People Who Care

Being an editor at an advertising agency means I read a lot of tag lines ... a whole, whole, whole lot of tag lines ... and I must say that I've been fascinated with them ever since I began working in the ad biz. It takes an amazingly gifted and talented writer or team of writers to create a phrase that captures the essence of a brand in just a few words. Think about it ... I'll bet many, if not most, of you can instantly identify tons of products made famous by their tag lines. Take the following ones, for example ...

                                                    "The quicker picker-upper."

"Kid tested. Mother approved."

"Easy, breezy, beautiful."

"Babies are our business."

"The breakfast of champions."

"The toughest job you'll ever love."

"Save money. Live better."

"When you care enough to send the very best."

"Melts in your mouth, not in your hands." 

"I'm lovin' it."

"Think different."

"Just do it."

"Got milk?"

"Where's the beef?"

"Don't leave home without it."

"You're in good hands."

"Taste the rainbow."

And those are just the tip of a very huge iceberg of tag lines and slogans that have helped to make brands such as Bounty, Cover Girl, Wheaties, Hallmark, Apple and Skittles not only recognizable but successful as well.

I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me several years ago when churches began jumping on the tag line bandwagon, but yet it did. Though I understand the reasoning behind a church wanting ... perhaps even needing ... to distinguish itself in some way from the vast sea of religious establishments from which a person can choose, it still seems rather ... well ... just suffice it to say that a church having a tag line is a bit too commercialized and marketing-oriented for my liking. But ... that's just my opinion ... and my opinion and a quarter won't even buy you a stick of gum nowadays. I don't know if they still use the same one, but the church I formerly attended for many, many years before I came out had a tag line, you know ... it was "People Who Care."

All the teams in my office have been participating in a really cool appreciation exercise for the last week or so ... each member on the team is asked to write what he or she appreciates about each of their teammates. I can't speak for anyone else, but for me, seeing myself through the eyes of the people I work with every day has had a real impact on me. I was surprised by what others said they appreciated most about me ... only a couple of the comments mentioned my Ninja-style proofing and editing skills, maybe because they know I already know they appreciate that about me. Most of the comments were about the love I have for the company and the people there ... they were about about paying attention to the needs of others ... caring what's going on in people's lives away from the office ... listening when they need to talk ... being a shoulder to cry on when they are sad ... hugging them when nothing but a hug will do. I've read the comments several times since we did the exercise, and every single time, my eyes fill with tears and my heart is overwhelmingly humbled by their words.

I've cried a lot of tears today ... more than I have in a while (though I know that's difficult for many of you to believe, it's true). Today I bid farewell to a young man I've grown to love like a son over the last two years since he came to work at our office. I'm not going to say much about him this evening, because I'm planning to write more about him in my next post. My young friend (he's younger than my youngest child) is wise far beyond what his chronological age would lead you to expect. As he sat at my desk and chatted for a bit before he left, we talked about how important it is to be people who care ... we agreed that there is truly no better thing we can do for others than to care about them. We agreed that we want to be people who care ... we want to have hearts that scream from the rooftops, "You matter to me! I care about you!" We agreed that the true meaning of life isn't about money or security or titles or power or houses or cars or any of the multitude of other superficial things by which we often measure our successes or failures. The true meaning of life is about whether or not we are people who care. 

People often ask me what I want my legacy to be (which, by the way, always makes me wonder if they're trying to tell me they think I'm old and about to die), and my answer is always the same ... I don't even have to think twice about what I want to leave behind when I leave this world. I want to leave love behind. I want to be a person who cares ... a person who really and truly cares about other people ... that's how I want to be remembered and that's the legacy I want to leave behind. I told my young friend today that I believe with all my heart there are great things ahead for him, I really and truly do. I believe that because he is one of them ... he is a person who cares. And it's those people ... the people who care ... the people who get that love and caring for others is what matters most of all ... those are the people who will change the world. 

So what about you? Are you one of them? Are you one of the people who care?

Will You Marry Me?

As I'm sure most everyone in the world now knows, the Supreme Court of the United States officially legalized same-sex marriage nationwide yesterday. Regardless of whether you agree or disagree with the Court's ruling, yesterday will remembered as a point in history that changed our nation forever. The division of opinion regarding the Court's decision is perhaps espoused and vocalized most vehemently within the realm of social media ... Facebook even created a tool so that folks could place a rainbow overlay on their profile pictures to show their support in favor of the new legislation. Me being me, I opted instead to change my cover photo rather than my profile pic ... to rainbow colored high-top Converse shoes, of course.

My post this evening is in response to the flood of emails and private Facebook messages I've received since the Court's ruling yesterday asking me why I haven't commented publicly as to my feelings about the decision. I've said this before, but I'm saying it again ... it is utterly crazy to me how many people take the time to write to me. I can't begin to explain what a humbling experience it is for me when I read your heartfelt words ... words filled to overflowing with a passion for what you believe in. It's taken me almost three years to come to that understanding, you know ... that even the really negative and hate-filled messages I often receive are coming from a place of passion for what those folks believe in and the principles they hold to be true. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it's ever okay to hate or condemn or judge anyone or that those types of notes don't slice my heart wide open ... not for one minute am I saying that hate is ever okay because it's not. What I am saying, though, is that I've come to understand that people ... all people ... have passion when it comes to the things they believe in. And ... I've come to understand that's especially true when it concerns what people believe to be right or wrong in the eyes of God.

So having said that, here's my take on the Supreme Court's ruling to legalize same-sex marriage throughout all 50 states ... I find it abundantly interesting that it was a 5-4 decision. While the Court officially ruled in favor of same-sex marriage, it was basically a split decision with only a single vote determining the final outcome. That 5-4 vote speaks volumes to me ... it tells me that though the ruling was to legalize same-sex marriage across the country, there remains a huge divide between those who are in favor and those who are opposed. I don't have to look any further than my Facebook news feed to know that's true ... the truth is that even within my own family and circle of friends there are those who are passionate in their belief that marriage is to be only between a man and a woman according to God's Word, while others are equally as passionate in their belief that same-sex couples should be granted the same rights and freedoms as heterosexual couples. The truth is that's why I've refrained from commenting on Facebook or any other social media platform as to how I feel about yesterday's Supreme Court ruling ... I haven't commented out of love and respect for my family ... all of my family, no matter what they believe.

To me, that's really the most important part of my humble opinion regarding the Court's landmark decision yesterday ... to me, what matters most is how we will treat one another going forward. At the end of the day, the most important decision any of us can make regarding same-sex marriage or any other issue that has the potential to divide is whether or not we choose to love and respect one another. Love, respect, honor, patience and understanding toward one another ... that's the most important decision we can ever hope to make. Love is love, friends ... love is always and forever love.

All Four Wheels

Remember the other night when I posted about Band-Aids and how I never think about them until I need them? So here's another thing I don't think about until I need them ... lawnmower wheels. Actually, I'm pretty sure I've never thought about lawnmower wheels in my entire life, except for that one day when I took my ex-husband's pistol and shot my old mower after I had tried for over an hour to get it to start. The only reason I thought about lawnmower wheels that day was because I tried really hard to shoot them ... I aimed at those stupid wheels three times, pulled the trigger and missed every time. But I digress ... back to my never giving any thought to lawnmower wheels (except for that one day).

I never considered that it might possibly be a good idea to have an extra lawnmower wheel tucked away in my garage in case one suddenly broke and fell off while I was in mid-mow. Nope, I sure didn't ... at least not until a couple of weeks ago when that's exactly what happened. I was trying desperately to finish mowing before it started raining and I realized my old Toro mower was suddenly very hard to push. Since I'm not the most mechanically minded gal in the neighborhood, I didn't even notice that the back left wheel was almost horizontal with the ground rather than vertical. I just kept right on trying my best to push the obviously demon-possessed mower through the grass while I grumbled loudly about how much I dislike lawnmowers in general and while I stated even more loudly that I fully intended to have a chat with God someday about the design of grass. The fact that I didn't once think about shooting the mower during my tirade probably speaks highly as to the progress I've made emotionally since that one day. But again, I digress ... it wasn't until the horizontal rather than vertical wheel completely fell off of the mower that I finally stopped trying to push the obviously injured mower through the grass.

Believe me when I say that I was not a happy camper as I picked up the broken wheel and saw that it was probably broken beyond repair. Always the optimist, however (that's a joke, by the way), I went to my neighbor's house, broken lawnmower wheel in hand, and asked if he thought there might be a way to fix it. I'm pretty sure he was trying not to laugh as he shook his head, told me I'd have to buy a new wheel and asked if I'd like to borrow his mower so that I could finish my yard. Thanks to my neighbor's generosity in allowing me to use his mower, I was able to complete my mowing adventure just before the rain began to fall. You can bet your butt it wasn't beating the rain that was on my mind as I took full advantage of the self-propelled feature on my neighbor's mower ... heck, no ... the only thing I was thinking about was wheels ... the only thing I thought about for the rest of the day was broken lawnmower wheels. It was the following weekend before I went to Home Depot and bought a new wheel, and I'm pretty proud that I managed to put the new wheel on all by myself ... I may have to stop and tighten it each time after I mow the front yard, but I still put it on all by myself. 

I've learned about lawnmowers and their wheels over the last couple of weeks, you know. I've learned that in order for a lawnmower to effectively do what it's meant to do ... mow grass ... it needs all four of its wheels. I suppose there might be some freakishly strong person somewhere on the planet who could mow a yard with a three-wheeled mower, but I'd have to see it to believe it. A lawnmower needs all four wheels to stay balanced ... it needs all four wheels to move forward ... it needs all four wheels to accomplish the task of cutting the grass. Most of you know me well enough by now to know that I learned a much deeper lesson than the difficulty of maneuvering a three-wheeled mower or the need to have a spare lawnmower wheel on hand ... of course I did. It takes all of us working together, friends ... it takes all of us pulling together, covering each other's backs, balancing each other, being there for each other ... it takes all of us doing our part to get the job done.

It takes all four wheels, friends ... it takes all four wheels, indeed.

The Ethic of Reciprocity

Before I launch into my post for this evening, I should tell you it's not the post I intended to post. Though I may have an idea for a post cooking in my brain for a while, it's not very often that I actually write a post until I feel like it's time to post it. The exceptions to my writing and posting in real time are few ... in fact, I can count on one hand the number of times I've written a post ahead of time, not counting the times I've collaborated with my two favorite co-writers. I had trouble sleeping last night and I decided that rather than watching mindless television, I would go ahead and write the post I was planning to post this evening ... and I did, and I'll post it tomorrow. I think. No promises. Because tomorrow could be like today ... sometimes there are things that just need to be said when the emotion bubbles up inside me, things that I need to put down on paper while my feelings and thoughts are raw and real and ready to be written. Having said that, I'll toss out a disclaimer ... you may consider tonight's post a continuation or add-on of sorts to my more than a little ticked off "Put a Little Please on That ... Please" post from last week.

I'm sure most of you have heard of The Golden Rule ... "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." In modern English, that means treat other people the way you want to be treated. I've been doing a bit of research into the origin and history of the Golden Rule phrase, and I discovered that it has existed in varying forms in almost all religions for centuries. Jesus himself spoke in Matthew 7:12 of this basic tenant of human interaction, though He didn't specifically bestow the title "Golden Rule" to the words. The New American Standard translation of the Bible says this, "In everything, therefore, treat people the same way you want them to treat you, for this is the Law and the Prophets." And the New International translation puts it this way, "So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets." And the good old King James translation states, "Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets." I'm pretty certain that no matter which translation you read from, they all mean the same thing ... treat people with the level of respect and kindness you wish to receive in return.

In my research regarding those words that have existed in almost all religions and cultures around the world for centuries, I learned there's another set of words used to describe the concept of treating others as we desire to be treated ... "the ethic of reciprocity." I find that phrase incredibly interesting ... not the use of the word reciprocity, mind you, but rather the use of the word ethic. Linking those two words together implies the necessity for the existence of a moral code involving human interaction ... it's the same as saying we have a moral responsibility to treat each other the way we want to be treated ourselves. Different words, same meaning. Different words, same instructions. Different words, same results. Treat people the same way you want to be treated. Period. Be moral and just and fair and respectful and honest and understanding and compassionate in your interactions with others ... all the time. Yep, I said all the time, and that's the kicker ... treat others the way you wish to be treated even when they don't treat you the same way. Whoa ... that makes it a little more difficult, eh?

Did you know that one of the most damaging things someone can do in regard to negatively affecting another's self-esteem is to ignore or disregard them? I was surprised by that information, though it does make sense when I think about it ... and it makes even more sense to me when I experience it firsthand. Sometimes I wonder if I have a neon light flashing above my head that says, "Feel free to interrupt the conversation I was having with this person because I'm obviously way less important than you are. Oh, and while you're at it, completely disregard my presence because that really makes me feel great." Yes, that makes me angry, and yes, it hurts my feelings, and no, I never ever want to treat someone in a manner that will cause them to feel the way I feel when it happens to me ... the way it chips away at my soul and chews up my heart. I know some of you are shaking your fingers at me and thinking that instead of walking away like I always do, I should call the person out for their impolite and rude behavior. But remember what I said earlier ... trying to live out the Golden Rule ... trying to practice the ethic of reciprocity means treating others the way I want to be treated ... even when ... especially when ... they don't treat me the same way in return.

Sorry for the rant ... actually, no ... no, I'm not sorry at all. The world would be such a better place if we would just be kind to each other ... if we would just demonstrate respect for each other ... if we would just stop gazing into our own mirror and being so impressed with ourselves and start looking into the eyes and hearts of those around us. The world is a much more beautiful place ... a much more compassionate place ... a much more loving place ... a much more encouraging place when we do unto others as we would have them do unto us.  

No More Band-Aids

There are certain items I don't really think about needing until I actually need them ... then I get mad at myself for not thinking about them before I need them. And I get especially mad at myself when it's an item I pretty much always kept on hand when my kids lived at home. Take Band-Aids, for example. Of course I always had Band-Aids in the house when my kids were around ... with three kids, I could pretty much count on one or more of them needing a Band-Aid at least once every couple of days if not more often. But now that it's just me and Ollie in the house, Band-Aids aren't something I think about until I need one and they certainly don't make it onto my weekly shopping list. Hence, when the chain link fence took a chunk out of my hand a week or so ago, the only Band-Aids I could find were those little round ones that are only big enough to cover ... actually, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure I've never used one of those little round Band-Aids in my life, which probably explains why I have a big stash of them in the cabinet.

I've been thinking a lot about Band-Aids over the last few days, and as I often do when something gets stuck in my mind, I turned to the Google to aid me in my quest for knowledge and discovered facts about Band-Aids I never knew before and unless you're as weird as I am, I'd be willing to bet you don't know them either. The small adhesive bandages were invented in 1920 by a guy whose wife's clumsiness in the kitchen caused her to get lots of cuts and burns when she prepared meals for her family. Earle Dickson was a cotton buyer for a little company called Johnson & Johnson, and he came up with the brilliant idea of placing squares of cotton gauze on adhesive tape and covering them with a crinoline so that his clumsy wife could simply cut a strip of tape and apply the bandage without assistance. Eventually, young Earle's invention evolved into what we know now as the product that sparked one of the most popular advertising tag lines in history ... "I am stuck on Band-Aid brand, 'cause Band-Aid's stuck on me." I have no idea if Earle's wife got less clumsy over the years when she cooked, but I do knew that because of his sticky, do-it-youself, first-of-its-kind bandage, Earle was promoted to vice president at Johnson & Johnson where he remained until his retirement in 1957. 

Now I know you can hardly contain your curiosity as to why I've been musing for days about Band-Aids, so please allow me to explain. Remember how I said the fence took a chunk out of my hand? Well, that stupid chunk of missing skin bled like a water hose for way longer than it should have before it finally stopped enough for me to drive to the store and get some Band-Aids ... real ones and not those stupid little circle ones. I opened the box in the store and slapped a couple of the plastic strips on my wound and didn't think about it again until I woke up the next morning. I'm sure I'm not the only person in the world who's put a Band-Aid on a cut or scrape that hasn't completely stopped bleeding and forgotten about it until you start to remove the bandage only to find that it's stuck to your ouchie. I'm pretty sure half my neighborhood heard me that morning when I ripped the firmly stuck Band-Aid off of my hand ... I screamed like a little girl and shed more than a few tears. Don't judge me ... it flipping, stinking hurt like heck and you would have screamed and cried, too.

This afternoon I realized why I haven't been able to stop thinking about Band-Aids ... what lesson I'm supposed to learn, what truth God has been trying to teach me. See, here's the thing ... Band-Aids don't fix my wounds, they only cover them up. Band-Aids are just a way to help me ignore the truth of what lies beneath. Band-Aids don't make me well ... they help me cover up what's wrong with me ... they help me try to keep other people from seeing the ugly parts of me ... they help me hide. As I sat in traffic on my way home this evening, I was jolted out of my bumper-to-bumper induced fog with this thought, this reminder, this moment of clarity as it broke through the clutter of my day ... sometimes the only right thing to do is rip off the Band-Aid ... sometimes the only way that good can triumph is for the Band-Aid to be torn away. Go ahead think on that one for a while ... a really good long while.

It's time to get rid of the Band-Aids, friends ... it's way past time to get rid of the Band-Aids ... way, way, way past time.

Put a Little Please on That ... Please

So ... I wrote tonight's post last night ... actually, I wrote tonight's post several times last night and then I deleted it. I wish I could say I deleted the multiple iterations of the words that flew from my fingers last night accidentally, but that would be nothing short of a complete and utter lie. Nope, I didn't accidentally tap the key that removed the post I desperately wanted to title "If You Can't Be Kind and Treat People with Respect, Shut Your Stupid Mouth or I Will Shut it for You" ... I deleted the words I wrote last night because I was flipping, stinking, over-the-top angry, and that's not the place I want to write from. My feathers are still way more than a little bit ruffled concerning my subject matter this evening and I most definitely have some things to say, but I'm writing from a place of hope tonight rather than a place of anger. I hope you'll give serious consideration to the thoughts I'm sharing this evening ... I'm not asking you to agree with me ... I'm just asking you to think ... just think, that's all I'm asking you to do ... just think.

My three children are not, nor have they ever been, nor will they ever be, perfect. They don't always say or do the right things, and they most certainly don't always say or do the things I want them to say or do. But for all of their quirky behavior and all of the crazy things they say, there's one thing I can always count on from them ... my kiddos are polite and they are respectful to others. They say please and thank you, and get this ... they even remind me on occasion that I need to be kind and respectful to others as well, especially when it comes to the others who aren't always very kind or respectful to me. I can't remember now where or when or how or why or from whom the phrase originated, but I do know that I never tired of hearing my children say, "Put a little please on that," whenever any of us momentarily forgot to preface a request with that one remarkable, short, magical, attitude-altering word ... please.

I'm well aware that we live in a fast-paced, hurry up, tyranny of the urgent world ... trust me, I'm abundantly aware that many people feel they don't have enough time in a day to do whatever it is they feel is so critically important that they do. And I'm sure that for at least some people, they legitimately don't have enough time to cross everything off of their to do list each day. But you know what? I don't give a red hot tamale's rear-end how little time a person thinks they have or how important they think their to do list is or what a big deal they think they are or how smart they think they are or how good-looking they think they are or any of a million other excuses they may use, there's no true reason ... and I do mean reason and not excuse ... for being rude or impolite or disrespectful or condescending. It's not okay to treat family that way ... it's not okay to treat friends that way ... it's not okay to treat neighbors that way ... it's not okay to treat co-workers that way ... it's not okay to treat the cashier at the grocery store that way ... it's not okay to treat a homeless person that way ... it's not okay to treat the person next to you on the bus that way ... it's not okay to treat anyone that way. It's just plain old downright not okay to be rude, disrespectful, impolite, condescending or mean ... it's just not okay.

So here's the thing ... words have the power to help or hurt, to build up or beat down, to encourage or destroy ... the choice is up to you. Treat other people the way you want to be treated ... my guess is that no one likes being treated with disrespect, and I'm beyond sure that no one likes to be made to feel like they are less deserving of respect than someone else. It's easy ... really it is ... just be kind to people and show them respect. How hard can that be? Really? Seriously? How hard can that really, seriously be?

Please think about putting a little please on everything you say or do ... please. And say thank you ... please. And wash your hands after you go to the bathroom ... please. Just think ... that's all I'm asking you to do ... just think about the difference you could make in the lives of those around you if you would just be kind ... please. Put a little please on that, friends ... please, please, please put a little please on that ... I promise you won't regret it.

It's Okay to Play

Dear Mom and Ollie,

This is the first time I've ever written a letter because when I lived with the two of you, licks and tail wags were my way of telling you both how much I loved you. And because you would never let me type on your laptop, Mom, even though I tried really hard to convince you that I wouldn't scratch it up with my dog nails or make it not work by slobbering on it. But like I said, I didn't need to send you guys a letter before because I was with you. This typing thing is pretty fun, though, so I'm giving you a heads-up that I might send some more from time to time.

You wouldn't believe all the things I can do up here in doggie heaven ... typing and playing games on my very own laptop is cool, of course, but that's nothing compared to all the other stuff I get to do. I can run and run and run and run (my leg is just fine now), and I can jump higher than ever. There aren't any fences here, so I can go exploring everywhere ... this place is ginormous, so I've been doing a lot of exploring. There's this one room that is full of all kinds of dog bones, and I don't even have to ask or do tricks to get as many as I want. Just so you know, though, Mom, I liked doing tricks for you because it always made you smile really big. And doing tricks always scored me some Cheetos, too, which by the way, are everywhere here ... more Cheetos than I've ever seen, and I can eat all my stomach can hold. But there is also every kind of food in the universe here, so sometimes I eat steak and lobster instead of Cheetos. 

There are lots of other dogs here, and J.R. was waiting at the gate for me when I got here. I sure was relieved to see him because I was kind of scared at first when I left the vet's office last week. Mom, you and Brad were crying so much and I was scared about leaving you guys alone because I worried about you being okay. It was good that you let me go, Mom, because I was very sick and I wasn't going to get better. I want you to know that you did the right thing, Mom ... you did the best thing you could have ever done for me. I miss you and Ollie so much and so does J.R., but this place is unbelievable and I want to thank you for sending me here. Did I tell you there are like a gazillion tennis balls here? I brought one with me just in case, but there are more than enough here ... and they are all different colors, too, Ollie. There are a gazillion different colored tennis balls here, and an endless supply of beef jerky and ice cream (and I can eat until I can't eat one more bite and never gain an ounce!!). And socks ... there are so many socks to chew on ... oh, my gosh ... tons and tons and tons of socks!

I'm telling you about all the cool things here because I want you to know I'm okay. Don't get me wrong, I miss you both every minute of every day, but it's like you said when J.R. came here, Mom ... to everything a season, and it was my season to come here. Me and J.R. have a plan for when it's the season for you guys to come here ... I can't tell you what it is cause then it wouldn't be a surprise, but it's going to be the most awesome thing ever and you're both going to love it. Speaking of love ... I know how much you loved me, Mom, don't ever think I didn't know that you loved me to the moon and back. Even when I ate all those raw pork chops and Meghann's cupcakes off the counter or when I puked up my food on the carpet and even when I knocked you down that one time at the dog park and got mud all over you ... you always loved me and I always knew you did.

I wanted to write to tell you I'm okay, but the real reason I'm writing is because I know how sad you guys are. Mom, I know you cry at night when you go to bed because you miss my head on your back and my paw on your shoulder, and I hate seeing you so sad. I want you to promise me that starting tonight you'll think about the happy and fun times we had instead of thinking about me not being there. And King Oliver ... don't be afraid to go outside without me ... Mom won't let anything happen to you in the backyard, I promise, and you can't hold your pee and poop forever or you'll get really bad sick. I appreciate you saving all your treats for me in my special spot on the couch, but it would make me really happy if you would go ahead and eat them ... really, really, really happy. And dude ... Mom took you to the pet store and got you some new toys and the lady at her work sent you a rabbit that's bigger than you are ... you need to play, buddy ... it's okay for you to play without me, really, it is ... I want you to play, play, play, play, play. Playing is the best part of living ... well, next to Cheetos and Mom's hugs, that is.

You guys are going to be okay ... it will take a while, but you will be okay. I'm watching out for you from up here, and I'm inside your hearts forever and ever and ever. Take care of each other and have fun together ... that's maybe the greatest thing about this place where I am now ... everybody has fun together and nobody gets mad at each other or tries to take each other's toys ... everybody shares and everybody is nice to everybody. Me and J.R. both figured out as soon as we got here that it's okay to play ... it's always okay to play, Ollie and Mom ... it's always okay to play.

I love you both more than you'll ever know.

Your pal,

Julie

One Million Cheetos

For the life of me I can't remember how or why or when white cheddar Cheetos became the most favored dog treat in my house, but for the last 10 years or so, not one of my dogs or granddogs set paw in this place without eating at least a few white cheddar Cheetos while they were here. While each and every one of those hounds loved them some Cheetos, Julie and Ollie definitely raised the bar to all new heights in their joint quest for the puffed cheesy deliciousness. I'm pretty sure they had me trained to give them Cheetos at specific times throughout the day ... it had absolutely nothing to do with me training them and everything in the universe to do with them using their wagging tails and adorable little faces to trick me into granting their frequent Cheetos wishes. I've wondered at times just how many bags of white cheddar Cheetos I've purchased for my dogs over the years, but tonight I know it doesn't matter ... tonight I know that every single crumb in every single bag of Cheetos was so very, very, very worth every penny I spent.

Many of you have gotten to know my two dogs Julie and Ollie over the last few years through my posts, and a huge thank you to so many of you who have written to share stories about your own canine companions. It's with deep sorrow and a heavy heart this evening that I must tell you that yesterday was the final day of my beloved Julie's journey with me and my little family this side of heaven. And yes, I believe there will be dogs in heaven ... you bet I believe heaven will be filled with wagging tails and floppy ears and cold noses ... you can bet everything you have that I believe furry buddies who are no longer with me are running and jumping and eating white cheddar Cheetos on the streets of gold tonight. Yep, I believe that right this very minute, my little fat buddy J.R. and my big old girl Julie are getting their celebration on in a big, big way ... no more pain, no more suffering, healthy legs and clear minds ... enjoying an eternity of running and jumping and eating white cheddar Cheetos.

I'll never toss a Frisbee or throw a tennis ball again without thinking of Julie ... that crazy dog loved to play more than any dog I've ever known. I remember the day Brad and Meghann brought her home after they rescued her from a kill shelter, and I will never forget how excited Brad was when he discovered that she knew how to catch a Frisbee and return it, to shake and lay down and high-five and sit. Julie was definitely Brad's dog ... she flipping loved that boy to pieces. I remember how Brad used to fall asleep on the couch with Julie sprawled out on top of him, her head plopped squarely on top of his. I remember how sad she was when her boy left for college and how she eventually decided to make the best of living with me. I remember how she just knew when my blood sugar was too low and the way she would gnaw on me and pull at my clothes until she got me to check my sugar levels. I remember her belly-flopping into the lake at the dog park and almost ripping my arm off when I tried to walk with her on a leash. I remember when she helped herself to a couple of dozen cupcakes that were left unprotected on the kitchen counter. I remember the trip to Tennessee when she stood on top of Brad in the car for 11 1/2 hours. I remember snuggles on the couch and licks on my chin. I remember my sweet Julie girl and how very much we all loved her.

I miss you tonight, big girl, and so does your little buddy Ollie. The house is so lonesome without you ... so quiet ... so empty. I miss your sweet face and your kind eyes and your love of adventure. I miss you, Julie dog ... I miss you so much it hurts. Tonight I know more than ever that we didn't rescue you at all, old friend ... in all the ways that matter most, you're the one who rescued us. Sleep well, old girl ... you will never be forgotten and you will forever be loved ... sleep well, old girl ... sleep well.

7 x 5 = Friend

Just ask anyone who knows me well how smart I am at math, and they'll tell you I suck at it. Truth be told, I pretty much always have been much, much, much less than gifted when it comes to the numbers side of things. While I sailed through most subjects with ease when I was in school ... from elementary school to college ... I always struggled with any math-related courses. Looking back, I think a big part of the reason I didn't like any of the classes that involved anything even remotely related to mathematics is because I had such a hard time understanding what possible benefit I could ever gain from learning geometry, algebra, calculus or statistics. Considering the extensiveness of my aversion to math, it's probably nothing short of a miracle that I'm able to count to 100 and balance my checkbook ... no, really ... I'm serious ... that's how much I don't like math.

As some of you know, several months ago I had to vacate my beloved spot at work and move upstairs to a cubicle in one of the far corners of the building. I keep hoping I'll eventually stop missing being downstairs ... that I'll forget about my old quote post ... that I won't long to tend the fire throughout the day ... that thinking about the conversations I had with people who wandered into the kitchen while I was eating a late lunch will no longer bring tears to my eyes. I know change is part of life ... both good change and not so good change alike. It wouldn't be healthy if there were never change in life ... it's through change that I learn ... it's through change that I grow ... it's through change that I expand my thinking and my horizons. My mind knows all those things about change are true ... my mind just needs to work harder on convincing my heart.

Part of the reason for my relocation at work was that as senior editor, I was moved to a newly created team within our agency ... a specialized team of employees who are responsible for ensuring that client projects are completed quickly and accurately. Along with my new team assignment came a new supervisor ... a gal who's been with the company longer than I have and who is without question the best production manager in the business. She has a way of motivating people to do things they can't seem to do on their own ... trust me, I know firsthand that she's got a gift when it comes to the fine art of persuasion. Like when she asked me to do her a "favor" the first week following my move to the upstairs floor ... a favor that had no personal benefit for her at all.

"Will you do me a favor?" she asked.

"I'll try," I answered weakly.

"If I text you every day for seven days, will you text me back with five things you are thankful for?" she inquired gently.

"I'll try," I answered, my voice quivering with emotion as tears filled my eyes.

I remember driving home after work that day ... I remember thinking, "She was probably just trying to cheer me up ... I'm sure she won't really do it." But she did ... she texted me every single day for the next seven days and asked me to text back five things I was thankful for. I'd be willing to bet you're thinking the same thing I did ... easy peasy, right? In the beginning, it was almost too easy ... the names of my kids and granddaughters easily took care of my reply to her first text and then the names of other family members took care of the next day's. But then it got more difficult, and by the time I reached the seventh day, my answers had required some deep thinking and soul searching. From socks and peanut butter to my three adopted kiddos and my life-saving head doctor ... from my bed and sunglasses to my medications and friends who invite me to join in their family fun times ... from ball caps and beer to Skype and my doggies ... I discovered I have so very much for which to be thankful.

Of all the things I learned from that seven-day texting experience, there are a couple that will stay with me forever. The most important one, of course, is that it made me see the precious people whom I take for granted every day ... it made me vow to appreciate and love them as they deserve to be. It made me understand that there are people who really do care ... people who take the time to help someone who's struggling ... people who really do what they say they will do. I never would have believed that such a small exercise could have ended up having such a profound effect on me ... but it did. So much so that I was even a little sad when the seven days were over.

So here's my challenge to you, friends ... look around at the people in your life ... your family, your friends, your neighbors, your co-workers ... look around and see if one of them needs you to be their "five things you're thankful for" texting buddy. I guarantee you won't have to look very far ... we all need that kind of friend ... the kind of friend who taught me math isn't really so bad after all ... at least not this kind of math anyway ... the kind of math where 7 x 5 = friend.

Put on Both Shoes

As most of you probably know, there has been a ton of rain out here in the heartland over the last few weeks. And with so much rain comes lots and lots of problems ... flooded streets, flooded basements, even big old trees being uprooted and falling over because the ground is so saturated with water. As I sit here typing, more thunderstorms and heavy rain are rolling toward Kansas City ... and just in case you're wondering, of course I'm watching the weather and checking the radar ... of course I am. 

Yesterday just about the time I was heading out to lunch with a young man I work with, the heavens opened up and let loose with torrential rainfall ... seriously, the rain was coming down so hard and the wind was blowing so strongly that it looked and felt like we were in the middle of a monsoon. We stood at the door for several minutes debating whether or not we should attempt to make our way to the restaurant through the high water that was racing from the street over the curb and onto the sidewalk. Eventually our two hungry bellies won out and gave us the courage we needed to venture out into the storm. We huddled together under my umbrella and splashed our way through the rushing water to the cafe across the street and enjoyed an hour of great food and even greater conversation.

When I got dressed yesterday morning, I foolishly decided to wear my red Converse shoes even though I knew it was supposed to rain and I was going out for lunch with my friend. It only took a few seconds once we stepped outside for me to realize I had most definitely made the wrong choice for my feet, and by the time we decided to try and jump across the current ... unsuccessfully, I might add ... not only were my shoes soaking wet but my socks and the bottom of my jeans were as well. Since I couldn't take my shoes off in the restaurant, by the time I got back to my desk after lunch, my feet felt like chunks of cold, wet cement. I wasted no time in peeling off my shoes and socks, and I propped them up against the small fan under my desk in the hope that they would dry quickly. Thankfully, they did, because Lord knows I didn't want to have to get up and walk around with no shoes on ... remember, my feet are far from beautiful and my toenails most certainly are not covered in pretty pink nail polish.

As I drove home after work, I couldn't help but think about something I read a few days ago ... something about how important it is for us to never judge another person until we live in their shoes ... not just walk in their shoes, friends, but live in them. My guess is I'm not the only one who doesn't want to spend my days in wet shoes ... or dirty shoes ... or shoes that don't fit ... or shoes that are ugly ... or shoes that hurt ... or shoes that aren't my own. I'll leave you with the words I read ... think deeply about them, friends ... think really deeply about them. You can't put on just one shoe if you really want to help someone ... you have to put on both ... you have to put on both shoes.

"I've heard it said that in order to truly experience empathy for another, a person must walk a mile in his or her shoes. I hold that the truth behind that advice is real, but one must put on both shoes. Empathy comes only when I put on both shoes of my friend or neighbor or family member. Both shoes must be worn if my desire is to know the depths of another's sadness or the heights of his or her happiness. Putting on one shoe isn't good enough; I must put on both shoes and I must live in those shoes to gain true understanding."

Put on both shoes, friends ... put them both on and live in them for a while.

Get Along Little Doggies

As I sit here typing this evening, I'm sharing my couch with three dogs ... hmmm ... I seem to remember having an extra dog in the mix last week, too. My canine house guest this week, however, takes up a wee bit more space on the couch than the pup who stayed with me and Julie and Ollie last week ... don't tell Max he's bigger than Peanut, though, because I'm pretty sure he doesn't know. His big old Lab head is resting on Julie's rump at the moment, and they are both sound asleep next to Ollie who somehow managed to squeeze himself in between me and the big dogs. And by the way, don't tell him he's not as big as Julie and Max, because I'm pretty sure he thinks he is. Friday evening, Peanut will be coming back for a sleepover ... if you're counting, that will be four dogs under my roof ... two bigs and two littles ... I'd better buy some more Cheetos for sure. 

If I weren't so tired this evening, I'd share some of the more hilarious things my granddogs do when they visit ... like Peanut pooping under my car every day or Max eating a dozen raw eggs, shells included, when I turned away from the counter for less than 10 seconds ... but I need some sleep, so Maxie and Peanie stories will have to wait until another time. But before I call it a night, there's something I've learned from having the extra hounds in my house over the last few days ... something I think perhaps some of you may need to learn as well. Having said that, read the following words carefully ... all of these dogs get along together. Need to read those words again? Julie and Ollie and Max and Peanut all get along with each other ... they don't fight over toys ... they don't fight over food ... they don't fight over who sleeps the closest to me in my bed at night ... they don't fight over who is the first one to drink from the water bowl. One more time? All of these dogs get along with each other ... they get along and they don't fight.

Now I know some of you are thinking that there's a good chance the reason all these dogs get along so well is because they don't see each other very often, but I would beg to differ with that assumption. In fact, I would argue that it should be just the opposite ... because they aren't together very often, the golden rule of dogs would state that they should growl and snarl and bite each other because they aren't together all the time. But they don't ... they may do a little butt-sniffing here and there, but they don't fight or growl or snarl or bite or compete for my attention. And I think Julie and Max and Ollie and Peanut don't do those things because they know they don't need to ... they feel safe and secure and wanted and cared for and loved, and there's no reason for them to fight.

So here's the thing ... I, and probably more than a few of you, would do well to treat our fellow humans the way my dogs and granddogs treat each other. We would do well to stop fighting ... we would do well to stop competing ... we would do well to stop complaining ... we would do well to stop biting ... we would do well to stop attacking ... we would do well to get along.

Get along little doggies ... get along.