Puzzle Piece

I was down with Chris at the Cancer Center at University Hospital last week.  He is getting the second of three cyber knife treatments.

The Cancer Center is an amazing place.  You will be sitting there and a Dad and his 8 year old kid will walk out of treatment area both bald and looking like hell and you are not sure who is the patient.  But you know that one of them is bald and does not have to be and they are hanging on to each other hands like there is no tomorrow.  People have life changing discussions about upcoming treatments and prognosis in the most matter of fact way that you can.   It is a humbling place because what ever you thought was a problem in your life becomes pretty insignificant. 

So when Chris goes in, I sit at a table with a puzzle on it that I was working on from last time.  After a short couple of minutes, I get a tap on the shoulder and a lady asks me if she can help me.   I tell her of course and pull up a chair for her.  She is engaging and a talker.  I do more listening than talking but I genuinely enjoy her company.  We are both nervous and it gives us a brief opportunity to not be in a waiting room in a Cancer Center.

As we are talking an older guy who is patient comes over and reaches between us (there are only about 15 puzzle pieces left) and he picks one up and goes back to his seat.  For me, anyone sitting in that waiting area has an automatic pass.  If he had elected to tip the table over, I would have quietly picked up the pieces and put them back in the box.  The lady I was with paused for a minute and then went right back to our conversation.  After a couple of minutes he old guys says "Aren't you going to ask me why I did that?"  He is grinning away and you cannot help but smile back at him.   I ask him why he did it and he said he always wanted to put the last piece of a puzzle in place.  He walks back over, looks at the board and puts the piece in the area that it looks like it belongs in, laughs again and sits down.

We get down to the last three pieces and the lady stops talking, winks at me and picks up a piece and walks over and hands it to the old guy.  He looks up at her and then the puzzle and says "really?".   And she says, yea, put the last piece in.

So the guy is beaming and he gets up puts in the last puzzle piece, puts his hands on his hips and he is beaming and he looks at us both and says 'thank you very much"

And for a brief minute all three of us are not in the waiting room at the Cancer Center at University Hospital.

It did not cure anyone, but it was a small moment of grace in a sea of crap that made a huge difference.   A life well lived is a collection of a lot of small moments of grace that are given and received.  It is equally important that you are able to receive them as well as give them.

Love Dad

A good job

You are at a time in your life when a lot of well meaning people will tell you what constitutes success in the area's of:

-Jobs
-Career
-Relationships
-Continuing Education
-Where you live
-Who you live with

Is is really as simple as doing what you love and doing the things that matter the most to you. 

The best possible outcome is that what you love and what matters to the most to you will grow and evolve as you learn more about everyone and everything around you.  That is a well lived life.

Love Dad

Big Feet

This is one that I have been meaning to write for some time.

In the FD, you never could determine ahead of time what kind of things would stick with you and which ones would not.  I have seen a wide variety of things and people in disrepair and I have yet to determine why some have faded from my memory and why some have not. 

It is not what you would think.  I have seen graphic traumatic injuries, impossible to describe here that did not linger in my memory.  Some have, but it is a very small percentage.  It is the everyday things in circumstances that are so far removed from everyday and normal that tend to stick.  When it rains and the pavement has been hot, I always seem to remember the young kid with big feet that died in an accident on Fathers Day.  You were little and I got home that morning before you woke up and just managed to get in bed before you woke up.  When you were running in with badly wrapped presents and busting out with smiles, I was having one of the best mornings of my life.  In another world, the Dad of the kid with the big feet was having the worst morning of his life. 

On days like that you have to make a conscious effort to not carry a weight that you are not supposed to carry.  And like a lot of things, those things that are of great impact to you, the whole thing may not really translate well to people that are outside your particular line of work.  This also extends to the people to the people who love you the most.  Somethings that impact you simply will not translate because other people cannot (despite their best efforts ) walk a mile in your shoes. 

This is a life lesson that applies to both of you.  There are events in your lives that will impact you to a large degree, things that will move and hurt your heart.  And despite our best efforts we will remain unaware of the impact to you.  And you certainly know how much you are loved.  Some things will escape even your significant other and it is not for a lack of love or trying.  They are weights that you have to make conscious efforts not to carry.  They will get lighter because you will talk to people who understand what it is to be in your shoes and it might not be the people who love you the most.  Talking about them deflates those big things to manageable bites of color that give you depth of character.  Never ignore them or suck it up and try to ride it out.  Embrace and deal with them, they will give you strength and character.

Never did tell mom the whole story of the kid with the big feet on Fathers Day.  Even now it does not translate well.  I don't carry the weight of the kid with big feet but I have not forgotten him.  He is part of my strength and character.  If you need to carry weight, they should be round black disks connected to a silver bar in a gym.

Don't forget to call mom for no reason whatsoever.

Love Dad

Abhorrent Behavior

I went to a class in the FD about workplace violence.  In almost every case, the people who worked closely with or knew the person (who committed the crime - the bad guy) said they could not believe that person was capable of doing such horrible things.

When they interviewed these people in depth, a different picture emerged.  The bad guy that everyone thought was harmless, had a series of escalating behaviors that people just disregarded.  The bad guy would make what people thought were harmless threats and people laughed at him.  They just said oh that is just him/her don't pay attention.  The bad guy would be at work at weird times (very early and late) and he started to dress strangely (a winter coat in the middle of summer).  He was the weird guy at work.  There is one in almost every workplace. 

This is real story.  It turns out the guy started toying with the idea of hurting or killing his co workers.  His escalating behavior was his way of testing the waters.  The last thing he did before actually shooting people was some test runs of bringing guns to work and seeing if he would get caught (winter coat in middle of summer).  He shot 4 people at his office.

The truth of things is that we all accept abhorrent behavior from people.  How do you get used to or accept abhorrent behavior?   The answer is so simple it is painful.  Simple repetition works all of the time.  People who abuse drugs or alcohol are adept at getting anyone to accept truly abhorrent behavior.  It is incremental, the person who throws up, passes out, has blackouts, or does really crappy, offensive things while under the influence does it repeatedly.  It gets incrementally worse and it gets harder to see that the more you are around it.  The worst part is that anyone can come to accept that as part of who the person is.  It stops being abhorrent and it just becomes a pain in the ass.  It is part of who they are.  It should NEVER stop being abhorrent.  Trust the voice in your head that tells you how abhorrent it is.

There are people in my life that I have had to walk away from.  You simply cannot threaten, cajole, or convince a hard core drug or alcohol user to stop.  Hard core users need reasons to stop that come from inside of themselves and they need the help of a professional.  You cannot stop or slow the decline for them.  You simply become a witness to a tragedy.  These people need a tragedy and they will always find someone to witness their self destruction.  For reasons I will never understand, people who are self destructive need people to witness them doing it.   

So what do you do?  You walk away and you don't look back.  And another hard truth is that while you are feeling crappy for doing that, they will be plugging someone else into your spot.  They will not feel bad at all, they will find another person to fill that need for a tragedy witness.

Some bridges need to be burned, so that person does not have the ability to follow you and suck more life out of you.  Give your life and love to the people who want to give the same to you.  These bottom feeders need you for a reason that has nothing to do with life or love.

Love Dad



 

Awkward

I remember when your mom first asked me to meet her father and extended family.  I was at first flattered but that gave way very quickly to an overwhelming feeling of dread.  People tend to either like me right away or think something is wrong with me.

When she started to introduce me to the important people in her life, she took a huge leap of faith.  You don't want people close to you to think the person you are hanging out with is wrong for you.  When you start those introductions, you expose yourself and that other person to scrutiny that you may not normally welcome.  Family, friends, and extended family are coincidentally those people who can really hurt your feelings because they have known you so long.  These are the people who really know how to hurt your feelings.

It is a part of having a new significant relationship that is a complete but necessary pain in the ass.

I first really met her Dad when I was putting in a flagstone walk at her house.  I shook his hand and while I was working made small talk so we could break the ice with each other.  About 10 minutes into small talk he asked what my intentions were regarding your mom.  It was like trying to open a window slowly and having someone opening the same window with a large brick.  After that uncomfortable pause (for me, not him) I told him that I liked her a lot and we were both figuring out where this was going to go.  He told me that I must be serious about her because I was putting in flagstone for her.  I repeated the same thing and your mom manged to come over and save me.  She was adept then (and now) at keeping me from falling in large holes that are hell to get out of. 

Meeting her older brothers and sisters for the first couple of times was a lot worse.  Her brothers and sisters were welcoming but regarded me with a healthy suspicion.  Nothing is more awkward than to be at a family or friend gathering and being the new guy.  Trying to participate and be part of conversation is like jumping rope with razor blades.  You can get chopped up to bits if you jump in at the wrong time. Your mom's brothers and sister had a sense of humor much like your mom and were OK with letting me sweat a little.  In their eyes, she was worth it.  Now that both of you are old enough to bring that person over, I understand (and appreciate) why they would have made me work for your mom.

Of course if I had stopped to realize that the one thing I had in common with them from the start was a deep and abiding love of your mom, all of those first awkward first meetings/holidays/occasions would have went much smoother for both of us.   Damn Occum and his razor for coming into my life so late. 

Love Dad

The worst thing I ever saw

I get asked from time to time what is the worst thing that I ever saw as a firefighter.  It is the kind of question that I never could answer very well.  It is impossible to describe a graphic traumatic injury and give it the appropriate amount of weight.  These traumatic injuries assault all of your senses at once in a way in a way that nothing else does.   It always seems that the worst of these incidents started with a person who made some incredibly bad decisions to start the chain of events.

The sense of fair play, what is right and what is wrong can be tossed out of the window in the blink of an eye.  Everyone finds there sense of balance in a different way.  It can become harder to do because we have preconceived notions about how we are supposed to process this kind of information. Note here that stiff upper lips and trying to sort it out on your own is the wrong thing to do every time.   Too many people love you for you have to do that.  People who believe they are unloved are self absorbed an ignoring the people who do love them.

There is a Yin and Yang aspect to almost everything.    Yin and Yang are the things that appear opposite to each other but are interrelated to each other (a shadow cannot exist without light).  This is true in all aspects of your life.  I found it especially true in the FD.


The day our engine crew was on the scene of an fatal accident involving a semi truck and bicyclist, there was two very distinct aspects to that day.  A very tough scene to manage and work through.  But along with that was a humbling display of courage by people whose lives changed in an agonizing instant that day.  Human beings have an amazing will to live and take care of each other when everything in their immediate lives goes to hell.  For me the quiet, selfless courage that people display under the worst case scenario affirms every good thing I believe about people.  You always have a choice on what you choose to see when things get bumpy.

People grieve, their hearts break, and it is not always fair but they keep pressing on for each other, that is the best of who everyone is. 

By the way the worst thing I ever saw as a firefighter was a mother crying at the loss of her son.

Love Dad

Force and Detail

You both were very stubborn and very curious as kids.

I still remember when (names withheld by request) getting you dressed was a 90 minute ordeal.  You just refused to wear the clothes that we tried to put on you.  It did not really matter if it was a dress (hint on who this was), pants, shorts, or God Forbid - shoes of any description.  After wrestling with you for an hour to get clothes on you and your hair brushed, the first minute we walked out of the room you took all of your clothes off.   The day it all came to a head, was an epic 2 hour battle to get you dressed.  It was so frustrating that day we had to take a break.   Sitting at the table we were planing our next strategy on how to trick, convince, or coerce you into clothes.   After settling on a plan we walked into your room prepared for battle and there you sat on the floor dressed like a circus clown.  Every piece of your clothing was a different color and on backwards and you were beaming.  From that point on you had a lot of latitude in what you wore and going places was a lot easier.  You always have had boundaries, but forcing you to wear cute matching outfits was never high on the list.  A side note, a lot of people who saw you then did not think there was anything wrong with you, they just assumed that something was wrong with us as parents because we dressed you like that.  Having a happy, really badly dressed kid was better choice than the alternative. 

When ever you force anyone to do something, you will always get the bare minimum results back.  That universal role extends to family, loved ones, work associates, and random strangers. 

I also remember (again names withheld by request) when you were sitting in your room in front of a large garden level window.  Your sister was out in the yard (hint on who this was) and I was sitting in your room with you.  You pointed to the window, broke out in a big grin and wobbled over to the window. I patiently explained the whole window thing and how you should not have lean on, push, or kick the window because it would hurt you.  You looked up at me and I was thinking I am a damn good Dad because I took all that time and explained it to you and I was sure by the look in your eyes that you understood completely.  I leave the room and was going to tell your mom what a great dad I was when I heard glass breaking in the room I just left you in.  My heart fell out of my chest.  We both ran back in the room and the glass in the window was broken, cracks from the center to the outer edges of the window.  I realized that I neglected to mention not to attempt to open the window with your forehead.  You were unharmed, I removed a small pin drop of glass from your forehead.  That was hard to do because you were laughing your ass off.  For reference this is the equivalent of watching a high speed car wreck happen in front of you and the driver stepping out of his car laughing.

More detail is not always the right thing.  The more detail the more limiting something becomes.  I realized after I spoke to you in your room your pea head only processed the first 4 or 5 words I said.  Remember the Occum's Razor rule.

Love Dad