TEX IS DEAD!

Tex died yesterday. I doubt any of you knew Tex. I didn't, and I was his next door neighbor for more than two years. You know how it is. Both of us working, doing our " thing," just "takin' care of business." Tex was a manager in an automobile dealership, and the goings and comings from his 12-hour-day, six-day week dedication was all of Tex I knew.

It may be different for you, but when anybody I even remotely know dies, my brain begins to rearrange priorities seemingly against my will. I start talking to myself more than usual using phrases like, "In the grand scheme of things...." and then desperately try to figure out, what the heck is the grand scheme of things?

Tex knew for about six months that he was dying. I wonder if during those last six months he ever felt angry or frustrated over the car sales he was unable to close during his years of hard work, or the weeds that were beginning to take up permanent residence in his lawn. I wonder whether he worried about the potential sale of the car dealership to an out-of-state company. I wonder if he concerned himself over what his boss thought of him or what his neighbors thought of him. I wonder if he stayed awake at night considering the effectiveness of the new advertising campaign, his receding hairline--or maybe none of those things made any difference to Tex in "the grand scheme of things."

I saw a bumper sticker that read, "The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing." The "main thing" and "the grand scheme..." both boil down to one word--priorities. It is only natural that Tex's priorities were different when he knew this life was coming to an end. My guess is that spectacular southwestern sunsets and sunrises looked even more special to Tex as his "days dwindled down to a precious few." Spending time with the family, grilling chicken fajitas on the Weber, cutting the grass and taking out the garbage, routine events often taken for granted, I am sure, were savored.

Most of us don't know how much of life we have left. Six months, six years, or sixty years? What do you do with your time? Chronobiology is an emerging science that studies how time interacts with life, but do you need a science? Time is how you partition your lives between birth and death. You don't have time, waste time or save time you can only spend time. Do you spend your waking moments deeply concerned over how your carpet is wearing, or do you spend the precious present sitting around glassy-eyed watching spiders spinning webs?

Spiders, glass eyes or anything in between, is fine as long as you understand you will never ever get that time back again. What would Tex do?

Lesson: You're dead a lot longer than you're alive; use alive time wisely.

SIGN LANGUAGE

SIGN LANGUAGE

I was killing time in a small airport gift shop in a mid-sized southeastern city. This particular gift shop was full of things one expects to find in an establishment surviving on tourist dollars, but the shop also contained something that would have been amusing if it wasn't so pathetic. In its relatively modest space this retail shop contained 22 handwritten signs placed strategically so as not to be missed. Following are the warm-hearted signs that greeted the potential customer:

2--No drinks allowed.
8--Buy magazines, then read.
1--These are old, out of date papers, please leave them alone!!
5--Please do not handle toys. Toys opened or damaged will be paid for by parents or guardians.
1--Please do not open pens.
5--If you break, you buy!


What do you think was in the minds of the owners, if anything? Do you believe they were looking to improve their bottom line by increasing profit through the patronage of satisfied customers, or was their main objective to reduce their expenses by closing up each night with nothing broken? I can just imagine their mission statement: To be the southeast's largest storehouse of unbroken stuff!

In your personal life what kind of "signs" are you putting up?
I am fragile--be careful with me.
I am tough; you can't hurt me.
Go away; I don't need anybody.
Stay with me; I am needy.
I am better than you, or anybody else for that matter.
I am a scatterbrain, follow up with me on every detail.


I judged the gift shop as non-customer friendly and chose not to stay, much less buy anything (lest I break it on the way to the cash register). How are people judging you? Why?

I first became aware of my acting like a billboard at the end of day one of a two-day program I was conducting. The group got together for beer and pizza. I was invited, and so as not to hurt the inviter's feelings, and simultaneously quenching my thirst, I graciously accepted. The next day in class an antendee of both the program and the drinkfest, came to me and said, "I saw you across the room, but you didn't look like you wanted to be bothered, so I didn't come over to say hello." It took a bit of self-analysis to admit he was right. I was tired and I had a big day coming up, but I sure never would have come right out and said, "Stay away, I'm tired and I have a big day coming up" to anyone. I didn't even think I was thinking it, and yet I was alone most of the evening. How did they know?

Lesson: You got it, you asked for it.

RUFUS GOOFUS

Ever watch hummingbirds eat?

The Selasphorus Rufus (hereafter known as Ruf) hummingbird is a sight to behold. Ruf is known as a "dominate feeder," that, loosely translated, means Ruf is the 500 pound gorilla when eating time comes around. With hummingbirds that's every waking moment of everyday of their fast and furious lives.

I was sitting in my office which overlooks a hummingbird feeder (actually in my office I tend to overlook a lot of things, but I digress) when I saw my first Ruf. Two non-Rufs were busily flitting from one feeder eating hole to another, and out of nowhere comes Ruf. The other two would have wet their pants if they could have found a pair to fit their spindly little legs. Ruf then began the process of doing his "dominate" thing and guarding the food supply so that no other hummer could feed.

To get something, you have to give up something. Ruf, to get sole possession of the food, had to give up something. What he had to give up was any time for him to eat the food he so jealously guarded. Ruf was so busy keeping others away, he couldn't eat. Sounds foolish doesn't it?

Let's ascend the food chain. My wife, Jean, taught 5th grade. A couple of times a year she had an "auction" in which the kids, using "Good Job " tickets which they have earned over the school year, bid on various items which Jean had brought in. Last auction a student named Destiny really wanted a small pitcher. Thomas another student, not knowing Destiny wanted the pitcher, outbid her. She was crushed, sad to see, but hey that's life in fifth grade (and everywhere else). In the process of wrapping the pitcher for his mother, Thomas got fifth grade boy-itis and dropped it. He now had a bag of smithereens for his mother. Jean later spoke to Destiny about what she thought of the events of the day and she said, "At first I was glad, but then I felt sad that nobody would be able to enjoy the pitcher"--a concept completely alien to Ruf.

When it comes to getting, or not getting, what you want, grade schools are full of lessons. During this same auction, Shelby a girl with special education needs really wanted a music box with a dancing clown. Shelby had 42 tickets to bid. The other kids knew that Shelby wanted that particular music box--the rest of the class stopped bidding at 40. Shelby had her music box with the dancing clown

When you don't get what you want, are you more like Ruf or Mrs. Payne's 5th grade class?



Lesson: Don't get your shorts in a wad over not having something, be happy for those who have it.