Sheesh. Time flies. My last entry was in July. But fret not, I'm still here. And can only say that my absence is because I've been Marching so much that I haven't made time to type about Marching.
Six years ago on my birthday, I challenged friends to "March Forth" into their communities and give back, lend a hand, or at least listen to a neighbor. The response was heartwarming and far reaching. I've found that I'm less persistent (translation: nagging) to friends around this birthday/challenge anniversary. I used to send mass emails and letters - "hey friends, March Forth. And tell me about it so I can share the good news and we can multiple these efforts." By year six, I'm still committed but not as aggressive (or as energetic). I seem to have developed this expectation that this philosophy should now be a part of our every day thinking, right? Possibly it is. Many of my friends and family are very involved in their church, a scout troop, PTO, a nonprofit board, Little League, blood drives, food pantries, and many are more cognizant of simply reaching out to a stranger with a smile or a kind word. So, maybe it IS part of our every day lives. Or maybe it's like Flag Day. Some of us fly flags all of the time. Some of us think about it frequently but haven't yet made the time to replace that tattered flag or installed the bracket. And good deal of us need Flag Day to serve as a catalyst to fly that symbol we love. And collectively on that day in June, we can feel connected together across aisles and miles in a show of respect for our country.
So, instead of a plea, think of this as your catalyst. The date is to remind you, propel you to March Forth into your community. And not because I'm asking you. Or because it's my birthday tradition. March Forth because good things come from our time, our talents, our treasure and our compassionate, selfless disposition.
And collectively on this day in March, we can feel connected across aisles, cultures and miles in a unified commitment to living with kindness and making a positive impact on the world in our brief time here.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Friday, July 23, 2010
Trees of Life
Not to sound like John Mellencamp, but I was raised in s small town. One square mile. It is zoned a village. And in the 60s, 70s and 80s, it really lived like a village. Everyone knew who you were. You felt safe riding your bike all over town. And most adults were not shy to scold, remind, coach, lecture any kid in town.
My parents moved to this town in the 50s. They had a circle of solid couple-friends. We called them Mr. and Mrs. We were friends with their kids. To my five siblings and me, it felt like just an extension of my family. My siblings and I – we know we are blessed to know this type of world. This type of town family.
The inner circle: my parents, The McCambridges, the Borzicks, the Charnigas, The Jones’s, The Shanes. Then there were other couples connected through hunting & fishing. Trust me when I tell you, these were and still are all good salt-of-the-earth people. And some vibrant personalities. I have great memories of deep belly laughs, cigars & cocktails, accordion polka music, great “hunky” foods, lots of story telling, some “blue” language, ladies working in concert at potluck parties.
I also have memories of men working days to build baseball fields or fence the high school track, ladies working at school and church events, both serving as scout leaders & coaches, volunteering for PTA/PTO, band boosters, athletic boosters and loyal homecoming parade porch parties. I have memories of this circle helping neighbors with broken plumbing, erecting garages or shingling roofs, baskets of shared vegetables from fruitful gardens, transportation, meals or even installation of extra phone line for those ailing. They’ve organized meals for too many funerals, visited too many hospital and nursing home rooms, and they send notes and make phone calls to you weeks after the rest of the world moves on.
They had a lot of fun. Those living still do. They did a lot of good deeds – big and small – in the community, for strangers and for neighbors. Those living still do. They were the first examples of Marching Forth in my life. They were my first model of philanthropy. No one talked about it, or even gave it a name. They just did. They didn’t sit and wait for someone else to step up to help. They just Marched Forth.
The men are all gone now. I still grieve our loss. But I still hear their laughs and see their faces.
Today is the funeral of one of the first of our ladies to leave us, Mrs. Jones.
It’s particularly tough to lose one of the women. As a young gal, I was amused, annoyed, intrigued, mentored and cared for by this group of females. When I picture this group of women, I envision them as this big tall group of mighty lush trees that circled me like a clearing in the forest. They were/are larger than life, strong & beautiful. They have weathered strong winds & damaging storms. They have provided shelter to those in need of comfort. They truly breathed life into our atmospheres.
Mrs. Jones. She was the embodiment of grace and poise. She appeared reserved but had a ready laugh and rarely blushed at my Mom’s racier jokes. (smile) She was always dressed smartly and she never ever said an unkind word about anyone. I don’t think I’d ever heard her raise her voice. (Not even when my brother threw that burning candle at me and covered me with hot wax on her porch. Maybe I could only hear myself yelling. ) She was a Lady in the truest and most romantic sense. She was the willowy tree – lean, breezy, yet deeply rooted. We will miss the shade of her love. But we'll grow tall & strong into our roots & to the skies - just like her...and because of her. And many others.
Though a tree grows so high, the falling leaves return to the root. ~ Malay proverb
My parents moved to this town in the 50s. They had a circle of solid couple-friends. We called them Mr. and Mrs. We were friends with their kids. To my five siblings and me, it felt like just an extension of my family. My siblings and I – we know we are blessed to know this type of world. This type of town family.
The inner circle: my parents, The McCambridges, the Borzicks, the Charnigas, The Jones’s, The Shanes. Then there were other couples connected through hunting & fishing. Trust me when I tell you, these were and still are all good salt-of-the-earth people. And some vibrant personalities. I have great memories of deep belly laughs, cigars & cocktails, accordion polka music, great “hunky” foods, lots of story telling, some “blue” language, ladies working in concert at potluck parties.
I also have memories of men working days to build baseball fields or fence the high school track, ladies working at school and church events, both serving as scout leaders & coaches, volunteering for PTA/PTO, band boosters, athletic boosters and loyal homecoming parade porch parties. I have memories of this circle helping neighbors with broken plumbing, erecting garages or shingling roofs, baskets of shared vegetables from fruitful gardens, transportation, meals or even installation of extra phone line for those ailing. They’ve organized meals for too many funerals, visited too many hospital and nursing home rooms, and they send notes and make phone calls to you weeks after the rest of the world moves on.
They had a lot of fun. Those living still do. They did a lot of good deeds – big and small – in the community, for strangers and for neighbors. Those living still do. They were the first examples of Marching Forth in my life. They were my first model of philanthropy. No one talked about it, or even gave it a name. They just did. They didn’t sit and wait for someone else to step up to help. They just Marched Forth.
The men are all gone now. I still grieve our loss. But I still hear their laughs and see their faces.
Today is the funeral of one of the first of our ladies to leave us, Mrs. Jones.
It’s particularly tough to lose one of the women. As a young gal, I was amused, annoyed, intrigued, mentored and cared for by this group of females. When I picture this group of women, I envision them as this big tall group of mighty lush trees that circled me like a clearing in the forest. They were/are larger than life, strong & beautiful. They have weathered strong winds & damaging storms. They have provided shelter to those in need of comfort. They truly breathed life into our atmospheres.
Mrs. Jones. She was the embodiment of grace and poise. She appeared reserved but had a ready laugh and rarely blushed at my Mom’s racier jokes. (smile) She was always dressed smartly and she never ever said an unkind word about anyone. I don’t think I’d ever heard her raise her voice. (Not even when my brother threw that burning candle at me and covered me with hot wax on her porch. Maybe I could only hear myself yelling. ) She was a Lady in the truest and most romantic sense. She was the willowy tree – lean, breezy, yet deeply rooted. We will miss the shade of her love. But we'll grow tall & strong into our roots & to the skies - just like her...and because of her. And many others.
Though a tree grows so high, the falling leaves return to the root. ~ Malay proverb
Monday, July 12, 2010
Elevated Kindness
It was a whirlwind birthday celebration weekend in the amazing city of Chicago. Seven friends exploring the sights, the architecure, the parks, the river, the restaurants and pubs. The weather was mostly sunny, as too was the company.
We took the El all over town - the city's anciently wonderful train system. Easy on, easy off, easy pay, fairly clean and only one encounter with a tweaked-out man posturing, yelling and saying he was a gargoyle. Compared to my NYC subway adventures, I almost felt cheated there wasn't more drama on the tracks. Well, not really.
We were rushing off the train and met by a pop up storm outside the tunnel exit. Still not dismayed. Even the storm was Midwesternly pleasant. After 10 minutes, it let up, we exited. And that's when it happened. Jodi stopped and did a frantic search of satchel & pockets.
Her iphone was left on the train.
Immediately, our crew of friends scattered in response: to the tunnel to seek out a CTA employee, on the phone w/ information to contact the CTA office, and me dialing Jodi's number over and over in the hopes someone would answer. No luck with any avenues...until after about a dozen dialing attempts, a male voice answers Jodi's phone. I physically bounce to attention yelling "ooh ooh ahh hello, who is this?" "I found this phone on the Red Line and am looking for someone to give it to." said the stranger. pause. "But I can't find any CTA security."
"We can come to you, where are you," I ask, nodding at my travel mates. So, then 3 of us were off to meet him. It ended up being a 20-min ride with us watching the transit map, ticking w/ nervous energy, and counting the stops. Once we hit the mark, we ran off the train in 3 directions looking for someone we don't know.
The Jodi spotted him. Well, actually, she spotted her phone. Then him. We never got his name. He was in a bit of hurry. Probably a little weirded out that a chunky lady (me) went running at him yelling "phone guy" and wrapping him a hug. Jodi offered him money. He declined. I offered again, insisting. He declined and obvious was uncomfortable that we'd even thought he'd accept. We thanked him over and over. Told him that good Karma will reward him. Then he was off -- to catch his other train.
And we stood for a minute. Relieved to have found the coveted telephonic lifeline. We were giddy. Within seconds, we realized our elation was more about the fact that there was a stranger on a train that took time to do a kind deed than it was about having the phone back.
Would you try to find the owner of a lost item? Of course, we say yes. But what if you were in a hurry (this stranger seemed to be). What if you were having a horrible day. What if you figured someone else would take care of it? What if.
This kind stranger...he didn't ask What If. He just did. He marched forth. In the middle of July, he Marched Forth.
So, this famous Chicago system isn't the only thing that was elevated.
Our belief in kind strangers was as well.
We took the El all over town - the city's anciently wonderful train system. Easy on, easy off, easy pay, fairly clean and only one encounter with a tweaked-out man posturing, yelling and saying he was a gargoyle. Compared to my NYC subway adventures, I almost felt cheated there wasn't more drama on the tracks. Well, not really.
We were rushing off the train and met by a pop up storm outside the tunnel exit. Still not dismayed. Even the storm was Midwesternly pleasant. After 10 minutes, it let up, we exited. And that's when it happened. Jodi stopped and did a frantic search of satchel & pockets.
Her iphone was left on the train.
Immediately, our crew of friends scattered in response: to the tunnel to seek out a CTA employee, on the phone w/ information to contact the CTA office, and me dialing Jodi's number over and over in the hopes someone would answer. No luck with any avenues...until after about a dozen dialing attempts, a male voice answers Jodi's phone. I physically bounce to attention yelling "ooh ooh ahh hello, who is this?" "I found this phone on the Red Line and am looking for someone to give it to." said the stranger. pause. "But I can't find any CTA security."
"We can come to you, where are you," I ask, nodding at my travel mates. So, then 3 of us were off to meet him. It ended up being a 20-min ride with us watching the transit map, ticking w/ nervous energy, and counting the stops. Once we hit the mark, we ran off the train in 3 directions looking for someone we don't know.
The Jodi spotted him. Well, actually, she spotted her phone. Then him. We never got his name. He was in a bit of hurry. Probably a little weirded out that a chunky lady (me) went running at him yelling "phone guy" and wrapping him a hug. Jodi offered him money. He declined. I offered again, insisting. He declined and obvious was uncomfortable that we'd even thought he'd accept. We thanked him over and over. Told him that good Karma will reward him. Then he was off -- to catch his other train.
And we stood for a minute. Relieved to have found the coveted telephonic lifeline. We were giddy. Within seconds, we realized our elation was more about the fact that there was a stranger on a train that took time to do a kind deed than it was about having the phone back.
Would you try to find the owner of a lost item? Of course, we say yes. But what if you were in a hurry (this stranger seemed to be). What if you were having a horrible day. What if you figured someone else would take care of it? What if.
This kind stranger...he didn't ask What If. He just did. He marched forth. In the middle of July, he Marched Forth.
So, this famous Chicago system isn't the only thing that was elevated.
Our belief in kind strangers was as well.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
It's been a while. Shame on me. Sure, we see Marching Forth every day. But sometimes we need to be reminded of the good. Sometimes, we need someone to lift the blind for us. So, I'm back at it.
A few weeks ago, my church honored a gentleman for his years of volunteer service. No big deal. You hear this story every day, right? So, here's why it's something special. For 25 years, Jim Basye volunteered in a Sunday class. Twenty-five years. He missed 3 Sundays EVER. Clearly committed. Clearly Marching Forth.
But there's more.
For 25 years, Jim lead a special group of developmentally disabled adults - The God's Treasures class. The group of up 15 special adults meets, goes over a topic, maybe colors, arranges restroom visits, then, as a group, attends worship service. The God's Treasures group are not spectactors. They are members of the church, quiety absorbing what they wish from the worship service. They participate in candle lightings, readings, their holiday party. When one of the Treasures chose to be baptized, the group, along with Jim, stood up with her, proud and supportive. And crying.
Jim is not the boastful type. He quiety devoted himself. He didn't March as much as he softly padded. Did anyone, until now, even know he'd only missed 3 Sundays in 25 years? Well, likely the God's Treasures members remember those 3 days he missed. Adoration brings a keen memory.
Jim Basye was honored for his 25 years of dedication. Twenty five years of Marching Forth - one quiet step at a time. And, as this humble, caring man was celebrated for his service, he was surrounded by his very special friends. Some smiling. Some crying. But all changed because of him.
A few weeks ago, my church honored a gentleman for his years of volunteer service. No big deal. You hear this story every day, right? So, here's why it's something special. For 25 years, Jim Basye volunteered in a Sunday class. Twenty-five years. He missed 3 Sundays EVER. Clearly committed. Clearly Marching Forth.
But there's more.
For 25 years, Jim lead a special group of developmentally disabled adults - The God's Treasures class. The group of up 15 special adults meets, goes over a topic, maybe colors, arranges restroom visits, then, as a group, attends worship service. The God's Treasures group are not spectactors. They are members of the church, quiety absorbing what they wish from the worship service. They participate in candle lightings, readings, their holiday party. When one of the Treasures chose to be baptized, the group, along with Jim, stood up with her, proud and supportive. And crying.
Jim is not the boastful type. He quiety devoted himself. He didn't March as much as he softly padded. Did anyone, until now, even know he'd only missed 3 Sundays in 25 years? Well, likely the God's Treasures members remember those 3 days he missed. Adoration brings a keen memory.
Jim Basye was honored for his 25 years of dedication. Twenty five years of Marching Forth - one quiet step at a time. And, as this humble, caring man was celebrated for his service, he was surrounded by his very special friends. Some smiling. Some crying. But all changed because of him.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
March 4th Explorer
Alison,
I wanted you to know that while I've been thinking of a particular writing project for several years, I haven't done anything about it because there always seemed to be other stuff to do.
When I saw your March 4th reminder e-mails this year, I realized I could actually do something about my project if I simply made it a priority. So...I launched the Exploring People website this month with the help of March Forth motivation kicking me into gear.
I've wanted to publish Exploring People because I'm constantly meeting really cool people who are explorers in their every day lives. So now I am interviewing these people to catch a glimpse of their adventures and thrills of personal discovery. Places, ideas, skills, or new experiences -- these are all fair game for Exploring People.
To spread the word about the March Forth movement, Exploring People featured Alison as the March 4, 2009 "Interview of the Day." Check it out.
http://www.exploringpeople.com/interview-of-the-day/march-4-2009-alison-barret
Jennifer
I wanted you to know that while I've been thinking of a particular writing project for several years, I haven't done anything about it because there always seemed to be other stuff to do.
When I saw your March 4th reminder e-mails this year, I realized I could actually do something about my project if I simply made it a priority. So...I launched the Exploring People website this month with the help of March Forth motivation kicking me into gear.
I've wanted to publish Exploring People because I'm constantly meeting really cool people who are explorers in their every day lives. So now I am interviewing these people to catch a glimpse of their adventures and thrills of personal discovery. Places, ideas, skills, or new experiences -- these are all fair game for Exploring People.
To spread the word about the March Forth movement, Exploring People featured Alison as the March 4, 2009 "Interview of the Day." Check it out.
http://www.exploringpeople.com/interview-of-the-day/march-4-2009-alison-barret
Jennifer
Friday, March 6, 2009
The Call
I suspect some delay making a March Forth commitment because it seems daunting. Most think it needs to be a big project or monetary gift. Or that you must hear "the call" from above. Nope. Being a good neighbor doesn't need to be a grand gesture. We all know small deeds speak volumes.
On March 4th, my 80-year-old Mom Marched Forth. Mom is legally blind & hindered by Rheumatoid arthritis. She lives alone in our family home of 52 years. Most days, Mom's adventures are limited. How would she honor March 4th with such limitations?
On March 4th, Mom made a phone call to an old friend. The friend is homebound and has little family living. Mom had put the call off for weeks, maybe months, because this old friend is a real talker. (the humor here is if my mother thinks someone else is a "talker", well, then....geez.)
But my Mom knows loneliness. And she relishes those energizing phone calls from old friends.
So, on March 4th, Mom settled down w/ a cup of tea...and made a very important call.
The call to be a caring friend and neighbor.
On March 4th, my 80-year-old Mom Marched Forth. Mom is legally blind & hindered by Rheumatoid arthritis. She lives alone in our family home of 52 years. Most days, Mom's adventures are limited. How would she honor March 4th with such limitations?
On March 4th, Mom made a phone call to an old friend. The friend is homebound and has little family living. Mom had put the call off for weeks, maybe months, because this old friend is a real talker. (the humor here is if my mother thinks someone else is a "talker", well, then....geez.)
But my Mom knows loneliness. And she relishes those energizing phone calls from old friends.
So, on March 4th, Mom settled down w/ a cup of tea...and made a very important call.
The call to be a caring friend and neighbor.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Stop Talking, Start Stocking
So, yep, I don't just stand on the box and yell for others to start Marching. I do *try* to live it. So, yesterday, for my 44th bday, I arranged for a group of my closest friends to help me celebrate. Lorrie, Ben, Amy HoneyLuv, Janna, Lisa & Jeff Redfield and I met at Lifecare Alliance after work. We got a tour of the new (since November) building which is amazing and chock full of programs, services and good work for Columbus seniors and also people served by Project OpenHand and the Columbus Cancer Clinic.
Our task was viewed as daunting by the Lifecare Alliance staff member. There was just one of her. But with an organized, energetic and goofy half dozen of people, we plowed through the two projects of organizing the food pantry fairly quickly. Seeing it as a time and quality challenge. We sorted and organized on pallets huge shipments of Ensure. So many flavors. So, forever, I'll hear "Creamy Milk Chocolate, regular!" echoed in my head. So, we helped a little bit. But we learned a lot. Thank you Paul and Andrea at LifeCare Alliance for helping me find a volunteer project. And a SPECIAL Thank you to Shelly at LifeCare Alliance who gave up a night with her family to help some of my "family" March Forth! So many blessings!
http://www.lifecarealliance.org/
http://www.projectopenhand-columbus.org/
http://www.columbuscancerclinic.org/
Our task was viewed as daunting by the Lifecare Alliance staff member. There was just one of her. But with an organized, energetic and goofy half dozen of people, we plowed through the two projects of organizing the food pantry fairly quickly. Seeing it as a time and quality challenge. We sorted and organized on pallets huge shipments of Ensure. So many flavors. So, forever, I'll hear "Creamy Milk Chocolate, regular!" echoed in my head. So, we helped a little bit. But we learned a lot. Thank you Paul and Andrea at LifeCare Alliance for helping me find a volunteer project. And a SPECIAL Thank you to Shelly at LifeCare Alliance who gave up a night with her family to help some of my "family" March Forth! So many blessings!
http://www.lifecarealliance.org/
http://www.projectopenhand-columbus.org/
http://www.columbuscancerclinic.org/
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