My husband and I went out of town for the Christmas holidays. As is the case whenever we travel, our dogs must be boarded. This year we waited until six weeks before we were to leave to try to make arrangements for three of our four dogs. My husband's mother had offered to keep Missy, the toy poodle. The place we particularly like for boarding our dogs had been booked for months, and we were unable to find another place in town.
As a last resort, we called the veterinary hospital in a town at the coast where we spend some time. The vet there is a friend of ours and was able to arrange for us to board our dogs with him. His is the only veterinary hospital for several counties, and is located in a small and very poor fishing town on the mainland. On the opposite side of the bay there is an island with many large homes owned by wealthy folks from Georgia and Alabama. Most of the people in the fishing town are extremely poor and on public assistance. The contrast between the poverty of the town and the wealth of the nearby island is enormous.
It was nearly closing time when we went to pick up our dogs. I sat in the truck with Missy while my husband went in to pick up the other three dogs. Soon after my husband went inside the animal hospital, a local couple came out with their dog and got into an old beat up pick up truck parked next to ours. They were obviously fishermen. Immediately, the woman noticed Missy and waved to me. I held Missy up and the man held up their little dog to see her. The woman then said something to the man, but I could not tell what she said. She then got out of the truck and came over to me holding a brand new doggy tug toy in her hand. She handed it to me as I opened the door and said in a deep whiskey voice that they wanted Missy to have it. Then she wished me a Merry Christmas.
I was overcome by such a generous gesture from someone who obviously did not have a lot of material things. I thanked her several times and wished her a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year too. She gave me such a wonderful gift. Her real gift was not the toy, but the true spirit of Christmas by giving to another for the sake of giving. What a beautiful lady!
Thursday, December 30, 2004
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Apology
In today's world, we are forever seeing a well known figure issuing a blanket public apology for a personal misdeed. Often, the apology is accompanied by a statement intended to mitigate the issuer's responsibility. Unfortunately, this is increasingly the case even on the personal level. No one really seems to want to accept responsibility for his or her own actions anymore.
Recently, a poster on a message board made untrue statements about me and another poster. Shortly thereafter, this person chose that same public forum to issue an apology to us. But the damage had already been done. The public airing of the apology struck me as hollow and insincere, especially when that same forum has a personal message system that would have allowed the that person to apologize to each of us directly. This experience got me to thinking about what constitutes an honest apology.
Of course, the degree of the transgression usually dictates the degree of the apology. For example, if one accidentally steps on another person's toe or bumps into an individual in public, a simple "I'm sorry" usually suffices. If the transgression is more severe such as spilling a cup of coffee or a glass of wine on another person, the verbal apology should be accompanied by a follow up action to rectify the resulting damage.
So what should happen when someone purposefully says harmful things to or about another? Is saying "I'm sorry" enough? Or is it only one of many actions needed for a sincere apology? Those were the questions I asked myself in writing this.
Saying "I'm sorry" is a step in an apology, but it is not the first step in an honest apology. Accepting full responsibility within one's own mind for the transgression is imperative as the first step towards a sincere apology. This is often the hardest step. That means confessing to yourself that you were wrong.
Only then, can one begin on the road to an honest apology. In order to be truly sincere, the verbal or written apology should be made directly to the injured party, and must be devoid of trying to mitigate or justfy one's transgression. Without this step, a public apology appears to be just a empty show or a washing of one's hands. As part of the apology, forgiveness may be requested, but should not be expected immediately. Regardless of the reaction of the recipient to the apology, a sincere apology requires additional actions that demonstrate the sincerity of it and ensure that the same transgression is not repeated in the future.
It is a hard lesson to learn. Experience has taught me that. A while back, I was mean and ugly to a friend. As a result of my words, my friend cut me out of his life. It was only after an extended period of apology, humble contriteness, and a sincere effort at mending the broken bridges that we are now once again good friends. I learned from this experience that a truly sincere apology can lead to a beautiful outcome.
Recently, a poster on a message board made untrue statements about me and another poster. Shortly thereafter, this person chose that same public forum to issue an apology to us. But the damage had already been done. The public airing of the apology struck me as hollow and insincere, especially when that same forum has a personal message system that would have allowed the that person to apologize to each of us directly. This experience got me to thinking about what constitutes an honest apology.
Of course, the degree of the transgression usually dictates the degree of the apology. For example, if one accidentally steps on another person's toe or bumps into an individual in public, a simple "I'm sorry" usually suffices. If the transgression is more severe such as spilling a cup of coffee or a glass of wine on another person, the verbal apology should be accompanied by a follow up action to rectify the resulting damage.
So what should happen when someone purposefully says harmful things to or about another? Is saying "I'm sorry" enough? Or is it only one of many actions needed for a sincere apology? Those were the questions I asked myself in writing this.
Saying "I'm sorry" is a step in an apology, but it is not the first step in an honest apology. Accepting full responsibility within one's own mind for the transgression is imperative as the first step towards a sincere apology. This is often the hardest step. That means confessing to yourself that you were wrong.
Only then, can one begin on the road to an honest apology. In order to be truly sincere, the verbal or written apology should be made directly to the injured party, and must be devoid of trying to mitigate or justfy one's transgression. Without this step, a public apology appears to be just a empty show or a washing of one's hands. As part of the apology, forgiveness may be requested, but should not be expected immediately. Regardless of the reaction of the recipient to the apology, a sincere apology requires additional actions that demonstrate the sincerity of it and ensure that the same transgression is not repeated in the future.
It is a hard lesson to learn. Experience has taught me that. A while back, I was mean and ugly to a friend. As a result of my words, my friend cut me out of his life. It was only after an extended period of apology, humble contriteness, and a sincere effort at mending the broken bridges that we are now once again good friends. I learned from this experience that a truly sincere apology can lead to a beautiful outcome.
Monday, December 20, 2004
Growing Old and Growing Up - Part 2
Aging doesn't necessarily mean growing old. The body ages, but it is the mind that grows old. At fifty seven years of age, my body is becoming high mileage. I do my best to look attractive, but time and gravity are now winning. My mother is eighty two and she is very youthful. It is her forward looking attitude that makes her so youthful. She is youthful and yet mature. She is my blueprint.
Being youthful in outlook is good. Being immature is not. Even in my middle ages, I still need to grow up. My immaturity reared its ugly head again recently when I reacted in a very petty way to a perceived slight. Instead of letting it pass and letting it go, I showed my immaturity and my butt. The lessons of growing up are the most difficult ones to learn. I still have a long way to go in growing up.
Being youthful in outlook is good. Being immature is not. Even in my middle ages, I still need to grow up. My immaturity reared its ugly head again recently when I reacted in a very petty way to a perceived slight. Instead of letting it pass and letting it go, I showed my immaturity and my butt. The lessons of growing up are the most difficult ones to learn. I still have a long way to go in growing up.
Growing Old and Growing Up - Part 1
A little over a week ago, I went with my husband, his mother, and his aunt to the cemetery where my father in law is buried to help light the Christmas lumineries. The cemetery places lumineries on each gravesite and then provides butane lighters so that family members can light the candles within them. Lighting of the lumineries is a positive symbol of celebration for our family. It is something which we very much look forward to each year.
It has been twelve and a half years since my father in law died from a heart attack. He was seventy four at the time. He had suffered his first heart attack at the age of fifty and had undergone a multiple by pass surgery about a year before he died. He had not been well the last year of his life, but no one other than the family knew how really sick he was.
This year's lighting of the lumineries happened to fall on my in-laws wedding anniversary, thus making the trip to the cemetery even more important to my mother in law. Unlike some of the other gravesites there, my father in law's is regularly maintained by the family. My mother in law ensures that the flowers on the marker are red, which was my father in law's favorite color. My father in law loved to play golf and he lived life to the fullest. Because he was such an avid golfer, he was buried with his favorite putter. His marker now always has a golf ball on a tee next to it so that he can play his latest round.
We all still miss him, especially at this time of year. He was a very upbeat and outgoing man who loved the Christmas holidays. I always thought of him as a jolly elf because you rarely ever saw him without a smile on his face or laughing. He had a wonderful sense of humor and loved to tell funny stories. Even though we heard the same ones over and over, they still were funny. When he died, the crowd at his funeral was very large. He was not famous, rich, or influencial, but he was extremely well loved by everyone who ever met him. Throughout his entire life, my father in law always had the wonder and enthusiasm for living like a kid does at Christmas.
It has been twelve and a half years since my father in law died from a heart attack. He was seventy four at the time. He had suffered his first heart attack at the age of fifty and had undergone a multiple by pass surgery about a year before he died. He had not been well the last year of his life, but no one other than the family knew how really sick he was.
This year's lighting of the lumineries happened to fall on my in-laws wedding anniversary, thus making the trip to the cemetery even more important to my mother in law. Unlike some of the other gravesites there, my father in law's is regularly maintained by the family. My mother in law ensures that the flowers on the marker are red, which was my father in law's favorite color. My father in law loved to play golf and he lived life to the fullest. Because he was such an avid golfer, he was buried with his favorite putter. His marker now always has a golf ball on a tee next to it so that he can play his latest round.
We all still miss him, especially at this time of year. He was a very upbeat and outgoing man who loved the Christmas holidays. I always thought of him as a jolly elf because you rarely ever saw him without a smile on his face or laughing. He had a wonderful sense of humor and loved to tell funny stories. Even though we heard the same ones over and over, they still were funny. When he died, the crowd at his funeral was very large. He was not famous, rich, or influencial, but he was extremely well loved by everyone who ever met him. Throughout his entire life, my father in law always had the wonder and enthusiasm for living like a kid does at Christmas.
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Oh Fudge
Today I made two batches of fudge, one chocolate and one peanut butter. Everything about making fudge or any other kind of candy is precise. The timing and the temperature have to be just right or it either ends up too sugary or won't set properly. Working in a household populated by a husband and four dogs does not always lend itself to my being precise at candy making or anything else.
It never fails as I am both timing the sugar syrup and watching the temperature on the candy thermometer, the phone rings. Since my husband was out of the house, there was no one to answer it in the four rings before it goes to the recorder. Four rings is an eternity when the first ring sets off barking by three of our four dogs. Chaos ensued.
The phone stopped ringing after four rings, and the message went to the recorder. However, a strange voice on the recorder simply encouraged more barking. Three dogs barking while I am helplessly tied to the stove and the candy thermometer left me with my teeth gritting. Finally the syrup was finished, my fudge was poured, the dregs were tasted and tasted some more, and I am now on a sugar high for the rest of the night. God rest ye merry little candymaker.
It never fails as I am both timing the sugar syrup and watching the temperature on the candy thermometer, the phone rings. Since my husband was out of the house, there was no one to answer it in the four rings before it goes to the recorder. Four rings is an eternity when the first ring sets off barking by three of our four dogs. Chaos ensued.
The phone stopped ringing after four rings, and the message went to the recorder. However, a strange voice on the recorder simply encouraged more barking. Three dogs barking while I am helplessly tied to the stove and the candy thermometer left me with my teeth gritting. Finally the syrup was finished, my fudge was poured, the dregs were tasted and tasted some more, and I am now on a sugar high for the rest of the night. God rest ye merry little candymaker.
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