was trying to develop a "process." I told him that our orthodoxy changes our orthopraxy (thought changes actions) not the other way around. To change the culture of his business he will have to change the way people THINK, which will change the way they ACT. The first step in the process is to acknowledge the thought patterns we have developed.
We have been warned, time and again. We have chosen to ignore it, because the message did not sync exactly with what we want to do.
God does not always work with a loud warning signal or the mechanized warning, "WARNING, DANGER AHEAD" Sometimes he whispers through the words of the old book, watch out - you are putting yourself in danger...oh so softly.
Journey's are fraught with danger.
Godspeed
Don

There are No Straight Lines

I was flying from Newark, NJ to Chicago yesterday on my way home and had a chance to ponder some really profound ideas. Usually I work or read, or eat, but today seemed like a good day to look out the window and think about some ideas that had never occurred to me before.

We flew over Lake Erie on our way to Chicago. I was stunned to realize that the lake is FROZEN. Think about that for a minute, a body of water large enough to be a small ocean frozen from shore to shore. I did notice large cracks (which means they were huge, since I was viewing from 30,000 ft.) Then my thoughts turned morbid and I wondered how long we would last in that cold water, not long I'm sure. Of course if you hit that ice with any sharp angle..well, it would leave a mark.
Then we flew over the southern end of Lake Michigan, not frozen. How can that be? I will never understand the physics of that large a body freezing or not freezing.

Of course that led me to wonder how we can dupe ourselves into believing that we fly in a straight line. We don't. We fly in a huge curving arc, following the curvature of the earth. So why is the earth round? Why isn't it oblong, or rectangular. Why doesn't it spin the other way? What if it was shaped like a kidney bean, those of us on the inner curve could make fun of the ones living on the outer curve. I bet they would talk funny, probably have weird ideas, date their cousins like in Arkansas.

So what could be a straight line really isn't. The earth is curved, so regardless of the shortness of the distance the curvature impacts how we do what we do. Which makes me wonder if a "level" is really level, is it curved? Don't even get me started on "straight line responsibility."
Will this entire train of thought drive my "straight line" D-i- law crazy?
What I need are straight answers. hmmm.
Good quote from Martin Luther King, "the arc of morality is long, but bends toward justice." Which now that I look at it doesn't fit this blog at all, unless you realize that the logic is not linear.

Maybe on the next flight I will nap, while being hurtled in a long curve towards my destination.

Whew. Glad we cleared that up.
Godspeed
Don

I Know Whom I Believed

Confession time. I don't think I am particularly good at this parent gig. By now you would think I had learned a thing or two. It was certainly my hope that I could answer the big concerns for my offspring, that I could share my joy, lend a comforting shoulder to cry on, have some defining answers to life's big questions. But in reality, I see what is occurring and struggle with the implications of the events.
It would help if all my chicks would be in the same place, emotionally, at the same time. Profound joy for one, profound sadness for another, profound worry for another, I am simply not bright enough to balance all the responses from the emotional continuum with grace or ability. It was my understanding that as the chicks became adults I would be able to divest myself of the day to day worry. That the prayers would only be about the good things in life, that the worry would shift, somehow to the next generation. But I find that we are just as entrenched in the lives of my adult children as we were when they lived under my roof.

How do you leap with exuberance over great news, and hold a sobbing child at the same time? How can you determine with equanimity future trauma in your own life, but be kept up at night about the disappointment, the shift of expectations that your kids have dreamed of. While at the same time kept awake because you are so keyed up with excitement about the news from another child?
The simple answer is, I don't know.
The best I can come up with is that you handle all the news with emotional and relational integrity. You laugh with the one who is joyful, you cry with the one who is hurt, you pray with the one who worries you. Sometimes you just have to do it all at once. Unashamed of the joy, or the tears, or the terror. I witnessed my bride struggle with all of that this weekend, and do it with unabashed honesty, this is probably why I love her so. She handles it all with such grace and compassion and empathy.

It also helps that I believe there is a bigger plan than we can envision. I have to believe that this is not all just random chance, that there is a higher power, who will make sure this resolves with us all in a good place. The words to the old hymn keep coming to my mind:
But, I know whom I believed,
and am persuaded that He is able
To keep that which I've committed
Unto Him against that day
You see, my bride and I "committed" all these chicks to the one who "is able" from the earliest days. In my minds eye, He smiles over the joy, weeps with brokenhearted, comforts the disillusioned. I guess that is why we call Him "Father" It goes with the territory.

Godspeed on this journey, I guess sometimes it is a little uphill, but with great reward at the top.
Don

Where's my Seat?

In the last 4 days I have experienced the entire continuum of airline service.

Saturday I flew from Amarillo to Dallas on one of those smaller turbo-props with the wings on top of the fuselage. I arrived at the airport and hour ahead of departure, no bags to check so I retrieved my boarding pass from the little kiosk at the ticket counter. I noticed there was no one behind the counter, but didn't really think anything about it. They could have been on coffee break, or in the restroom, or just visiting in the back. I didn't need them, so I just noted it, sort of absentmindedly and moved on.

Got through security with usual comments about my driver's license picture (old film, long story, but I am green in the picture) Arrived at the gate, no one there. Hmm. This is odd, no gate agent, no passengers. I looked at my boarding pass again, yep, right date, right time, right gate. So where is everybody? Most of us live with the insecurity that the world around us "gets it" and we are left, sort of befuddled about the goings- on around us.
30 minutes later a guy shows up with boarding passes that had obviously been issued by a ticket agent.
"You on the flight to Dallas?"
"Yep"
"Did they tell you anything about it being late?"
"An hour"
"Thanks"
I love stimulating conversation. This guy was a regular talk-a-holic.

The plane finally showed and I looked around to find there were only a couple of people in the gate area. My executive platinum early boarding status wasn't going to mean much this time around. They called the flight, I was on first, then Gabby, and finally the other FOUR passengers. Thank goodness we had a 60 passenger plane! So they seated all of us in the last three rows...weight distribution, or easier work load for the flight attendant. Safety speech was little odd, the flight attendant stood in her usual place, which was 10 rows from any of us, reminded me of church classes where everyone sits in the back. It did occur to me that it would be a heck of a race to the "exit" row seats should something happen.

We took off, the flight attendant waited the requisite 15 minutes to serve us our beverage. You would think with that few passengers she would interact a little, but apparently she and Gabby were first cousins, set my Pepsi down, went to the back and never saw her again until we were ready to land and she had to grudgingly pick up the empty cans and cups. Obviously American doesn't share the "friendly skies" with United.

Tuesday morning, flying to L.A., upgrade to first class, breakfast, coffee, hung up my jacket. Now, this is flying!

Godspeed,
Don

You Are in My Spot

You know when you work out and about an hour or so later you feel like a million bucks? The nerds tell us it endorphins or something, I think it is just the fresh blood pounding through your brain, sort of like rinsing off all the dust and rust.
Anyway, I get that same feeling when I get into a conversation with a younger generation (there seems to be several of those now) about things that matter. I asked the question yesterday, "What worries you most about your spiritual journey?" Blank stares, or willful non-eye contact were the common reactions. But as I prompted and rephrased the question, there emerged a common theme, said in various ways, applied in various ways, but the same theme. The response? Where's my place in this world? Where do I fit in? These were folks as old as 25 and as young as 20 or so, some married, some divorced, some destined to be single for a while. As we discussed this feeling, it became apparent that they all shared it, they were all concerned about it, they didn't know what to do with it.
As we talked about it, it occurred to me that we all share this feeling at times, or in certain situations, but these folks were in a community of faith in which they should feel their place is assured. So, how does this happen? How can you have a group of people who feel marginalized, even though some of them had grown up with this group of people? How have we managed to develop large, complex, expensive communities of faith and isolated the group who make up its future?
Is this a cultural phenomenon? Most of these folks are looking for work (and are not being successful.) They are too old for the youth group, and too young for the "families" groups. I was stunned to realize there are 20 or 30 of these, who live locally, go to college, looking for work, looking for a place in this life.
I think those of us who are part of the "entitlement" generation need to move over, make room, listen to them...no, really listen to them. They are bright and funny and unsure. I've got to tell you, I like them. They respond to well-crafted stories, they are sensitive, they are wanting a place to belong, not because they feel they deserve it, but simply because it is something they have never had, but long for.
This may be start of a great leg on this journey. We will see.
Godspeed to all the ones who feel displaced, journeys are like that.
Don