For those we love...

Once upon a time, a king called upon all of his wise men and asked them, “Is there a mantra or suggestion which works in every situation, in every circumstance, in every place and in every time? In every joy, every sorrow, every defeat and every victory? One answer for all questions? Tell me, is there such a mantra?”

All the wise men were puzzled by the king’s question. They thought and thought. After a lengthy discussion, an old man suggested something which appealed to all of them. The wise men handed the king a paper with four words written on it. These four words would ground the king in his triumphs and lift the King during his darkest hours.

The four words were: This too shall pass.

As the king read the words, he became enlightened.

There are times when it feels like your world is crashing down around you. Nothing happens as planned. Everything is against you, your ambitions, and your very livelihood. Those are dark times. We’ve all experienced them at some point. But lately I have experienced something else. I have watched others go through tough times. And I, unable to ‘fix’ anything, am left on the periphery unable to offer anything more than support and encouragement in a situation that is nearly helpless.

Life certainly comes with plenty of ups and downs. On the upside we experience promotions, new relationships, material things, wealth and so forth. On the downside we experience layoffs, breakups, loss, financial hardship, death and other less desirable aspects of the human experience.

Most of us ride the roller coaster of life; our moods and levels of happiness are dictated by the situation at hand. We celebrate the upsides and bemoan the downside. In this perspective, I suppose that the end goal is experiencing more upsides than downsides.

I recognize that the upsides and downsides are part of this human experience. And that this experience is intrinsically beautiful and perfect. Regardless of my place on the roller coaster, I know that there are lessons to be learned and lives to touch.

For me, the secret is not letting my mood or level of happiness be dictated by the situation at hand. I know that true power comes from within, regardless of the circumstances around me. I base my happiness on the permanent, rather than the transient. Is that extremely difficult? Heck yes! I’m I successful in my attempts? Heck no!

When the fan gets hit, I remind myself that this too shall pass. And when Lady Luck smiles on me in a special way, I remind myself that this too shall pass.

Wordless Wednesday: Lent II

National Cathedral
Washington D.C.

And Here's to You...

Necessary Evil

Wordless Wednesday: Lent

Thus begins the 40 days...

Better far to live and die...

"Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit upon his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats." – H.L. Mencken (1880-1956)

And to that I say, “Yo-Ho.”

I blog for me.

My Stories

Yesterday I experienced an embarrassing moment in the office. Thankfully I was alone. I was just minding my own business and doing a hotel survey for a recent trip. Upon completion I clicked back to my home page and I saw a small picture near the bottom of the page. The face was warm and familiar. While I moved my mouse to the picture I was trying to remember how I recognized this woman. Then…before I could click…it happened. In an instant I recognized the older woman to be Francis Reid, the Days of Our Lives matriarch Alice Horton. Tears quickly filled the corners of my eyes…for the only reason her picture would be at the bottom of the page was to announce her death. I was right.

Francis Reid had a very successful lifelong career on the stage and screen. But I only knew her as Alice. It’s silly, I know, that a twenty something year old guy was crying in his office at this news. But I’m not ashamed. You see, Alice Horton was more than the matriarch of a soap opera. Alice was my grandmother…on television. It was my grandmother who first introduced me to Days. I’m sure she didn’t give it a second thought to pull me up on her lap to watch her “stories.” As I got older I was the only kid on the block to leave the bike gang to ride home, everyday, to watch. (My grandmother also looks a bit like Bea Arthur…which might be why I enjoy the Golden Girls so much)

In high school I would tape the show. In college I worked out a schedule that allowed me to watch three days a week. I gradually got away from Days. However there were always certain episodes that I was certain to watch. Christmas, and the hanging of the Horton family ornaments being one of them. Other people don’t get it. Non-soap people simply don’t understand the importance of Alice to the soap opera institution. She was the solid one. She was the grandmother, loving wife, stable mother-in-law, and the one who nearly every character turned to at their lowest moment for advice.

I guess it is fitting that Francis Reid pass away while Days is in its final run. Day time television is changing. Soap operas no longer hold up against today’s line-up. They were strong in their time, but sadly it is time that daily soap opera become part of our television history. I’m still a little embarrassed that her passing is having such a weight on my emotions yet today. I guess I cannot truly express the incredible influence that she, and the show, still has on my life. I should expect anyone to understand…

Wordless Wednesday: Days

Frances Reid
1914 – 2010
In Memorial

Wordless Wednesday: Cityscape

My Kind of Town

Southern...by Association

Recently I attended a concert of opera choruses. Most professional music organizations will at some point in their season put in these concerts of popular music. Lets face it…it sells tickets. Since I have been involved in professional music I have been astounded at just who the patrons are. They are there to be seen...for the most part. There is a reason the worst seats (acoustically) are the highest priced seats. People will pay it. They love to say things like, “Oh, I can’t. I’m going to the opera tonight.” Or, “What?! You don’t have season tickets to the philharmonic? Edgar and I never miss…” While people will stand up and cheer for the soaring tenor solos (rock stars of the opera world), I’m the one crying his eyes out during the opening notes of Puccini’s “Un bel vedremo” from Madama Butterfly. It is perhaps the best opera ever written. But that is another post for another time.

There are several songs that have that effect on me. But I was surprised by one today. It isn’t exactly a song that you would think could cause me to break down. Several years ago I was a young college guy living in a part of the country that was foreign to me. I went from my Midwestern hometown to the heart of Appalachia. During my first weekend at school the East Tennessee State University Bluegrass band was giving a concert in our college church. The sanctuary was packed and I was sitting in the back row with a few new found friends. Honestly I was just there for the required Lyceum credit. I had no interest in this music called bluegrass. The concert ended…but wait…there was an encore. The banjo started and in an instant the entire audience was on their feet, stompin’ clapin’ and singin’ along. I had NO IDEA what was happening. On the walk back to my house I asked one of these new found friends what that song was where people got their corn from a jar. With a look of complete abhorrence and total detestation she stopped walking, looked at me and said, “Boy. That was Rocky Top. And you best be learning it if you plan on stickin’ around these parts.”

The longer I stayed in the region the more I grew accustomed to bluegrass. Now I love it. But Rock Top isn’t just any ol’ bluegrass song. It is an anthem, a creed, and a sacred song of culture that will forever remind me of a better time, a different place, and some of the best friends I have ever made. As I was leaving campus in my graduation robe I was stopped by a man that I grew to love over three years. It was in his classroom that I learned more about being a gentleman than I did any course material. Placing a hand on my shoulder he asked, “Andrew. What have you learned here?” I think my response took him by surprise. I did not recite the three pillars of history created by him and expected on every test. I did not mention the countless stories he told in class, or recall any information on the Civil War. No. I told him that I learned to respect a culture that had only lived to me in the trite recounts of ignorant citizens. I told him that I learned what it is to be a southern gentleman. “But, Mr. Flynn,” he drawled “you’re a Yankee.” With a smile on my face I said, “No sir. I am a gentleman…southern by association.” A firm handshake and a broad smile confirmed to me that I had become one of them…a Southerner. Men of the South have always been noted for their distinguishable décor and dress. Their honey-soaked accents and captivating manners charm people from all parts of the world. While I will never have such an accent, I will always yearn for one. It is the honesty and integrity at the core of a true southern man that I respect. The debonair and charm that seems to flirt with every aspect of southern life is an intoxication quality I long to exude. The ability to work all day but always make time for friends, family, God, and a cocktail. This is what makes a Man of the South a true gentleman.

So…below is the clip that I just stumbled across today. It isn’t the grand rendition as performed by the UT band at football games. It doesn’t involve Dolly Parton, or even a banjo for that matter. I guess I really can't explain what this song, this version, does to me. Perhaps it serves as a reminder of what I will forever strive to become...