Category: Motivation

During my recent sojourn to St. John’s, my co-facilitator and I journeyed downtown the last night for dinner at world famous The Duke of Duckworth, where you, too, may feast on some of the best fish and chips this side of London. (Cod was Newfoundland’s greatest export before that whole offshore oil discovery.)

Departing from the restaurant around 7:45 p.m. – while the last stages of daylight loomed… and having had nothing to drink (key point!) – we walked three blocks to where I had parallel-parked our gold Chevy Cruze rental some 90 minutes earlier.

I pushed the key’s remote button to open the doors, the locks made that noise they do, and we hopped in the car. I put the key in the ignition, the engine started and I placed the car in reverse. Looking back over my shoulder as I backed up gently, I said: “Where’s your briefcase?” which Tony had left on the back seat. Then I said: “Where’s my bag?” Then I turned off the key, opened the door and jumped out. It took him about five seconds to do the same.

“Wrong car!” I said quite loudly. We looked at each other… and noticed the vehicle right behind us was also a gold Chevy Cruze. I pushed the remote door lock twice. Both cars made that beeping sound and their headlights flashed. I pushed unlock and we got in the trailing car. Our stuff was on the back seat.

I have no idea about the randomness of keys and remote control codes. I’ve rented a bunch of cars and also have the auto-opener on my Honda. That had never happened before. About five minutes after we drove away – and following a lot of, “Do you believe that?” comments – I looked at Tony and said: “You think the owner of that other car was in the pub right there? If so, we’re lucky he didn’t see us.”

One of the stories our youngest likes me to tell is the one about the time I inadvertently sang a song across the PA system to my entire high school. During the sound check for that afternoon’s pep rally – and thinking the gym’s speakers were self-contained – I belted out “In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight” and a bunch of “Dee dee dee dee’s”. (This was 1977, so I was in the Robert John soprano style…  right smack in the middle between the Tokens’ 1961 chart topper and when Timon and Pumbaa introduced “Awimbawe” to a new generation in 1994.)

After a couple of minutes, I turned and noticed there were many people peeking through the small door windows on each end of the building. Among them: our principal. The redness in my face upon realizing why he wasn’t smiling served in sharp contrast to the blue Viking painted on the south wall. At senior honors ceremony the following May, the freshman class joyfully presented me a plaque for its Foot in the Mouth Award. I still have it.

There have been moments since when something slipped off my tongue that deserved similar recognition. The time in a restaurant when I took a bite out of a sandwich, spit it out, and said much too loudly: “Uh, that’s meat.” It was my brief vegetarian period. I don’t think the three ladies at the table next to me finished their meals.

The time when our young niece, her new husband and his mother visited our house. Wanting to engage with the one I didn’t know, I asked Sandy several questions: “Where did you grow up, Sandy?” “How long are you in town, Sandy?” “Where do you work, Sandy?” She answered each one with a smile. After about five minutes, Kathy sat down beside me and said: “I made reservations at the restaurant we discussed.” Wondering why she needed to tell me that right then, I glanced at the paper she was holding. On it, she’d written: “Her name is Wendy.”

The time when we were newlyweds and Kathy heard me say: “Marriage is hard.” She didn’t appreciate my perspective that day… and reminded me of it many times over the ensuing years. Then around our 10th anniversary – probably right after I’d blurted out something else I shouldn’t have – she said: “You know, you were right.”

Marriage is hard… and recognizing that upfront is important to having a lasting relationship. When two people who grew up in different families and situations – having different experiences and perspective – bind their lives together, it would be naïve to think everything will be be a rosy path. There are going to be challenging days, and the best way to survive is to address the issues as they occur, instead of sweeping them deep under the rug only to have something explode like a volcano somewhere down the road.

While I didn’t understand the significance of my remark a quarter century ago, those three words might be my legacy: much more so than – alone in a gym – trying to hit the high notes on a doo-wop song.

Sunday night at 10 o’clock is typically when our son calls to provide the ‘update on the week.’ It’s a tradition that dates back to my college days… when there weren’t texting or emailing or mobiles. There was a black rotary phone in our dorm room – where I lived for three years – and the Sunday night calls were how my parents knew I was alive, attending classes and the cash my dad handed me on the last trip home hadn’t run out.

So when the phone rang at 10:20 p.m. last Sunday, I perked up from a nap-before-bed and said hello. When I heard my sister’s voice, I thought, “This isn’t good.”

Ann told me she was following an ambulance and that my brother-in-law was inside it. She was calm and steady – and after a few minutes said they would let us know an update when they had news. A half-hour later, the phone awakened me again. This time my brother, who had met her at the hospital, said, “Just want you to know, Brad is resting comfortably. Didn’t want you to worry.” Kathy and I slept well.

Monday began an anxious week… filled with update calls and texts…

Brad collapsed at home. Ann performed CPR. Called 911. Ambulance arrived in 15 minutes. No heart attack. Blood clots in lung and legs. ICU. Machines connected. Could be fatal. Blood thinners. RBC dropping. Stabilizing. Released to room. Improving.

We are a close family of faith that has experienced many joys and heartaches. Those moments bind us together – appreciative of each day and knowing another challenge will rise to greet us somewhere down the road. Ann’s last text message – “We are home!” – gave this one a happy ending.