A Note to Syfox133

Dear Syfox,

Thanks for your comment. You are the first to post any comment on my blog. Thanks for taking the time.

As to whether or not this is a story or if it actually happened... In the strictest sense, the post you read did not really happen. At least it did not happen to me at one particular time or place. But in a lot of conversations I have had over a lot of years, I said these things or other people said these things and each comment or insight stuck in my head. When I write my entries, I always try to figure out what settings or contexts will work best for what I am trying to write. So sometimes it is a completely fictional situation. And sometimes, it is a reasonably accurate desctiption of what took place.

Again, thanks for writing to me all the way from Australia.

H Fireman

The Wisdom of Popeye the Sailor Man

"I y'am who I y'am" Popeye the Sailor Man


An Imaginary Conversation

I was grabbing a bite at my favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant around the corner from my office. For some reason, the place was really full that day. All the tables were taken.

A twenty-something young lady, who had the look of a college student, was looking for a place to sit. She wore levis and a knit shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She saw my table and came over. She had a book under one arm and carried her tray with both hands.

"Would you mind terribly if I shared the table with you?" she asked me.

"Not at all. Please join me," I responded.

She placed her tray on the table and set her book and her purse on one of the other chairs. I studied her face and her demeanor. Her hair was a bit askew. I had not seen her smile from the moment I first saw her. Her shoulders slumped slightly forward. And in her eyes I saw a sadness and a weariness that spoke volumes about her state of mind.

I told her, "My name is Jack Tanner. It is very nice to meet you."

As she sat down, she said, "It is really very nice to meet you, Mr. Tanner. My name is Laura."

"Please, just call me Jack. Tell me," I said, "Are you okay. You seem a little bit preoccupied today."

"Well, things could be better, I guess."

"Well, Laura, I don't know if this will help. In my experience, I have found that things are never quite so bad as we think they are."

She looked up at me. She studied me for a very long moment and looked as if she had made a decision.
She had this moment of doubt, but sort of shrugged and proceeded on anyway.

"Would you mind terribly if I sort of ran something past you? Something that is sort of... well, personal. I mean, you don't even know who I am and you can say no and I would understand. But I just need to talk to someone and I have no one to talk to." She gave me a look that implored me to say yes. "You seem like someone I can talk to."

Normally, in situations like this, I become a little wary. One never knows where something like this can lead. But I weighed the matter and decided to take the risk. "Sure, my dear. How can I help you."

"I don't even know where to begin. I don't have clue about who I am or what I want. I make a mess of relationships. I have made a real mess of my life. And I have no clue as to how to fix it."

"You are what... twenty-two or twenty-three, tops. Am I right?"

"About."

"Do you like the person you are?"

She put her hands in her lap and looked towards the floor. "I hate who I am. I look in the mirror and I cannot stand what I am seeing. I am nothing... a nobody."

"Are you sure I am the person you need to be talking to. I am not a psychologist or anything like that."

"Maybe not. But you listen to me. You hear me. You are not sitting there judging me and making me feel like a nothing."

"I don't do that to people. I know how that feels because for a big part of my life, people did just that to me."

"Really. Do they still do that to you?"

"They try. I won't let them do that to me anymore. And I just don't let it get to me anymore, when they try."

"How do you do that? How do you keep their voices out of your head? Everyone tells me what I should be doing and how I should be doing it and the kind of person I should be and ....." The words just sort of tumbled out of her mouth in a great rush. She seemed as if she was very near tears... overwhelmed by what was going on in her head just then.

"Yeah. People try to do that to you. Some people are well-meaning and others just like to play mind games. And still others try to control you, use you. Just a part of life, kiddo. Just a part of life. But I will tell you a secret. They will continue to do that only if you let them. Do you ever hear a voice inside you that tells you what feels like the right thing is for you?"

She nodded yes.

"Well listen to that voice and learn how to screen out the voices that screw things up and confuse the issue. Look, I had to do two rounds of therapy before I got my head on straight," I told her.

"Did it help you? Did it work?"

"Yes it did. But it worked because I wanted it to work. And it was a painful journey during therapy. I had to confront my demons and face them down. I had to accept certain truths about myself. I had to accept that there were going to be things that I was not going to accomplish and that I was who I was, for better or worse. And at the end of the therapy sessions, you know what? I found that when I looked the mirror, I was able to say to myself, "What you see is what you get, and by G'd, I am not all that bad.' "

"Do you think I should do therapy?"

"Kiddo, I have known you for less than ten minutes and I don't know you well enough to even begin to answer that question. Besides which, only you can really answer that question for yourself, after you have thought about it for awhile."

"Things are so messy in my life. I don't know even where to begin to figure all these things out," Laura said, dejectedly.

"You're still young and you need to give yourself some time to figure things out. You will, and when you do, just do what you gotta do. Figure out what that is. Do it, no matter what others think about it. Whatever course you are taking, want it so badly that you will do whatever it is going to take to make it work. And never look back. Never have regrets. This is your life, and even in the worst moments, it is your life and no one else can tell you what to do with it."

She was silent for awhile. She sat there eating her sandwich and chips. In that time she didn't look at me. She was chewing on what I had said.

She looked up with a question in her eyes. "I feel like such a nothing. When I actually do something that is really good, people tell me how good it was, how good I am. And I don't know what to say. I feel unworthy of any kind of praise...." She fell silent again.

"Laura, all you have to do is say thank you. Don't let praise go to your head, understand. Just accept it for what it is and enjoy the moment."

She thought about this and for the first time of our entire conversation, she smiled. It was one of the most wonderful smiles I think I have ever seen. "Thank you. Thank you so much. That really makes sense. You really know a lot, don't you?"

I laughed. "I don't know about that. But I guess I have been around a little longer than you have. I have been there and done that and still survived in one piece. Here, I will give you the name of my therapist. If therapy is something you might want to do, look her up." I wrote the information on a piece of paper and gave it to her.

"One small bit of advice. Just take life one day at a time. Do what you have to do today and deal with tomorrow when it gets here. My dear, until the day you die, you are going to be a work in progress. At this moment, you may not fully understand what that means. But in time you will."

I looked at my watch. I had to get back to my office. I stood up and extended my hand to shake hers. " Laura, it was a genuine pleasure to have lunch with you. I lunch here a lot. Stop by and let me know how things turn out for you."

Laura was more relaxed now. We shook hands. "Thank you so much for everything."

"It was my pleasure."

I picked up my newspaper and walked out of the door. I never saw her again. I hope things turned out well for her and that something that I said made her journey easier.

A Small Room at the Museum

A man decided to visit the local museum in his town. He walked through the museum, viewing the exhibits. In one of the galleries of exhibits, he noticed a small room off to the side that he had never noticed before. Over the passageway into the room was the inscription, “Useful Objects You Can Use to Build Your Life…To Build a Better World.” The man was somewhat intrigued by that inscription and entered this room to see what it held.

As he entered the small room, he noticed just inside the entrance was a small information board upright on a stand. He walked over the information board. Near the top right was a photograph of a young African boy of maybe 11 or 12 years old. He had bright, expressive eyes and emanated a sure sense of confidence about himself.

The text read, “This exhibit is dedicated to the fierce spirit and the notable accomplishments of Nkosi Johnson, a young South African boy who became one of the most eloquent spokesman for those afflicted with AIDS. Himself a victim of AIDS, he accomplished more in his brief life than most of us will ever accomplish. He wrote, ‘Do all you can, with what you have, in the time you have, in the place you are.’ Our world is an infinitely richer place by the fact that he lived. Our world is an infinitely poorer place by the fact that he died at the age of 12, of AIDS. We will never know what he might have accomplished had he been granted a full life. We dedicate this exhibit to this extraordinary young man.”

The man studied the face of this young boy, a face which implied wonderful strength in the boy and at the same time, a sense that the boy was both vulnerable and fragile.

He turned his attention to the room about him. There was nothing on the walls. In the center of the room, he saw just a plain glass case containing what appeared to be rather ordinary objects, each of which was individually labeled. On the outside of the case, by each object, was a button one could push to get more information about that object.

The first object was a pen, such as one would find in one’s desk. The man pushed the button. A voice came out of the speaker. “I am a pen. I aspire to be more than I am. I aspire to a means for mankind to be able to explore this extraordinary world, to be the means to seek truth, to enable men and women to express the highest ideals to which mankind can aspire to embody and to express the joy that is to be found in living an honorable and decent life. I aspire to be the tool with which composers create the great music of the world. Use me to express the deep sentiments that you feel about yourself, about the people you love and about this magnificent and very often confusing world. In expressing yourself, you discover who you are and what you aspire to do with your life. Use me to become the person you were meant to be.”

There was also a Siddur, a Jewish prayer book. He pressed the button once again. “I am a Siddur. I aspire to be more than I am. I contain words and prayers that bring consolation and hope, understanding and tolerance, contentment and peace. I aspire to be your link to G’d. Use me so that you can find a refuge from the ordinary things in life you have to do. Use me so that you can find an island in time, that is a short time during which you can find a moment of peace and can have a meaningful dialogue with yourself and with G’d. I am a Siddur. I aspire to be more than just paper and ink and letters. Use me so that you can become the person you were meant to be.”

The man moved on to another object. There was a newspaper. This time the voice said, “I am a newspaper. I aspire to be more than I am. I aspire to always speak the truth. I aspire to inform and to be a sentinel that rings the alarm, when men or nations begin to act in ways that signal danger for the rest of Mankind. I aspire to honor those who have earned recognition and foster productive discussion of the issues of the day. I will note the coming of new life and the passing of those who have completed their journey. I aspire to be a tool that Mankind can use to build a just and equitable community of men, women and children. Use me to find your rightful place in that community. Use me to become the person you were meant to be.”

A little further along was a hammer. When the man pushed the button, he heard the following message. “I am a hammer. Use me to build useful objects that will make the world more comfortable or more functional. Use me to build a table or a wall. Use me to build a bookshelf to hold the knowledge of the world. Use me to build a house to protect a family from the rain and the cold, a place that they can call home. Use me in whatever way you see fit. Use me to achieve your most ambitious dreams. Use me to become the person you were meant to be.”

And there, among all these items was a plain, ordinary brick. The man wondered why the people who had put this exhibit together had bothered to include a brick.

He pressed the button nearest the brick. “I am a brick. I aspire to be part of something greater than myself. Add me to a stack of bricks and use me to create the structures that make this world a wonderful place in which to live. Put me into the wall of your home. Make me part of a skyscraper that soars up into the sky a hundred stories high or more. Use me to build a monument that honors the achievements and sacrifices of ordinary men and women. When you create a Synagogue, a cathedral or the structure that houses a School, include me in that building. And when you build a place to hold the Supreme Court of the United States, I want to be one of the bricks in that place. I am a brick. I aspire to be a part of something greater than myself. Use me as you strive to achieve your own dreams and aspirations. Use me to become the person you were meant to be.”

The man stood silently before the brick, humbled by what he had just heard. He had just been made to realize that even the most ordinary of objects can aspire to make a meaningful difference in the world. He had been made to realize that even a small child whose life had been tragically cut short, did aspire to make the world a better place…and because the world knew him, the world was “changed for the better… because [the world knew him, this world] was changed for good.”

He glanced at his watch and saw that he had run out of time and had to return to his home and his family. As he left that small room, he turned and looked back at that case of seemingly ordinary objects and he knew that having seen them and heard their voices, he would never be the same person ever again.

The Keychain

I was flying to Boston awhile back to see my daughter at college. A great excuse to get out of town. A fellow in his fifties came down the aisle, stopped, checked his ticket and placed his carry-on luggage in the overhead storage nearby. He kept his laptop and a pad of paper and asked me if he could get by me get to his seat. I moved out of his way as best I could. As he slid into his seat, I noticed that, on the keychain he had attached to his belt, there must have been 15 or 20 keys.

"That is a lot of keys," I commented, "You must wear a lot of hats."

"Yeah I suppose I do," he agreed. "And you know, I wouldn't mind if I wore a few less hats than I do."

"Why?" I asked.

As he got settled into his seat, he continued, "It's like this. I own my own company. It is not a huge company, but it is my company. It is pretty substantial. When I started out, our building was a hole in the wall. We struggled from week to week to keep the company afloat. And then one day, things clicked and the rest is history. Now my company has offices in 4 states and serves clients all over the world. I'm the boss and I get to wear many hats and I have to have the keys for every one of those offices with me when I travel."

"That makes sense to me." I said. "Tell me. Are you enjoying your success? When you survey everything that you have built so far, are you pleased with your achievements?"

He looked tired. "Yeah, I guess. I mean you have a dream and you bust your behind to make it a reality. But you actually turn that dream into something that actually exists. It is an amazing feeling. An amazing feeling." But somehow, the way he said that carried with it something unsaid.

I asked him, "Was it all worth it? I mean you must have worked really hard to get where you are today. Was becoming a successful businessman really worth it in the end?"

He looked at me. "Sometimes I think it was, sometimes not. Nothing is free and when I think about the price I have paid over the years, I am not always sure. "

He removed his keychain from his belt and fingered through the keys that were attached. He continued, "That one cost me going to my daughters dance recital when she was 8 years old. That one cost me going on vacation a couple of years ago with my family to Disney. That one cost me an ulcer. That one pushed up my blood pressure higher than you want to know. And this one..." He paused momentarily. "This one cost me my best friend when business got in the way of a friendship that had lasted for 30 years."

I didn't say anything. What was I going to say? I was taking all this in and seeing a man who was living the American dream and a man who had discovered that in realizing that dream, had also discovered a hidden dark side to that accomplishment that no one sees until one gets there.

"I apologize," he said. "Sometimes, I just get tired and wish things were a lot simpler than they are for me now. After awhile another successful year for the business no longer means quite as much as it used to."

I looked at him and said, "I can understand that. Sometimes the things we wish for the most don't turn out to be exactly what we thought they would be. Live and learn, eh?"

He gave me a wan smile. "Yessir... live and learn."

He reached down and picked up his laptop, placing it on the food tray. He lost himself in his work and I lost myself in the Broadway music I was listening to on my MP3 player.

Time flew [a fully intended pun]. And before we knew it, we were landing in Boston.

As we were leaving the plane, I told him, " It was a pleasure travelling with you. I hope it gets better for you."

"Thanks a lot. I hope it does too," he said as we shook hands.

I remember conversations like that, long after I have had them. I live and from those conversations, I learn.