This past weekend, although not on my "To Do" list (although maybe I should start including it), I decided to take a little time to catch up on reading. So, I grabbed the pile of newspaper articles that I've been saving to read when I have extra time (which doesn't happen often). The good news (pun intended) is that many of these articles are so old by the time I get to them, that they go straight into the recycle bin. Such as the one when Trump was still President and covered not only the pardons he had announced but also the ones that were still expected.
Anyway, I wasn't sure the subject still interested me, as obviously it was no longer relevant, but decided to give it a quick glance, which is when I saw that it mentioned how Trump had promised to "drain the swamp" when he was running for President in 2016. Before you stop reading – this post has nothing to do with politics. It's about how that phrase brought back one of my fondest memories of my Dad and a piece of paper now yellowed with age …
My dad was a consulting engineer and worked from home (which was very unusual in those days but I thought wonderful) in a room in our basement that he had converted into an office. Every day after school I'd go directly downstairs, even before running to the kitchen for a snack. I'd dump my bags, plop down (sorry, no other way of describing it) into the wooden chair in the corner, and tell him about my day. He'd turn around from his drafting table, so I could see him, and give me his undivided attention. Behind him and the drafting table was a large corkboard with assorted notes and drawings, but pinned in the far corner was a piece of paper that he'd probably put up there even before I was born.
What was on that paper always made me laugh, even though at the time I'm not sure I really understood how true it was. It was so like my dad, who had a dry but wonderful, sense of humor, sometimes silly (think Monty Python), sometimes a little sarcastic. A lot of it, though, was in his delivery – whether a story or a joke – how he'd calmly lead you into something that ended with the unexpected. Somehow, all of that came together, in what was written on that piece of paper. And although a small thing, he must have known how I'd always look at it because when it came time for me to get married and move out of the house, he gave it to me.
It has always stayed close to me, literally, in the decades since and today it's in my Red & Black binder that I use every day, especially since it's where I have my monthly calendar. And every time I look at it, I smile …
The objective of all dedicated employees should be to thoroughly analyze all situations, anticipate all problems prior to their occurrence, have answers for these problems, and move swiftly to solve these problems when called upon …. However .… when you are up to your ass in alligators it is difficult to remind yourself that your initial objective was to drain the swamp.
We had barely introduced ourselves when the newspaper editor held up our book, gesturing to our "two-faced" logo on the front cover and said something along the lines of …
Ok, off the record, admit it, you embellished the characters in the book to be more entertaining.
When we finished laughing, we explained …
Certain days are etched in your memory. All earning a place based on the significance of the event – some good, others bad. I will never forget 9/11. I was out of town on a business trip and when I called my crew chief that morning to talk about the transport of my race car, he asked if I had been watching the news. Obviously, I had not. And, as I turned on the television, I saw the plane crash into the second tower.
I am not one to be glued to the television – nor am I one to be overwhelmed by emotions. But I could not help watching the news, almost non-stop. Looking back, I think it was because I was trying to make sense out of what I was seeing. Watching with horror and heavy heart as the day unfolded, looking for an explanation.
There are many images that still stand out in my memory. Interestingly, the most vivid ones are the ones that reflect how we, as Americas, stood together as a people. The first-responders rushing in while people covered in dust and debris wandered shell-shocked. Poignant pictures of President Bush at Ground Zero. Firefighters and EMTs from around the country working together.
The American people stepped up to help in whatever way they could. Whether it was donating blood or raising money for the victims and rescue workers. Or, simply prayer. People attended impromptu candlelight vigils and participated in moments of silence. We demonstrated our patriotism and belief in the ideals of our country. Of Democracy. People flew the American flag at their homes and even on their car antennas, while others pinned it to their clothing. Not to mention all the t-shirts.
People gathered together. Sometimes to pay tribute to the dead. Sometimes to honor all the first responders. Sometimes to share their grief with others. And, sometimes because they just did not want to be alone. I was stranded out of town as all flights were grounded but did not feel alone. And, although all of us felt differently in what specifically to do in response to the attacks, we seemed to agree that standing together – a sense of unity – provided hope in this horrible time.
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New Year's Eve seems like the perfect time to stroll down memory lane, although I'm guessing your memories are much more interesting than mine. |
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"Interesting" is a subjective word. Regardless, are you talking about memories in general? Or, New Year's Eve celebrations? |
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Actually, it was just a passing comment. But since you've always seemed to make a bigger deal out of New Year's Eve than I have, are there any years that really stand out? |
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Truth is the most memorable ones are the ones spent with celebrating with closest friends versus crowds. In fact, I think I have spent more than half of my New Year's Eves with John and Diana. Although, I will never forget bringing in 2000. |
