MERRY CHRISTMAS

Season with Real Reason

Merry Christmas, everyone. I just got a subtle nudge from my great friend Tim Sams who wrote in an email, "Update your blog, man!"  Leave it to a brilliant, beardy carpenter drinking Bourbon on Christmas evening to only swing the hammer once AND use the word man.

So, I am pulling myself out of my post-amazingly large (and very delicious, thank you Mom;) Christmas dinner stupor to write this post. I planned on waiting until I got back to the N.C. coast, but since Burlin the tipsy, wizard carpenter commanded it, I will tell my recent Christmas story now.

I was in D.C. last weekend to see one of my favorite musicians, Rhett Miller (of Old 97s fame) at 

Black Cat and the show was amazing!!! Had a great suite at the Grand Hyatt, saw the White House Christmas tree, had a great dinner, saw Rhett, and stayed out into the early morning (3:00 am!) with friends. And while I truly couldn't afford to be away from work and present buying, I counted it as a little Christmas gift to myself and had a wonderful time. Even got together with my beautiful friend Elena P. who helped me speed-shop at Tysons Corner and nearly checked off my entire list in a blur. Plus, I bought myself a great pair of Pumas;-) And while they weren't a surprise when I unwrapped them this morning (have already worn them a few times) they made me happy.

So, anyway, I got home around midnight Sunday, did a little packing, and finally fell asleep sometime after 1:30am. Had to be up early and hit the road to be in Greensboro, NC to meet my friend and client Don for a lunch meeting. I left about an hour early so I could stop at Southern Seasons in Chapel Hill to buy a basket for Don's gift. I was work out, all hopped-up on coffee, caught in early morning Raleigh traffic, and on the phone trying to schedule three photo shoots, ad copy for two different ads, negotiate a contract, and taking notes (please don't try that while driving 80 mph;-). I know I looked down somewhere around Faison, N.C. and noticed I needed gas, but knew I had about 25-30 miles on reserve and would stop later. 

Later came in the far left lane of Interstate 40 when my little SUV lost power. Just slowed down and wouldn't respond to my pumping of the accelerator. It hit me--I'd forgotten to get gas. I WAS OUT OF GAS! and speeding down a bust highway. I checked the three lanes to my right and wrestled the steering wheel to take me across the lanes and up a convenient off-ramp. The SUV topped the ramp and limped about 40 yards until I slid it onto the shoulder. I WAS OUT OF GAS! In all my years of driving, I'd never run a car out of gas. Never! And there I was, on a minor exit, on an exceptionally cold morning, with nothing but office buildings around for at least a mile in either direction. The first thing that crossed my mind was that it was par for the course for my year-end: Laptop crash, loss of everything on it, BlackBerry mishap in which my trackball wouldn't stay in so I had to get a new one and AT&T couldn't transfer the saved info. on the old one to the new one, NOW I was sitting on the side of the road in an SUV with no gas on the way to a business meeting. 

I got out of the car, closed the door and took a long look up the road in both directions. As I was contemplating how far I would have to hike and deciding which direction to go and larger SUV came toward me from the exit ramp. It pulled up and the passenger side window came down. A smiling man leaned across the console and asked if I needed any assistance. I told him the story hoping he would offer to drop me at a nearby gas station. Instead, he offered to go and get the gas and bring it back to me. I, of course, accepted and watched him drive off then climbed back into my car to wait. 

Ten or so minutes passed. I pulled on a knit cap and wrapped my scarf around my neck in the metro-way I'd learned from walking around cold, windy, snowy D.C. when I lived there. As I did, a negative thought popped into my mind: Maybe he wouldn't come back. Maybe he stopped to be nice, but was late for work and, while he wanted to do the right thing, would keep on trucking and I'd still have to walk those few miles one way, get the gas, and walk the few miles back. ALL IN MY NEW PUMAS!  

I shook the thought from my mind. This guy had a genuine smile. He looked like a good guy and heck, he didn't have to stop when he saw me. I wasn't flagging him down or anything. He stopped because he was a good guy. Yep, he would be back soon with the gas. 

I got out of the car and did a walked around it once. Just cleared my head and took in some cold air to wake me up. As I made my way back to the driver's side I saw the same SUV coming up behind me. Genuinely Nice Guy waved as he pulled up. He then hopped out, went around behind his car and came back carrying a bright red plastic container with a bright yellow cap.

"Sorry it took so long," he said. "The first place I stopped didn't have gas cans, so I had to find another." Genuinely Nice Guy was apologizing to ME? I, of course, told him how silly it was for him to apologize. I apologized for ruining his morning. I think he tried to apologize for something else, but cut him off with an apology for making him apologize. 

He handed off the red container and I opened the gas tank and placed the nozzle into the tank, but quickly pulled it back as gasoline ran down the side of the car. The can's nozzle had a hard plastic nub onto which one was supposed to place the cap so as not to lose it. In our case, it was preventing the nozzle from getting into the small opening of the tank. All of Genuinely Nice Guy's work in vain. Not to mention I'd be late for that meeting. Nice guy just smiled and walked toward his SUV. He disappeared to its rear and a few minutes later reappeared.

"Hey, I've got these wire cutters. Wonder if they will work?" He proceeded to place them over the hard plastic nub and SNIP! It cut through it like butter. SNIP again! And the nub was gone. Number one: What are the chances the guy has a tool like that in his car? One of the FEW tools that could cut through hard plastic like butter? There was no way this was a coincidence. 

I tried the nozzle, it fit! So, I emptied the 2 gals. into the car with ease. Once I'd finished I put down the can and took out my business card. "Hi, my name is Dale." 

He stuck out his cold hand, "I'm Allan."

"Look Allan, if I can ever do ANYTHING for you, please let me know." He studied the card and asked what SeaChange did. I explained and he pocketed it. He made his way back to his SUV and I followed thanking him profusely. Being the genuinely nice guy, he played it all off. After he climbed into the driver's seat, he leaned out of his window and said, "Merry Christmas!" He started the car and he drove of waving. 

I know Allan was real, but I can't help believing it was a gift from God. A reminder that there are Fred Selfe-powered people on every street (and exit ramp) in the world. And it was a less-than-subtle reminder that this Christmas season is not about Puma's or new laptops or new BlackBerrys or material things of any make or model. Instead it's about doing what Allan did, and being selfless. It's about helping others. It's about giving, and giving, and giving, and giving, and

giving. 

So, thank you Allan. You made my year--put me fully into the Christmas spirit and saved me. And thank you God for the lesson. You're really good at that;-) Thank you, Timmy, for making me write this. Oh, and thank me for the Pumas--because, really, they are smokin' new shoes and I needed them;-) 

I hope you and yours had a wonderful Christmas day and wish you a very prosperous 2009! 

Make it the year of BEING FRED SELFE!! 

EXHALATION

LOOKING AHEAD

I’ve learned some really important lessons this year. How NOT to use a chainsaw was one of the more painful. That one cost me surgery, an astronomical medical bill, a scheduled triathlon, and the proper movement of my left leg.

Another equally painful lesson I’ve learned in just the past month is about loss and letting it go.

On Sunday I awoke, filled a mug with Café Bustelo, and turned on my laptop to find my data missing. What data, you ask? ALL data: Every document and file gone. Music gone. Pictures gone. Everything gone. At first I panicked, paced frantically around my house—which is my usual way of dealing with catastrophe. Next I called professionals and spent hours on the phone trying fix after fix to no avail. The data wasn’t there.

Now, for you to understand my state of mind, I must also confess that just a few weeks before I experienced the end of what I thought was a life-changing relationship. Think driving a car. Not the most impressive car you’ve owned, but something about this car makes you want to drive. Makes you want to get out and take it places. Something about the car drives you. Something--everything--about the car makes you want to own it for life.

So, you start slowly at first, then opening it up to higher speeds, feeling it respond to the pressure on the accelerator, getting in-sync with your hands on the wheel. You look down to find you’re driving at over 100 mph. The world flying by, colors blurring, feeling one with the machine. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, there is no gas in the car. None in the tank, none in the gas lines and none in the engine. The ride ends you never know what happened to the gas. How did it disappear? How could it happen when the ride was going so well? Nothing left but question. I’d been sleeping about 3-4 hours each night, not eating, working out furiously, and focusing my thoughts on work.

So here I was, on Sunday, with that not far behind me sitting and looking at a laptop on which I run my business and my personal life. Looking at nothing. I suppose I could have put on my running shoes and gone for one of those long runs during which I grit my teeth and my hands so tightly they ache for hours after. The ones where I push my leg to exhaustion then keep on until I’m running through sheer pain and sometimes wiping tears away so I can see the road.

But I didn’t. I sat down in my big chair and put up my feet. For the first time since the week before my relationship ended my heart beat slowly and my mind was at peace. There were no questions. No what if I’d said this or done that. No pain. Everything stopped and I could hear my heartbeat.

I did what I advised her (the woman I previously compared to a car--and to be very clear, she's really a wonderful person so, while I miss her, I don't regret her) to do when her job (a financial company in the midst of the financial crisis) hit the fan and her office was chaos and her job was to help keep things cool—I exhaled. I took a long, satisfying, deep, chest-empting release of breath and exhaled. Then I smiled. What I understood at that moment was that if the data was just hidden or non-indexed I knew someone in High Point who could extract it. If it wasn’t—if it was really gone, forever and ever amen—it just was. There was nothing I could do about it. Asking why it happened wouldn’t change the loss. The past, everything that happened prior to that moment, was past. Memories. Gone.

I had to live in the moment. I had to be here now. I couldn’t sit around, as Colin Hay says in his song by the same name, “Waiting for my real life to begin.” The relationship ended when I felt it end on a cold, Sunday when something in her voice shifted. It was really over when we were at a quaint country inn having a wonderful dinner and time and I caught her sneaking text messages to someone when I ducked out to give her new puppy water and let her out of my car for a little walk. Over. Everything I'd felt the moment before was gone.

The data wasn’t where I could get at it, so it wasn’t there. I had to accept that reality and do the next thing. I had to either have someone extract the data and buy a new laptop or just buy the new laptop and try to recreate what I could.

Start from scratch. She (the woman I previously compared to a car) told me once that she and her neices count down the days until they see each other until the night before when they announce, "No more days!" So, this moment for me was that point, "No more days!" My life has to continue in whatever direction I choose from this moment. No putting things off. No blaming events/people from the past for not getting or doing or having or being. No excuses at all. No more days. Today is it. I awoke this morning and made a huge list of things I AM DOING. Moving back to DC, apartment there, new clients, taking all the inherited money I have squirreled away because it embarrased me and putting it into viable investements, personal goals (triathlon in 09!!!!), selling the first novel AND the screenplay, etc. Sure, it's long, but I'm ticking it off as I go...and I'm going each of the 1,440 minutes I have today.

So, here I am. At the beginning. Nothing behind me, and an endless panorama ahead with a pretty good road map to get there.

One bright point: I called her (the woman I previously compared to a car) because she has the only known copy of the latest novel I’m writing. She emailed yesterday that she is putting it in the mail, so I’ll have it. And, even after the initial few seconds where I stopped breathing when her name popped up in my email in-box, I slept through the night. Finally. Things are looking up—and ahead.

NEW PAINTING

Remembrance Day

Thought I'd share my latest painting (24"x36" acrylic on canvas) Can you tell things are looking up?;-) Oh sure, my laptop opened yesterday with NOTHING on it--not one single doc or file or pic or music and neither of my novel/manuscripts. But, the sun came up today and I had a few cups of Cafe Bustelo and some really sweet texts from some really cheeky friends. Yep, I love poppies, don't you?