Hello. May I Help You?

Posted on January 18, 2016 by Bob Martin

An obviously bored customer support girl.“Hello. May I help you?” The words we hear all too often when calling an 800 number or go to a location all in the hopes of obtaining some customer service. It is not that I dislike these words; I just wish that they came with a want to follow through on them. There are two things I constantly wish for, sorry colleagues I know you have heard this before, customer service and better communication. I will save the latter for another post.

The problem, and others may disagree, is that customer service has become nothing more than lip service in so many places. I have heard that it is because employees don’t care. I have heard that it is the Millennials, and their lack of work effort. I have heard that it is due to outsourcing. While each of the mentioned items do play a little part in this area, these are not, in my mind, the cause for companies having reached the point of, “Hello. Thank you for calling customer service. Please note that I may or may not listen to you, and I most likely will do nothing for you.”

Is it too late? Can it come back?………….It can because it is not gone entirely.

We like to go to Big Bear. Now for those outside of Southern California, this is a small city (population 6000) up in the mountains of San Bernardino. It is known for its skiing, but it has a great little village. Within the city you will find some “big box” stores and restaurants. However, for the most part the shops and eateries are small businesses trying to make a go at it in a city that lives and dies by the weather. For the most part, it is a beautiful place to go even on holiday weekends when the time to town goes from 10 minutes to 30. More importantly it is a nice place to go due to how they treat people whether they are locals or tourists. They depend on each and every customer. They do not only rely on them just for that particular sale, but for future sales as well. They need them to come back time and time again.

We frequent these small businesses whenever we can. I would like to say that it is because consciously we have made the choice to support the underdog. It is not. We step through their doors because of how they treat us as a customer. These businesses do what they state they will do and more. On the few occasions when I have had a problem, it is taken care of swiftly. What I like even more is that they do not attempt to shift the blame back on me. There has been a time or two, when dealing with the hardware store, that the problem is me. I did something wrong. I informed them of this; they smile and say no problem. The problem gets fixed.

I am also happy to report that this type of customer service is not limited just to Big Bear. My wife and I come from small towns in Western New York. We go back to visit our family at least once a year. Again, these towns, even smaller than Big Bear, are made up of Mom and Pop styled stores. The sense of helping the customer is just as strong in these stores. When we traveled last spring, our stops took us to smaller communities. That sense of doing what is right existed in each and every small community. By the way, we were served by all types and ages of employees, so we can toss out the blame the Millennials.

So what is it? I think it goes back to what I stated earlier. These companies depend on each and every customer. They cannot afford to lose a single customer. Even more, they cannot allow a customer to walk away with bad feelings to spread on to others.

Larger stores and chains are missing this. If a customer decides to change loyalties on electronics, the first store will most likely never even know it happened. The new receiver of the customer’s loyalties probably wont care. They will still have all of their other customers coming back. If a person writes a bad review, the companies hire people to counter the comments. The companies have more means to fight the single consumer causing them to need less and less customer service. It doesn’t need to be like this. Have you ever gotten the fluke call where the person on the other end knew what he/she was doing and helped you? I have – it is wonderful.

When I get those customer service representatives, I call back to get a manager. I sing the praises of their employee. I tell them that that person needs to be training others. I compliment the employees want to really put the company in a good light and making the customer feel as if no one else mattered. I tell others about the great experience. Yes. Good customer service is that important to me.

I don’t even want to make this sound like the problem is that big box companies do not depend on the customer. They do – they just have more of them. I think the problem is that those running the companies do not come out and meet the customers. They don’t walk in the shoes of those who might be buying a big ticket item only after saving for it for a year or more. They don’t understand who it is that pays their utility bills.

I also think part of the problem is in pushing new employees through quick tell and sell training. They get told what to do without having proper training. It has nothing to do with uncaring employees or the young generation being horrible workers – it is that employees are living up down to the expectations of their employers.

So I will stop complaining about poor customer service. It is funny, many are all too willing to leave a bad tip or no tip for bad service by a waiter. Yet these same people will hear that nothing can be done to help them in a store where that person spends thousands of dollars and still remain a loyal customer. I will no longer do this.

I will put my money into stores, restaurants, and companies where I am treated properly. That means I will stay with some larger companies, but most of my money will go to the little guy.

 

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Single Child Syndrome

Posted on January 17, 2016 by Bob Martin

12417850_10153348206625509_6019996959051872711_nI have often told, bragged, that we are very fortunate with our child. It is no secret that we are older parents, and I worried about how life was going to be with a young child while we became familiar with our 50s. However, for the most part, we have a very easy, go-with-the-flow child. We never experienced a temper tantrum while out in public. While she did throw some, they were always in the home. We did not experience colic or if we did it was minor. She loves going to school, and she loves to learn. I can hear the eyes rolling….really – an entry about how great his daughter is? Ahhhhh, nope. My colleagues can attest to the fact that she is given me days of frustration. She causes me to worry about the future. She is a normal child which means there are issues.

One thing that has come up in the past, and we saw it again today, is that our daughter suffers from what I call “Single Child Syndrome.” This is not to say that she is spoiled and gets everything she wants – I really thought her first word would be No. As a matter of fact, I fear that sometimes I say no a little too often just because I worry that she will expect everything and with no sharing involved. No the syndrome I write of deals with social issues. She is friendly, kind, and outgoing, but she is overly cautious when it comes to introducing friends.

Today proved to be a day where this syndrome reared its ugly head. With it being a long weekend, we decided to get out of town. We went up to the snow for some fun. Knowing that we would not be able to last the weekend, we allowed our daughter to bring a friend. I hate to admit it, it is normally so much easier when she has a playmate. This playmate is one of a few that she considers to be her BFFs. Things moved along just as expected. By 11 a.m., the two were going strong and at an energy level that would have wiped me out by 9:30.

We also knew and were excited that friends of ours who had moved away in November were back in town. Their daughter also fit into that small group of our daughter’s BFFs. What a great day to bring the three together.

The local friend arrived and introductions were made. Instantaneous friendships seemed to be blossoming. The girls went out and built a fortress and snowman. We begged them to come in to eat lunch so that we could go sledding. All seemed right with the world. We ate, redressed, grabbed the sleds, and took off for the hill. The three of them a common day Three Musketeers.

Sledding started off well. Slowly, I could hear, little issues started to arise. Questions about who would ride with whom, what position each would take in the sled, and which person needed to pull the sled back up. I let it going – hoping. At one point, our daughter crashed right next to me. Not a big crash, more of a roll out of the sled. She looked at me and stated that she was hurt. Unless some invisible tree or rock had been struck, there was no cause for injuries. I deduced that the injury was internal and dealt with the heart. I didn’t want to bring up my conclusions. When she stated she wanted to go down to the swing, I reminded her that her friends still were at the top waiting on her. She grudgingly moved back up the hill.

They made one more run and she moved off to the swing to be alone. The girls followed. The even suggested making a snowman. My wife tried to get our little one involved with the construction team instead she moved off to the tree line and climbed onto a stump. We let her be. The other girls kept calling to no avail. After five minutes, I walked over.

She sat there pushing the snow around and licking some off of her gloves. I could see the tears she tried so hard not to let flow. When asked what was wrong, she stated she didn’t know. She didn’t know why she was upset. It just hurt. We talked through a few different issues. I called out topics waiting to see if she would know. She didn’t.

We talked about her sharing her friends. I reminded her that she did this every day at school. The tears started coming, I feared her cheeks would freeze. We talked about the fact that she brought other friends to our get-away and shared her local friend – “Daddy, this is different. They don’t need me.” Bingo. Light Bulb. Only child.

Growing up, I had three brothers to share. I shared my parents. I shared them from the day I was born considering I am the youngest. Since I knew how to share my brothers, sharing my friends was easy. Our daughter hasn’t  had to share us or her friends. Now at the age of eight, she felt a pain in her heart that had never been felt. She could not explain it or understand it.

We talked about past friends having to share her local friend. The difference was that that sharing was a straight line. Due to slight age differences and different hobbies, the one commonality that the two new friends shared was our daughter. Today, the straight line took on a different shape. Instead of a line, these friends had a triangle. All three had things in common. The two new friends didn’t need our daughter to see common items. This scared her. I tried to explan how great it was that a new friendship had been forged. It didn’t help. We let her heart cry out its pain. It took a few minutes. We walked over and joined my wife and the other two. In the end, a new snowman took shape, more rides down the hill, and a lot of giggles took place.

It Is now 8:00 p.m. The local friend departed – hugs all around. We have eaten and the girls walked themselves upstairs a half-hour ago. All three are friends. Hopefully, our daughter has learned a little bit about what it takes to be a good friend and part of a bigger group.

The weird thing is that in the midst of all this, I had to fight the feeling of failure. I think as parents, we want to have the best for our child. We want them to grow without pain. We take their learning pains as possible failure on our part. We did not fail. As a matter of fact, failure on our part would have been stepping in too soon or too strong. Our jobs are to help the children reach conclusions and learn from them. I hope today, we succeeded.

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Toss Aways

Posted on January 16, 2016 by Bob Martin

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This morning I walked by this computer and monitor. It sat on the sidewalk waiting to be picked up – discarded. Tossed out. No longer wanted. Water sits on top of it proving that it most likely can never be used again. Any bit of usefulness left in this little machine has been washed away. I could not help but feel sad for this computer and friend. As a writer, I personify objects, I let objects talk to me. This object did not talk. It could not. Its life was no longer.

I started thinking about how we have become a society that tosses away things as soon as we feel that they no longer can be of any use. We no longer darn socks, patch knees on jeans, mend holes in sweaters, and keep computers when the next best thing comes along. What a 180 from my grandparents generation – those who lived through the depression. My Nana threw little away, and when she did, it could no longer be used for anything.

Our generation has been taught, through advertisements, peer pressure, and other tactics, to always have the latest greatest item. We are teased to have the latest version of an item before we learn how to fully use what we have. Those companies that produce items for our use do so in a way that makes repairs either impossible or more costly than it would be to purchase anew. Items are no longer made to last, but, instead, they are designed to break the first time it experiences anything outside of normal use.

Due to all of this, we dispose of things that still have so much to give. This poor computer may have taken a few extra seconds to load a program. It may have not been able to run the latest games or word processing program. It may just not have been as flashy as the new model. So, out the door it goes – not even sent for e-waste. Just tossed out on the sidewalk to fend for itself against the weather.

If we are willing to do this with costly items, what about people? Have we become a society that tosses away people? I know so many couples that have been in relationships for twenty or more years. Now that I think about it, many are over 30. They know that when the relationship isn’t smooth, you don’t toss it out the window. You work at it.

I also hear a number of stories of younger people separating after being together for years. Some break-ups are for the best. Many are because people no longer want to work at it. Since so many things offer instant gratification, it is hard for young people to realize that the best things take reap the rewards. They want to keep a partner until the new, flashier model comes along. As soon as there is a hole in the relationship, instead of pulling out thread and mending, the relationship is put on the donate pile – let someone else fix it.

Then finally those that are homeless. I am not going to state that society is to blame for their being homeless. In some cases, society has tossed them aside and not lived up to promises – the word veteran comes to mind, In other cases, people have ended up on the streets due to their own choices or bad circumstances. No matter what the reason, these people have become our throw aways. We walk by them maybe offering some money, but we want someone else to deal with the problem. I can even remember hearing stories of a city bussing them out when the Olympics came to town. The city tossed them away. I can recall a number of times where I feared that I was going to become one of the tossed of society.

Society needs to stop tossing everything including people out. I will be honest, at the moment, I do not have the solution. I have personally had scary experiences when offering to help people. It causes you to not want to help. That just means that that person needs a little more mending. Maybe I am not the correct mender for him or her, but hopefully the next person who tries is. We need to start teaching our children that the latest greatest isn’t always the best. We need to save and keep what we have until we can no longer make it work nor get it fixed. We need to keep working at relationships so that they don’t fail, but understand that some must. I don’t want to go back to the 1930’s, but perhaps we can still learn from that generation.

All of this came from seeing a computer sitting on the sidewalk. I hope that my feelings are 1000 times stronger when I see a person sitting there.

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Throwback Thursday

Posted on January 15, 2016 by Bob Martin

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I am not sure how Thursdays became known as Throwback Thursdays. Somebody on Facebook probably put up an old picture on a Thursday. Then, like so many things on social media, two friends joined in and then another two and so on and so on and so on. Wait – I think I just did a shampoo commercial. Talk about throwbacks.           

Well, my throwback has more involved to it than just looking at a picture. It has to do with one of the best speeches I ever had the pleasure and honor to hear.

In 1995 or 1996, I graduated from Airmen Leadership School (ALS). For those not familiar with the Air Force, ALS was a course for Senior Airmen just before they put on their Staff Sergeant stripes. The course taught….well….. leadership. A graduate left the school with the knowledge to supervise young airmen. They understood how to be firm while able to encourage. One learned how to speak in front of others. The SSgt to be knew how to fill in the military paperwork.

The best part of ALS was graduation. People had the chance to dress in their formal attire. Non-military guests dressed just as nicely. Supervisors and friends came to celebrate the fact that you made it through the course without wanting to strangle someone. The dinner was nice and the accolades were given. For me, the best was our guest speaker, a CMSgt (Chief Master Sergeant). This man led. He did not lead by yelling and screaming. He led by example. He knew what it meant to lead. He also knew how to make one think and strive by his way of speaking. His speech that night had to do with choices.

Now the reason I bring this up in my throwback Thursday is that I cannot count the number of times in which I have quoted or given the gist of this speech. I know that I brought it up to my students at least once a year though I would think more like ten times a year. My scouts all over the world can most likely tell you what the speech was about and how I connected it to their own lives. I use it with colleagues. I USE it for myself almost each and every day. Now, I try to teach it to our daughter. She has had heard me refer to it on a number of occasions. She actually can repeat it back to me and does – several times. She may not totally understand it, but she will learn it is true as she grows.

This CMSgt informed the graduates and everyone else in the room that everything in a person’s life comes down to choices – almost all are made by him or her. All too often, we make choices but want to put the responsibility on others. He stressed that more than anything else our feelings and emotions are controlled by nobody but ourselves. The human brain is capable of a myriad of emotions. We are happy, sad, joyful, and indifference. We emote anger, jealousy, fear, and love. Not one of those emotions, according to this Chief, are things that others can make us feel. When we feel, we choose to feel. The decision may be based on how someone treats us, something happening, or actions of society. In the end, though, we all get to choose how we react. Nobody can make us mad. Friends cannot make us happy. Jealousy is something we invent. We are in control of our thoughts and feelings.

The same goes with our actions and place in life. While he understood that people sometimes have to choose things to survive, the choice to continue or move forward belongs to you. He went on to say that making a choice does not mean that life is going to be roses. Doing what one wants to do involves sacrifice, risk, and chance. It also means that you may find out that what you dreamed and what is aren’t the same. You may find out that your dreams don’t live up to your expectations. He talked that all too often people choose to stay put because it is easier. If that is the case, then complaints must be turned into the person in charge of the choices.

This man’s speech had a huge impact on me. I would like to think that I live up to what he taught me that night. However, I do know that I have chosen not to many times. As I mentioned earlier, I try to help our daughter to understand this line of thinking. She comes home upset or sad. We talk about her deciding to be that way. She tells me that she understands but that it is hard. And, much like the Chief said about his wife, you must be careful about using it too often with an 8 year-old for she will turn it against you. I have gotten angry with other drivers for cutting me off or running a stop sign. I mumble something and I hear a voice from the back.

“Daddy are you angry?”

“Yes. He just…..”

“Daddy did you choose to be angry?”

So on this throwback day, I throwback to a wonderful dinner surrounded by great friends and colleagues where I learned (or confirmed) one of the best lessons in the world.

 

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I’m sorry

Posted on January 14, 2016 by Bob Martin

CaptureI feel that I need to apologize to those who read my writings. Apparently I am using words that may confuse you or cause you to feel less than adequate to read my blog. It is either that or the proof reading program has decided people are too stupid to be able to read above a second grade level.

I had no idea that my love for words could be doing such damage to people. I can only imagine readers now walking around all day long depressed that my meanderings are stopping them from gaining a true understanding of where my thoughts go. I would feel even worse if I remove all of the complex words and dumb down my musings, and then readers grow in ire as they ponder why I need to use only monosyllabic words.

While I do write all of the above in jest, it makes me wonder about the people who code these programs. Do they feel that technology has gotten to the point that it can decipher how difficult the writing should be? Perhaps coders think that since people can only write in text-ease that actual words are no longer required.

I can remember when I was preparing my book for publication. All of the material I read told me to make sure I did not use a lot of extraneous words. I should use simple language. Make it easy for the reader. I couldn’t.

I grew up reading. I read everything. I idolized Sinclair, Steinbeck, Dickens, and the rest. They knew how to use words and weren’t afraid to challenge their readers. Many a time, I had to use a dictionary or thesaurus to gain the true meaning of the sentence. I learned how to read using context clues. I did not shy away from their writings because they took me to places I could never physically go. I travelled the world of my imagination. My vocabulary grew because those authors did not have a computerized proof reading program cautioning them about being too complex.

Sinclair, in The Jungle, wrote:

Here was a population, low-class and mostly foreign, hanging always on the verge of starvation, and dependent for its opportunities of life upon the whim of men every bit as brutal and unscrupulous as the old-time slave drivers; under such circumstances immorality was exactly as inevitable, and as prevalent, as it was under the system of chattel slavery. Things that were quite unspeakable went on there in the packing houses all the time, and were taken for granted by everybody; only they did not show, as in the old slavery times, because there was no difference in color between master and slave.

The proof reader would probably change it to:

There were a bunch of hungry people that worked for mean people. Bad things happened where they worked.

 

So while I will live the proof-reader on to check for spelling, I will smile every time it states a word or expression may be too complex. I will smile because I know that the reader will understand it. I will smile because I am not insulting readers by dumbing down my writing. I will smile because I am trying to keep my love for language alive. I am sorry that my proof-reader doesn’t believe in you as a reader, but know that I do.

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I waited.

Posted on January 13, 2016 by Bob Martin

I fe20160112_180614el the need to start by saying that this is not a religious posting. You will understand in a second.

 Anybody who knows me, knows that I am a man of my faith. I attend church, I pray with my family, and I teach confirmation classes. All the while, I try to not only attend my faith; I try to put it into practice. I teach our daughter and my confirmation students that faith is not just about believing; it is about acts. The two, faith and acts, go hand-in-hand. One needs the other. I teach them to go out and live their faith.

Now I promised that this was not a religious posting, and yet the prior paragraph, in its entirety, spoke of religion. Here is the turn. I try to practice what I preach, but I struggle with when it is okay to step in and do an act. The acts are done, not for glory or a pat on the back, but to quietly go about doing the works I am supposed to do. There are often times when I see an opportunity to ACT, but I stop. I do not stop out of laziness. I do not stop out of being two-faced. I stop because I am human. I stop due to my worries about what I am supposed to do.

This morning I had to stop at the local supermarket. I just needed a few things, and I had time while taking our daughter to school. We quickly gathered the four items – well three but who can resist splitting an Almond Joy at 6:40 in the morning. We went to the only open cashier and waited our turn. Ahead of us was a couple, perhaps about my age, maybe slightly younger, checking out. I had seen them in the aisles picking up groceries. You could tell that they were looking at prices. Now I stood behind them able to see their entire grocery list spread out on the conveyor belt before us. I did not see soda and junk food. I saw staples that a family would need to eat. I saw things that were marked down for quick sale. I saw nutrition on that belt.

The cashier rang them up. The bill came to $57.48. I was actually impressed on how much they were getting for that amount. I could overhear the conversation as the man pulled out his card. “I think we only have $40 left on this.” He handed it to the cashier to check. I could not see the card, but now I believe it was an EBT card. The cashier slid the card. The bill dropped to $17.48. The man had been correct. I waited…….. I hesitated.

I saw an opportunity to jump forward and tell the cashier that I would cover the rest. I stood. I wanted to do it, but something stopped me. The wife stated that she had the cash in her purse. She started searching the purse for money. I saw singles come out. I saw other items come out as she searched. The cashier looked at me with an apologetic look. I could read her eyes, “I am sorry that this is taking so long.” She did not do it to embarrass just trying to offer a little customer service. I saw that the wife kept adding to the pile with each pull. My hand moved for my wallet…..I waited. I hesitated.

Before I could make a decision, another employee had grabbed my items and told me to move to the next counter. I looked at my cashier. She looked at me. I think she knew what I wanted to do. Neither of us knew how to initiate the first step. I moved to the next counter.

In 3 minutes 14 seconds, I had been checked out, handed my receipt, given my items, and told to have a nice day. I waited. I hesitated. The woman was now counting out the 48 cents. We started walking out the door. The direction made it so we did not walk by the couple. After four steps, our daughter mentioned we had parked out the other door. We reversed and started in the other direction – past the original counter. The couple was now checking to make sure that they did have enough. I waited. I hesitated.

I heard an amount. Sighed and walked. The couple came out a minute later as I sat in my car just to ensure that they weren’t still counting or removing items. They had their full bags and moved on into their day. I waited. I hesitated. I became angry. Why? Why had I waited?

I have thought about this quite a bit throughout my day. I am not sure if this is an excuse or true reasoning. I waited because I did not know how to offer help. I so wanted to tell them to put the pile away, and I would cover the excess amount. But I was afraid. I was afraid of insulting the man. I was afraid that he would be embarrassed at not being able to provide for his family. I didn’t want him to have to accept a handout when he could do it. I worried more for his feelings than his family.

I spoke with a colleague. She informed me that she wouldn’t have waited. She actually paused when I explained my hesitation and said she never would have thought of that. I fear I have tainted her. Instead of my grabbing on to how she works, I may have muddied the waters.

I find it even more interesting that I commented on the fact that if it had been a woman by herself or with children, I wouldn’t have waited. It was because a man was present that I felt the need to wait – to hesitate. I do not believe that he would have been angry. I truly think he would have appreciated the help. But for some reason, we make it harder for men to accept help. We don’t want them to lose face. We hesitate.

This event made me stop and think. How many other times have I waited or anyone else for that matter. When have we let fears of feelings or anger stop us from doing the right thing. I don’t even limit this to helping someone buy groceries. How many times have we watched someone go off on a child – and waited? How many times have we had the chance to assist in some way, but hesitated?

I want to change. This does not mean that tomorrow I will wake to the sound of angels singing over my head. It does mean that maybe my wait will not last as long and I will get the courage to act. Perhaps, the change can start with those who read this as well. If we all start acting and stop waiting then perhaps it will not be as difficult for our daughter’s generation to act and not wait at all. Perhaps, she will never look back and ask, why did I wait?

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And The World Keeps Turning

Posted on January 12, 2016 by Bob Martin
Entrance to heaven, cloudscape over Oregon state and the Pacific Ocean, from Alaska Airlines jet, West Coast, USA from Flickr via Wylio

© 2013 Wonderlane, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio

I woke up this morning, January 11, 2016, to read that David Bowie died. I will admit that I was slightly taken aback since I had not seen anything on the tabloid covers while at the check out to indicate that he was ill. Out of nowhere, at least for me, he was gone. And the world continues to turn.

I am not trying to be sarcastic or uncaring with the last sentence of the opening paragraph. I am stating a fact. The world stayed on its normal orbit and did not slow one bit.

David Bowie was a good or great, depending on your taste, musician. I know that I liked his songs. I grew up with them. I was part of the discussion of who or what was David Bowie. He broke through barriers on many levels. I have embarrassed our daughter by singing “Major Tom” in front of her friends. I wait patiently to hear the Bowie/Crosby rendition of “Little Drummer Boy” each Christmas season. In my mind, there will never be a better performance of this song. As a matter of fact, I don’t even need the video. For some reason, I can remember being 12 and watching the original program being televised back in 1977. I fell in love with England that year. But now he is gone – and the world continues to turn.

Why do I keep repeating that? Well – it is true. It also says something about how star struck we have become as a society – not just in the U.S. but worldwide. We idolize stars, singers, and athletes and mourn their passing as if the world has ended. But…. the world continues to turn.

Today, other things happened. A good friend of mine lost his friend. This person, according to his postings, was not famous. He was a father, grandfather, friend, and biker. He loved life and people. People liked him. Now he, like Bowie, is gone. He will be mourned by a much smaller group of people, but he deserves to be mourned just the same. Possibly even more. I don’t know this man, and yet just from the few postings I have seen, he made a difference. His difference was not done through music or charity, but by his human interactions. In a way, I am saddened for the family for his loss is a shadow of Major Tom. Just the same, the world continues to turn.

I also read about the passing of a young girl to cancer. She fought valiantly but cancer won once again. Her family speaks of how much she taught them and others. She did not give up. She did not wish the pain to go on to another. She accepted her pain and fought it. She tried to stay longer, but life had other plans for her. Today, her family mourned her. A song has been written about her. Stories have been told. She touched lives in the way she lived. The world continues to turn.

All three lives mattered. All three lives deserve to be celebrated. All three lives deserve to be just as important as the other. Each day we lose people. We lose fireman, policemen, doctors, nurses, teachers, cooks, custodians, members of the armed services, mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters. Few live the lives that the news deems worthy enough to mention (unless the death occurs in an interesting way). In through it all, the world continues to turn.

I would like to think that, in a way, when we mourn for a “star” we are also mourning for all the others. We are not mourning the person himself or herself, but we are mourning for what they stood for and what they did. We are mourning for the same characteristics that the school crossing guard exhibited but people did not mourn. We are mourning for the music that they gave us whether it be in actual notes or the song of a person’s voice greeting you as they serve your lunch. I want to believe that the mourning is not because we care more about the celebrities, but it is because we did not get a chance to know those others – those who keep the world turning.

So Rest in Peace, David Bowie; Rest in Peace, Bob Ward; Rest in Peace, Natalia Garcia; Rest in Peace, John Whittet. May you all now be floating:

 

Far above the Moon

Planet Earth is blue

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First Date

Posted on January 10, 2016 by Bob Martin

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Yesterday evening I prepared to go out on a date. I was nervous. I wanted everything to be perfect. I went and took a shower. When I came out, I found my clothes set out on the bed. My slacks, shirt, tie, and shoes had been selected for me. My best cologne sat on the table. Everything had to be just right.

I have been on dates before, but this was a first date. This was no ordinary first date. I had the pleasure of taking our daughter to her first (formal) dance. This first date was unlike any other first date. When I was single, a first date was about making a good enough impression to get a second date. The second date allowed for corrections from the first. There was no second for this one. This dance would be the dance she would hold in her memories forever. I wanted this to be something that would bring a smile to her on those days in the future when I am longer here to hold her hand.

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The time came for us to meet. I held the corsage in my hand – I hoped she would like it. She came out of her room in a beautiful, white dress with black sweater. She smiled when she saw me. She liked her selection of wardrobe for me. I placed the corsage on her wrist and we took pictures. We departed for the dance.

The dance hall looked like a welcoming winter scene. We entered under a silver, white, and blue balloon arch between two white trees. Snow blew out at you as you entered the door. The hall had snowflakes, trees, white deer, big and small snowmen, and other items to make you think winter. The Girl Scout leaders, including my wife Nancy, did a marvelous job.

The music started and the dancing began. The night saw dads of all ages dancing with their daughters. I approached my date. We took hands and started moving to the music. She stepped up on my toes and let out a little giggle. We moved about the dance floor. We were the only ones there, at least that we noticed or cared. The song had a country sound to it. A man sang/spoke words describing his daughter growing up. It started with a description of him dancing with his daughter. Soon a boyfriend came into the picture and then she was walking down the aisle. Both a great and horrible song to play for Dads dancing with their daughters.

The night went on to include many dances. The girls danced with each other, the danced in groups, pictures were taken, and memories were made. Over a hundred young ladies, all dressed like princesses, danced the night away. With each note, I knew that this night was flying by and her first dance would soon come to an end.

An Adele song came on to allow for those moments once again. This time the stepping on shoes would not be enough. I lifted her. I brought her even with my eyes. I could see the smile, I could see the sparkle in her eye. Happiness was all over her face. She was making memories for herself. I held her. I stared at her face, and I prayed. I prayed that years from now, when I can no longer dance with her, when I am no longer here to hold her hand, I prayed that this would be one of the things she remembers. I pray that it is not the toughness I showed to get her through homework or other issues that comes back to her mind. I wish that this night is one of the things that comes to her mind.

The night is over. We go back through the parking lot to the car. Things in the hall are already being torn down. The winter wonderland has melted, and we return to the real world. All the way home, she talks about the night and what she loved about it. The list is long.

While the above is beautiful it is not quite reality. The hall was beautiful as were the young princesses. The calmness was a little bit not so calm. The dance was actually filled with little girls running around with their friends squealing with delight. Dads were sitting along the side waiting for their time to dance. Some dads tried getting the girls to dance old school styles with them. It was loud, but it was amazing. However, even amidst all of this chaos there were moments. Those times, as presented, when my daughter came to me to dance. She walked over, she took my hand, and the world stopped.

So no, this dance was nothing like those you see in movies from the 50s. It was better. It was great.

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Dance Little Balloon – Dance

Posted on January 9, 2016 by Bob Martin

balloonMylar balloons are cool little creatures. Well, they are as long as you don’t let them free to roam the world and bump into transformers. These items are much more than shiny metallic items filled with a gas that is lighter than air. If allowed to be free, it can become a playmate, a cat toy, a free dancing soul.

Though she is eight, most nights one of us will still go in with her and talk, read, or sit until she falls off to sleep. These moments are times to which I look forward. I get to find out what is happening in this little second graders life. However, there are nights when we ask her, or she offers, to go on her own. Since she doesn’t like being on her own or the dark, there are certain items needed for her to go on her own. She turns on the radio and needs lights on. We have yet to remove the Christmas decorations so there is still a string of lights in her room. Those lights kept the monsters away last night. It actually bathes her room in wonderful colors.

Last night I turned into the hallway to check on our little one. The Christmas lights aglow, the room filled with blue, red, yellow, and green. Then my eye caught it. A movement. Something dancing in the room. A star. A blue Mylar balloon that is now only partially filled with helium. Aged, losing its bounce, no longer the beauty it was when we bought it. But it was dancing none the less.

We purchased the balloon on New Year’s Eve – a big, bright, taut, blue star. Helium filled every inch of it. Yet, it was not much fun. It was aloof. The balloon soared as high as the ceiling allowed it to go. We pulled on the string to bring it close to us. We tried to make it part of the family. It stayed as long as we held it. However, as soon as our grasp loosened off it would fly.

Now the balloon is older. To us, it is still just as beautiful as the first day we brought it home. Others might question why we still have it. However, age has changed the balloon. It still floats, but it does not search for the heights. It hangs with us. We can now play with the balloon. It follows our daughter when the wind current is just right. It allows Kia, our cat, to play with its string. It wants to be part of us. Last night, as I peaked in on our daughter, the balloon danced around her bed (okay – the movement of the air coming out of the heater caused it to dance).The balloon acted as if it wanted to play more. Perhaps, it sensed that its time was short.

I thought long of the balloon last night. How much it can be used to represent life. Young people want to fly, soar, and float on their own. It takes time for them to want to be hanging at a level with the rest of the family. As people age, they start to realize that being with the ones who love them is the most important thing. They then seek to spend as much time with their loved ones as possible before the air inside is no longer.

Balloons are interesting. They can teach us so much.

Just FYI. The balloon came bouncing into the living room this morning. It is closer to the floor, but it is not willing to stop floating just yet.

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$700 MILLION!!

Posted on January 8, 2016 by Bob Martin

$700 million. Wow. That is a ton of money – okay, I am not sure how much it weighs, but it would be a lot. That is the current listed amount for this coming drawing for the lottery. Trying to wrap my head around that number is crazy. So, I will make it an easier number with which to work. If the winner takes the cash value, he/she would receive $428.4 million. If the winner choices payments then the number goes to $24.1 million. Let’s make it a smaller number since the government will take their cut. By current estimations the full pot would be approximately $257 million or annually at $14.5 million. Oh yes, those numbers are much easier for my brain.

How many readers have thought about that check being written out with their name on the Pay To: line? What would you do with it? How would it change your life? Would it be worth the price your life would pay? I recently had lunch with a dear friend, and we discussed this topic. The one thing about being a person who likes to write is that your brain runs through so many different scenarios and outcomes.

Of course the first thing that comes to mind is how I would break the news to my employers that my services would no longer be required. In my head, I believe that I am such a nice person that I would work through the rest of the school year. I walk around with my head held high knowing that I would finish off all of my current responsibilities. The money would not alter my work ethic. Honest – it wouldn’t.

My imagine also puts me working every day, after leaving the office, on my writings and being able to author a number of books. It is amazing. Winning the lottery turns me into a Pulitzer prized winning author. The money must be magical.

Next I start planning out the living arrangements. The house changes size and location with every passing moment. I think of us staying in the same place, staying in the same city but a different house, moving into Burbank so my daughter is closer to her friends, and finding a place totally off the grid and with no mailing address. It all depends on the time of day, what has happened, what I am doing, how much I don’t like people, and other factors when my thoughts wander.

Finally I think about how we can help out others. I think of our families and how to divide up the winnings. I think of current charities and creating a charity or two to help people. I think of how difficult it would be to manage such things and decide to hire somebody. Hey, that is a win-win. We would be helping a lot of people while at the same time giving somebody a full time job.

I think of so many things. Then I talk to my daughter and I hang my head.

My little one went with me before the New Year to buy some tickets. She asked why we were buying a ticket. I tried to explain what the lottery is and how it works. Her eyes lit up. I THOUGHT I could sense her dreams running through her head.

I asked her if she would want to move. At first she said yes. Then she thought about it and didn’t want to lose her friends across the street. Then I heard a gasp. I prepared for the list of things she would want.

“Daddy. We could help so many people in the community. We can give food to the homeless and build them homes. We could buy clothes for children. We can buy things for my school. We can help so many people.”

Not once did she talk about buying things for herself. She didn’t want toys, games, or even – the one thing she always talks about – a cell phone. This eight year-old only thought about how such money could be used for good. I smiled on the outside, I shrank on the inside. My daughter is a better person than I am.

So tomorrow, or today depending on when you read this, we will be going out and buying our chance at luck. We will hope for a win. And………if by chance we win, we will help people. Of course we will enjoy life, but we will take the attitude of our daughter and make sure some good could come from this.

Oh yeah. She still won’t get a cell phone, but she will get some toys.

 

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