GOOD ENOUGH

If you hear of someone described as a "good boy", what characteristics come to mind? If you hear of someone described as a "good girl", are the characteristics the same?

Is good enough?

Today is my first official work day to not be at work anymore; in the strict vocational concept of work. Over my years of working a lot of my reading was in books of leadership, branding, marketing, motivation and such. There is a list of books of this genre that have endured. One is Jim Collins' book, "Good To Great". The most often quoted line from the book, the one people recite to prove they read it is: "Good is the enemy of great." Is it really? Now, I'm looking at things from a different perspective.

I remember back when shopping was done at stores like Sears, Montgomery Ward, OTASCO, etc. They used a marketing technique to sell the most expensive stuff like lawn mowers and washing machines. In pictures and in point-of-sale displays they would have three--lets say TVs: GOOD, BETTER and BEST. Who wouldn't want the BEST. I always felt kind of sorry for the BETTER. I mean, who's going to choose that? If you don't care whether the rabbit ears were built in, or you didn't need dual 6 inch speakers, GOOD was enough. But if you going to buy the better, why not go big and get the BEST? That's was their bet.

There was a time when living the GOOD life was good enough. Even Martha Stewart believed in the goodness of good. Remember when she would show us important things like how to take the core out of a head of lettuce? She would establish its value by proclaiming: "It's a good thing!" By golly Martha said so, good is enough.

I heard a comedian do a bit about every house needing to have at least one good chair in the living room. (I'm pretty sure he stole the idea from a skit that Tom Hanks did on SNL.) You needed at least one quality chair for when Pops came to visit. As soon as he would walk in the door, someone would say, "Let Pops have the GOOD chair."

We're visiting one of the places in South Texas where retirees go for the winter. We're renting a lovely "park model" trailer and enjoying the 80 degree weather. It has a microwave, a coffee maker, a full-size fridge, AND a good chair.

There's a comic named Dusty Slay I really like. He talks about different kinds of money: well-earned money, found money, fast money, easy money. You get the idea. Dusty says that in his home growing up they had one kind of money: Good Money. He says one day he laid his bike in the yard rather than using the kickstand. His dad told him, "You better take care of the bike. I made Good Money for that."

While we're here in the compound with folks from Canada, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa and other frigid parts, I'm looking for good weather, good fellowship, good friends, good food, good times and a good memory or so.

The hard part so far (Day two), is adjusting to the schedule. Dinner is at 4:30p, curfew is at 8:00p, lights-out is at 9:00p. WHY!?

My Amazing-Missus woke me up around 6:00a getting ready to go to the crafts building for Busy B's sewing. It's now 10:30a and I feel like I've been up all day. I'm hoping for lunch around 11:00a, and then a good nap in the good chair. Texas Hold'em is at 1:00p and there's four dollars with of good money at stake. I need to have my wits about me.

It's all good.

AND COUNTING

Each January 8th since 1951, I have a birthday. I'm grateful for each one. Today I've celebrated with My Amazing Missus--just the two of us. We went to one of our favorite burger places, got our food by curbside delivery and ate in the truck. For dessert, we went through the drive-thru at Andy's Frozen Custard. I had a Tin Roof Sundae and she had a kid's size strawberry sundae.

Then we drove to a community where we spent our early married years together and the place I had birthdays 24-40. I guess this is what birthdays are like at this age and in this age: a slow drive and remembering with the one you share it all with.

Numerous friends and family have texted, called and posted on Facebook with happy wishes. It worked. It has been a wonderful day.

"Do you remember what we did on your birthday last year?" My Amazing Missus asked. I didn't. She reminded me that we went to the funeral home to collect the remains of my mom who had passed a few weeks before. Covid 19.

It's hard in a way and essential to remember your mom on your birthday; even your 71st; even if she's no longer here. But, she was quite a celebrator and wouldn't want this to turn dark.

I'm not big on those over sweet cherries that are dropped on top of a good sundae. So today, I gave the one on my Tin Roof from Andy's to My Amazing Missus, who loves them. I am however, a big fan of the metaphorical cherry-on-top. You know the ones that are that extra special something. Mine was a phone call from our kids and hearing the grandkids say, "Happy Birthday Pops!"

EMILY, JOHN & NOBODY

MAYBE I WAS WRONG. Someone said THE search is for significance, and it made sense at the time, so I concurred and set out on the journey.

Now? I’m not sure that’s correct, it’s certainly not necessarily real. Or, maybe it’s the picture of “significance” that’s fuzzy. How do you know if you’ve reached it? What does it look like? Is it fleeting? Are we falsely equating significance with fame or renown?

For today, for me, the worthwhile search seems to be for “belonging”, at least that’s my opinion. Maybe I’m wrong. I’m thinking that our significance comes from being in community, in family; being loved and cared for and cared about, and in caring for others—belonging. Even if your only membership is in the club for Nobodies: membership two.

#260
By Emily Dickinson

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one's name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!

[Note: click this for in interesting article on Ms. Dickinson’s poem.]

I’m a big fan of Abraham Maslow’s “Hierarchy of Needs”—not an expert, just a fan. It has helped me make sense of life for many years. Here’s a refresher:

First there is the need for Safety and Security.

Secondly, once we feel safe and secure we can take a risk or two, put ourselves out there and seek to Belong somewhere—meeting the need to Belong.

Next, Esteem needs. Taking a few more risks in hopes that someone will say, “Way to go! I’m so glad you are who you are.”

Finally for Maslow there is seeking to meet the need he calls Self-Actualization. My understanding is that at this point we can look at our lives and say something like, “I was born for this.” It’s where we sense a calling; where our gifts and passions converge.

Significance can be found all along that journey. Feeling safe and secure, for example, can be hugely significant especially for the abused and marginalized.

I’ve always thought of Maslow’s hierarchy as something like a mountain where you move upward step by step, stage by stage until you reach the summit (one that not everyone reaches). Now as a Medicare card-carrying Senior Adult, it seems to me that as we age we move back down the mountain.

I don’t mean to brag at all when I say that I reached self-actualization. I found my life’s calling and was able to spend my best years caring and nurturing young faith pilgrims, young artists, young soul searchers, hopefully providing safe and secure environments for them, offering them a meaningful place of belonging, affirming and encouraging them, and creating a path to help them discover themselves and move toward actualization.

As I wrapped up that work in a planned, formal sense, I found myself appreciating those sentiments that said, “Hey you’re old, but you’re still my friend, you’re still Pops.” You know—Esteem level stuff.

And also Belonging level stuff. Clearly this is more important than ever: family, friends, and my buddies I meet with every week at The Quarantine Tavern. We need those people who still love us and want us when we become “men of a certain age.”

Do we ever return to that place in life where our greatest need is Safety and Security? Definitely. As I watched my Mom and Dad pass, there came a moment where that was all they needed. Mom especially. Ultimately, we could not offer her safety from COVID, or from a final loneliness. I have no doubt though that until her last breath she knew she belonged. And I know that in her next breath after that last one in her physical body she heard the words, “WELL DONE!” How’s that for the ulitmate dose of Esteem?!

You’ve got to be careful with things that have stages and steps. It’s easy to get the idea that life can be compartmentalized, that it all happens in an orderly, structured way. It doesn’t.

Making too much of categories and formulas can become a self-fulling prophecy. For example I know that I am an INTP in the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. If I’m not careful I can become paralyzed in my own thinking and isolation.

Remember John Lennon’s song “Nowhere Man” recorded by The Beatles:

He's a real nowhere man
Sitting in his nowhere land
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody

It’s kind of like that if I’m not careful.

I like this advice from Albert Einstein:

“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.”

Yikes this is turning into a crazy stream of consciousness. Let me abruptly wrap up with this from “Nowhere Man”.

He's as blind as he can be
Just sees what he wants to see
Nowhere man, can you see me at all
Nowhere man don't worry
Take your time, don't hurry
Leave it all 'til somebody else
Lends you a hand

Or; in the words of Barbara Striesand,

“People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.”

[Note: click this for an interesting look at the song Nowhere Man]

[One More Note: click this for an arrangement of John’s song by one of my favorite duets The MonaLisa Twins.]

ANOTHER SEASON

“Give us this day our daily bread.”

How long can we make this request? Is this an all-you-can-eat, daily-serving-at-a-time kind of thing?

Should; at some point our prayer be, “Lord you have given me daily bread every single day for so many days now. However, if you offer today’s portion I will take it, as a gift, without presumption.”

image “borrowed” from Molly Harris who also made the cool bread bag

Doug, my friend, mentor and sage, says that as we age we fall into the “medical vortex” of endless doctor’s appointments, tests, procedures, and on and on.

The band “Blood Sweat & Tears” had a song called “Spinning Wheel”. A snippet of the lyrics:

Drop all your troubles by the riverside
Catch a painted pony on the spinnin' wheel ride

They weren’t writing about the medical vortex. But at the ages they are now, surely they could see the relevance.

I mention this idea, because it is now my reality—one I don’t do well with. Some senior citizens seem to revel in the medical abyss, their lives happily dictated by their appointments and stuff.

I’m one of those who feels like every doctor delights in pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and poking, prodding or probing something, then writing a prescription with a never-ending list of side effects. Speaking of which, I always mute the every-growing abundance of prescription drug ads on TV. As a matter of fact, if I were the TV czar I would prohibit all medical related ads along with any ad where GMC has hoards of people carrying their pickup trucks tailgate up a hill.

Yesterday, I had one of those procedures. It was scheduled for a year ago, but COVID prompted hospitals to shut down “elective” surgeries and procedures. So, I’ve had a year to fret and stew about this one. Going in I knew there was “cause for concern” from an earlier screening test.

So, in these past few days I’ve worried and wondered—can you ask for daily bread again today and tomorrow and the next day? I mean, I know I can, but it’s just that I’ve been given so much. I’ve lived 70 abundant years, more than anyone deserves. Can I ask for a few more? Can I ask for another day, another serving of daily bread so to speak, when I’ve been given so much?

Last night, after a long nap to sleep off the anesthesia from the procedure, we watched the last few episodes of “Anne With An E” on Netflix. (Should I be admitting how much I enjoyed this series?) There were three seasons and I wanted more. I guess we always do. I wanted to see Anne and Gilbert married and having grandkids. I wanted to see more; more of my kids and grandkids living their lives. I wanted to take My Amazing-Missus on the road trips I have promised her which we’ve planned for years, which were stolen from us by COVID, ice storms, snow storms, etc.

But see. There I go. Wanting more. Another season.

We lived through the Siberian Blast. Our heat was on. Our pipes didn’t freeze. We didn’t have to boil our water. But I wanted more.

Somewhere near us lives a person with a Cadillac Escalade. It has a vanity tag that says, “BLESSED”. I assume they are referring to their Escalade. I wonder if there was room for more letters on their tag, would they go on to say: “This is enough. BUT, I would also like to have the daily bread (aka next year’s model).”

By the way. The procedure went fine. Everything is good. I get another season. I’m grateful and blessed. But, I will be grateful for tomorrow’s bread too. And if it’s not too much to ask: could we make it a biscut with gravy?