When One Door Closes Hold Another One Open

In February, I attended a performance of the New Haven Symphony Orchestra at Yale's Woolsey Hall (above). Woosley Hall is a beautiful venue with an amazing painted ceiling, an amazing pipe organ, an amazing rotunda. (It also happens to house one of Yale's dining halls, which looks exactly like Hogwarts' dining hall. But I digress.)

It also has several beautiful but heavy entrance doors around the curved facade. In mild weather these are often propped open. But, as you may recall, this past winter in Connecticut wasn't what you would call "mild". I had met friends for a pre-concert dinner and we rushed inside together, entering a warm lobby full or people dressed in layers. We began unwrapping our scarves from around our faces and unbuttoning our heavy winter coats, glad to be indoors.

I turned and faced the entrance doors to watch for another friend. And I saw that, like us, people were rushing into the warmth as fast as they could and as far away from the doors as possible, letting them slam behind them. Then I noticed a tiny, elderly man in a long black coat with snow on his shoulders. He was struggling to hold open one of the thick, heavy wood and metal doors, (seriously, they're like a bank vault). It was obvious he was on the losing end of the struggle. I dashed back to the doorway and held the door open by leaning into it and letting him pass. He declined and I saw that behind him was his posse - they had just disembarked from a bus from an assisted living center and were waiting for this one poor guy, I think they called him "Muscles", to hold the door open for all of them. There was about a half dozen in their group, of an average age of 85, and almost every one had a walker, a cane, or two, or a wheelchair that had been tilted into a wheelie and rolled up the shallow steps. No one in the group was moving fast. But all around them were young people and older people, walking straight and upright and fast into the doors (including the one I was holding), flowing around them like a stream around a rock.

All of this happened in a matter of a minute, of course. But it left an impression on me. I had a short but illustrious career as a companion to an elderly client in a nursing facility when I needed a second job a couple of years ago. The few hours a week I spent in that facility gave me empathy and insight into the life of the elderly that I never had before. I learned how difficult it is maneuver a walker or a wheelchair for a nurse, let alone the patient. I learned that patience is a virtue because few of us move as fast when we are that old, by choice or not. I learned that it was easy to pass over an older person as slow and in the way, forgetting that - if you are lucky - you will be there someday. I have done it, many of you have, too.

So I got out of the way, held the door, and stuck an arm out to stop the flow of the stream. The stream diverted to another door without hesitation. I stood in the wind and swirling snowflakes against the door as "Muscles", leading his wife by the arm, and his posse moved into the rotunda. Another man pushed a woman's wheelchair, others moved walkers over the door sill. They each thanked me as they passed. My response was no problem, happy to do it, but my teeth were chattering so I'm not sure how it came out.

About 30 seconds later we were all inside and I rejoined my friends, three gentleman who said "where did you go?"

Reasons Angry Ostriches Kiss

Right now you are saying - "ok, she's finally lost it with the blog titles!" But stay with me, peeps, there's a point!

When the unthinkable happened in Newtown, CT it affected so many people outside that small town in a small or large way. Like after 9/11, many people had the urge to do something, ANYTHING, to make this all mean something. To make some of the pain, the confusion go away. To balance the evil left in it's wake with a saturation of good back into the world.

When Ann Curry of NBC suggested on air that we do 26 acts of kindnes in their memory, a modern movement was born. But really, it was born again. We have been seeing something along these lines on bumper stickers since c.1983. Possibly inspired by a woman named Anne Herbert who says she scribbled "Perform random kindness and senseless acts of beauty" on a placemat in California around that time and it took off in the public psyche from there. Thirty years later, it has become a touchstone for making society a happier, friendlier, more connected place.

Which is why I was amazed when a writer/musician friend referred to a comment I made on Facebook page asking what RAOK stood for? I thought he was kidding. So did the person who's page I commented on. He claimed that his was not an abbreviating family, at which I LMAO and told him he should tell the truth ASAP, IMHO. He began guessing, starting with - you got it - Reasons Angry Ostriches Kiss.

So, this post is for him and for everyone else who's pulse is not on the "newspeak"* of social media. 

The reason angry ostriches kiss, Anthony, is because someone came along and practiced a Random Act Of Kindness that made them forgive and forget. And that is a good thing. Kindness - maybe planned on my end but random for the recipient - is supposed to have just that effect. A brightening of someone's day. 

As you know, I kicked off my challenge with acts of kindness dedicated to the victims of Sandy Hook School including tags, ribbons, names and a bit of an itinerary. But I am still doing them, because they are good to do. it doesn't require money, fancy packaging, pre-planning. It can...but it doesn't have to. They make me feel good. They make the recipient feel good. They make the people around the recipient who witness it feel good. 

My next post will be about some RAOKs that I have performed since the beginning of my challenge, spontaneous and not. Stay tuned...and please share any RAOKs you have done.


*1984 by George Orwell, who, thanks to the invention of social media, wasn't too far off.

Photo credit: lalosleft shoe on 5/10/12, taken at Denver Zoo http://lalosleftshoe.deviantart.com/

The Procrastinators Club Meeting Has Been Delayed...But I'm Not Going

Procrastination. It is a slippery slope paved with good intentions. And good intentions are, apparently, very slick.

When I started this project, I warned you – regular blogging is a challenge for me. (First defense of a serial procrastinator – blame others!) No, really, it started before there were blogs. Cleaning out my childhood room after I married, I found a whole box of diaries and journals with an entry every day for a week, then every week, then several months, then nothing. For someone who dreamed of being a writer, I didn't do much recording of my life!

A blog is public, though. People expect the next installment. (At least, I hope they do!) When I was in marketing and had to consider bloggers for advertising, my first move was to see how frequently they post and dismissed those who faded away or post randomly. Ah, karma.

I don’t procrastinate in my professional life. I meet deadlines and reach goals as a point of pride. I can use lots of excuses about my personal time – I’m looking for a job, I’m busy with charitable committees, I have two teenagers home for the summer who need me (ok, maybe not need). I have a household to run, community commitments, Facebook posts are easier,blah blah blah.  So, don’t we all? Excuses don’t help me encourage others to join me in charitable works, do they? And that was my goal.

This, for me, is about fear. Not laziness or lack of commitment. It's about an unwillingness to just post SOMETHING, an update, a paragraph, because the gentle readers might think less of me. (No one passes judgment on me better than me.) I missed one week and suddenly I thought I had broken a "perfect" pattern that I had to correct, which led to a second week missed until I could do it "right", and that led to writer's block and a freezing of my typing fingers. The good news is, it’s not too late to catch up! The charitable acts did not fade away, have never stopped and continue to grow. I have plenty of good things and people and groups to write about. 

Marla Cilley, aka the Flylady, is a free online mentor to people who take on too much and overwhelm themselves with their household, their family and social commitments and end up putting things off until it is a bigger deal than it has to be. She encourages her “Flybabies” to have routines, “DO IT NOW!”, jump in where you are and take baby steps. She explains that procrastination can come from a kind of perfectionism – "if I can’t do it exactly right, all at once, perfectly, I will put it off until I can", and that time never comes. I am definitely in this club. But that approach is often unrealistic. Taking a small step, breaking a project into manageable pieces – that avoids the feeling of being overwhelmed. One of her suggestions is making Wednesday “Anti-Procrastination Day” and doing something, anything you have put off. It can be scary or tedious at first, but once it is done it feels SO much better. And here it is, Wednesday.

So here I am, jumping back in with both feet. Taking a baby step. This project is a positive one; I refuse to allow myself to create guilty or negative feelings about it! Yes, it’s my project, my rules, and nothing has stopped the charity activities. I set out to challenge myself in all aspects of this project and sliding down that slope is easier than climbing up the hill. But the summit is a better view.

Please forgive me for my absence on the blog and calendar. I have a plan, a routine and baby steps and you will be seeing much more than just Facebook posts for the rest of the year. There are still 192 days left in my 45^th year and I hope you will continue to join me in making them great days for people who need a helping hand.