Being a Somewhere Man

My older sister is a wonderful person. Aside from enduring her reign as my official babysitter from ages 0 to 10, she has taught me many useful things. Number one on my list of Most Useful Lessons Taught to Me by My Older Sister is this simple truth: Life is better with the Beatles. Boy howdy, did she love the Beatles! Everywhere she was, the Beatles were there, too. In her room, in the car, in the kitchen, on her Walkman . . . it was like Big Brother Beatle was always watching. I don’t think anyone cried harder than she did the night George Harrison passed away, just nine days after my sister’s 17th birthday. As years went on and I advanced from 1st to 2nd to 3rd grade, the inevitable finally happened, and soon enough I felt a tapping in my toe and a prickling in my ear that made me want to twist and shout. I loved the Beatles! I fell in love with their charm, their music, and those funny accents. I started having 8-year-old daydreams of sitting in Shea Stadium in 1965 and being swarmed by an army of screaming teenage girls. This is when I learned that life is getting better all the time (especially when you have a slight man crush on Paul McCartney).

Fast forward a few years to present, and I’m still learning from the Beatles. Take this song for example: “Nowhere Man.” What wisdom! Oh, wait, you don’t know the lyrics? Well, give this a listen and  you’ll get it pretty quick . . .

P.S. If you want a really trippy experience, click here to see the song as it appears in the Yellow Submarine, the late 60s nightmare cartoon. I said I learned from the Beatles, I never said I emulated them.

Silhouettes of Service #3: Millie

Back again with another fantastic person to tell you all about. But first, if you aren’t familiar with how this works then I invite you to check out this post to help you get things sorted out.

Millie

So this is how it all happened. Actually, before I begin, I feel it appropriate to share some of my thoughts of gratitude, with the holidays surrounding us and all. I am grateful for the opportunity that America provides me to be able to order a plate of delicious pancakes with a steaming cup of hot chocolate in the wee hours of the morning. What a blessing this is in my life! I can’t think of anything more important to the life of a student than being able to access food when time is actually made available, typically beyond the hour of 11:30 p.m. Needless to say I find myself at IHOP on a semi-consistent basis. A few weeks ago I walked into IHOP, accompanied by a friend, and absolutely famished. I had just been released from a late evening class and hadn’t eaten anything worth mentioning all day. We were seated and were told our waitress would be with us shortly. Sure enough, she came and we placed our order. Nothing spectacular happened, but through the course of our meal we were consistently greeted and checked-up on by a smiling face and personality that was way too happy for 10:56 p.m. We finished our food and left. A few weeks later I found myself in the same IHOP, around the same time (no shame), but this time we were told our waitress would be with us shortly, only to find out that this meant 15 minutes of waiting with no contact from anyone in blue. Finally, a waitress approached us cautiously and asked if we had been helped. “No,” we replied. “Oh my goodness,” she said, “you aren’t my assignment but I’ll take care of you anyway. What can I get you?” The name was Millie and she was the same waitress we had enjoyed before. All we had come for was some absolutely delicious all-you-can-drink hot chocolate, and she sure took care of it lickety-split. (I won’t mention her generosity when the check came . . .)

Fast forward a week and a half and you will see me yet again sitting in IHOP at the same hour (still no shame), only this time I had specifically requested a dish that wasn’t on the menu, you know, one of those old-timey diner kind of orders. It must have been my school-induced fatigue but I was really craving Eggs Benedict, and I wouldn’t take pancakes for an answer. Millie was there in a flash to make sure things were made just how I asked for them, and sure enough I was treated to a mighty fine plate of scrumptious good eats. Whether or not the cook was pleased is debatable, but I was certainly satisfied not only with my food and service, but with my entire experience. It made my entire day a little brighter to be greeted and served by a warm-hearted and generous waitress who was more fun and caring than anyone else I’ve seen after midnight. The world has simply not produced a satisfactory substitute for good, old-fashioned, look-you-in-the-eye-with-a-smile service.

Thanks Millie! You have made me a loyal fan of wonderful people who care enough to give their best. Not to mention I think you work at the best restaurant in America.

Fantastic people are all around us, and we’d love to hear about them. If you would like to share the experience you have the next time you meet someone who goes above and beyond, then follow this link for submission details.

The Great Secret

A few days ago I sat down to watch what I thought was a time-honored and personal favorite musical of mine–My Fair Lady. Turns out my memory regarding this movie had taken a 10 year hiatus because it certainly wasn’t the movie I remembered. I should have guessed my memory hadn’t been serving me well when I got up to leave once the movie had finished, only to find out that what I thought was the ending credit roll was only the intermission. All that aside, it was a decent experience. If you like musicals, that is. You may or may not recall the leading man, Professor Henry Higgins, as a brutish and egotistical character who experiences a “change of heart” (if you can call it that). Amidst the unpleasant strings of insults hurled at his pupil, he does make this fairly insightful comment: “You see, the great secret, Eliza, is not a question of good manners or bad manners, or any particular sort of manners, but having the same manners for all human souls.” *Ironically, this statement is quickly followed by yet another insult, so we’ll just pretend that this was a noble declaration meant to stand alone.*

Manners and etiquette. Old fashioned? Out of date? Reserved for the upper middle class and beyond? No one seems to notice or care, so why even bother? Perhaps you can argue that manners build a fabricated facade which wrongfully stifles the true feelings of an individual. Whatever the argument against manners may be, I boldly declare that it falls flat in comparison to any argument for the institution of manners. I promise that there is room enough in your vocabulary for “please” and “thank you,” and moreover that the world is in desperate need of as many “pleases” and “thank yous” as it can get.

I feel that a flawed conception surrounding the world of manners and etiquette is that their silly rules and guidelines only achieve an uppity, “holier than thou” attitude, as if they are devised to place someone above another. But let this be the most emphatic point I make on the subject: What it really boils down to is this simple equation . . .

Silhouettes of Service #2: Jan Cragun

Perhaps it’s been a few weeks, but hopefully you remember our first tribute to one of many people who give outstanding service and aren’t afraid to just be great. If you don’t remember, or are completely new to such a novel idea, feel free to click on this. You also might remember that I asked for you to pay a little more attention to those fantastic people around you and then to honor them by sending in a short recap of your experience. Thanks for responding! Here is an experience recorded by Dillon Boss honoring none other than . . .

Jan Cragun

Says Dillon:

“Being a college student can be a pretty wild ride, and sometimes we need a helping hand to keep ourselves grounded, right? Well finding myself in one of those situations, today I met someone that really kept my world spinning, if you know what I mean. I went to a new college that I’ll be attending with hopes of basically building a new student life from scratch (after living abroad for a few years), and this lady made it all possible. Her name is Jan Cragun, and she is an academic advisor that helped me get excited about something that I wasn’t necessarily excited about…going to a different school, in a whole new place and what not. Her extensive knowledge, suggestions, and her pleasant and complimentary nature made me realize that there still are people out there that, despite a seemingly difficult situation, are there to help you with a smile on their face. One of the things that impresses me most about people is how they listen and relate, and Jan was all ears. She caught my drift, figured out what I needed and worked magic to make the whole thing work. Now, after not even an hour with this lady, I have a great schedule lined up for the next academic year, some great opportunities to pursue, and I’m really excited about it. Many of us rambunctious college kids just don’t realize how much those advisors can do for us! I mean…this is about the rest of our lives here…and now, thanks to a nice woman who was just “doing her job,” I have a better idea for mine. Thanks a lot Jan for being awesome and making me feel like a special guest!”

There are a lot of people out there who just “do their job,” but who’s to say that just “doing your job” can’t include a warm smile, a friendly conversation, and a feeling that you have given someone else more confidence, clarity, and courage to face the future? Thanks, Jan!

Fantastic people are all around us, and we’d love to hear about them. If you would like to share the experience you have the next time you meet someone who goes above and beyond, then follow this link for submission details.

Like a Good Neighbor . . .

. . . can you finish the phrase?

Of course you can. It’s a jingle we have all heard since our dear Barry Manilow committed that music to paper in 1971. But have you ever stopped to think about what it’s really trying to say? “Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there.” What in the world is a good neighbor? Is it someone who always supports your amateur bakery by sacrificing a cup of sugar? Is it someone who watches your pets while you are away? Is it someone you can chat with over the hedge about your personal life while shirking your landscaping duties?

Yes, yes, and yes . . . but I believe there is much more to it. We are surrounded by literal neighbors–individuals in front, in back, and on every side of us–but how many times in elementary school did the teacher ask you to work with your “neighbor“? Who hasn’t been greeted by the kindly old gentlemen giving you a firm handshake and with a thundering “Howdy neighbor!” welcomes you to the town? And even Mr. Rogers wanted the world-wide television audience to be his neighbor; so what does it mean to be a neighbor? I would wager that I’m not the only one who has pondered this question. In fact, I know I’m not the only one who has pondered this question. Nearly 2,000 years ago a cunning lawyer asked the Master the same question. The answer that came is one of the most well-known moral stories around the globe:

Silhouettes of Service #1: Madeline Christensen

Ok, Reader, listen up. I want you to take a minute and rack your brain for me. Will you do that? Aw, thanks. What I want you to do is think of those times in your life where you have been greeted, helped, or otherwise rubbed shoulders with someone who gave you outstanding service. You know, those moments that leave you thinking, “Wow. This person is awesome. He just made my day. I am so happy right now. I want to tweet about this person. I just might take the time to get on my computer and actually fill out an online review because this service was so great.” You notice that these people pop up anywhere and everywhere–from waitresses to ticket takers to your car’s mechanic to your grandma’s cleaning lady–but you also notice that they come few and far between.

In my humble little mind I compare these people to silhouettes–visible to you, but void of detail and unrecognizable to society. You come, they greet, you eat, they serve, you leave, they disappear. They get no national recognition, and all too often they don’t even get recognition from you; and yet you leave the experience feeling happier and ready to conquer the world, just because someone was willing to care about you for a brief period of time. They make an impact on you, so why not make an impact on them?

This is the first of what I hope to be a long string of virtual high-fives to these awesome people. So without further ado, let me introduce to you just such person:

Madeline Christensen

So this is what happened. I was at the doctor’s office a few weeks ago and they needed a blood sample. Normally they take me to the back room and poke my finger and all is good and dandy. Well, this time they inform me that, due to some sketchy business practices, they no longer deal with the manufacturer who supplies those finger-poking, blood-taking instruments of torture, and therefore I need to go down the street to a health-care outlet and actually get my blood drawn. Not only do I lose the convenience of taking 10 steps, sitting down for 10 seconds, and leaving, but now I have to sacrifice my forearm while looking on as the only thing keeping me alive flows from my body and into a glass bottle. 

*Shudder*

I make the trek down the street and walk into a room which fulfills all of your wildest interior design dreams (really, I mean your wildest dreams: no windows, poorly lit, and a little t.v. sitting in the corner playing a Disney film). My enjoyment meter is about as lively as the off-white walls around me. BUT THEN . . . I’m greeted. Not by a DMV employee of the month, but by the most peppy and pleasant person who ever did take blood. Madeline was so kind and cheerful, and I don’t think the smile left her face the whole time I was there. We chatted, made small talk, she took my blood, and it was all over! What impressed me the most, however, was the time she took to just focus on me. I’m sure it had been a long day of sample after sample, but that didn’t stop her from treating me like I was the only patient to have come in. Civility and character at its finest, and it certainly did not go unnoticed.

Thanks, Madeline, for being awesome. You helped save my quickly deteriorating day and you bolstered my enjoyment meter back up to a healthy neon yellow. Proof that you don’t need to look like this in order to take blood:

Fantastic people are all around us, and we’d love to hear about them. If you would like to share the experience you have the next time you meet someone who goes above and beyond, then follow this link for submission details.

Ever Wanted to Dine with Jefferson?

I love the Fourth of July. It’s quickly becoming one of my favorite holidays. As it approaches every year, I’m filled with the same memories of barbecue, watermelon, fireworks, hot sun, History Channel specials, and of playing ridiculously long parades as part of a marching band. (I usually try to forget that last memory.) Needless to say I love the Fourth. I love how we celebrate. I love what it represents. Most of all, though, I love who it represents.

So let’s be honest here, the real heroes of the Fourth of July are, in my opinion, the Founding Fathers. I cannot think of another collective group of men with such courage, honesty, selflessness, and character as those who laid the foundation on which this country rests. *DISCLAIMER TIME* The current trend with historians is to find any and every fault in our great national heroes. YES, they weren’t perfect people. Why? Because they were humans! Humans make mistakes (don’t mean to burst your bubble). Did they make poor choices both in public and in private? YES. Did they ever profess to be anything other than human? NO. They were, however, greater than perhaps any of you or I will ever be, so I think that we ought to give them the respect they deserve. Let haters hate, and let naggers nag, but the purpose of this blog is to highlight the men and women who do great things as a result of the values they live, and these men most certainly qualify.

"Words can be like X-rays . . .

 . . . if you use them properly — they’ll go through anything.”― Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

Words. Have you ever stopped to think what words do for you? It was words that got me a burger and not a chicken sandwich at McDonald’s the other day. And if they had given me a chicken sandwich I probably would have used words to fight for my burger. Chances are they would have accepted my words and given me what I came for. How neat is that?! When my mouth forms strange sounds clearly enough for other people to understand, they seem to acknowledge what I want.

I am not a linguist . . . My cousin is! . . . But I still don’t know anything about linguistics. But I do know a whole lot about communicating–the art (yes, it is very much an art) of interchanging thoughts, feelings, and information between two or more people. Why do I know so much? Because it’s what I do on a daily, hourly, minutely basis! We all do. So you would think that with all this practice we would be experts at perfectly expressing exactly what we feel and what we’re thinking. Right? Wrong!

Why is it that after 10 years of marriage “Honey, I love you” turns into “You never listen to me!”? Why is it that what we hear is “Wow, you look gorgeous” when what we really feel is “That dress looks awful”?

“Why is it that the children we love become so frequently the targets of our harsh words? Why is it that these children who love their fathers and mothers sometimes speak as if with daggers that cut to the quick?”--Gordon B. Hinckley

This is No Andy Griffith Show

Hi.

Well, I suppose every blog needs to start somewhere, and that somewhere is right here for this blog. So allow me to make an introduction: Calling for Character, Reader. Reader, Calling for Character. There, now that we’re all nice and acquainted, let’s move on to the good stuff.

Ok, so I guess you want a real intro. Calling for character . . . why even bother? Good question, Reader. Let me put it this way: A mother once said to her husband in the beloved 1963 film It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, “You keep forgetting if a girl is six-feet-five inches tall, she’s bound to have special problems.” Well said, Ginger. Where am I going with this? Well, I think we sometimes find ourselves forgetting that if a world has seven billion people (including the old bags), it’s bound to have special problems. Then again, the media sure doesn’t let us forget this fact with headlines such as 

“Cops nab Fla. sex offender traveling with missing teen in La.”

“Man pleads guilty in Aspen socialite killing, gets 20 years”

“Mommy blogger accused of poisoning her son, 5, to death”