Attitude of Gratitude

Autumn Transition

You can feel the change. It’s cold outside. Well, not Midwest or Northeast cold, but definitely California cold -- which simply means I closed the windows here at home around 6:00 this evening. It seems that Autumn has arrived, and, for that, I am very grateful.

I’ve written previously about my love for Fall. In fact, I’ve probably mentioned it in at least one late-September or early-October blog post every year since I started Attitude of Gratitude. There is something special, even magical, about the transition from Summer to Autumn. The colors on the trees around here have not really started their annual show yet, but I know it’s coming and I’m looking forward to enjoying those days and weeks.

Having grown up in the western part of San Francisco, I was gratified to move to the warmer climate of the South Bay for my college years. My decision to stay in this area after graduating from Santa Clara University was based, in part, on the weather. I didn’t want to return to the fog of The City, and the daily weather report of “High fog along the coast, extending inland night and morning.” I loved the sun. I savored the warmth. And the Santa Clara Valley, in the pre-tech days, was a delightful place to live. Well, just as the valley has changed, I have changed, as well.

No longer do I lay out in the sun trying to get tan. After doing that for many years in my younger days, I’ve paid the price, with two skin cancer surgeries on my shoulders and a pre-emptive topical procedure on my forehead. I learned my lesson. Now, as the transition from Winter to Spring and then Spring to Summer unfolds, I enjoy the warmth, but I choose to enjoy it in the shade. By late September, however, I’ve had my fill of warm weather. I’m ready for the cooler days and nights of Autumn, knowing that Winter is right around the corner. 

Autumn also makes it more pleasant to take daytime walks. The late-Summer temperatures in the South Bay make such walks a bit disagreeable, so I most often choose to walk in the evenings. Now, however, the mid-day temperature is ideal for getting some much-needed exercise. 

I’m sure we’ll have a few more warm days in the weeks to come, but those will still be more temperate than the heat of Summer. I’m just happy to know that I’ll be putting on my warm jacket more and more in the coming weeks.  

A Painful Memory

I knew it was bad from the moment it happened. Thirty years later, I still recall the pain. It was the last weekend in September 1986. The Diocese of San José was hosting an event at the old Saint Joseph Seminary property in Los Altos, which had been converted just a few years earlier into the administrative offices of the newly-formed diocese. At the time, I was in my third year at Saint Lawrence in Santa Clara, where I was both a pastoral minister and a high school teacher. I had been asked to serve on the planning team for the diocesan gathering. One of my responsibilities was to organize a group of volunteers to pick up 2,000 folding chairs from Santa Clara University and set them up for an outdoor session at the seminary.

On Thursday afternoon, September 25, 1986, I drove a rental truck to Santa Clara to pick up the first 1,000 chairs. Gratefully, I had lots of help. Once those chairs were in place at the seminary, we returned to Santa Clara for the remaining chairs. The first session of the two-day conference was scheduled to begin at 3:00 p.m. on Friday, so after getting that second load of chairs into the truck, I drove home to get a good night’s sleep. We would unload the truck and set up the remaining chairs on Friday morning. 

I was young at the time, a healthy 32-year-old, so I was not prepared for what I experienced as I unloaded the first stack of chairs on that cool September morning. As I had done countless times the day before, I grabbed about six chairs from the bed of the truck, walked a short distance, then bent over to place the chairs on the ground. That’s when it happened. I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced physical pain greater than what I felt at that precise moment. It was excruciating. It was also the last set of chairs I touched that day. Only later did I learn that I had sustained a herniated disc in my lower back.

Gratefully, I was able to avoid surgery by engaging in a lengthy regimen of therapy and exercise. It took a long time, but eventually, the pain subsided as I strengthened the muscles around the compromised disc.

Today, almost thirty years to the day after that painful incident, I am tremendously grateful that my back is pain-free, and has been, for the most part, for many years. I continue to engage in preemptive exercises to strengthen my core. When I fail to do those exercises, my lower back sends little reminders -- a tweak here, a twinge there -- to get me back on track. I’ve learned my lesson.

It can be challenging to be grateful for abstract things, such as a lack of pain. As I realize, however, that thirty years has passed since that agonizing day, I am filled with gratitude for the lack of misery and for the amazing medical professionals who helped me through such a difficult time in my life.  

Feeling Accomplished

One might wonder...... how long is the average book? Well, I Googled that question last night and this is what I learned:

”The average 6 x 9 trade paperback features between 250 to 275 words per page. So if you write a 35,000 word manuscript, your formatted book will likely be around 140 pages.”

Hmmm.... 140 pages. That’s interesting -- I thought it would be more. Today’s blog post, the one you’re reading right now, is my 1,400th Attitude of Gratitude blog post. Most of my posts, in recent years, have been about 500 words in length. Given the information above, I’ve written the equivalent of at least ten books in the past ten years! Yes, I’m feeling accomplished today.

When I began this blog in December 2006, I decided to focus on the theme of gratitude. I’m glad I did. Thinking and writing about gratitude has changed my life for the better. Jack Canfield, author of the various “Chicken Soup...” books, said, “Gratitude is the single most important ingredient to living a successful and fulfilled life.” I have found this to be true. Randy Pausch, the Carnegie-Mellon University professor who lost his battle with cancer in July 2008 (just a week before my Dad’s untimely death), said, “Showing gratitude is one of the simplest, yet most powerful things humans can do for each other.” I know this to be true, as well.  

Unfortunately, we live in a world in which genuine gratitude seems to be in short supply. Instead, the insidious reality of greed seems to have taken hold. So many individuals seem to be fixated on the accumulation of wealth. Do they not understand what the Stoic philosopher Epictetus taught almost two thousand years ago? He wrote, “Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants.” Bingo! 

There are many who seem to think that gratitude is one of those things that we can enjoy only later in life, after we’ve accumulated all the right toys -- that only when things get better, easier, or simpler will we truly be able to sit back and be truly grateful. The reality of the situation is that life will always be complicated, in some way. It is absolutely imperative that we learn to be happy with our lives right now -- before we run out of time.

Living with a sense of gratitude generates a greater sense of compassion and kindness towards others. We all know that we are supposed to be kind to others. That’s part and parcel of being human. Confucius warned us, though, “Act with kindness, but do not expect gratitude.” What one does for another must be done freely, without coercion, and without expectation. It must be freely given.

On December 23, 2006, I made a commitment to live my life with an attitude of gratitude. It didn’t just happen. It was a conscious decision. I invite you to consider making a similar commitment, if you have not done so already. James Clear, an author and photographer, hit the nail on the head when he said: “If you commit to nothing, you’ll be distracted by everything.”

Thanks for reading my post!  

Productive… Not Just Busy

After thoroughly enjoying Year 1 of my retirement, devoting most of my time to reading, relaxing, writing, and getting together with friends and family for breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and Starbucks visits, I made a commitment to be a bit more productive with my life in Year 2, which began on August 1st. I’m a bit alarmed, but in a good way, at how quickly things are changing. Just as I never formally applied for any of the jobs I had in my 40-year professional career -- each was the result of an unsolicited invitation -- the second year of my retirement has started with a couple of appealing, yet unexpected opportunities. 

In yesterday’s blog post, I mentioned Project Cornerstone. This organization works with students in local elementary schools, middle schools, and high schools to promote the development of positive relationships, opportunities, values, and skills. The goal of this effort is to provide students with a solid foundation for success in life. They do this by promoting forty developmental assets, identified by Search Institute in Minneapolis, Minnesota. These building blocks help students to grow up as healthy, caring, and responsible citizens. I am currently working on a series of short stories, to be used with middle school students, which exemplify these forty assets.

Today I attended an interesting event, to which I was invited by one of my neighbors, at the office of Silicon Valley FACES, a non-profit organization dedicated to creating and promoting an empathetic and inclusive community which is free of bias, bigotry, and violence. This mission is accomplished through age-appropriate experiential learning programs that teach empathy, inclusiveness, effective communication skills, conflict resolution, and the constructive leadership skills needed to disseminate these attributes among classmates, colleagues, and the community at large. I met several members of the FACES staff this afternoon, all of whom share my interest in creating effective community leaders who are committed to eradicating prejudice, bullying, and bystander behavior. 

Both organizations have much to offer in the community, and both seem to have needs which match-up well with some of my interests and aptitudes. Other than the short story writing, and preparing a proposal for a student assembly presentation on the topic of “Gratitude” for middle school students, I’m not sure how I might get involved in these worthwhile causes. I’m just tremendously grateful for the opportunities which have presented themselves. I’m already beginning to feel just a bit more productive!  

Two final thoughts....... Tim Ferriss, an author, entrepreneur, and public speaker, points out a distinction worthy of acknowledgment: “Focus on being productive instead of busy.” There IS a difference. And the well-known Russian writer Leo Tolstoy offers this reminder: “The sole meaning of life is to serve humanity.” I don’t necessarily agree that serving humanity is the sole meaning of life, but it is most certainly a good use of our time. 

Only time will tell where all this may lead me.  

A Call to Action

It would have been so easy for my Dad to say to my Mom, “It’s not my problem. I’m off-duty,” but he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. He understood that his role as a San Francisco firefighter meant that he was on-duty whenever and wherever his services were needed. 

Such was the case on Labor Day weekend in 1964 when my parents had just finished a nice dinner at a restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf in The City. At that time in his career, my Dad was assigned to Rescue 2 on California Street. When he and my Mom exited the restaurant and saw that fire was engulfing the nearby A. Sabella’s Restaurant, at the corner of Taylor and Jefferson Streets, he knew what he had to do. Dad spent the next couple of hours assisting a rookie firefighter refilling Scott Air Packs outside the burning structure. It was the right thing to do.

A few years later, while dining with my Mom at Westlake Joe’s Restaurant in Daly City, my Dad again jumped into action when another customer in the Cascade Room was choking on a piece of meat. I don’t recall all the details of this incident, but I do know that my Dad, and one other off-duty firefighter, received a meritorious conduct award from the City of Daly City for saving the life of the victim.

Taking action, even when the easiest or most acceptable course is to do nothing -- this is what it means to be an upstander. Most people are well-aware of the term bystander. It is often used to refer to those who witness an event or action, yet fail to get involved in any way. The term upstander, however, is not even in the dictionary. Yet.

It is often understandable that individuals, perhaps fearing for their own safety, choose not to get involved in a particular incident. This is true for people of all ages. Imagine, however, if members of our community embraced the concept of upstanding -- of stepping outside their comfort zone and taking action when they witness a person in distress, an act of bullying, or some other type of injustice happening around them.

Project Cornerstone, an initiative of the Silicon Valley YMCA, is introducing the concept of upstanding to elementary, middle school, and high school students throughout Santa Clara County. Students are being challenged to act on behalf of the vulnerable when they witness bullying in their schools. And now, Starbucks Coffee has embraced the term, launching an online series called Upstanders (click to see trailer). As I mentioned, the term may not yet be in the dictionary, but it will be soon.

I am grateful for this emphasis on getting involved. To take action, even when the easiest or most expected response is to do nothing -- this is the challenge set before all of us today. No longer can we simply sit back and say, “Wow... that’s really sad.” We have a responsibility to step up, stand up, and get involved.  

A Different Focus

Attendance at Sunday Mass was part of my lived experience as a young person. In my early years, my family usually attended Saint Gabriel Church in San Francisco, though, on special occasions, such as Christmas and Easter, we would often go to Saint Ignatius Church on the campus of the University of San Francisco. The crucifix depicting Jesus on the cross in the sanctuary at Saint Ignatius, which hung prominently from the baldachin, was ornate, but I don’t recall paying much attention to it. Perhaps this is due to the incredible beauty of the larger worship space. There was so much more to observe throughout the building. As a young boy, I often found myself counting the small images of angels on the church ceiling. The crucifix simply didn’t attract my attention.

Saint Gabriel Church was different. It was a very simple building, with little to distract from the gruesome, bronze-colored crucifix displayed on the back wall of the sanctuary. There, looking pained and defeated, hung the Savior of the world. I don’t recall hearing the priests of the parish talk much about the crucifix, except, perhaps, on Good Friday, when parishioners would line up to kiss smaller versions of the crucifix during services commemorating the death of Jesus. Then, again, maybe the priests did speak about the crucified Jesus, and I just wasn’t paying attention.

In my high school years, I began attending Mass on Sunday evenings in the chapel at Saint Ignatius College Preparatory. The liturgies were geared for high school youth, with students engaged in various liturgical ministries. A cookies-and-punch reception following each service, allowing students from various schools to build community. I have no doubt that there was a crucifix prominently displayed in the chapel’s sanctuary, but in those years, I was involved in the liturgical music ministry, so I usually stood off to the side of the sanctuary facing the assembly. I don’t recall paying much attention, if any, to the crucifix. With a number of students from several of the local all-girls’ catholic high schools present, there were many other distractions for me.

What I do recall about growing up in the Catholic Church is that the focus of our faith is the resurrection of Jesus, not the crucifixion. What is referred to as the Paschal Mystery recalls the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus. The highlight of this mystery, the reason for the existence of Christianity today, is the resurrection, not the crucifixion. Had Jesus not risen from the dead, Christianity would not exist. So why do most catholic churches prominently display an image of Jesus crucified, rather than an empty cross commemorating the resurrection of Jesus?

I was reminded of this question today as I finished reading the novel Eleven Minutes, by Paulo Coelho. Coelho is probably most noted for his novel The Alchemist. In Eleven Minutes, the main character enters a church in Geneva, Switzerland. Coelho writes:

“The church was completely empty when she went in, and she was able to examine in silence the splendid stained-glass windows, lit from outside by the light of a day washed clean by last night’s storm. Before her stood an empty cross; she was confronted not by an instrument of torture, by the bloodied body of a dying man, but by a symbol of resurrection...”

I’m grateful for this gentle reminder that the focus of my faith is not a man dying on a cross, but on the belief that he overcame death through his resurrection. I can honestly say that I don’t fully comprehend this experience. Perhaps that is why we use the word “faith” when talking about this event.  

Gemütlichkeit

Despite the fact that the month of September has not yet ended, “Oktoberfest” was the theme of the annual fundraising event at the Villa Siena Retirement Community in Mountain View last night. The Villa Siena staff, as well as a group of Bavarian musicians and dancers, sported the traditional German lederhosen (men) and dirndls (women) for the festivities. It couldn’t have been a nicer evening, as the outdoor temperature stayed in the 70º’s throughout the event.

After some incredibly delicious appetizers, graciously passed around by volunteers from Notre Dame High School in San José, dinner was served buffet-style. The meal included pork shank, bratwurst, chicken-pineapple sausage, sauerkraut, red cabbage, and dinner rolls. Dessert featured a tasty apple strudel, topped with whipped cream and caramel drizzle. Beverages for the evening included beer, donated by the Tied House in Mountain View, as well as a variety of wines, soft drinks, and water.

In addition to the traditional German musicians, a small group of dancers entertained the guests. There were also a few games, such as beer pong and a log-cutting competition, for those who were interested in getting actively involved.

The event was well-attended, and well-supported by the community. A variety of raffle prizes were donated for the event, including gift certificates to restaurants, boat rides on San Francisco Bay, and a weekend at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Half Moon Bay. (I would love to have won that one!) Students from St. Francis High School, which is located next door to Villa Siena, also helped out with set up, hospitality, and clean up. In all, it was a very successful event.

I am grateful for all the many blessings the Villa Siena Retirement Community offers to those who live there. My mother has been a resident for the past four years. The facilities, the staff, the availability of daily Mass, and her fellow residents are all blessings to her. Mom’s fellow residents have also been a blessing to me. I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know many of them in these past four years. Some remember who I am, and some don’t. That’s okay. As Maya Angelou reminded us, “They may forget your name, but they will never forget how you made them feel.” She’s so right.

Fund raising events like last night’s Oktoberfest help to provide additional funds for residents who may, at some point, need financial assistance. I’m already looking forward to next year’s celebration.

[P.S. - “Gemütlichkeit” (gu-moot-lish-kite) is a German word which has a very broad meaning. It is an atmosphere of comfort, peace, and acceptance -- and it is what Oktoberfest is all about.]  

A Class Act

The final score wasn’t close. The St. Francis Lancers junior varsity football team crushed the Crusaders of Archbishop Riordan by a score of 56-12 at Ron Calcagno Field on the St. Francis High School campus last night. What happened after the final whistle, however, was the highlight of the game.

During the contest, one of the Archbishop Riordan players sustained a leg injury. He spent the remainder of the game sitting on the trainer’s table on the sideline. When the game mercifully ended, players from both teams walked to midfield for the traditional post-game handshakes. The injured Crusader, unable to walk, remained on the trainer’s table. This is when I witnessed a true act of sportsmanship -- and class.

One St. Francis player,  Christopher Gile (#80), a 6’ 1”, 165 pound sophomore tight end, jogged across to the Archbishop Riordan sideline to shake the hand of the injured Crusader. It was a simple act of kindness, notable primarily because, of all the players on the St. Francis junior varsity squad, he was the only one to make the effort to cross the field to greet his injured opponent. I was impressed.

It doesn’t take much to be nice. Sir John Marks Templeton, an American-born British businessman and philanthropist, once said, “It’s nice to be important, but it’s more important to be nice.” Christopher Gile has learned this lesson well.

Sportsmanship is what makes a good athlete great!  

Terrifying Dreams

I have to admit... it was stressful hearing about it, and it wasn’t even my own dream. Our minds can do strange, and sometimes terrifying things to us, especially when we’re asleep. Dreams, and occasionally nightmares, can leave us feeling disoriented and fearful when we awake. This afternoon, sitting alone in a local restaurant, I found my stress level increasing significantly as a woman, who sat down with her friend at the table next to me, began describing the terrifying dream she had last night. I honestly had no desire to listen to her story, but the volume with which she spoke gave me no choice.

In her dream, the woman was driving in her car on a beautiful, sunny day. Her two small children were buckled into their car seats behind her. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, her car plunged into the bay and began to fill with water. She was unable to open her car door. She was also unable to unbuckle her children from their car seats. Water continued to fill the car. She panicked, yet there was nothing she could do. As the water level rose to a point at which it would compromise her ability to breathe, she woke up with a start.

Terrifying? Absolutely! Just the thought of such a scenario leaves me feeling unnerved. I’ve never had this type of dream, but I can certainly empathize with the woman telling the story. Clearly, she was traumatized by the experience and desperately needed to share it with her friend.

Nightmares are not uncommon. People have disquieting dreams about natural disasters, missing important events, falling, and being naked in public. According to experts, the most common nightmare involves being chased or attacked. Dreams about being trapped are also fairly common, especially for those who might be claustrophobic. Dreams about being trapped can also be experienced by individuals who feel that they might not have a way out of their present situation -- a situation which may include a stressful relationship, a thankless job, or financial concerns. No, I wasn’t at all tempted to lean over and ask the woman what she was dealing with in her personal life.

In my early childhood, I had a recurring nightmare of going to Hell. I attribute that to my pre-Vatican II Catholic education. It seemed that everything I did, and everything I wanted to do, would result in eternal damnation. In time, I got over it. In later years, I experienced a variety of seemingly random nightmares from time to time, but nothing which caused me undue distress. During my last few years prior to my retirement, I endured a significant number of job-related nightmares, some of which have recurred in the fifteen months since my retirement, but, in all, they have not been overly-problematic.

I’m grateful for the fact that, most often, I sleep peacefully. It has been said that “A clear conscience yields a good night’s sleep.” I’d like to think that is why I sleep so well. There’s another motivation for a good night’s sleep, as well. The English actress Tamsin Egerton once said, “If you have a good night’s sleep, you can take on the world.”  

Mean Words

We’ve all experienced them. People say things which insult and hurt us. It hurts us when the words are spoken, and, in many cases, it hurts us for many years after. It would be nice if we could simply let those negative messages roll off our back and out of our mind, but it’s not usually that easy. Critical, demeaning, and just plain mean messages have a way of sticking with us for much longer than we should allow. They also have a way of coming back to mind, often at the most inopportune times.

My childhood was fairly uneventful, except for a few poor decisions I made when I was around nine years old. For the most part, I got along well with people, especially those older than myself. And, for the most part, I stayed out of trouble. I played soccer, baseball, basketball, and tennis. I wasn’t what one might call academically-gifted in my elementary school years, but I didn’t receive a grade lower than “C” until I earned a “D+” in sixth grade Science. Despite this, I recall being called “cave-brain” (instead of Kevin) on numerous occasions throughout those formative years. Yes, I still remember this vividly.

I attended a weeklong CYO summer camp in 1965. One of the counselors misunderstood the way I handled a situation when one of the other campers, who I had befriended, was homesick and wanted to go home. It was nighttime, and I thought that if he could just make it through until morning, he’d be fine. So we hatched this plan to run away from the camp in the middle of the night. Of course, I had no intention of doing so, but it pacified the kid for the moment and he went right to sleep after that. The next morning, the camp counselor, who somehow found out about my plan, yelled at me, telling me that he had never wanted to slap anyone as much as he wanted to slap me at that moment. Yes, I still remember this vividly.

When my boys were very young, the mother of another toddler said something to me when we realized that one of my boys had the chicken pox, something we didn’t know until it was too late and her child had already been exposed. Her words have stayed with me for more than twenty-five years -- “Your right to be an irresponsible parent ends the minute you walk out your front door.” I didn’t consider myself an irresponsible parent. If I had known that my son had chicken pox, I most certainly would not have let him out of our home. But the words were spoken, and, yes, I still remember this vividly.

The British writer Harold Acton once wrote, “So often is the virgin sheet of paper more real than what one has to say, and so often one regrets having marred it.” One of the lessons I used to teach my high school freshmen involved distributing a plain white sheet of printer paper to each student. I would direct them to crumple the paper, as if they were going to toss it in the trash. Then I’d challenge them to open it up and flatten it out, making it as perfect as possible. The lesson was clear. No matter how diligent the effort, the paper would never look the same. The damage was done.

This is a valuable life lesson for people of all ages. Our words are powerful. They have the potential to affirm or to harm. Remembering this might help us all to be a little more cautious about what we say to those around us.