30 Years of Hurt

Hearing first hand how my actions hurt someone nearly 30 years ago wasn’t the most uncomfortable part of the conversation.

Not even close.

What stung the most was the fact this person could recite the hurtful words I called her verbatim.

As quickly and as callously they flew from my mouth, they were long gone and forgotten. Like a bomb that inflicts damage on impact while the plane safely flies away.

But for her they lingered. Etched in memory all these years.

When I called her an “MR”, the neighbor kids knew it stood for “Mental Retard”. Maybe such language was funny to a 10-year old boy. But it wasn’t to a young girl. And that was just the start.

How could I have been so mean? I never considered myself a bully. But I’m now forced to consider how inappropriate my actions were to this person who was shy and never tossed hurtful comments in my direction.

What is the appropriate response? I wasn’t sure so I sat back and listened. What I learned was that this wasn’t a one time occurrence. My behavior took place over a number of years.

When she finished, I wasn’t sure what to say. How do I apologize for 30 years worth of hurt?

“I feel so bad. Is it too late to say I’m sorry?”

“Of course not”

And with that the forgiveness process began. There’s no statute of limitations when it comes to asking for forgiveness.

I wouldn’t have blamed her if she decided to get this off her chest and then move on, wanting nothing to do with me again.

But she gave me a second chance. That it came many years later makes no difference. Not everyone gets a second chance. Especially in friendships.

So I will embrace this one.

Because today I not only learned a valuable lesson, I may have gained a friend, 30 years in the making.

Rainbow Sprinkles

Nine little girls invaded our home last week to celebrate Luca’s 8th birthday. They have so much excitement and energy their little bodies can barely contain it. And I had no idea what they talked about because the speak a language that’s foreign to me.

One little girl asked Kim if she could perform a dance for the group. Another girl wolfed down three hotdogs.

But my favorite memory can be summed up in this card that was made for Luca by her friend:

sprinkles

Grilled to a Crisp

On the way home from my basketball game tonight, I decided stop by Burger King. I pulled up to the drive-thru and ordered a Tendergrill Chicken Salad.

“We’re all out of salads tonight” came the reply over the intercom.

Ok. 

I looked over the menu for a grilled sandwich and stumbled upon the Tendergrill Chicken Sandwich. And it’s in stock!

Also in stock was a large Diet Coke so I order one of those too. Six bucks and change later, I’m heading home with a late dinner.

If you’re unfamiliar with Burger King’s offerings, here’s the Tendergrill Chicken Sandwich as depicted on the menu:

tendergrill

But when I got home and opened the bag, here’s what I got:

bking

It’s grilled all right but it’s far from tender. Only the buns look vaguely similar.

bking2

Normally I would have returned the sandwich and asked for one that doesn’t look like a nasty third degree burn. But it was now 11:30 pm and I live a good 15 minutes from the Burger King.

So I decided to stay home, take a few pictures and pour a bowl of Frosted Flakes instead.

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The Blur on a Bike

I was shooting the basketball outside tonight when a blur went by on two wheels. The blur was giggling and yelling, “LOOK DAD!”

Well, I’ve seen this blur before. It’s the same one that sends me off to work each morning with a sore hand full of high fives. It’s the same one who has yet to put shoes on the right feet, and the one who blesses her brother’s butt during family prayer.

annahelmet

Anna Lynn brings a lot of joy into our lives along with a fair share of “Did she really just say that?” looks of bewilderment.It’s hard to explain the joy one derives from watching your children learn new skills, especially those which bring so many smiles.

But I was still surprised to see her zip around the cul-de-sac tonight on a bike without training wheels. Her brown hair flew in the wind as it stuck out from under her helmet. Her legs were peddling as fast as they could go as she gripped the handlebars in that awkward manner that says, “I’m new to this so watch out!”

That’s when I yelled out, “Hey, show me how you stop”.

She whipped around the corner and slammed into the door of the neighbor’s Ford Taurus.

I guess it’s time for a lesson on brakes.

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The Most Valuable Skill I Gained In College

Assuming I work into my mid 60’s, I’m nearing the half-way mark of my career. Although I attended a couple of quarters of college before spending two years working as a missionary for my church, I didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about what to study until well into my junior year at the University of Utah. And even then, I had no idea where a degree in German coupled with a few business courses would take me.

I didn’t realize that few would ask about my major course of study or what I learned. Sure, they appreciated the fact that I had I degree, but that was merely the first hurdle to jump. Having a degree got me a 30 minute interview slot with companies like Sears, Enterprise Rent-A-Car and Deseret Book. If they valued what I learned in four years of college courses, it didn’t come through during the interview process. What did come through was the fact that I’d run the gauntlet of late nights, early morning courses and teacher assistants. I’d stuck it out, and hopefully some of those endurance skills would translate to a successful employee.

Now that I’m more than 15 years removed from the college scene, I’ve thought about what I learned and what I’d change if I knew then what I know now. I’ve thought about what I’ll tell my children when they consider going away to college.

The best I came up with is this:

COLLEGE OPENED MY MIND TO DIFFERING IDEAS

It’s taken a while to recognize how valuable this been. I grew up in a mid-sized town in Utah where many neighbors shared basically the same values. Diversity was defined by the the color of your skin and by the church you attended each Sunday.

But college changed all this. Suddenly I was faced with ideas I’d never considered let alone heard. I was forced to take a position on topics outside of my comfort zone. I had to research and think through various ideas. I had to fight through many prejudices. I had to finally stand on my own two feet. More than once this resulted in admitting, “I don’t know why I believe this” or “I’ve never considered that before”

Sure, I’ll probably tell my kids that earning a college degree will put them in a better position to earn a good living and how it will teach them valuable skills such as writing and introduce them to topics like music and art which they otherwise may not have considered.

Side note on writing skills – I’m usually able to predict whether or not an applicant has earned a degree before I get to the education section of the resume. Occasionally I’m fooled, but not often. Writing is so important in our business that I Google every applicant’s name looking for details I can’t find on your resume. If I find your blog, I’ve hit the gold mine. If you’re a great writer this can be a very good thing.

If you’re currently looking for a job, do you have a blog? If so, does it represent you well to potential employers?

But my hope is that college will challenge their minds and force my kids to consider new ideas. I hope some will contradict their current beliefs. That’s when the real growth occurs.

I see too many young men and women turn away from college to pursue careers in technology or other disciplines that don’t necessarily require a college degree. For them, college is a means to an end where the end is an adequate paying job. If they can skip college to collect a paycheck then why stick around another 4 years?

I understand there are exceptions, but I believe these young people are sacrificing long term benefits for short term financial gain. That $20/hr. job may sound sufficient today, but will they be happy when they’re passed over for promotion down the road when they go up against the coworker with a degree? I’ve seen this happen dozens of times at the companies I’ve worked for. What’s sad is that the employee who was skipped over often has no idea why.

I’m thankful my father worked his way through college with two young children and a part-time job washing cars. He set a good example that helped me stay in school during several times I considered leaving. Having gone through it himself, his encouragement carried more weight than had he dropped out or not gone at all.

On My Mind

The skies of Seattle stubbornly opened up and allowed a few hours of sun to shine down on us today. We’ve been waiting for signs of spring when the kids can go outside without tracking a dump truck full of dirt inside our home.

After a morning of basketball my legs were wobbly, my body ached, and my mind was everywhere yet nowhere. Do you recall a time when you were day dreaming yet couldn’t remember a single topic or idea afterwards?

That’s how I felt today as I pulled through Wendy’s with a large Diet Coke in hand. I noticed the blue sky and decided to pull over and enjoy a few minutes of solitude. I turned off my iPhone and the radio. Only the sun roof was open, and my scalp was already warm from the sun beating down on it.

At home was Kim who had been watching our four children for several hours. Well, watching certainly doesn’t do justice to the energy and patience it takes to care for young children. She would have made breakfast, cleaned the kitchen, made beds, done laundry and got dressed while our one year old scattered measuring cups, cereal, laundry, and pots around the house.

Still I sat there in my car enjoying a few minutes minus the kids. It’s been a few years since I’ve had time to myself. When I first moved to Seattle I liked to drive across the floating bridges that connect Seattle to Mercer Island and Bellevue. Late night was the best time because I would open the moon roof and enjoy the cool breeze and star spotted dark skies on clear nights.

Maybe it’s the news. Or the economy. Or the job. Where is this country headed and what does the future hold for my children? Will I have a job a year from now? If I don’t, what will I do to support my family? Is Seattle where we should continue to live?

This is the most unsettled I’ve felt in my life. Yet it comes at a time when I feel we should be putting down roots which provides that stability for our children. I grew up in one city, in one house while my dad worked the same job for over 30 years. Is that how it’s supposed to be done?

I don’t know.

I flipped the ignition key and my quiet few minutes were history as I headed back home up the twisty roads of Lea Hill. I took the long away around the hill. I turned onto our street and drove to the end before pressing the button that opened the garage door to our humble yellow home.

As I was getting out of the car, Luca appeared. She stood there waiting for me to come around the car where she could give me a hug.

“But I just finished playing basketball and my hair is still wet”

“I don’t care, Dad. I missed you”

I should have taken the short cut.

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The Beanbag Chair

Last night, I grabbed the Car & Driver magazine that arrived in the day’s mail and took a seat on the couch. It’s a decent sized couch with plenty of room for an adult and a few children.

But my kids mistake the couch (and my body) for a beanbag chair they can mold and contort to their liking. First Luca asked me to lay down so she could recline across my chest. Although that position makes it more difficult to read my magazine, I’m happy she wants to spend time next to me, so I change positions.

That lasts about two minutes before Anna Lynn jumps on the back of the couch and slides down the cushions until she’s settled across my legs.

So now I’m trying to read the latest mid sized sedan comparison with what feels like a 45 lb. steel ball with long hair wedged against my diaphragm. Anna Lynn has wiggled herself into a position that’s cut circulation to my legs causing them to tingle.

I’m spending far more time keeping strands of blond hair out of my eyes, mouth and nose than I am reading car reviews.

It’s about this time that I’m reminded how much money I’ve spent over the years on car seats, strollers, high chairs and bouncy seats. All these products have a use, and can add to the safety and convenience of securing and transporting children.

But kids don’t care about any of that. They don’t want to be strapped, tied of fastened to a chair for long. Who would?

It won’t be long before my children are too big to rest across my legs. The days I can carry them on my shoulders to bed are numbered. That 4 year old daughter I fling over my back and twirl around until she’s dizzy has a fast approaching expiration date.

Last night I realized how much I will miss nights like this one. I don’t know if the couch will be around when the kids no longer treat me like a beanbag. I know I’ll be sad the first time they sit at the opposite end, far away from me with two feet on the floor.

I still have the better portion of my favorite magazine to read.

But it will have to wait until the feeling in my legs returns.

Zigzagging Through Life

The Evergreen Point Floating Bridge (or the 520 bridge to locals) cuts through the University of Washington as it connects Redmond with downtown Seattle. A good portion of 520 sits right on Lake Washington. The scenery is breathtaking during most of the year including views of Mount Rainier and Mount Baker on clear days.  The blue waters of Lake Washington are dotted with sailboats in the summer and fishing boats in the fall. If you look closely you’ll catch a glimpse of the Bill Gates mansion tucked into the Medina hillside. During windstorms, waves crash down on the bridge closing it to all traffic. When the fog rolls in, it appears as if you’re driving on water.

The 520 is an impressive engineering feat. Yet it’s home to one of the most stressful stretches of interstate I’ve encountered.

520bridge (2)

When I began working at Microsoft in the mid 90’s, I was living in a small one bedroom apartment on Capitol Hill only blocks from downtown Seattle. After work, I’d jump into my black Volkswagen Passat and head west on 520. About a mile from Lake Washington, 520 intersects with HWY 405. Unless you’re paying close attention, and have begun to slow down, it’s easy to zip right past turnoff. And because of the way the off-ramp wraps its way up towards Bellevue, drivers must slow to a near crawl in order to safely navigate the corkscrew turns onto southbound 405.

Of course, the last thing I wanted to do was slow down for a herd of Range Rovers and Mercedes heading to Bellevue. All I needed to do was stay on 520, cross the bridge and fly into Seattle as fast as I could without getting pulled over. So I’d dart between slower moving cars. I’d change lanes without much regard and use my horn liberally. This resulted in drivers giving me the finger liberally.

We would zig zag our way through the boredom and pain
Occasionally glancing up through the rain

Pink Floyd

It was a game. And if the game got me home two minutes earlier than I would have otherwise, then so be it. But I would arrive home exhausted. I could feel my heart pounding through my chest. All the zigzagging through traffic wore me out physically and mentally.

Which brings me to this past week, nearly 15 years later. I no longer live in Seattle and my trusty black Passat is long gone.

But I found myself on that same stretch of 520 heading towards Seattle doing my best to keep up with traffic. Suddenly I found myself darting in and out of traffic. Maybe it’s instinct based on those many years of driving this stretch of interstate. I fight the urge to weave in and out of traffic. No way can I let anyone pass me!

Lift. Foot. Off. Accelerator.

I downshift from 5th to 4th gear and pulled BEHIND a UPS truck which is something I’ve never done before. Every impatient driver knows you can cut off UPS drivers. They may honk, but they won’t give you the finger.

Back then I would have had Alanis or Oasis blaring through my speakers. But now my iPod is playing some Chris Botti off my Jazz playlist. The drive is no longer a game. I don’t have to beat anyone home.

Maybe it’s the stage in my life. Could be the kids, or the slower reflexes. But I no longer feel the need zoom through life in 5th gear.

Sometimes life is better appreciated in 3rd.

Photo by Svensk

Laughter

It doesn’t take much. The smallest action. A certain word. Even a glance at the right time sets off a string of laughter. It usually starts with Anna Lynn. But it doesn’t take long before it spreads to Luca and Lincoln.

Within seconds all of them are laughing uncontrollably.

annalaughter

Luca laughs till tears roll down her cheeks. Anna Lynn’s laugh is loud and startling. And Lincoln laughs so hard he can barely breath.

Tonight I enlisted their help to wash our van. I asked Luca to wash the windows. Lincoln was supposed to wash the grill while Anna Lynn scrubbed the tires.

That’s how I planned it. But I should know better. Attempting to plan an activity that includes a bucket of water, a hose and a giant pink sponge results in sensory overload.

Things went as planned for at least 10 seconds.

Although the van wasn’t getting any cleaner, the kids were. Wet rags and went flying. Someone got squirted. And somehow I got smacked in the head with a sopping wet pink sponge.

And that’s when the laugher started. I wasn’t sure what to think as I cleared soap bubbles from my ears and attempted to regain my composure. Should I be upset? Should I send them to their rooms? Which kid possessed the accurate aim?

What would you do?

I decided to do what any reasonable father would do.

I took the sponge and dunked it in the bucket of water before chasing them around the yard.

Our van is a lot cleaner tonight.

And our family is a little closer.

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Signs of the Economy

When I moved to Auburn, WA just over three years ago, one of the main roads leading into town was filled with new and used car dealerships.  Today a few of the largest dealers along auto row remain such as Honda, Toyota and Volkswagen, but many of the smaller, independent ones are empty.

But today, I noticed one of the larger and newest dealers had stopped selling cars. The Nissan dealership couldn’t have been more than a couple years old. The building and sign look brand new. But not a sign of a single new or used car for sale. Not to mention the jobs that just disappeared.

According to the sign in the lower left corner, the service department is still open although I don’t know if that’s still the case. It wasn’t open when I took this picture this afternoon.

nissan

This next picture was taken across the street from the main Nissan building that sold new cars. This is the used car lot for the same dealer. All the cars had been removed, but they left the blue sign on the grass that says, “SALE”. 

No Nissans for sale here. But the yellow sign hanging off the adjacent car dealer said something about getting a Suzuki for $189/month. I’ll pass.

nissan2

I wonder what auto row will look like in 6 months or a year from now? Will the Honda, Toyota and VW dealerships survive? As I drove back home I noticed a couple browsing cars at the Honda dealer. I didn’t see a single person looking at cars at Toyota or VW. Many dealerships displayed banners touting low interest rates or large rebates. One said, “YES, we have money to lend!!”

Hoods were opened, parking lights were illuminated on and balloons flew from antennas attached to new cars.

It’s hard to imagine these tactics will attract many buyers in this economy.