A Library Burns To The Ground

One year ago I sat in a waiting room and listened to an old man give me some of the most sound, unsolicited advice I've ever been given. 
It rocked me. 
It made me think. 
I blogged about it. 
I apply the lesson every single day. 

Less than six months after that conversation with the stranger in the waiting room, I drove to Ivy Tech Community College to sit on a committee to plan an event for their School of Agriculture. I walked into the classroom and instantly recognized an old man - the same one whose words struck a cord in me. 

I introduced myself and he said, "Yes, I was in the waiting room with you some time ago..." Just as I remembered him, Joe remembered me. 

Joe and I went on to work closely together to plan the event for the college. We met monthly, discussing who should be invited, who should speak and why we were so adamant that the event for the college went well. But as Joe's wisdom impressed me in the waiting room, his passion for agriculture - both local and global - impressed me exponentially more. 

I have never met anyone more devoted to learning, teaching and studying agriculture.  He defined initiative. A life-long learner. I have never met anyone so determined to teach others.  He was a passionate advocate for agriculture. 

Joe had a true servant's heart in a farmer's body.

And Joe was funny. We went to breakfast at Bob Evan's in February. Joe was conservative in his selection: oatmeal and other heart-healthy choices. I, on the other hand, ordered the biggest, meanest omelet a gal could find, extra mushrooms. Joe laughed at me when the waitress delivered our meals and an omelet bigger than my head was placed before me. But he took me a lot more seriously when he saw me finish it off. "What? I was taught to clean my plate," I told Joe. He threw his head back, his eyes dancing with laughter. 

I worked with Joe through Ivy Tech. 
I visited with Joe at the Soil and Water Conservation banquet. 
We both enjoyed the fact that we left Wayne County and drove to Indianapolis and visited again last month at the 2013 Livestock, Forage and Grain Forum.

He asked me that day if I was following him to each of these events. I told Joe - only half jokingly - that I couldn't keep up with everything he was involved in. 

My last laugh with Joe was in late February. He told me he had just bought a welder from my Dad and he was regretting the decision. Hesitantly, I asked him why. "Well your Dad has a wedding to pay for this summer. I bet in September that welder will go on sale!"

Momma called me late Monday night and told me Joe had passed away. 

When an old man dies, it is as if a library burns down. Never, ever before have I wanted to share his waiting room message more than I do now. 

Something I've never done before,  I'm reposting the blog about Joe, written before I realized what an impact the man would have. 

Even if you read it last February, I sure encourage you to read it again. 

A Lesson in the Waiting Room 

March 15, 2012

"Sometimes the doctor's office waiting room is the loneliest, most desolate place in the world," said the stranger, sitting four seats from me. 

I had taken Momma to the doctor. She'd been sick for days; she's also been bull-headed for years. I knew it was bad when she called me at work and asked me to get her to the doctor that very afternoon. So, being that daughter that drops off a rambunctious sixth-generation feral dog (with a heart of gold) at her house every day, I didn't hesitate to help Momma out. 

I took a book to read, as you never know how long you'll wait in those situations. Lucky for us, the doctor was surprised to see the BSG Manager of Operations sitting in his waiting room  and not in coveralls; he took her right in.  

While Momma was in back I kept reading Start with Why: How Great Leaders Inspire Everyone to Take Action; the full, silent waiting room seemed like the perfect place to read. Until the stranger, four seats away, broke the silence with his comment. 

He was older, probably in his mid-70s. He was a strikingly handsome man for his age, with a head full of wavy hair and a handsome smile. He wore brown shoes and black socks, a red flannel shirt with a turtleneck underneath. His jeans were faded but still in working order, and it wasn't until he went back to see the doctor that I noticed just how far he had them pulled up.  

With the exception of one man, the entire waiting room looked up at the old man after he made his "loneliest, most desolate" comment out of the blue. 

He had our attention, and he continued...

"I've been to a few of these in my lifetime. I'm a cancer survivor. I had several heart stints put in a year ago. I thought I was out of the woods until just the last few months, but something isn't right. That's why I'm sitting here, I suppose," he said with a smile. 

I put my book down. I had this feeling I was about to learn something, and it wasn't about leadership.

He continued, "When I was out in Indianapolis years ago I made some friends out there. The first week was scary. I didn't know what I was in for, or what they - the others in the waiting room - were in for. But I finally got one of the other men talking and we got to be good acquaintances. Others, daily, joined our waiting room conversation."

I couldn't help but notice how well articulated he was. I also noticed that the lady in the corner went back to reading her Ladies' Home Journal. Are you serious, lady?! How could you not find this survivor's story so intriguing?!, I thought to myself. 

Seeing he still had a somewhat captive audience, the man kept talking. 

"The place went from a room of scared, quiet, lonely fighters to a room full of supportive teammates. We were fighting the same battle. All we had to do was ask how the other person was doing that day. That's all it took to start a conversation. And to learn."

He took off his khaki coat and hung it over the chair beside him. I wondered why he hadn't done it sooner; it seemed like a blazing 400-degrees in that tiny room to me. 

"I truly believe that communication, that putting into words how we were feeling, saved my life. I looked forward to it. Guess I needed it. You never know what kind of battle that other person is facing until you ask," he said. 

The side door flew open, "Mr. Johnson?"

"That's me!" And as though he'd been healthy his whole life, the old man shot out of his seat, grabbed his coat and headed back to see the doctor. 

Just like that, the moment of inspiration had come and gone. But it certainly stuck with me, otherwise I wouldn't be sharing it here. What a simple, yet profound thought - we're never going to know or understand what a person is going through, or what they may need from us, until we simply ask. 

Take the time to ask, even if they wear a smile. 

That old man's inspiring words reminded me of one of my favorite quotes; I first read it waiting in line at a local office supplies store - it was taped to the cash register:

The world needs more like Joe Meyer. 

Love For The Original

Another year in the books and we celebrate 

another year with our dear, beautiful, Original Jean.

A few years ago we planned a surprise birthday party for my Grandma. My sister  played a big role in the surprise and convinced Grandma to ride to town with her and pick up a pizza, rather than cook. 

When they returned to the farm, of course Grandma immediately noticed the line of pick-up trucks and cars lined down her lane. 

Grandma's first response: "Oh no...hide that pizza!"

The Original Jean isn't one for surprises. Namely the ones that require her to feed the masses or wash her windows. 

Next week we will celebrate The Original Jean's 83rd birthday in rural Ohio. She won't do much of anything special for herself; we're getting together over the weekend for cake and ice cream. 

Rather than plan a surprise party for Grandma, I'd like to surprise her by showering her with cards. I've said it a thousand times before: sending cards or letters is a lost art. It takes less than ten minutes, and the reward of making someone's day is worth it, 100 times over. 

Grandma understands the value in a hand-writeen note, too: 

If you have 5 minutes, I encourage you to sit down, 
grab a pen and a sheet of paper off of your desk 

and send The Original Jean - the namesake for this blog - a happy birthday note, even if you've not had the pleasure of meeting her. 

The Original Jean

3409 Toney-Lybrook Rd. 

Eaton, OH

45320

When she goes to to bed on the night of her 83rd birthday, Grandma may not know who exactly sent all the cards, letters or notes. 

She sure won't remember what each of them said. 

But rest assured, she will never forget how special they made her feel. 

And her granddaughter, too.

Animals - For Life

Animals played varying roles throughout my childhood.

Cats went for a ride around the block with Dad. 
Pygmy goats ended up in the mailbox for the mail lady/man to find. 
Nate, the stray dog that made BSG his home, came and went as he pleased. Usually after he left, litters of little black pups began to show up around the community. 
Frogs were friends. Until they peed on us. Then they were just gross. 

And cattle belonged in the pasture.
Or on our plate. 

But then we got Aggie.

She changed how our family viewed animals. She quickly became not only a family favorite, but a community favorite, too. She was fast, and funny and changed my rigid father. Every night, Aggie fell asleep in the recliner next to Dad. 

We lost our beloved Aggie on December 21, 2012. It was a terribly sad time. 

They say a good job is one you learn from every day. While I know there have been days at Wilt PR that I've barely made it through the motions of returning phone calls, attending meetings and traveling between Indiana and Ohio, I've also learned immensely in the last 18 months. 

One of the greatest lessons has come to me through working with the Animals for Life Foundation (AFL). AFL was created to educate the public about the value animals bring to human life: Whether it’s through food and fiber or medical and social benefits. Even as a farm girl, I hadn't realized how animals impact our daily lives. 
Whether we have an "Aggie" or not. The rehabilitation and learning programs that include animals are incredible. The health benefits of protein from animals is astounding. 
They are literally intertwined into meals, clothes, companionship and conversation. 

To this day, I blame being late for dentist appointments solely on my pup, Dixie. 

On March 20 animals behavior specialists and veterinarians from all over the United States will meet in Columbus, Ohio to discuss the human-animal bond and how animals affect every human life. Dr. Temple Grandin and Steve Dale are included in the list of presenters who will discuss with attendees how animals have changed the way our children learn, our dietary decisions and how we spend our hard earned money. 

You can learn more about The Summit at the Animals For Life Facebook page.

If you need to find me on March 20, I'll be in Columbus learning more about trends in the animal industry. 
And also about how incredibly confused that little pygmy goat was each time we stuffed her in the mailbox....

Dear Ol' Dad

This weekend at the farm we'll have a small get-together to celebrate Dad's 62nd birthday. 

Dear ol' Dad. 

I have not always understood each of Dad's philosophies, but I've always - always - respected them. 

Dad intimidated every boy that walked through our front door to see one of us Bowman sisters by keeping two rifles next to the door. 

He told me the boy who wasn't intimidated by the accessible guns was the one he could trust with his daughter. 

And Dad was right. 

Dad may have missed my 6th grade graduation and about 98% of my cheerleading obligations (at what age will I let that go?), but he made up for it by sitting on the end of my bed and trying to console me with logic as I sobbed over a boy. 

He told me this wouldn't be the last time. And each time would hurt. 

And Dad was right. 

Dad enjoyed dinners with a lesson while we were growing up. The "Word of the Day" game, where we found one word out of the dictionary, defined it and each used it in a sentence, lasted about 9 days. His science lessons about how much sugar was in one can of pop worked; rarely do I crave a Coke. 

Dad told us some of the most important parts of our childhood would take place around the dining room table when the five of us were all together. 

And Dad was right. 

Dad taught us we would learn more by keeping our mouth shut and our ears open. 

And Dad was right. 

Dad told us one day we would appreciate firm handshakes, medium-rare prepared steak, hard work, early mornings, late nights and  full-bodied beer. 

And Dad was right. 

Perhaps two of the best things Dad has ever taught us deal with confidence and frugality. 

Dad also taught the three of us how to be confident in ourselves and our choices. He's never apologized for making us tuck our shirts in (Luke even had to tuck in his Shawn Kemp jersey - I so wish I could have found photos), wear belts every day or abide by the earliest curfews known to mankind. Because of that, all three of us have done things our own way, on our own time, in our own style. 

Dad used to preach that what is popular doesn't matter; rather, what matters is character. 

And Dad was right. 

Over the years, Dad has also taught us a lot about saving money (If It's Free, Take Two) and utilizing our resources. We smashed cans growing up and took thousands of them to the recycling center. And if any one of Dad's "Lucky Charms" can be recycled, you better believe he will. Because of these frugal (TIGHT!) ways, he allowed Momma to be a homemaker, sent three kids to college and continues to own one of the largest purebred Shorthorn operations in the United States. 

Dad promised himself one day he would do things right. 

And Dad has. 

But time passes. 

Dad and I teaching Laura and Luke how to work. 

Kids grow up. 

Herds grow. 

Parents age. 

Things change. 

Last week my brother sent me a video that confirmed something: in a time where change is beyond each turn, a few things will always remain the same. 

Dad will - without fail - load his 1964 Ford Camper Special (when I was in junior high, I could look through the floorboard and see the road pass beneath my boots) as full as he can possibly get it and drive it (ON PUBLIC ROADS) 15 miles to Richmond and cash in on each of his "lucky charms" at the recycling center.

The second truck was hauling Dad's aluminum cans...

He doesn't care what anyone thinks. 

He cares that those lucky charms just paid a truck payment. 

Or, at least for lunch on the way home from town...

Cheers to another year with dear ol' Dad and his unique ways. 

His lessons. 

The empire of integrity he has built. 

Happy Birthday, Daddio!

What's Love Got To Do With It?

Ahh, Valentine's Day.

When I was young, Valentine's Day meant two hours away from school work to exchange paper valentines and feast on cupcakes with red icing that left our entire class looking like blood hungry vampires. 

In high school I went on a first date on Valentine's Day. The shy boy from across the county brought me a dozen roses. Poor kid - he was so obligated. 

In college, Valentine's Day was more of a girls' night (as though we didn't have enough) than a sappy date night. Flowers from out west sat on my vanity while with my girlfriends I toasted another February 14 farewell. 
Really, we could have found anything to toast to that night....passing Chemistry, our senior year, getting that job interview...

February 14, 2007

Last year on February 14 I spent the day emailing back and forth with a guy a met in Denver (his name is Cody) and my girlfriends, analyzing every flower picture posted, taken with a stapler in the background. 
Every predicted proposal. 
Every mention of "hubby", "man of my dreams" and...."love."

But really, what's love got to do with it?

Definition of love from old Mr. Webster:

¹love

 noun \ˈləv\

Definition of LOVE

1

a (1) : strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties <maternal love for a child> (2) : attraction based on sexual desire : affection and tenderness felt bylovers (3) : affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests 

_________________________________________

And this is how a few of my Facebook friends define love:

• Just love the busy season! Keeps me sane!! LOL
• Michelle's dress: I LOVE IT!
• Got your invite to Caleb's party today - I love them :)
• Luv my baby boy> No mater wat! (this accompanied a photo of a steer)
• Love getting RSVPs for our wedding!!! Hope I get a bunch more soon so I don't have to stalk people lol! 

All of the sudden, we love (or worse, luv) every one and everything. We love songs and television shows and new cars and clothes. We are so guilty of saturating our language with "love" that it holds little value anymore. 

Don't get me started The Bachelor. I tuned in for an hour this week (guilty) and heard the "L" word something like 6 times. You love him? You LOVE him?! You have never had to wash his dried up toothpaste off the side of the sink. You haven't experienced him drunk with his best friends. You've never even met his father to have some sort of gauge as to what you may be getting into. 

It is so, so special to tell someone you love them for the first time. What a moment to remember. But how exciting can telling them you love them be, if you've already used the word three times earlier in the evening?

6:30: PM: That's my favorite shirt you own; I love it. 

7:15 PM: I love their bleu cheese dressing. 

8:40 PM: I loved her when she played in Everybody Loves Raymond. 

10:30 PM: Oh, and I love you. 

Really?

I remember playing in my Grandma Bowman's yard when I was pretty young. During our playing and gallivanting around, one of us kids had promised another something and then broke the contract. The disappointed one did what any kid would: reported the lack of follow through to Momma. I remember we all got scolded that Sunday afternoon. Momma told us that a promise was a very serious thing, and none of us, not Laura, Luke or Lindsay, were mature enough to make a promise to anyone else. At that point in time, we simply didn't understand the commitment that a  promise entailed. 

Then and there, a promise became a pretty serious thing. 

And love is, too.

Sure, there are different types of love, but I consider all of them powerful. Right now, I'm committing to not throw the "L" word around. I used to be pretty good at watching my usage. In fact, I recall one summer night when I told a guy I was, "completely in......like.....with you". Good way to promptly end a date. I just wasn't there yet. 

I believe a thing as powerful as love deserves a correct context.

"I just love Valentine's candy. It's so good," remarked Cody one day a couple weeks ago as he chomped away on a package of sweet tarts. 

"You use that love word a lot," I responded, smiling at him. 
A few second passed. Cody was chewing. 

"Linds, please just know that the love I have for sweet tarts is a totally different kind of love that I have for you. Just, trust me. Two different loves."

That brief exchange inspired this entry. 

And, I rest my case.  

Keeping Time

When I was a young girl I was lucky enough to have my best friend also be my cousin. With less than three months separating us in age, Kathleen and I spent our fall and spring breaks at Grandma and Granddad's farm. In the summer we'd spend a week during the Preble County Fair. 

We ate pizza for breakfast, popsicles for lunch and cheeseburgers for dinner. 

We'd sit on the markers at the end of the driveway and wait for Mikey Dare to drive by. When we finally saw a Dare truck coming down the road, we were too shy to even wave. We'd usually jump off the concrete land marker and hide behind it. But that is a blog for another day...

Then time passed. We got involved in other things (Kathleen successfully pursued music while I attempted toe touches in a purple and gold uniform) and sadly our time at that farm in Ohio seemed less and less. 

But, before we grew up and forgot what it was like to be 10 years old, we buried a time capsule. 

After finishing a pale of ice cream (with the help of Granddad), we filled it with pieces of our young lives. The good news is I can only recall a few things that Kathleen and I put in that time capsule, which is so exciting. The opening will be even more telling of our childhood.  I know that we put popsicle wrappers and a newspaper from the weekend we were there. 

We buried the capsule right next to the milk parlor. I remember having a hard time determining the year that we would open it: either in 2033 or when we turn 33. We settled on opening it at the age of 33, since we were unsure if we would have enough memory left when we're 49-years-old in 2033. Oh, perception. 

Now, 33 seems just around the corner and I anxiously await finding that capsule again with Kathleen. 

I think I get an appreciation for those types of ideas from Momma. When she and Dad remodeled our home in the '80's, Momma left notes in the walls that they built. Notes about our family, the price of groceries and gas. Notes about life as we knew it. 

This summer I plan on burying another. It will be a summer of change for myself; time to close one chapter and blaze a glorious trail into another. At no other point in my life will things be just as they are today. 
And that is the case for everyday. 
For everyone.
Each sunrise opens new doors, new opportunities. 
Each day changes life. 
How will we remember it? 

Bowman Superior Genetics

Greens Fork, Indiana

So what should I put in a time capsule at 28? 

Current events. What is making news in the United States? What is our president doing? What are the popular television shows or musicians? 

Numbers. The price of milk, bread, gas and hairspray. 28 or 88, I will always go through hairspray more quickly than I do milk. 

Letters to myself. What makes me happy? What do I worry about? What do I look forward to? Who do I wish I knew better? Where do I want to visit? 

Art. I'd love to have Marlee and Harrison draw pictures for me so they can see their works of art years later. I'd also love for one of them to become famous so Aunt Lindsay's time capsule will pay for her funeral. 

Newspapers. Just one or two. Maybe the real estate section to see what houses sold for. Maybe the comics. 

Photos. Lots of them. Photos of my home, interior and exterior. Photos of Bowman Superior Genetics. Family photos. Photos of my vehicle. My workplace. Components of my life. 

My goals. Where do I think I'll be in 10, 25 or 45 years? Much more importantly, where do I want to be?

My boots. Just one pair. One that I can obviously live without for a few...decades. A pair with a story to tell. 

Burying a time capsule is an easy way of keeping and remembering time. 

I'm no expert, but I  recommend putting in things that don't mold or breathe. Those popsicle wrappers may be problematic in a few years and cats tend to put up a fight. 

What will you put in your time capsule?

Lessons From The Dressing Room

If you need a confidence check, squeeze into a wedding dress that you hate, surround yourself with floor length mirrors and stand on a pedestal in front of complete strangers. 

I did it approximately 15 times last Saturday. It was worth it. I found the dress that I'll show my daughter one day - many, many years from now. 

But it was a journey to find "the dress". 

We were in Indianapolis where I had one of those encounters worth passing on. Once I barreled out of the dressing room, I didn't take time to explain to Momma or my bridesmaids what had just happened. I simply held my hands in the air, grabbed my coat from the coat rack and said, "BLOG!"
They didn't ask questions. We had been in the store a total of twenty minutes. 

You know that saying, if you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans? 
I believe that. 
I also believe if you want to hear a bridal consultant laugh, tell her your budget. 

I was skimming the window displays when a gal approached me and introduced herself as Shonda, my "personal bridal consultant". 
I should have known then that I was in over my head. The only personal consultants I've ever had were two older siblings, and they've both lead me astray more than once in this life. 

Shonda gave me a tour of the entire store then turned to me, head down, pen and card out. "Give me ya number." 
"My phone number?" I asked. 
"Amount you wanna spend on the dress."
Why do I always assume people need my phone number?
"Ohh, ha! Sorry," I apologized, then I gave her a number. 
She looked at me over her bifocals. "Girl, you serious?....You flexible?" Shonda's response worried me. 
"Well, no, not really. I mean, I'll go less....of course. But that's a pretty hard budget I'm trying to stick to," I uncomfortably told her. In a moment of awkwardness, I reached out and grabbed one of the dresses beside us while she wrote notes on the card. I grabbed the price tag: 4x my budget. I was crushed. But I knew how much I thought my wedding dress should cost and I was sticking to that.  

Shonda grabbed my arm and guided me to the discount racks. Fair enough. 

In a rush around the set of discount racks, Shonda grabbed two dresses and asked if I saw anything I liked. If I would have had time to let my eye focus I guess I could have found something, but she didn't give me an opportunity to search for a dress that fit my budget and my guidelines. Probably because Shonda knew better. 

She grabbed the two dresses and told me to follow her - into the dressing room. Momma, Laura and Betsy each followed this madness until Shonda stopped them, hand up. "You girls sit here. I got Lizzy (I didn't feel the need to correct her at this point) here in the dressing room." 

Until now, I hadn't tried on a dress that my sister hadn't zipped, buttoned or tucked. I was a bit concerned. I turned around and gave Laura a little wave. So long, sister. I followed Shonda into a land of white lights and mirrors.

"Miss Lizzy you just strip down and let me know when you ready. I stand out here 'til you ready."
"Got it," I replied as I closed the curtain behind me, set my purse down and unclipped my necklace. 

Approximately 13 seconds passed.

"You ready?"
"Not...quite....yet....." I responded while thinking, Ok, listen lady, I'm still trying to pry this second damn boot off. 

One minute later and Shonda was in the tiny dressing room with me, holding the first dress. 
This was the step-in kind. 
One leg at a time.
Shimmy it up. 
I had the routine down. 

Then, it was stuck. 
Right around my hips. 
Shocking. 

I tugged. 
Shonda pulled. 
The dress didn't move. 

"What size is this?!" I asked, bending my knees back and forth, trying to get the thing to move a centimeter. 
"Six. Can you believe they'd put a six on the clearance rack?"

Game over. 

Together, we worked in silence, shimmying, shaking, everything short of jumping up and down to get the dress past my Shafer hips. 
I started laughing. Out loud. 
Is this really happening? 
Is she really trying to stuff me - literally - into a size six wedding dress?
Why?

Shonda started laughing, too. Loudly, from the belly, deep down inside, laughing uncontrollably. 
"Girrrrrlllll, there is one thing we know....you ain't no siiize six! Pull it down. We ain't doing this."

And before I could even prepare myself, dear Shonda yanked the dress right down. 
To my ankles.
And the hook on the back of the dress get snagged on my underwear. 
And...you can only imagine. 
That's all I'm going to say about that. 

"I ain't seen nothing, girl, I ain't seen nothing!" Shonda said as she tried to unhook the dress from me and back herself out of the dressing room, head down. 

I was mortified, but still laughing. It all happened so quickly. 

In a rush to adjust myself, I tried to make small talk with the stranger who just had arguably the worst experience of her personal bridal consultant career. 
"Two things learned today, I'm not a size 6 and you don't get paid enough," I told her through the curtain. 

"Ha! .......I tell ya what. You found any dresses you like so far?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah, at a store this morning I found two that I really adore."
"Great. 'Cause we ain't even gonna try to stuff you into that other size 6. No way, no how!" she continued to talk as she left the dressing room, carrying both dresses. "And as for that number, good luck giiirl, Ha!" she laughed to herself. 

I laughed, too. Some crazy lady in Indianapolis just saw more of me than the law allows, she's thinks I live in a fairyland because of my frugal ways, and Momma, Laura and Betsy are sitting on the other side of this wall confused and awaiting my fashion show. Did that really just happen?

I learned a few things that afternoon in the dressing room. 

1. Stick to the budget. As with any big purchase, you know what you want, what you can afford and what is right for you. Don't let anyone talk you up or down. You'll find it. 
2. Self confidence is a great thing that fluctuates. Some days I have it, some days I don't. Luckily, I had it with Shonda. 
3. If you can't laugh at yourself, someone else will. Trust me.
4. Twenty minutes can last forever.

I did find the dress - under my budget, thank you very much. It is beautiful, so me and perfect for the day I marry Cody.

In fact, of the dresses below, can you guess which one I chose to wear August 10th?

 

You're right. None of them. 

Twelve Degrees of Separation

The pilot came over the loud speaker and told us we'd be landing approximately 5 minutes ahead of schedule. "Current temperature in Indianapolis: twelve degrees."

I slept during 80% of my flight home from Denver. I was fading in and out of consciousness when the pilot made that announcement, but the man's reaction beside me woke me up quickly. I wiped the drool from my chin.

"I don't know how you people do it," he looked at me, then back out the window.
"What's that?" I asked, trying to pull myself together after my tiger snooze over four fly-over states.
"Live here. Twelve degrees. Twelve degrees? How do you survive?"

How do we survive twelve degree temperatures? Pretty easily, I thought to myself.
We wear coats, heavy ones.
We keep blankets in our cars and ice melt just inside our business entrances.
We let our pets inside and we check our stock.

Especially the babies. 

We start our cars at least ten minutes before we drive anywhere.
We eat meals that "stick to our ribs" like beef stew and corn bread.
We plug in our tractors, buses and trucks over night.
We drink extra coffee.
We wear socks.
We survive.

The man continued. "I'm from San Diego and if it hits fifty-five, I don't go outside."

Really?!

I realized twelve degrees certainly separated my row mate and I. If he lived in Indiana with the "fifty-five degree rule", he would miss October through April. He wouldn't see a high school football game or go sledding. No snowmen would live and no snow angles would fly. Sad existence.

I looked over at the man as he wrung his hands over and over while looking out the window. He was sincerely nervous about the climate outside. I was looking forward to the piercing cold air after a stuffy plane ride.
I couldn't imagine what was going through his head.
But then again, I didn't have to try to.
I had watched it last week on Kimmel:

Acts of Leontien

Do you remember when I posted about Leontien?
The post was brief, optimistic and upbeat.
Much like Leontien's own life.
Today would have been her 34th birthday.
But her smile left us just last week on January 10th.

To honor this farm girl's spirit, love for life and contagious optimism, today Jean's Boots is dedicated to acts of kindness for Leontien.

Go out, face the day and be kind.

Double your recipe and give the second helping to an ailing neighbor. Discarding a shoddy recipe does not count!

Call a friend you've neglected.

Visit with your parents.

Write a letter to someone who isn't expecting it. Your recipient choices are unlimited - who does expect letters these days?

Give back to an organization you believe in.

Buy lunch for the guy in the drive through behind you. But don't roll your eyes when his total is $9.85 and your's was $3.45.

Hold the door for someone.

High five the trash man. He does great work!

You know that person at work that you're supposed to manage but you can hardly stand? Encourage them today.

Pick up litter. We all share this tiny piece of land we call Earth.

Don't turn on the light until you've warned your husband and have allowed him to pull the comforter over his eyes.

Pick up sticks in your neighbor's yard.

Hug a kid.

Once you've done your act of kindness in honor of Leontien, make sure you leave a comment below to share it with the rest of the great big world. You can also post your act on the Love for Leontien Facebook page.

Pass kindness on!

Efficient

ef·fi·cient  

/iˈfiSHənt/

Adjective (esp. of a system or machine) Achieving maximum productivity with minimum wasted effort or expense. (of a person) Working in a well-organized and competent way.

One of those buzz words like sustainable and green that seem to be everywhere. 
Business results show that we need to improve upon efficiencies. 
High efficiency washing machines. 
And Light bulbs. 
We're going to start keeping metrics so we can track efficiencies. 

I've tried to work on my efficiency lately. I usually just re-start the dryer for a third time to avoid taking the time to iron.

I was on the phone with a phonebook salesman a while back, completely unimpressed with anything he had to say. For a week I let him know that we weren't interested in spending marketing dollars in his phonebook.

Creepy phonebook guy, Teddy: Here's what I'm telling you, Miss Bowsman...."
Jean: It's Bowman. No "S"
Teddy: Yes! I knew that, it's here in my notes. 
Jean: Yes, because I corrected you last week. 
Teddy: Right, right, right. But here's what I'm telling you. Phones, websites, apps, they will never replace the phonebook. It has been around forever. People still use the phonebook every single day. 
Jean: You know what, Teddy?
Teddy: Yes, Miss Bowman?
Jean: You're right. I use the phonebook everyday. 
(Teddy, under his breath: Yes, yes, yes)
Jean: It's in my dining room. Under the table leg on the right side. Keeps the table from rocking. 
SILENCE - it was beautiful. 

Teddy: Miss Bowman, I will go ahead and cancel your advertising with GoldenPages, but you'll need to go through a confirmation that will be recorded. I will give you the verification code and you just repeat it after me. Do you have a pen and paper ready?
Jean: Yup. 
Teddy: T as in table, D as in David, V as in victory, 1, 5, G as in giant, M as in Mary, 7. Now, please confirm that code. 

How efficient, I thought. He paired every letter with a word so that I didn't immediately ask if he said B or T. I loved it. It saved time. And questions. 

And, it presented a challenge: an instant, on-the-spot, word game. I had just seconds to find the best letter/word matches before anyone asked for clarification.

Two days later I was on the phone with Priceline with a travel inquiry. They asked for my confirmation number. 

BINGO: A chance to use my new, efficient communication tactic. 

"Ok," I told the gal. "I found my number: G as in good job, B as in bumble, 1 as in one-way street, V as in very good, 3 little pigs, 3 more, and 7."

Silence. 

I had to repeat it, no "efficiencies" attached. Realizing how thoroughly I had confused the gal, we concluded the conversation with a $100 flight change fee. Bummer. 

Nearly a month passed before I could use the word game/clarification efficiency again, this time with AAA. 

Jean: "Tempooorrrraary membership coooode....." I drug the words on as I searched the mailer for my code. "Ah! Found it. Ready?" I asked. 
Kind, patient AAA man: I'm ready. 
Jean: P as in pine tree, R as in real, K as in the jeweler that every kiss begins with, 7...deadly sins? Then C as in Chrissie Cartmell, Chrissie Cartmell again, 8 maids-a-milking, 4 square, T as in Tommy Boy, B as in boy and P. Like, Purdue.

Silence. 

I had failed. 

A New Year resolution of mine is to work smarter. That's why I gave the gal at Fidelity my social security number this afternoon, rather than my client code. Until I master the word game Creepy Teddy taught me, I'll find other ways to improve my efficiency. Like...deleting my Pinterest account.