Leaving a Legacy

As this post is being written my Mom is getting ready to leave this earth, just about a month and a half shy of her 90th birthday.

Yesterday while visiting her I was struck by how influential Mom has been to all eight of her children and their spouses and children. In fact, she is leaving us a very rich spiritual legacy, one that includes the life experiences of almost nine decades of living.

This thought hit home during lunch, when four siblings and a brother-in-law were gathered around the dining room table, eating a great meal (spaghetti with homemade sauce, garlic bread and salad). Mom wasn't able to join us at the table, being too tired. But as she lay resting in her bed, her spirit was definitely with us.

It's pretty powerful stuff to be reminded so concretely that we are all in the business of forming a legacy that will live on after us. No matter if it's consciously done or not, the choices we make when interacting with others determine much of what that legacy will be and how wide its influence.

Saint Francis of Assisi was supposed to have said, "Preach the gospel. Use words if necessary." Mom took his advice.

Patience in Eternity

This morning you could say that I've got a celestial nudge to think about impatience, from an eternal perspective.

Which got me to thinking, how much of my own impatience is caused by short-sightedness? How often do I speak or act rashly, being rooted in the moment, instead of the evermore?

I remember looking at the clock on the wall in our first grade classroom, and thinking: "It's nine o'clock right now. But I know that later on, I'm going to look at the same clock and it'll read 3 p.m. And I'll remember when I looked at it just now."

It was a kid's way of dealing with the concept of eternity. Even now, with the advantage of sixty-one years of living, the reality of eternity is still being formed more completely.

Ironically, the more I'm rooted in "forever" I'm better able to appreciate the "now" and yet not get so hung up in the moment by responding in judgment or haste, allowing eternity's perspective to work its magic. 

A Walking Testimony

Two years ago yesterday my brother-in-law Charlie was released from a (physical) rehab hospital. He had spent almost two months in three different hospitals, due to a life-threatening illness that happened the day after Thanksgiving.

Initially he was given a 20 percent chance of surviving, but, miraculously, he not only survived, but he came out of the ordeal almost 100% totally healed.

I'll never forget sharing a last dinner in the hospital with Charlie and my sister Dorothy (his wife). After we had the meal in his room we went down a couple of hallways to the main lobby. We had it all to ourselves, (this was a very small facility!) so Charlie watched as Dot and I danced around the place - filled with happiness that he was finally on his way home.

We were alternatively dancing and laughing and Charlie was laughing along with us.

How often do we forget to be thankful for the little things until a huge challenge comes along that forces us to count our blessings?

What's Important?

The Saturday before Christmas I visited one of the Fresh Food Initiatives (distribution of fresh produce) operated by a church not too far from where I live. The food came from the Food Bank where I work.

At the church there were about 25 volunteers getting ready to give away about 7 skids of food (each skid weighed between 500 and 1,500 lbs.) A lot of helping hands, a lot of food and a lot of folks in need waiting to receive it.

After spending time there I came home and, on a whim, quickly went on line to check the status of my retirement plan (not a pension but an alternative).

When I logged on I was surprised to find that the balance read "0" and that every penny had been taken out the day before!

My initial response was "YIKES!" what's going on? My second response was to make a decision to pray about it. It was the weekend, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

After the retirement account check-in, I went to work for a bit. It was a Family Matters Day, when we invite families, service clubs, neighbors and others to come and volunteer with us for a few hours on a Saturday; outside of the normal weekday, workday routine.

I was still concerned about my retirement account (or at this point, what I thought was a lack of one!) But as soon I walked past my desk and out the door that leads to the volunteer area, a miracle happened.

There must have been 40-plus different volunteers busily helping to sort out a grassroots food collection. Even better, half of them were kids, Scouts, who were literally getting into the big wire totes (collection bins) to pull out canned goods. The positive energy level was enormous.

As if to set the mood, there was Christmas music playing. And as I walked from one group of volunteers to another, each of them had a smile on their face and a "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays" greeting to share.

In no time, I found myself coming under the influence of the holiday spirit. All of a sudden it didn't matter what amount of money I had in my retirement account, or if I had one at all.

Once I got back to my desk, a memo that I had put aside without really reading it was staring me in the face. It's title? "Notification of Switching Retirement Accounts." The memo had been written three weeks before, explaining that our retirement accounts were being reorganized, resulting in a "withdrawal" from the existing account as they were being placed into a new one. The memo went on to explain that no money would be lost. It was simply an accounting procedure, nothing more.

For me, the lesson I learned on the drive from my home to the Food Bank that day was: Where do I choose to place my trust? For me, by the time I got to the Food Bank I had already made a decision not to ultimately trust in money. Sharing holiday joy with volunteers only confirmed that decision.

A Second Look

For the past few days we've had some extremely cold weather up here in Michigan, and in much of the northeast. My workplace has been shut down for two days, and I've been hanging out with my two cats (Abbott and Buddy) at home while working remotely.

All of this to say that life sometimes offers us an opportunity to sit back and reflect on things. Yesterday morning Abbott jumped up on the couch, staring intently out the window. At first I thought he was watching the bush that grows right against it. But when I got up next to him, I saw beneath the outer branches was a beautiful cardinal. It's brilliant red made even brighter against the fresh-white snow.

Sometimes the most beautiful things in life lie just beyond a surface look.

Welcome!

Welcome to lifesomethings!

I recently published a book, 20 Short Ones, a collection of 20 short stories about the beginnings of relationships. To give you a sense of the flavor of it, here's a short excerpt from one of the stories titled "Patience."

Sure, patience is a virtue. But for Lissie Finkel, it was getting downright ridiculous.

She was thirty-seven and had wanted a baby (lots of them actually) and a husband, ever since she could remember. In fact, in first grade, Lissie got sent to the Principal’s Office for bringing her baby doll to class. Fast forward to junior high and she was still at it. This time, she got caught with back issues of Bride Magazine in her locker. Boy, did she catch holy-heck for that. And don’t get me started about high school.
It was senior year. Mid-April. Just after spring break and everyone was focused on the Prom. It was all anyone was talking about. In the halls. In the locker rooms. On the stair wells. In the cafeteria. Everywhere. The whole school had prom-on-the-brain. Including Lissie. Why would she be immune? She was all of five-feet, two-inches and holding, bright red hair – the color of actual carrots. Hazel eyes that you would die for.

Lissie was having a difficult time lining up a date for the prom because of an inexplicable drive to tell the truth. No matter what. And the ‘what’ in this case turned out to be going through high school dateless. But she solved her dilemma by going with Stefan Merkle, the school janitor. Stefan was 65 years of age and from the old country. He was proud of the fact that he was an authentic Swedish Jew. His Dad was from Stockholm and his Mom from Russia. Although he didn’t attend synagogue, he nonetheless was very spiritually minded and out of respect for his father, wore a yarmulke. Stefan had a thick head of snow-white hair and was a very good dancer. He also looked a lot like Michael Douglas, which didn’t hurt. And he had a definite sense of humor and was great at making small talk, which helped immensely when Stefan knocked on Lissie’s door and had to explain to her parents why a senior citizen Swede was taking their daughter out.

Besides her physical attractiveness, Lissie was a brain. Her most favorite topic happened to be Einstein’s theory of relativity. She had a poster of Einstein famed on her bedroom wall, right across from her bed so she saw it, first thing, when she got up every morning. It was the one with him riding a bicycle. A reminder that you could like quantum physics and still keep your sense of humor. She was known to start her day by sitting up, smiling and saying (out loud): “Good morning Albert! Let’s make it a great day!”
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If you like this preview, you can purchase 20 Short Ones at the Barnes & Noble or Amazon websites.
Here's the link to Barnes & Noble:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/20-short-ones-dan-salerno/1117689549?ean=9781490805801

Here's the link to Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/20-Short-Ones-Stories/dp/149080580X/ref=sr_1_1_bnp_1_pap?ie=UTF8&qid=1389025297&sr=8-1&keywords=Dan+Salerno