The Red Pearl Weighs Anchor – Wild Wednesday

This week, I have written about disappointment, shame, feeling used and discarded; all in the name of friendship evangelism and network marketing.  When I return, I will write about the positive aspects of proper and courteous friendship networking. There is an interview with author Patti Hill in the works as well as one more rant on misplaced networking (The isolation of poverty).  But today, I give you Wild Wednesday pictures as The Red Pearl weighs anchor.

Why don’t you sleep inside your car? Commented She;

Then I, following suggestion with creative glee;

Outfitted The Red Pearl with a berth, made just for me,

Now, when the tide is high,

I’m off to sail the inland seas!

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I loathe friendship evangelism and network marketing: Part III, used and discarded

The place was Nashville. The reason?  Dove awards. Already that year I had been to Christian Artist’s Seminar in the Rockies and CBA Convention. I was a songwriter. My goal was to make and maintain friendships in the music publishing industry.  I had no money to do this on my own, but some mentors who had succeeded in publishing wanted the best for me and arranged for me to be there.

I bolstered my confidence and utter aloneness by dressing for success and headed toward the convention hotel lobby and breakfast. She must have been watching for the likes of me. Her reason for being in Nashville was a business trip with her husband. They had the wealth associated with Texas oil.  Awhile back she had written a few stanzas of lyrics that ought to be made into a song. When she arrived in Nashville and found a songwriter’s convention was afoot, she secured a premium, at the door, ticket and waltzed right in; sat right down.

Her friendliness was disarming.  She wanted to know everything about the music industry. “You’ve done this before?” she asked.  “Tell me everything you know.  Come on, I’ll buy you breakfast.”  Always ready to help and always ready to share knowledge, I followed her into the breakfast lounge. Also, always considerate of budget – mine or others-I ordered a modest muesli. She had an entrée with sides.

As the time allocated for breakfast drew to a close, a music executive whom I knew from previous conventions stopped by and greeted me.  I made introductions. My erstwhile breakfast companion rose and attached herself to him as he exited the breakfast room.  Guess who picked up the tab?

I felt used and discarded. I do not like friendship solely for network marketing.

I loathe friendship evangelism and network marketing; Part II Undeserved Shame

Last time, I wrote that disappointment, was one reason I loathe friendship evangelism and network marketing. I am an introvert who responds well to the gregarious nature of extroverts.

Oh, I can smile generously and be well mannered, even friendly from the get go.  Stranger or not, I will help you in the moment and we can work together and have fun together. You are welcome in my pool of 50 or more people I am getting to know better; but the minute I feel you are using me, that you pursued the relationship only to recruit me, I am done.

Do not try to manipulate me for your own goals and headcount. Goals, manipulation, headcount, another football decal on your helmet, a notch in your belt; are the reasons I loathe friendship evangelism and network marketing.

If I find you have something good to offer, some talent or product, I will not hesitate to pass on your name or promote you. But I will not be bought or pressured. Don’t try to shame, manipulate or cajole a commitment out of me.

Many years ago we answered the knock at the door to find a magazine salesperson. The kind who says they are pursuing a career to keep them off the street. Only this time, it was someone we knew from school days.  We invited the young woman in, renewed old acquaintance, served iced tea. Then, we declined to purchase a magazine.  There were none we needed and we were on a strict budget. She rose indignantly and left saying, “You wasted my time!

Experiences like that make me a bit wary of one who has become an  e-pen pal.  He is a fun correspondent. He has been steadily pursuing common ground. We have found a few similar interests. But, I know this gig. I am waiting for the other shoe to fall.  I suspect this will turn out to be friendship evangelism. When will he pop the question (Are you saved?)?  I could simply answer in the affirmative, in which case he can cross me off the list and focus on other conquests.  Or, I might respond in caveat laden candor that leads to debate. Either way, I predict he will “shake the dust off his feet,” and move on. Given past experience, do you blame me for my skepticism?

I have developed a few online relationships over the past five years. Some with good mutual result which I will highlight in positive posts after I get the loathing out of my system.  But right now, I loathe both the disappointment and undeserved shame of friendship evangelism or network marketing.

I loathe friendship evangelism and network marketing, Part I

I loathe friendship evangelism and network marketing.   I am always in search of more friends.  I have a couple of fingers left to fill up in that category referred to as a handful of close friends. I seldom run hastily into new friendships. Once committed to a friendship, I am a pretty loyal soul, so I think long and hard about the cost of friendship before I extend myself.

Last week, while working in a non-profit setting, I met a potential soul-mate.  I kid you not, for the first two hours, I thought I was getting to know my new best friend. The energy was there as we began to reveal interests and hobbies in the intervals between working on the project. First of all, both of us love music.  Two; we have grown kids.  Three; we are world travelers and residents. Four; as musicians we play church and retirement center gigs.

Then, as our project time drew to a close, the energy dwindled and my new acquaintance lost focus on the task at hand.  Each time she returned to our conversation, it was to grill me about gigs I had played. We were no longer comparing notes – she was taking notes. I don’t mind sharing my contacts, but her total focus was networking.  All the while, what I really wanted was a good friend.  

I came away from the encounter disappointed. Just one of the reasons I loathe friendship evangelism and network marketing.  Part two – coming soon.

Emulating Elizabeth Bennet, or, Why I like Jane Austen

Chide me not that I stay up late reading.  I deserve no ridicule for admitting a fondness for Jane Austen’s novels. Nay, I am not a hopeless romantic who longs to regress to 1800 A.D. Here is why I return again and again, to “Emma,” “Sense and Sensibility” or “Pride and Prejudice.” 

The books are written by a woman who knew well how to observe and how to put those observations into witty words.  They are about people who learned to live and survive; nay, thrive in a very narrow corridor of rules and regulations of society. They learned to remain family no matter what, to love, to stay in relationship with knaves, fools, charlatans and an occasional prince of a person. 

“Pride and Prejudice” remains a favorite of mine not because I yearn for tightly laced corsets, petticoats, needlepoint, poultry keeping and absence of hot and cold running water, but because I want to emulate Elizabeth Bennet.  I want to continue loving and respecting my parents even when discovering them to be fools; to love siblings though they pursue a worldview or lifestyle different from mine; and to stay best friends even when a life-long confidant marries unwisely.

Yes, how I would love to be like Elizabeth Bennet; to calmly look imperious naysayers in the eye and say, “I will promise nothing, except to act in a way that I feel will most insure my happiness.” 

 

To a world starving for beautiful words

I love words.  I love the way they bump up together and create meaning. I love rhyme and internal cadence.  A well turned phrase – or a truly witty pun – brings joy and laughter. I heartily agree with the Proverb: words fitly spoken are like apples of gold in frames of silver.  Can you imagine the beauty?

Today, at weekend work, I received a bouquet of words. It is amazing how quickly good news can fly. Before the words of commendation reached me, at least three other pairs of eyes had seen them, so it was like gossip, only better.  The electronic note came through the National Park Service, to the lead ranger, on to my immediate supervisor, into my hands.

Less than 24 hours ago, I served an amiable customer at the Visitor Center. One among 990 that day. He was the perfect customer; competent and quietly confident-the type of person who is so open and kind, it would be impossible to not serve him and his party well.  Yet, he took the time and trouble to write a commendation, within 24 hours, while on a cross-country trip.

You know what? I want to be like that customer; to pursue everyday folks and bring out the best in them.  I want to spread positive gossip; to encourage people simply by my presence and well chosen words; to not only notice the best in others, but take the time and trouble to point it out; thus bringing hope for the future to a world starving for beautiful words.

Wednesday comparisons – wild rocks and wild water

 

 

 

 

Feeling hot and thirsty in the summer heatwave?ImageThis landmark is known as the First Pool.  It is approximately .8 mile from the trailhead of lower No Thoroughfare Canyon.  Photo – May 15, 2013

ImageToday, July 3, 2013, the pool is gone.  All that remains is mud.  Rain will come.  The question is when.

ImageMay 15, 2013, the first waterfall was broad (it is never full save in a flash flood).

ImageBy July 3, 2013, the first waterfall has dwindled to a drip.  By late afternoon, something was blowing in.  Will the desert get rain?  Who knows.

ImageIt has rained before. (picture along the .7 mile path between the first pool and the first waterfall.

DSCN5333whitenothoroughfareMay15The flowers that bloomed in May…

DSCN5606serviceberryShed their petals and became some sort of serviceable berry.

 

 

A Friday Fiction Mashup wherein two speakers try on well known roles to make truth into fiction.

“She left me!”  the heart rending and spine-tingling wail echoed from the darkness of the cavern like Rachel weeping for her children.

“She’s gone!” No, make that like Gollum weeping for his Precious.

“She left me, my Precious.”

“There, there.  Calm down,” said the traveler.  Maybe it’s not so bad as all that.  Perhaps your precious is just lost and you need to go and find her.”

“No. No.  She left me!  My precious left me.”

“Why did she leave you?  Did you hit her?”

“No. No.  Hitting is wrong.  I would never hit my precious.”

There was silence in the darkness.  Then the wail began again.

“Make her come back.  Make my precious come back.  She left me.”

Patiently, the voice from the darkness asked again, “Why did she leave you?  Did you take another lover in her place?”

“She left me.  Didn’t you hear me?  She left me.”

The wail melted into heaving sobs like a scoop of ice cream slowly spreading into a puddle. The wail continued in a murmur,

“Happy we were, in our little cave, away from the noise and crush of the crowds.”

“Well then, was she isolated, lonely?” prodded the voice.

“No. No.  Not lonely.  We had each other.”

“In the darkness?”

“No, not always darkness.  She had a lamp. Only darkness now because I spend my days exploring the dark part of the cave. Around the corner and up about 50 paces there is a fissure in the rock where the sunshine streams in. Precious loved that place.  There is a back exit to the cave through a lemon squeezer. Precious used to climb through the lemon squeezer and go hike along the tiny stream.  She said the running water sang to her and showed her wonderful things.”

“So, Precious really loved this place?”

Oh yes, loved this place, did Precious. And I.”

“So, if your precious loved this place so much, why did she leave?”

“I don’t know.  She left me, my precious!”

“I know, I know, your precious left you,” said the voice with quiet annoyance.  “I am trying to figure out why.  If we can figure out why, perhaps we can take some steps to get your precious back.”

“She belongs here.  She should come back.”

There was a pause in the blackness.  After some thought, the traveler asked, “Did your precious ever get away from the cave?  You know, go down to Metropolis for concerts or shopping?”

“Every day!”  he wailed.

“What?  Precious went shopping every day?  This is an unexpected development.”

“No, no.  Precious left me and went to work every day. She didn’t love the cave as much as I did or she would not have been able to leave,” he stated petulantly.

“Precious left you everyday to go to work?”  inquired the voice.

“Yes, yes,”  he wailed, “Precious, stubborn Precious.  She wanted me to go to work everyday too.  She said the only way we could keep living in our wonderful cave was for both of us to work.  That’s not true. This cave belongs to me!

“So, you didn’t want to go to work?”

“No. No.  It is more important to hold tightly to the things you have than to work for something better.”  He paused for emphasis, then continued,

“It wasn’t possible for me to go to work.  I was busy working here in the cave.  There were so many tunnels I hadn’t yet explored. I found some fascinating stones and minerals in the lower tunnel and I needed to catalog them.”

“Are you a mineralogist then?”

“Me?  No. I’m a  horticulturalist….I just know a lot about minerals because, my precious, she came with a degree in mineralogy when I married her.”

“So, she went to the city every day to work as a mineralogist?”

“No, she was just typing orders for a bakery.”

“Do you think it bothered her that you got to stay at the cave doing research in mineralogy while she was away typing bakery orders?”

“Why would she leave the cave every day if it bothered her? What it all comes down to is, you do the thing you are interested in.  I had more heart for the cave than she did. You only do what you want to do.”

There was a moment of silence as the traveler shrugged along with the man.

“Besides, while my precious was doing her little bakery job, I was conducting an experiment and was deep in research.”

“Oh?” said the voice.

“Yes.  I noticed I had to stoop to bring the rocks from the lower tunnel to daylight to look at them.  I was collecting data to find which way of carrying rocks made me stoop least.”

“I see,” nodded the voice. “What did Precious think about your experiment?”

“See?” wailed the man, “I just realized she was never supportive of my work! She was a woman, so she was shorter. How could she know how difficult it was for me to bring up rocks?  She didn’t have to stoop.”

Again, there was silence.

“One other question,” began the voice. “Just out of curiosity, how did that work when your, uh, precious came home from the city each evening; did you have a fresh garden salad on the table for her?”

“What?” asked the man with a good deal of incredulity as though he had never heard the word salad before.

“A salad,” repeated the voice. “You are a stay-at-home horticulturalist.  Did you greet her with a fresh green meal at the end of the day?”

“I didn’t have time,” said the man indignantly.

“I worked hard at my research, right on into the evening. But, she never appreciated that.  Most of the time I wasn’t aware of her arrival.  At first when she came home from the bakery, she used to call down the tunnel, ‘Hi!  I’m home!’ But after a while she quit doing that. Once after she had finally fixed us dinner and we had eaten, she asked me to do the dishes.”

“Really?” inquired the voice.

“I told her it made me feel less of a man to be doing dishes.”

“Did she apologize?”

“Are you kidding?  She didn’t say a thing. The next night when I came up to the kitchen, there was no food on the table.  She should have been home for two hours already. The dishes were clean and neatly stacked in the cupboard.  She was gone.”

The silence was pregnant with profound thought. At least it seemed that way, until the man burst out,

“Maybe she wanted to be a Goblin Princess.”

“A Goblin Princess?  That is highly illogical.  Logic says Precious was more inclined to be Superwoman than a goblin princess.”

“It was those goblins who stole her!”

“What?  She was kidnapped?  Why didn’t you report it?  Set your ship at warp speed and go after her?”

“I did go after her.”

“Did you find her?”

“Not exactly, but I found out about her – more than I wanted to know. I waited a few months to see if she would find her way back on her own. Then, I told my friends and asked them what I should do. I wrote her a letter begging her to come back, but I couldn’t find a stamp. Can you believe it? She didn’t leave me any stamps in the drawer. Finally, somebody offered me a ride back to University Town where I heard she was living.”

“Did you go?”

“I went to University Town, but, I didn’t get to see her.  I ran into an old friend instead. We had been enemies for many years; but, when he saw me back in town, he slapped me on the back and was glad to see me. He said he knew things about what my precious had been before she found me.  He said she used to be a Goblin Princess,” the man fairly spat the words.  Then he added self-righteously, “Once a goblin princess, always a goblin princess, you know.”

“You were satisfied with that story?  You lived with her for over a decade and you think she actually left you to be a goblin princess?”

“I guess so. Why else would she leave me? It makes sense.  She always did have goblin tendencies.  They love rocks, you know. I remember now how she always loved rocks.”

The man sighed heavily. Once again the wail began to build.  The traveler with the questions covered his ears and retreated to the mouth of the cave and the sunlight.  When the echo subsided, he stepped back into the cavern.

“Say,”  he said. “I came through University Town yesterday. I was there for the gem and mineral symposium at the college.  I think I saw your precious. You might like to know that she is not a goblin princess.  She was the guest lecturer on the hidden value of gold and rubies and how to tell the difference between the real thing and the fake.”

Copyright © Cherry Odelberg, 2013

If you enjoyed this story, you might also enjoy Hell or Love and Let me tell you a parable, from Before I Went Crazy

How do you know your children are all grown up?

When your children are infants, you are their 24  X 7 lifeline; providing nourishment, shelter, clothing, a comforting shoulder; teaching them everything from how to walk to how to chew their food and get along with siblings.

By the time they start school, they can dress themselves, make a sandwich, maybe even sort laundry and tidy their bedroom.  You pray to God you will give them everything they need, every opportunity to be all they are meant to be.  Out of your own resources you give every last tidbit of time and talent you can find.  Sometimes they chafe at your involvement and sometimes they beg you to do more.

They go off to college.  You hold your breath. Did you do enough for them?  Will they be able to make wise decisions alone?  Will they turn out to be responsible adults, or stuck in endless, dependent childhood?

There were times they followed in your footsteps, but now, their stride has lengthened and they taste success and adventure beyond the map of all you were able to accomplish in your youth. 

How do you know that your children are truly grown up?  They begin to reciprocate.

  1. You go stay with them, instead of them living with you.
  2. They provide YOU with musical instruments and give YOU lessons.
  3. They invite you over and cook breakfast (or dinner) for you and clean up after.
  4. They give you helpful advice and insight – vocational, relational, educational – and    encouragement.
  5. They are avid and adamant about band / music practice – more than even you were.

Thanks Kids!  You make me feel successful.  You are all grown up. 

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The case of the missing black travel capris

I never make a physical list anymore for overnighters or weekends. It is part of my bid for freedom from over-thinking, being too regimented, learning to have fun without demanding a perfect plan or perfection.  Actually, I am pretty good at organizing and keeping a list in my head.

I packed a dressy black tank top – the kind with mesh overlay on a silver pattern.  Black is always a good choice when you work for a media family.  I never know when I will be called from childcare or filing to grip for a photo shoot. Family focused personal assistant duties are varied. Black is always appropriate.  

For arrival day, I was wearing a navy and white sundress. My employers were headed out of town for a concert, making it a Nanny-Granny sleepover.  My duties that evening would be mostly kitchen and cuddle.  

As I rolled the tank top into my backpack, I made a mental note to grab my black bra when I stuck in the black dressy capris.  As I stowed my Mac in the oversize purse with toothbrush and change of underwear, I contemplated exchanging the capris for decorated denim shorts. After-all, shorts might be more serviceable in the backyard or laundry room. After doing my hair and make-up, grooming items were stowed in the backpack along with the blow dryer.

Maybe it is time to keep a laminated list in the backpack. Somehow, I arrived sans black capris, sans denim shorts. But the really good news is; my black and white pajama bottoms coordinated just fine with the dressy tank top.  This combo worked much better than say, running my fingers through my hair in place of a hairbrush.  That happened once – or rubbing toothpaste on each tooth in the absence of a toothbrush.

Yesterday was another wild-idea Wednesday.  On impulse, I bolted to Fort Collins to take in a Gypsy’s Curse concert.  I was so pleased with my organizational skills. I have the black traveling capris and the go with anything tank top, the hairbrush, toothbrush, beach towel – even a lunch. This time I forgot pjs. No matter. Between a concert that lasted until 1:00 a.m. and breakfast with my kids early this morning, there was precious little time for sleeping.  

Putting One Foot in Front of the Other, Hiking for Life!