Don’t Forget the Simple Things

Although the “Shelter-in-Place” directive with its double hand-scrubbing and social distancing has created a lot of grief and frustration, it has also caused folks to come back to an appreciation for simple values and activities they couldn’t or wouldn’t make time for before, or that they somehow thought were always there, no matter what. In that respect, it’s been a wake-up call that can do some good for the soul.

Am I right? Here’s a quick story about just this sort of appreciation.

Eddie Rickenbacker, WWI combat flying ace, Medal of Honor recipient and long-time head of Eastern Airlines, was sent by Franklin Roosevelt on a mission to the Pacific during WWII. At that time, Rickenbacker was in his 50s.

When their plane went down, Rickenbacker and his crew were adrift on the ocean in rubber lifeboats for 24 days.

He was later asked what he had learned from that experience.

Rickenbacker replied, “The greatest lesson I learned was that, if you have all the fresh water you want to drink and all the food you want to eat, you ought never to complain about anything.”

On Being Thankful … and Tecumseh

“When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the morning light, for your life and strength. Give thanks for your food and the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies with yourself.” Tecumseh, Shawnee Chief

I was pouring through my collection of quotes this morning and this one came to my attention. I believe what Chief Tecumseh said is not only true and a standard to live by, it’s something we must pass on to our children.

If we cannot express gratitude, we will sour from the inside out. If happiness is a worthwhile state (it could never be a goal, lest we lose it in the capture), much of that state relies on being truly thankful.

Have you ever met someone who was too bitter to be thankful for anything? My guess is you didn’t really want to spend much time in their presence. Besides, bitterness is quite contagious.

On a personal level just the name “Tecumseh” brings a smile to my face. My parents were raised in Shawnee, Oklahoma. Although my sister and I grew up in Texas, and live there still, Shawnee was a very special place … Grandma’s. Anyone who knows the area knows that, when you come from the south on 177 (through Stratford and Asher), Tecumseh is just a few miles from Shawnee.

Tecumseh was near the end of our journey at Christmas and on summer vacations, a sure sign that Grandma was but moments away. I’d have to say that, in those days, I knew more about WHERE Tecumseh was than WHO he was.

But either way, the gratitude is still there.

James Sutton, Psychologist   www.docspeak.com

   

A Dose of Reality in the Vegas Airport

I recently spoke at an association conference in British Columbia (Canada), and was coming back home through Vancouver. We boarded the connecting flight to Las Vegas right on time, only to sit in the airplane as a mechanic worked on one of the engines.

We sat there for over two and a half hours. When we finally took off and made the flight to Vegas, I missed my connection. I gave the ticket agent at US Airways my story, but there was nothing they could do except book me with another carrier early the next morning. (But I did get two meal vouchers in the deal.)

I was stuck in the Las Vegas airport from 1:00am until my flight at 6:45am. It wasn’t much fun.

So there I was, trying to sleep with my head resting on my luggage. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what was obviously a homeless person. She was dressed in several layers of clothes, and she shuffled along carrying two good-sized plastic bags.

She took a seat and reached into one of the bags for a large envelope. As I watched her out of the corner of a half-closed eye, she opened the envelope and looked through the contents. She then replaced the envelope into one of the bags.

I was snoozing lightly at this point. I was awakened by what seemed to be the sound of soft chuckling, laughter. I searched for the sound. It was the homeless lady, only she wasn’t chuckling; she was sobbing. She wiped at her eyes, grabbed her bags, and slowly walked off.

“If you’re homeless, there’s no place to go,” I whispered to no one in particular. I felt a sense of sorrow for her and her plight. But it also caused me to realize how minor my overnight residence at this airport really was.

She returned and again sat down. Again she took out the envelope, and again she sobbed softly. In fact, she sobbed herself to sleep.

I’ve spent time away from loved ones, once for two whole years, but I always knew there were a number of folks who loved me and cared about me and how I was doing. I cannot begin to fathom what it would be like to be completely alone, destitute, aged and probably sick.

And I don’t care to ever find out. Maybe, just maybe, this whole existential “detour” was intended to wake me up to smell the “coffee” of God, family, love and purpose.

It’s gotta be the best smell goin’.  Oh, I also learned something else.

Luggage makes a lousy pillow.

James Sutton, Psychologist  www.docspeak.com