Stairwell To Heaven

About two months ago, or so, I received an invitation to join a Facebook Group called UNA Theatre Department 1990’s from my old friend, Mike Reynolds.  He explained that he had formed this group to catch up with his theatre department family who had all, over the last fifteen or twenty years, allowed ourselves to drift apart.  I immediately accepted this invitation and started the catching up process with many people that I haven’t heard from in years.  It was fun to see where life had taken everyone!  Naturally before long, Mike was urging us all to reconnect in person, as was his way.  Back in school, Mike was the glue that held all of our personalities together…no minor feat, mind you, considering that we were actors and therefore each of us had several of them. 

Back in 1996, when I started at The University of North Alabama as a seventeen year old, greener than well tended grass, hopelessly idealistic, and shamefully naive to the real world college freshman—I naturally had it all figured out.  Before long, it was time for my first major audition with the theatre department but there was one major problem—it was a musical.  At the time, I had yet to have the opportunity to audition through song and I had no idea what I was doing.  I didn’t know how to match pitch, or read music, or breath in such a way as to support myself vocally…apparently I didn’t even know how to correctly pick an audition song because my “brilliant” song choice was…wait for it…”Memory” from the musical Cats.  Hand…to…God.  I will spare you the details of the audition, (and myself from any further embarrassment), and just say that it was a total disaster.  I calmly walked off stage, through Norton Auditorium, out the doors, and promptly disintegrated into a mess of tears in the back stairwell.  I had been there alone in my misery for maybe a minute when the door opened and Mike Reynolds walked through it.  He sat down next to me and put his arm around me, sternly asked why in the world I was crying, and then proceeded to point out all the things that I had just done right.  He wouldn’t hear my weeping explanations of the horror show that audition was and why my entire theatrical life was now obviously over.  He was encouraging.  He was supportive.  He was loving.  He was Mike.  And, he was that way with everyone he knew…as well as with some he didn’t even know! 

So, when I saw that Mike had formed this group as a way to force us all to make the effort to reconnect with each other, it didn’t surprise me.  Like I said, he had always been the glue for us.  As I sit here today, I can’t help but wish we had made more of an effort, since the start of that group, to get together.  Unfortunately, Mike saw to that as well.  All of those familiar faces gathered together last Friday to bury our dear friend, Michael Reynolds, following the fatal car accident that took him from us.  We cried, we laughed, we remembered our times together, we caught each other up on our times apart, and we missed the man who is no longer with us…because truth be told, he was the very best of us.  He taught us what dedication meant—to work, to school, to our craft, and to one another—and he taught us that so many years apart from the people, the friends, who helped make each of us who we are today is unacceptable.  I never told Mike what that small moment on the stairs meant to me.  I never told him that what he said to me was the foundation of what became a love of singing and dancing on stage, not to mention the fact that it provided me with the courage to try again.  Not one single audition has passed where I didn’t remember his words to me and draw strength from his belief in me, (which never waivered…even after that God awful nightmare of an audition so many years ago!).  And now, he has taught me the hard lesson of never allowing that oversight to happen in the future.  I have to, and will, make the effort to tell others what they mean to me and how they have helped me grow into the woman that I am today…slightly less green than that college freshman that I once was, but every bit as hopeful and idealistic.

Rest in peace, my sweet friend.  Thank you for the lessons…     

Two Shots with a Cherry On Top

As the mother of a first year middle schooler, this school year has been full of new discoveries.  I’ve had to learn a second language, (“totes,” “OMG,” “B-T-Dubs,” and most importantly—it’s always “bathroom” NEVER “potty”), I’ve had to learn new methods of battle picking, (hormones are of the devil), I’ve had to find a new level of understanding when it comes to “personal space,” and I’ve had to learn new techniques in mediating between my daughter and her father when it comes to her fashion choices.  We’ve had school dances, skin care lessons, falling down stairs in high heels, crushes, bullies, sleepovers, PG-13 movies, light make-up for picture day, trips to the mall without constant parental supervision, student government, locker decorating, bra shopping, showers in the morning instead of bath time before bed, shaving lessons, overnight Youth trips, and the raiding of Mom’s closet…what we haven’t had is crawling in bed with Mommy and Daddy in the middle of the night after a nightmare, pony tails with ribbons to match the dress, hand holding in order to cross a parking lot, bedtime stories, cartoons, footie pajamas, hugging in public (without the now mandatory eye-roll), and the list goes on and on.  Don’t get me wrong.  I understand that change is good and that all of these things are the natural progression of life…however, I just didn’t realize that it would happen practically overnight.  One week in middle school and I went from Mommy to Mom faster than you can say “SERIOUSLY!”  However, this morning I got to have a brief moment with my little girl…

Carson is heading out next week for a four day trip with her fellow sixth graders and required a tetanus shot before she leaves.  So, this morning we made the trip to the doctor.  I could tell she was nervous, but putting on the usual brave, “whatevs” face about it.  We saw the doctor; he joked around, teased her about boys, and then went out to get her shot.  When he came back in, he brought dreaded news…it would be TWO shots instead of one.  She apparently was due for a second chicken pox vaccine unbeknownst to me.  He bravely delivered the news…and then promptly scurried out.  Once the door was closed, Carson’s face shifted from “whatevs” to “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!” and then it immediately clouded up and rained.  I cuddled her in my arms, (she let me CUDDLE her!) and she wept.  Now, I am sure that there is a chapter in the "Crappy Mom’s Guidebook" about taking a small amount of pleasure in comforting your crying child, but it wasn’t as simple as that.  It was the act of being ALLOWED to comfort my crying child…it was that very brief glimpse of her where she was more little girl than young lady.  It was realizing that even though she is nearly as tall as I am, she will never be too big for me to wrap my arms around and hold while she cries.

Well, she pulled it together, practically shoved me away from her the second the door opened, (I knew it was too good to last), took each shot like a champ, and ten minutes later we were done.  With papers signed, band-aids on, and tears dried we walked out of the doctor’s office toward the car that would take her back into the quasi-adult world of middle school. When we got into the car, Carson turned to me and gave me my final lesson for the day saying, “Since I had to get TWO shots today, can we stop and get me a cherry slushy on the way to school?”

Some things you never grow out of.

System Error

As I write this blog today, I am feeling disappointed and frustrated with some members of the parenting community in our school system.  This year our school system is taking additional steps toward their goal of going (for the most part) paperless.  The biggest change to affect our families directly is that each student has been assigned a laptop or iPad, depending on the grade level, for the duration of the school year.  Now, one would think that the parents would have felt excited, motivated and most importantly, GRATEFUL that our children have been given a free laptop or iPad for their school work; however, there is a disappointing faction of parents who seem to have nothing better to do than complain--great example for their kids, right?  They complain about the hassle of the technical issues which are to be expected with new equipment, the speed at which information gets out or is revised based on better ideas for organizing such a massive effort, the option that we were given just before school started to pick up the laptops early by driving to the warehouse where they were being stored 15 minutes away, (for the record, I’d bet $10,000 that I don’t have that if a Best Buy 20 minutes away announced that they were giving free laptops away to students, those same exact people doing the griping would run people over with their car trying to get there first), and so forth; but, the MOST disturbing complaint that I heard was from a parent who was angry that the students who are on free or reduced lunches were having their operating fee waived.  Our one time $35.00 fee is to help cover the expense of repairs that could occur as the school year progresses.  In addition to this parent’s upset about the unfairness to their family for not having the fee waived, they were also protesting the fact that there was a shuttle system devised to help parents of these children, without a personal vehicle, to be able to pick up their child’s equipment early in order to allow their child time to familiarize themselves with it before classes resumed.  In other words, "we responsible parents have to pay a fee and pay gas to drive there for the (free) laptop but those people don't [gasp and clutch pearls here]!"

Now, I am not one to tell anybody else how to feel, what to say, or which opinion is the correct one; however, I think that in some instances where there seems to be an evident lack of compassion or humanity, people should be held accountable for their words and actions.  In this case, this parent posted their outrage on a social media site’s group page designated for all the parents of the children in our school.  Connecting the dots here?  The parents of the children affected were ostracized publicly for the difficult situation that they have found themselves in by a person not only lamenting their anger at the unfairness of having pay a whopping $35.00 fee while those people don't, but who had also just recently returned from numerous family vacations from this past summer.  That is like complaining about a group of hungry people in a bread line getting a free meal while you only got to go out to eat three times this week.  Perhaps we can reflect on the unfairness this poor person was subjected to while we peruse her vacay pics.  Ridiculous.

All in all, it was thoughtless, offensive, demeaning and, thankfully, quickly removed from the group page.  Hopefully, the parents of those students who were affected didn’t have to see it…but I’m sure that some did and for that I am sorry.  Nobody should be made to feel small by a person who so obviously IS small.  I would like to tell those parents who had to see that posting that just because one insensitive, selfish person shouts louder than everyone, it doesn’t mean that they lead anyone.  It just means that they are loud, and thankfully there are always earplugs available.

To Sir, With Love

             On an August afternoon in 1996, I was standing in what was laughingly referred to as the “backstage” of a little theatre in Edinburgh, Scotland waiting for our stage manager to call places when my life flashed before my eyes.  Not my actual life, mind you, my life in the world of theatre.  Compared to some, I was still very much a toddler having only been involved with the on goings of the stage for just over two years…but boy! What a couple of years had it been!

          It all began on the first day of my junior year of high school.  I had transferred to Russellville High School in order to become the newest member of High School Drama Troupe 4104.  I was monumentally pumped!  Not only had I never been apart of an active drama department before, but, until that day, I had never even set foot on a REAL stage!  It took all the will power that a fifteen year old girl could muster not to run through the backstage entrance and Tarzan swing on the wing curtains in order to plop smack down on center stage; but, somehow I managed to control myself.  As I walked onto that stage and peered out into that enormous auditorium, I was in awe.  I imagined this was the way that people must feel the first time they see a mountain.  For me, it was that majestic, that…well, magical.  When my eyes worked their way from the very top row of the balcony all the way down to the front rows, they locked with the eyes of a man who will forever be the single biggest influence in my life—theatrical OR actual—my drama teacher, Mr. Bryan.  We grinned at each other for a minute and I knew he understood exactly what I was feeling.  With a knowing smile and a partner in crime wink he said to me, “Just wait until it’s full.”

          For the next two years in Mr. Bryan’s drama class I learned everything from how to sweep that magical stage to the way in which to stand on it.  I learned how to think on my feet through Improv games.  I was assigned monologues in order to prepare me for learning entire scripts—sometimes multiple scripts at the same time depending on our season!  I learned that there is no such thing as pre-casting so I’d better prepare an amazing audition and damn well fight for the part that I want in order to get it, which is a skill I use to this day!  I learned how to sweet talk strangers into giving me money for a fundraiser that they normally wouldn’t give two cents for.  I realized that theatre competitions are just as intense as national football championships and that sometimes you gotta take one for the team.  I came to understand what it means to tell a character’s entire life story in one pointed look.  I was eventually able to drink convincingly from cups that weren’t there and find my light on the stage without having to search for it.  I took up the mantra that there are no bit parts but instead juicy character roles and found that it is, in fact, perfectly believable for a seventeen year old girl to play a ninety five year old woman with some intense rehearsals and just one session with Mr. Bryan’s make up brush!

          Then, in the spring of 1996, I learned about loyalty, support, and drawing strength from others.  Two weeks before my graduation my world was smashed by an on coming car.  I don’t remember much from the first few days following my car accident; however, I remember that the first face I saw in the hospital after my parents’ faces belonged to Mr. Bryan.  I’ve been told that in the short time preceding surgery in which all the x-rays and testing was performed, every time I screamed out, he seemed to suffer as much pain as I did; and, that once the hospital staff wheeled me away and into an operating room he waited with my parents hour after hour until I was out of the woods and wheeled into recovery.  When I finally woke up and was cognizant of what was happening around me, I was told about my injuries.  A fractured spleen caused massive internal bleeding.  My right ankle had been crushed and my right knee had suffered a compound fracture.  All of these injuries were far better than the alternative of losing my life, (which I had come perilously close to doing), with one minor problem:  I had the lead in our dance show that was to be performed at The Edinburgh Fringe Festival in August and my entire right leg, from my toes to my hip, was encased in a cast.  I was devastated.  I felt that the moment that I had been preparing for throughout the last year and a half was now being taken from me.  I would have to sit in the audience and watch someone else perform my role—the worst fate any performer could suffer, as far as I was concerned.  Shortly after an emotional meeting with my doctor during which I was told that I may never walk normally again much less dance on stage in two and a half months, I tearfully greeted Mr. Bryan when he walked into my hospital room on his daily visit to the hospital to check on me.  My parents told him what we had learned from the doctor and the first thing he said to me was, “I’m not recasting your role, so you’d better get to work.”

          Those words gave me the strength and shear determination to fight my way from that hospital room to that theatre half way across the world.  So, there I was, two and a half short, pain filled months of intense physical therapy later, standing in that ridiculously tiny backstage in my lyrical dress and dance shoes.  Mr. Bryan had kept his promise to me.  Truth be told, I knew that my absolutely lovely and talented understudy probably would have done a better job dancing that role then I did that day, but it would never have meant the same to her as it very much did—and still does—to me.  Mr. Bryan knew that.  I stood there thinking about all of his support, his strength, his laughter, his tears, his lessons, his threats and his promise that he kept to me, and then I went out on that stage and did exactly what he spent two years teaching me to do—I found my light…in every way imaginable.

Wishing you the happiest of birthdays with much love and appreciation for your years of teaching and inspiring your students…I thank you, Mr. Bryan.

Fast Pass

My family and I just got back from a week long vacation to Walt Disney World.  My daughters are 10 and 6 years old, and as far as I am concerned, the absolute perfect ages for The Mouse House.  My youngest is still little enough that everything she sees is magical—that Snow White is THE Snow White, Tinker Bell REALLY flies at the beginning of the fireworks each night, that ghost on the top of our “doom buggy” really is swapping her head for his.  My oldest is in the “girls rule and boys drool” phase of her life.  She knows that Tinkle Bell is really just riding a zip line and the ghosts in the Haunted Mansion are projections; however, she is still young enough that she forgets to be cool sometimes.  There were moments when she walked around a corner to see a character that she wasn’t expecting to be there and break into a huge smile and squeal or without thinking she would start dancing to the music during a parade.  Coming home I realized that the REAL magic of Walt Disney World is the experience it gives the parents.  We got to spend a week watching our children believe that there is magic in the world and then come home realizing that the “magic” was them all along.  It really was such a special trip.

Ok, ok…I know what you are thinking.  I am glossing over the crowds, the heat, the over-priced food, the overtired kids, the LINES…I know, I know.  However, I honestly feel that those things are the price you pay.  Nothing worth having comes free…and the memories that our family will always have of this trip are defiantly worth having, even at that price.  One thing that Disney has instituted that has helped lessen the worst of the blows is The Fast Pass.  For those of you who haven’t been to WDW in a while may not have heard of this, so here’s the deal: The Fast Pass is a pass that gives you a specific time to come back to a ride, bypass most of the line, and hop onto your favorite ride cutting your wait time at the VERY least in half.  “Too good to be true,” you say?  Well, there are some stipulations.  You can only hold one fast pass at a time and cant get a new one until it is past your return time printed on your pass, which, really isn’t that big of a deal.  Most times, you can schedule it so that you get your pass time, go stand in line for another ride, come back just in time to breeze on to your Fast Pass ride, and then get a new pass for the next ride of your choice.  The real secret is to get there early and Fast Pass the rides that are notorious for really long wait times: Space Mountain, Expedition Everest, The Test Track, Splash Mountain, etc. 

I wish I could adequately explain the feeling the Fast Pass gives you.  It is this intoxicatingly strange combination of excitement, arrogance, freedom, barely contained glee…and, to some degree, guilt.  Rushing up those isles, past the bright red faces of heat exhausted children and their parents with their thinly veiled hatred for you at that exact moment as they forget that in just a short time they will become the hated, you really do start to feel badly about your speedy ascension toward whatever endorphin popping experience’s Fast Pass Kiosk that you were clever enough to bee line toward at the beginning of the day was about to provide you.  Now, just as those people that you pass on your “I have a Fast Pass” victory march forget that they will be in your shoes soon, you in turn forget that you will be in theirs.  Those bright red, overheated faced children will be your children.  Those thinly veiled, envy fueled, hateful faces will be your own.  This brings me to the other life lesson that our Walt Disney World vacation taught me:  No matter how clever, organized, or lucky you are, you won’t always the one breezing through on your way to greatness.

By the middle of the week, we had the Fast Pass routine down…or so we thought.  While spending the day in The Animal Kingdom, we decided to Fast Pass the safari ride (animals will be more apt to wander in the morning when it’s cooler) and then Fast Pass Expedition Everest.  Now, Everest is easily the most visibly popular ride at The Animal Kingdom; however, we forgot about the sleeper hit for a summer afternoon: The Rapids.  “Not to worry,” we thought, “we’ll just grab a Fast Pass, go catch The Lion King Show and come back at our assigned time.”  We patted each other on the back at our brilliant planning, knowing that in just a short time we would be on our way down a man made river of white water and receive a wonderfully cool soak for our troubles…one little problem: THE FAST PASS KIOSK WAS CLOSED!! How could this be?  We planned!  We worked the system!  We even sent a runner out ahead of our unit with all of our tickets to ensure no confusion or paper shuffling!  Closed. All the passes for the rapids had been handed out for the day.  So, there we were, in line for over an hour, no end in sight, with no Fast Pass to look forward to on the other side.  Now the challenge came: keeping up the morale and avoiding any mental or emotional break downs.  This is where you separate the men from the…uh, mice… (sorry, couldn’t resist)

All joking aside, we got through it. We were hot.  We were tired. We wanted to jump the divider between the mortals and the fast pass gods, strangle all of the necks attached their happy, normal colored faces and wrestle those FREEDOM ENSURING passes out of their arrogant outstretched hands…but nay, we didn’t.  Because we remembered that just a short, boiling hour ago, we sailed past a 90 minute wait time for Expedition Everest in a record 7 minutes.  While explaining this give and take, get and receive concept to my children, it occurred to me that I needed to remember to apply this to real life back home.  I knew that once we returned from our trip to Fantasy Land, literally, we had a hard reality to face.

Nana has stage 4 lung cancer.  I say “Nana” rather than “My Nana,” because she doesn’t belong to just me…or to just this family, really.  My grandmother is 75 years old, and has spent the majority of those years (minus her first 16 when she wasn’t a wife and mother) as the matriarch of this family.  She has taught her family about everything from civil rights to baking bread, she has wrapped us in her love, fierce protection and quilts for as long as most of us remember while knowing, still, that there are others who remember even further back.  This year on her birthday we celebrated her life and all that she means to us in a presentation full of songs, stories and tears.  Listening to my cousins talk about what Nana has meant to them in their own life made me realize the full scope of what this woman has accomplished using just her tenacity, passion and the wisdom of learning from life’s experiences.  This is a woman who could easily slip from the most avid, insistent civil rights demonstrator to stage diva to cupcake baker with just a change of apron.  She is remarkable.  What she has taught us is remarkable.  What is happening to her, and the knowledge of what is to come, is unbearable.  I keep finding myself looking at other families whose loved ones have less dire prognosis with the same level of distain as I had while looking at those damn Fast Pass holders on the rapids ride…forgetting that not too long ago we were the ones with the Fast Pass.  And, boy, let me tell ya, we sure have been...

Two years ago it was discovered that my daughter’s earlier diagnosis of a non-threatening heart condition was incorrect.  She was in surgery to correct the previous diagnosis when it was realized that what she actually had was a serious, life-threatening condition.  Her little heart had been a ticking time bomb for the previous five years that could have caused her sudden death at any time…and we didn’t even know it until after the whole ordeal was completely over.  When I think about the number of parents who had to endure knowing about this condition for ANY amount of time before their child could be taken into surgery to fix it, I literally shudder.  Five minutes would be too long to worry that your child might just die right in front of you and there would be nothing you could do to save her.  We Fast Passed that.  Big time.

My youngest daughter was tested for cystic fibrosis when she was two years old.  When the results came back positive, my family and I were devastated.  There is no cure for cystic fibrosis and, although medical advancements have come leaps and bounds, there is no such thing as a totally full, long life for the patient.  All I could think was, “I am going to have to bury my child.”  No parent should have feel that, think that, KNOW that, much less do just that.  It simply goes against nature.  Less than 24 hours later her doctor called me at home.  The technician in the lab had misplaced a decimal point.  My daughter was fine.  Fast Pass.

This spring, my Aunt Mimi was diagnosed with a brain tumor that due to the way it was growing was inoperable in some places.  All we could do was pray that they would be able to remove enough, treat enough of it, to keep it from spreading into the sections of her brain that allowed for speech, memory, motor skills, reasoning and that it would be proven to be nonmalignant.  If things didn’t go as we prayed they would, she would be facing an incredibly difficult remainder of her shortened life with very little quality of life.  Today, I am overjoyed to report that she finished her last radiation treatment yesterday, walking out of there in the end with the loss of vision in one eye and a benign tumor that is no longer growing.  All other functions?  As kooky and twisted as before.  In other words…good as new.  Fast Pass.

So, family, I guess it is our turn to wait in the heat with our Nana.  I’m not saying that it is going to be fun.  I’m not saying it is going to be easy.  I’m not even saying that we won’t want to strangle the people we see with Fast Passes at various times.  But, I am saying that we will endure the heat together, the wait together, the frustration and the fear and the anger at the unjustness of it all together…and we will endure the end together.  This will be just like those well planned rides at Disney World—surprises at every turn, some thrilling moments, some scary moments, some moments you can’t wait to be over, some you wish you could do again and again, and, of course, it always ends too soon.  However, when it is all said and done, and I am trying to return to daily life in a world that doesn’t really make total sense anymore, where the words, “fair” and “unfair” don’t really matter, I hope that I remember the parts of the journey that were nothing short of magical.

When Silence Isn't Golden

Last week I was given a jolt that sent my mind crashing into a quote that I once heard the great Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. say during the replaying of a speech I was fortunate enough to hear:

"In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."

Some very dear friends of mine, who are a gay couple, were treated horribly by the general manager of a car dealership in my town.  They publish a successful regional magazine and often barter and trade with local business owners for ad space.  One such deal was arranged with this particular dealership—the dealership would exchange the monthly lease on a company vehicle for a full page ad running in each issue of the magazine, (the price of which my friends lowered in order to make this particular exchange possible).  A car was selected, they were assured the cost of the lease would amount to an equal exchange, and deals were made; however, when they were on their way to pick up the chosen car, they were called and informed that they would owe several hundred additional dollars (out of pocket) each month for their lease.  When my friends offered to pick out a different car off the lot that would bring the cost back down to an equal exchange, they were informed that the general manager was “tired of dealing with those fags” and not to bother coming in.  They were horrified and deeply hurt.  Not only was this dealership going back on their word…the man who was behind this reneging also chose to throw out a homophobic slur to, I suppose, dial up the commentary a little...for it served no other obvious purpose.

When I heard about what happened, I was enraged, dumbfounded, and hurt on their behalf.  I could not understand what delusion any person, much less a business person, has to operating under to believe that type of behavior and speech is OK in this society.  Don’t get me wrong, I believe that the freedom of speech is one of those great foundational ideas that our country is built upon; however, I also believe that when that speech is hate-speech and serves no purpose other than to wound others, then the person who chooses to use such language should expect to be called out for it.  Free speech is funny that way—you are free to say what you like so long as you are willing to listen to what others freely have to say about it…which brings us to the moment that Dr. King’s words smacked me upside my head. 

How could I quietly sit by and allow this man to get away with such terrible behavior?  It seemed to me that considering how easily that word was thrown out there, I felt that this probably wasn’t a first time occurrence.  Who else had to be subject to this type of verbal assault and was too shocked, hurt, or embarrassed to correct this man?  Why would I, as their friend, silently sit by and let this go unanswered?  Had I been personally witness to the use of this word, I would certainly have spoken up immediately--whether I knew the people it was directed at or not—so why would I feel the need to stay silent now when it was directed at my friends?  Let me tell you…I certainly did not AND neither, I am proud to say, did a great deal of others.

Two days later, that dealership experienced, what I have termed, a “Call In.”  In the spirit of peaceful protesting and the historical Sit Ins of the civil rights era, we made our upset known by calling in to the business en masse.  By “we” I mean several hundred strong.  Each caller only called one time, read the scripted statement, and then disconnected respectfully.  For two and a half hours the phone lines rang non-stop with people making the following statement:

"Hello, my name is _______ and I am from __________. I am calling on behalf of equal rights and common decency.  I believe that (name of manager of the dealership) owes (Friend 1) and (Friend 2) an apology for his crass behavior and offensive language. He should be ashamed of himself.  Thank you and have a nice day.”

That was it—no more and no less (well, sometimes less as many callers were hung up on within the first few seconds!).  After two and a half hours of people calling in from all over The United States (literally) and a couple of other countries around the world (give it up for the international callers!!), the general manager who was behind the slur heard 'round the world made a phone call to my friends and offered, what appeared to them to be, a very heart felt apology.  In addition to his apology, this man told them that he had learned a tremendous life lesson that day and proceeded to do whatever he could to try and right this very big wrong. 

Doesn’t get much better than that, folks.  Thank you again to all of you who participated in standing up and joining in the effort to make the world think twice about inequality, decency, and respect for our fellow man.  You did the right thing and will inspire others to do the same in the future.  I'm so proud of what was accomplished here!

Lessons Learned:

1.  It is never ok to accept disrespectful behavior.

2. It is never ok to NOT stand up for what’s right…besides, it makes your soul feel good when you do so.

3. Every once in a while, all it takes is a phone call to change the way someone perceives the world around them.

4. Sometimes, it only takes thirty seconds of your day to make your whole week (and then some)!

Final Thought:

Dr. King was right when he said that in the end we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends; however, if I may be so bold as to add on to that thought, I think that in the end, the friends who stand for us and lend their voices to a fight against hatred are the ones that we will never forget. 

Nice R.A.K.

While shopping at Hobby Lobby this weekend for zebra print and hot pink decor for my 6 year's "new" bedroom (Lord help me), my sister and I had the pleasure of experiencing the always elusive R.A.K. (Random Act of Kindness).  We were standing in line and the woman behind us tapped my sister on the shoulder and asked, “Excuse me…do you have a coupon?”  I thought she meant that she needed one, but then she handed us a coupon for 40% off any item not on sale and informed us that all of her purchases were on sale so she would be unable to use it.  As we had a pricier item that was, in fact, NOT on sale, we were really excited.  It seems really lame in the retelling, but just think about it--in all honesty, if you had a coupon for 40% off any item, wouldn’t you go seek out something to buy rather than give it to a couple of total strangers?  I probably would have mainly because it wouldn't occur to me to give it away!  Although, if you think about it, the good feeling goes both ways--it cost her nothing, she was genuinely pleased with our reaction to her kindness and walked out with her head held high and a smile plastered on her face!

This got me pondering the question: why don’t we commit small random acts of kindness that cost us little to nothing, just to make a person’s day?  Especially a stranger’s—makes the gesture even more unexpected. 

So, armed with my new found “do nice things” attitude, I would like to share some things that I guarantee, will make somebody else’s day and in turn make yours as well.  Let’s face it—it’s fun to nice things for other people--it makes you feel good about yourself!  Ok...here goes:

1.  Help load someone’s groceries into their car.  I did this at Wal Mart for two sweet, older ladies who were tickled pink to have some help.  It cost me nothing, it took less than two minutes and they drove away smiling and waving.

2.  If an employee of a store/restaurant/etc. is doing a good job representing their company, make it a point to tell their manager.  Retail and food service jobs are extremely difficult and often thankless jobs.  Employees have deal with the public (the good, the bad, and the unreasonable) in a profession where it is easy to make a customer mad and it honestly have nothing to do with anything that the employee has personally done wrong or had any control over.  Keep in mind that when managers get customer feedback about an employee it is usually negative, so it stands to reason that it is a bit of a relief to hear something positive.  And, it’s nice to be told that you are doing a good job every now and then.  Again, costs nothing, takes little to no time at all, and it makes someone’s day.

3. (This third example of a R.A.K. is by far my favorite!) One day while you are paying for lunch at a drive through—Burger King, Taco Bell, Wendy’s, etc.—pay for the car behind you as well.  This is usually a $5.00-$10.00 investment and it will rock your world when you watch the reaction of the person in the next car in line via your rear view mirror.  I started these drive through R.A.K.’s three years ago around Christmas time and all I would ever say to the employee at the window was to please pass along my wishes for a happy holiday season.  Keep in mind this doesn’t have to apply only to the holidays!  “Happy Wednesday!” works wonders as well!  Trust me—it is the most fun and you will laugh to yourself the whole way back to work!

So, where do we go from here?  Well, I’d like to suggest that you pick one of these three Random Acts of Kindness and apply it to your week.  Trust me when I say that it will not only become something that you will incorporate into your daily life, but you will inspire other people to do the same type of thing…and it will be the highlight of your day! 

Share your experience in the comment section and it can serve as the "Lesson Learned" portion for this blog!  Can't wait to hear your stories! Also, feel free to post other ideas for a Random Act of Kindness...would love to have some new tricks up my sleeve!