Hair raising experiences.....

   I was returning from an appointment on the other side of town. As I passed the local barber shop, I noticed that, except for the barber, the shop was empty. The lights were on and the Open flag waved wildly in the breeze. I looked in the rear view mirror, back into the shop, did a quick U-turn in the center of town on Main Street and parked my car not ten feet from the front door. I needed a hair cut and this was probably as good a time as any.

   Now for those of you that know me, please stop laughing. I know it has been many years since I have had a full head of hair. But even with a rapidly receding hairline,  I still needed a trim every now and then. The good news on this particular day, the shop was empty and I wouldn't have to wait. The bad news, regardless of the amount of hair I have or don't have, I still have to pay as if I had, well, you know.......

   Over the years I have had every type of haircut imaginable. There was 'the part' on the left side, then 'the part' on the right. There was the buzz cut, the crew cut, the flat top with that disgusting wax to keep it sticking straight up. There was the flat top with the side wings combing into the d.a. on the back. (duck's ass I think it was called.) And then there was the 'Beatles” cut. Who didn't want to have a  'Beatles” cut.

   There were all kinds and sizes of sideburns, from none to ones that almost joined at the chin. My favorite...the mutton chops. Long, almost shoulder length hair, mutton chops and a mustache, now there was a look! (Golly! I think I saw one of those in Walmart just the other day. Must have been a throw back Thursday.) 

   Generally, from a young age, my hair was blond or light brown  in color, except during the Beach-boy era when, with the help of a bit of dye or peroxide, it almost tuned white. These days, when it gets a bit longer, it is white, pure white, along with the beard, with  no help from dye or peroxide.

   I can remember riding my bike to the local barber shop in my hometown in New Jersey, with $3 dollars in my pocket, plus a dollar for the tip. I also had a quarter for the soda machine, but only after my hair cut.

   There were five chairs and five barbers and the place always seemed busy, radio blaring. The men were always talking and the discussions sometimes became heated. But at my age back then I was too young to understand the cultural and political importance of “the local barber shop.”

   I knew I was growing up when I graduated from the extra seat they put over the arms in the chair to make me a bit taller to the point where I could actually sit in the real chair, my neck wrapped in tissue paper and my body draped in a cape to keep the freshly cut hair off my clothes.

   I guess I was really grown up when, instead of going to a barber shop I started going to the 'upscale' hair stylist. By now, there often appeared to be more hair in my comb than on my head. My goal was to get a cut, a style, that made me look like I had more hair than I really did and for a long time the deception work, at least when I looked in mirror.

   At different times there were longer cuts, then shorter cuts, beards, then goatees and back to beards to draw the attention away from the shiny dome  top of my head down to my chin.

   What I really liked about 'upscale' was, depending upon the time of day, a hot cup of coffee or the glass of wine along with the gentle banter between the stylists and the customers. It was a great place to pick up on the local news, you know, the who, what, where, when, and did she or he really do that! Is that what they talked about back in the barber shop when I was a kid?

   Recently, my favorite hair stylist decided to close up shop. It was a sad moment, but I understood that, for her and for me, it was time to move on. The thought of training someone new was overwhelming though. There must be an easy way.

   I decided I would give the local barber shop a shot. I mean....the only difference between a good hair cut and a bad one is 30 days. Right?

   It's a small shop, only one very old barber chair, five firehouse-type chairs lined up against the wall for customers to sit and wait their turn and some very outdated magazines on a table. It looks a lot like Floyd's Barber Shop on the Andy Griffith reruns. No coffee or wine here, unless you bring it in yourself. 

   The decor is reflective of barber shops of the past. There was a barber pole just outside the door, but some kids broke it a few months ago, so now Sam just uses an 'Open'  flag.      Back inside, the only thing I thought missing was the razor strop hanging from the side of the chair... and the blaring radio.

   I have been in to get a haircut (trim)  several times now and he seems to do a fairly good job. I mean, after all, there is not a great deal to mess up.  But what I have really like is that... I've gotten caught up on all the town gossip. It's nice to know that after all these years some traditions never die.  
     
   





                                                        

Guess who's coming to dinner....

   Several days ago, the local newspaper did an interview with the athletic director at the local university. He is new to the area but it was not the typical interview one might expect, especially if you are an avid local college sports fan. The interview was criticized by some of the readers because it did not focus on building championship teams or the firing of incompetent coaches. It was a real 'fluff' piece and included questions about his favorite restaurants in the area, what and where he had visited since arriving and Maine, and of course, this year's weather.

   One of the questions he was asked....If you could invite any four famous people, either past or present, to dinner, who might they be and why? I too, thought the question a bit unusual for this type of article, but the question did get me thinking about who I might invite to dinner, or at least invite to a late morning brunch.

   After some serious thought, I decided that it was too difficult to select just four guests. Instead, I decided I would host three different dinner parties . 
   At the first dinner, I would choose four people who represented their century, their time in history, maybe thousands of years ago, I mean way back, the early philosophers, explorers and world conquerors.

   The second group would include early founders and leaders of this country, the architects who built this nation, more contemporary leaders.  
   And the third group, names more familiar in the 21^st century and a direct connection to Maine.

   With the table set and invitations on their way, my first dinner would  include Alexander the Great (and if he is unable to attend, Julius Caesar). Not only a world conqueror, Alex was tutored and taught by Aristotle. Who better to be a tutor. ( Have you ever noticed that folks back in the early days only had one name. Kind of like Cher.)

   World exploration has always been a hot topic at dinner, so my hope is that Ferdinand Magellan, considered the first to circumnavigate the globe, might talk about some of his travels and vacation 'hot spots' he found along the way.

   Galileo or Sir Isaac Newton might be willing to keep the discussion going with some of their latest findings and discoveries. Who doesn't like to talk about the latest in outer space and beyond or perhaps a new star or planet?

   And if they are unable to attend, there is always that guy who made high school so challenging with his theorem, Mr. Pythagoras.

   American history has always been an interest of mine, so my next little 'get together' would include some of early America's more famous.

   Of course, where would we be without Christopher Columbus and his discovery. His real intention was to not discover America but to find new trading partners in China and if his Nuvi- Garman had been working properly, America might not have been discovered for another 100 years. If Lewis and Clark were to show up to dinner, think about what the three could share in the discussion and the lessons they could teach us about travel and exploration in the new world. (Lesson 1...Always book your hotel stays well in advance!!)

   In the early days of nation-building, Thomas Jefferson and Ben Franklin played key roles leading up to the break away from England and establishing the United States of America. Jefferson, known as a fine architect and builder was able to take those skills and craft a document that still stands strong today. And Ben Franklin, where would we be without his ingenuous mind and his chain of department stores?

   My third dinner would include people closer to home, so the travel  might be a bit easier. Maine has been home to many who have had a significant impact on shaping the state and the world. This was a difficult decision so I added a  chair or two, because choosing just four proved to be  too difficult.

   Who has not read some of the work of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Didn't we all learn about Paul Revere and his famous ride through the streets of Boston by reading some of his poems? Just think. He was born right here in Portland, Maine. He must have been vacationing in Boston at the time though. And if he were unable to attend, there is always E.B. White. Now there is someone to chew the fat with!

   I would love to sit down with Joshua Chamberlain and get 'his take' on the Civil War, military leadership and command, teaching and learning at Bowdoin College and life in Maine after the war. And as part of the  dinner group, I am sure that Dorothea Dix would have some things to add to the discussion as well. I wonder what she would say today about the struggle to create a universal health care program?

   On the political side, as Maine's first Governor, what advice might William King have for today's current governor. Joined with the likes of Ed Muskie, Margaret Chase Smith, William Cohen, George Mitchell and Olympia Snowe, what insights and lessons might they share based upon their political and personal life experiences at this "political round table" .

   Maybe the question asked to the new athletic director was not so crazy after all. What it forced me to do was to consider the people, places, ideas, things that may have influenced life and thinking as we know it today. Who, in the past or present, would you really like to get to know better, have dinner with?

  Now...  as to what to serve my guests for dinner........

                                 

Once it was a freshly starched white shirt and a tie.....

   As I sat down to write this week, there were so many ideas that it was difficult to  focus on just one. I could spend hours writing about the traffic as we returned home from Virginia, the crazy drivers on the roads and  the condition of the highways after the challenging winter.
   I could have spent some time looking at how different sections of the country view their local politics, and views they have of Maine, Even folks from away were very curious about  our Governor and 'this thing' with Stephen King.
   The terrible airplane tragedy and its images are difficult   to erase from my mind and I was in no place to  write about the event because it was just too difficult to comprehend at this time and still is.
   At a dinner with some friends last weekend, we got into a discussion about the shift away from the concept of professionals and professionalism. Lowry and I had worked for the same company several years before and we were discussing how things had changes. No dress down Fridays back then.
   Growing up in the 50's and 60's, the goal for many was to become a professional. The perception was that if you were a professional, you held a particular type of job. Maybe you were a doctor or a lawyer, a banker or even... a teacher. But even today, teachers are often not seen as professionals, only members of a 'union' fighting for better pay.

   It was easy to spot a professional walking down the street. The working wardrobe for a professional generally consisted of freshly starched white shirts and ties for men, skirts and high heeled shoes for women.

   In those days, a professional was one who inspired confidence and trust. People willingly put their lives in the hands of a professional because they were trusted for their judgment and had one's best interest in mind. Being identified by others as a professional, regardless of the job, was seen as an asset.

   Times have changed and over the years we have come to expand the term 'professional' beyond just being a type of job, otherwise the only true professionals would probably still be the scantily clad women dressed in tight fitting clothes walking along the streets of every major city in the world, and some small towns too.  Today the new term is professionalism. Professionalism is not a job,  but the way one does business, no matter what they wear on a Friday. It is the way one behaves.

   A 21st century professional, regardless of the job he or she holds, is suppose to be trustworthy, competent, and respectful. They are expected to act with integrity, are considerate of others and empathetic. A professional is courteous, dependable, cooperative and a team player and committed to getting the job done.

   Most of us want to interact with others who demand a high standard of professionalism. But unfortunately as society has changed, as  values appear to have changed, as role models have changed, the level of professionalism has changed too.

   For example. Answering machines, email and other electronic devices often makes it very difficult to speak to a real person, but make it very easy for someone on the other end of the line to ignore a call or fail to respond.

   Professionalism is all about  relationships, communication styles, respecting the rights of others and maybe most important, doing a job to the best of one's ability.

   Each employee brings ''who they are' to the workplace every day. Some days are good while other days may be filled with personal or life issues.We all experience that. and....leaving the personal and the emotional 'stuff' at the door each day can be a challenge, but should at least be attempted.
   So.... you are in the middle of purchasing an item at your favorite store. Up to this point, the sales person has been helpful, when all of a sudden, he bursts into tears and races off. You ask yourself....was it something I said?  I mean, all I asked was if the shirt comes in 'pink' instead of blue.

   Professionalism requires a balance between work life and personal beliefs It requires that you look at your own behavior to determine its effect upon your 'professional' behavior. It demands that you do a self examination of your own values.

   For example, could someone really be effective in a job that requires working with people when they don't really like people or feel the need to control people, maybe like a bully? Can you imagine the teacher in the classroom who dislikes children or the sales person who does not believe in the product she sells or the politician who is out to serve only his or her self interest? Just take a look at the recent events in Virginia with the Governor and his wife, now heading off to prison.

   I  understand that life is  about balance. Professionalism is about balance. Balance is about managing  behavior. Professionalism is about  doing what's right.

   Today, a professional does not always wear a starched white shirt and tie. A  professional looks at who he or she serves first, has a clear understanding of what each values, listens carefully to how they communicate, and has a genuine respect for others. A professional is not about 'self'.

   And finally, being a professional demands that you take full personal responsibility for your actions; the good, the bad and sometimes, the ugly. If you did it, if you said it.....own up to it. Come on! You can't blame the other person  all the time when you put your  foot in your mouth!

As the road narrows

   It's only about a half mile from my front door to a major four lane highway, major by Maine standards that is. Interstate 95 can take you from northern Maine to well below the Mason Dixon line, deep into Florida. Traffic on 95 in Maine can be very busy, busy enough to cause a 100 car pile-up a few weeks ago in one of our many snow storms this winter. The accident even made the national news. But as Rt. 95 passes by the New York City and Washington D.C. area, traffic often comes to a standstill because of the number of cars and trucks racing to get somewhere. It could be to get to work, get home from work, get to the local grocery store or maybe just to “get out of town,” What ever the reason, there always seems to be lots of traffic, making the congestion in Maine nothing compared other sections of the country as one heads South down Rt. 95.
    For those living in the North, Rt. 95 is a way to escape the cold of winter and to enjoy warmer days and white sandy beaches in the middle of the coldest February on record. For those in the South, 95 is a direct route to the beauty of New England in the Fall, a delicious Downeast lobster dinner, to explore the history of Boston and the surrounding area (or see a Red Sox game), or downhill ski in the mountains of western Maine, New Hampshire or Vermont.
   And did you know that while Rt. 95 in one of the oldest interstate highways in the country, its final completion date is scheduled for 2018?
   With hundreds of exits along the way, it is easy for one to explore the local culture, the picturesque towns of New England, the rolling fields and farms of Virginia, and the sunny beaches along the shores of the Atlantic. And, for those with a real spirit for adventure, one can always join the mass of traffic shuttling in and out of New York City and the metropolitan area. Should I take the tunnel or the GW Bridge this time?
   Heading South and with a few hours to spare, I decided to take a brief side trip. Most exits along Rt. 95 have signs and markers identifying restaurants, gas stations and motels near the exit. I wanted an exit with no listings, just a solitary highway name or number. At the end of the exit ramp it was either to travel east or west. I chose 'west'.
   The trees were beginning to show signs of Spring with red and green buds. Daffodils lined the roadway as if someone had taken the bulbs and scattered them about by throwing them from a car window. Every so often, the carcass of a dead animal killed by a vehicle lay in the middle of the road. That last one was a skunk and the odor was still fresh in the air. The smell caused Lucky to pick up his head off the back seat and take a whiff or two, but he soon settled down and back to sleep.
   There were very few houses along this stretch of road and the deeper and deeper I drove into the woods, the narrower the road became. About 12 miles or so off the interstate the road turned into basically one lane, winding though a heavily forested area. Even if I had wanted to turn around, it would have been difficult. There were no driveways or areas wide enough to turn the car around and head back onto the highway. I had expected that at any time the pavement would end and the roadway would turn into an unpaved, graveled driveway leading to someone's hunting cabin or farm carved out in the middle of the woods. Well... No farm or hunting camp, but it did become a one lane gravel roadway.
    Life is filled with symbolism. Much of  life is like a four lane highway, filled with jobs, raising a family, an ambitious life style. We seem to do nothing but race from here to there, always on the move and sometimes even trying to get ahead of the next guy (or gal). No time to take the next exit! Got to keep moving forward!
   But then, all of a sudden, things begin to change. All of those things we thought were so important are not. The highway, with cars speeding pass at unbelievable speeds, isn't fun to be part of any more. Rather than continually driving in the passing lane, the right hand lane seems to be a bit more comfortable now. I still want to get where I am going, but if it takes a bit longer, that's OK.
   That exit I took, the one that narrowed to a one lane road... often that is how life sometimes feels as I get older. There are times I would like to turn around but I know that will probably not happen. The only option is to continue to move forward, despite how narrow the road seems to get.
   About two more miles down the narrow dirt path the road widened, the pavement returned and a double white center line reappeared. Ahead, I saw a road sign. A turn to the left was the way back to the highway, and to the right.....

Looking at the past can be an eye to the future.

   It's the middle of March. The weather has been extremely unpredictable for this time of the year. The trees and flowers have yet to break the muddy surface.. Families with young children are out in the streets hoping for warmer weather. Small gatherings of men are at almost every street corner, voices raised, arms waving in the air. It is March 1787 and the talk is of the meeting in Philadelphia to revise the Articles of Confederation, the document governing the early American colonies. The war with England  is over and for most of the region, life has returned to normal.

   At that moment, Patrick Henry turns the corner, making his way to the Charlton Coffee House in Williamsburg. Quickly, others follow him. Serving in the Virginia legislature and having been Governor several times,  he is an important figure in the political landscape of the area and  many seek his opinions and ideas.

   Patrick Henry is one of the more vocal opponents to the ratification to the Constitution and will not attend the Federal Convention in 1787, his fears being founded in the loss of state's rights and individual freedoms as well as a general suspicion  about those from the North, a belief quite common among many Southerners.
   You may have figures out by now that I am visiting Williamsburg this week, away from the snow and cold of northern New England.( I love history)

     Life was very different for those who lived in the South, dominated by farming and slaves while those in the North would soon become part of an 'industrial revolution.'

   During the summer of 1787, behind closed doors, the delegates worked to craft a document that outlined the roles and responsibilities of a new central government, the election of representatives and the limits that would be placed upon the various branches of the government.

   The work, in the minds of many, would be seen as a model for “cooperative statesmanship and compromise.” (One today needs to asked what has happened over the years.)

  Still  concerned, Patrick Henry would continue to voice his opposition until the Bill of Rights was eventually added. 

   Over three hundred years later, the debates and issues surrounding Federal powers, states rights and individual freedoms still continue. The world has changed  since 1787, but the concerns of the people have not. But perhaps the most important lesson to be learned from the early leaders was the understanding of the need for civil discussion, cooperative statesmanship and an ability to seek compromise and work together for the 'common good'.  

A 'blessing' or a 'lesson'........

...
     I remember having a discussion with our then 5 year old granddaughter several years ago. Ava was telling me about her new best friend at school. As a 5 year old can be, she was very excited in her descriptions and her words often ran together with excitement. This new friend must have been someone really special.  I proceeded to ask her why she was her new best friend.
   Ava was quick to respond that  her new friend shared her toys with her. That is a big issue when you are 5 years old. If someone doesn't share, they are not a good friend. (Those were my words.)
   A good friend shares  cookies at snack time  and  sits next to you  during story time. They ask you over to their house for a party after school, even though mom may know nothing about it, because there really is no party.
   If it's raining outside, a good friend will let you use one of their yellow rubber boots so your shoes don't get wet. Maybe even the rain coat too, the one with pictures of Daffy Duck all over it.
   A good friend doesn't throw  toys at you or make you cry. A good friend makes you laugh, leaves you alone when you want to play alone and maybe stands outside the bathroom door so no one will come in.
   Realizing that these were her ideas but with some of my words, I thought about how we, as adults,  select our friends. Having friends is important. “No man or woman, regardless of how young or old, is an island.”
   As we get older, begin to raise families, get a job, become involved in the community, many people come into our life, Some are part of our life for only a short time while others stick around for a while.
   Fast forward to 2015. I recently saw a post on my Facebook page. It was one of those 'poster type quotes' and was credited to Billy Cox Motivational. And the quote...."Everyone who comes into your life is either a blessing or a lesson."
   I recently finished a short term temporary job, one that kept me busy the past few weeks and even though the weather was not the best, with very cold temps, strong winds and record snow fall, I did have the opportunity to get out and interact with many people I had never met. There were some times I did cross a path or two with folks from the past, but for the most part, these were folks I had never met before.
    But as the job came to an end this week and I packed up my left over supplies, I began to think about some of the people I had met and what impact  they might have had upon me. Had they been a 'blessing' or a 'lesson?' Or is it possible they could have been both?
   With those I worked closely with almost every day, each added a bit of "them self'  to my life and I thought about how lucky I was that they had been part of my team. Five complete strangers working well together. Definitely a 'blessing.'
   But there were times when we learned some lessons from each other also. Each had their own individual and unique views of the world as we shared some of our stories during the  time  we spent together on the job. And it were those lessons that taught me things, not only about each of them, but gave me pieces of insight about who I was and what I valued too.
   It's interesting to note that even as adults, much older adults I might add, the people who come into our life  can still be  a blessing or a lesson, teaching us something new about who we are.
   Not everyone we meet in life will become a friend. I thought back to my discussion with Ava.  In fact some may become an adversary, especially if they throw toys at us. But the lessons  we learn even from the adversaries hopefully will teach us more about who we are. What is it about me that makes this other person someone I see as an adversary?
   Many who come into our life  are  those with similar interests and enjoy many of the same things we do. But sometimes it is the differences that are the  'blessing'.
   As Ava will learn as she gets older, we tend to be friends with people who accept us for who we are, not necessarily what we are. We look for people who we can trust, someone who will not throw a toy at us when our back is turned, people who will not only be a 'blessing' in our life but also may sometimes teach us a lesson or two.
  And a bit of grandfatherly advice for my granddaughter.......Friends can change over time, but "really good friends" can last a lifetime and serve as both a 'blessing' and a 'lesson' for each and every one of us each and every day.

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Friggatriskaidekaphobics

   I am not superstitious. I am not_______. I am____ _________. OMG! Am I really superstitious?

   This year, February and March have something in common. Both months have a Friday 13^th. Having safely maneuvered through Friday, February 13, I only need to get through Friday 13^th  in March. But if I am not superstitious, why worry?

   While many, myself included. will laugh off the superstitious day, others will remain paralyzed by fear and avoid daily tasks, conducting business or traveling. Many will stay in bed. Hmm!

   In the U.S., an estimated 17 to 21 million people suffer from a fear of Friday the 13^th. That fear has a name. It's called Friggatriskaidekaphobics. (What a great word for a 'spelling bee.')

   Friday the 13th, also known as Black Friday,  is considered an unlucky day in western superstitions. It occurs when the 13th day of the month in the Gregorian calendar falls on a Friday. Makes sense to me!

   The superstition surrounding this day may have arisen in the Middle Ages, "originating from the story of Jesus last supper and crucifixion" in which there were 13 individuals present in the upper Room on Maundy Thursday, the night before His death on Good Friday.

   Other scholars claim there is no written evidence for a "Friday the 13th" superstition before the 19th century, and the superstition only gained widespread distribution in the 20th century. Leave it to the 20^th century to give the 21^st century something to worry about.

   Most of the time when a Friday 13^th rolls around, I treat the day like any other except....that I usually try to avoid passing in the path of a black cat, carry a good luck charm in my front right pants pocket, stay out buildings that have 13 floors and never book a trip or fly on a Friday 13^th.

   I make sure I have more than thirteen dollars in my wallet, drive more than 13 miles one way in my car and if I am in a meeting, there must be more than 13 people in the room. Other than that, I treat Friday 13^th as just a normal day. Remember. I am not superstitious!

   The market on superstitions is not just limited to Friday 13. Over the years, depending upon one's luck or lack of, people will develop there own superstitions and behaviors.

   Basketball coached and players are notorious for crazy habits and superstitions. Favorite pairs of sneakers, pre-game warm ups, and put a championship game on a Friday 13^th and end up losing the game........! You don't think Coach K has a favorite piece of clothing he wears at each game?

   Personally, although I have stated that I am not superstitious, there are certain behaviors I tend to follow with consistency, just in case. Let's just call them habits.

   For example, I always get out of bed the same side each morning, regardless of whether it is a Friday 13th  or not. If for some strange reason I change sides, my day could get off to a very bad start, like not having any hot water for my shower.

   I have several pairs of socks that I will only wear at particular events. This may not be as much a superstition as it is a fact that I only have a few pairs of socks that will not fall down around my ankles and into my shoes as I walk. Who really wants to be constantly seen pulling up their socks while lots of people are looking on?

   Even at home, if I go outside to work in the yard for example, when I go back inside, I will usually go back inside through the door I came out. I don't know why, but it may have something to do with the belief of ...”don't let the door hit you on the way out (especially if you want to come back inside)”.

   Friday 13^th is now only a few days away. I have my good luck charm. I have more than thirteen dollars on my pocket and I will be on the lookout for any black cats that may pass by. Maybe I'll also put on my “lucky shirt” this time also, just in case. One can never be too careful!          
   
   Oh, by the way, if you miss the Friday 13th in March, there's one more in November. Might as well plan ahead.