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Imagine a world full of love and service to all...
Imagine, by John Lennon
"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one
I hope some day you'll join us, and the world will be as one."
My daughter
Marcie seems to have inherited and improved upon the kindness gene. She is
exceptionally considerate as a daughter and as a friend. I’ve never heard her
speak disparagingly of one friend to another.
Raising my daughter
was easy. I never once wanted, needed, or tried to push her anywhere — except
perhaps to preschool, but we won’t go there now. I simply followed her lead and
reveled in the joy she provided me along the way.
When my
daughter was a teenager, the dance studio she and her friends loved was in
danger of closing due to the owner’s retirement. My wife and I decided to buy
it to keep it open. We created a “center for the arts” that showcased dance,
but also hosted a monthly artists’ gallery and occasional concerts.
Shortly
after we purchased the studio but before opening, we were on vacation in Taos,
New Mexico, where we heard a couple called “Acoustic Eidolon” play a guitjo,
which is a 14-string, double-necked cross between a guitar and banjo, paired with
the cello. The splendor of the night sky was only exceeded by the sound of
their music. We moved inside to watch them in awe as Joe went from neck to neck
playing his guitjo, while Hanna complemented perfectly with her cello playing.
Amazingly,
they were coming east in the fall, when we were planning to open our space. They
played at our first showcase. They were so good, in fact, that they became our
“house band,” coming to perform whenever they traveled east. When their album
Live to Dance came out, our artistic director Jamie Kinney choreographed a
dance to that tune. What joy to hear them perform and watch my daughter and her
friends dance to “Live to Dance.”
Like Marcie,
I wish to embrace life. Unlike me, my daughter has her whole life ahead of her
to dance through and embrace. Thank you, Marcie, for bringing me such joy and
teaching me such exuberance.
Behind this good writer is a great editor; Mark Bloom. Learn more about Mark's talents at
Live to Dance is an instrumental
written by Joe Scott and performed by Acoustic Eidolon. I humbly recommend this
music to everyone. You can see them play the song here:
My son Jacob
has become a sensitive man. He has depth of understanding and little patience
for incongruity. Although these are admirable qualities, they did make his time
in public school — and his transition to the working world — at times
problematic.
Jacob is an
exceptional writer. So I remember being surprised one year when he received a
low grade in high school English; it was a subject he typically excelled in.
When we went to speak with his teacher, I learned that the teacher required
students to copy the notes off the blackboard. The teacher considered it a gift
to help students raise their grades. Since my son didn’t perceive this requirement
as a gift and therefore refused to copy the notes, his grade suffered.
When he
started working, Jacob would initially enjoy a job until he came to understand
the inconsistency between what the business professed to be and what it
actually was. This process took about two months. As a result, he bounced
around a lot. Thankfully, he’s now found a job for an organization that has a
congruent model. I never worried about him because I knew he was grounded in
his ethics.
Like my son,
I’ve often experienced the disparity between vision and reality. I hope, for all
our sakes, that we can live our lives where vision is reality, both personally
and professionally. So I thank you, Jacob, for being true to yourself and for suffering
no fools… I love you for your courage in this frightened atmosphere, as the
following song explores:
Behind this good writer is a great editor; Mark Bloom. Learn more about Mark's talents at
You have lived such a gentle life upon this earth
That I am stunned by your sight
If I could give but a token of the love you have
Then I might not be this lonely tonight
Let them have their smug and their cool
Confined by fashion and peer
I love you for your courage in this frightened atmosphere
I love you for your courage in this frightened atmosphere
Oh, there are so few brave ones like you, need I explain?
Never wondering what to do, what to venture, what to gain
And, you have loved in a total way, from flesh to soul
You speak, without coy without pose
Your eyes can see that the emperor has lost his clothes
And what’s more, you’ll tell the whole world what he stole
Let them have their fad and their fix
Confined by fashion and peer
I love you for your courage in this frightened atmosphere
I love you for your courage in this frightened atmosphere
I fell in
love with my wife Beth in the late 1970s when I first observed her patient,
gentle manner as a “teacher/counselor” who worked with people with
developmental disabilities. Many people admired her and assumed she must have
great patience to do the work she did. I know now that being married to me was
a much greater test of her patience. And I’m happy to report that she’s passed
that test with flying colors.
After more
than three decades of marriage, we’re still together, sorting out how best to
love one another. My wife often knows what’s best for me before I do, and of
course, I believe I know what’s best for my wife. Often, she’ll suggest
something, and I’ll follow — initially as a courtesy to her, but
ultimately for my own benefit.
For example,
I agreed to help her lose weight by walking with her every day. She understood
I’d be more motivated to help her lose weight, which she barely needed, rather
than try to lose weight for myself, which I greatly needed. Many years later and
60 pounds lighter, I’ve now (mostly) embraced the habit of walking daily. Whenever
I don’t maintain my daily habit, Beth knows my life is out of balance.
She has the
balance gene. I still find joy in imbalance. After the joyride is over, though,
I reluctantly acknowledge the benefit of finding balance and peace. In keeping
with her balanced life, Beth now is trained as a yoga teacher. She wants to help
others find comfort with their minds and bodies through yoga. More power to
her.
So thank you,
Beth. I love you, and I accept you as my personal savior. (I’d like to offer an
apology to my brother-in-law Brent, who created the concept of the Weegar women
as personal saviors. I stole it, but acknowledge it.)
Behind this good writer is a great editor; Mark Bloom. Learn more about Mark's talents at
Alex Rudick, my father, dreamed of being a writer. He was 16 years old
in 1929 when the stock market crashed, and when he turned 20, the unemployment
rate still hovered around 25 percent. Coming of age during the Great Depression,
he was told that writers starve, so he became a CPA. He provided for his
immediate and extended family with his business sense. My mom referred to him as
“physically handicapped” due to contracting polio as a young boy. My dad walked
using braces and a cane.
As a Dr. Spock baby, I grew up believing there were no limits to what I
could do. I needed to look no further than my dad to understand this to be
true. I learned from watching him how to be a
businessman/husband/father/brother/friend with heart. For example, I kept this
letter my dad wrote to me when I was feeling bad about not getting a promotion
at work. The letter typified his attitude that “everything in life turns out
for the best.” He believed in working towards making it happen. He lived his
life that way, and my siblings and I have embraced his attitude in the way we
choose to live our lives.
“Dear Ian,
Took me a long time
to fall asleep last night. It was not that I was worried about you and your
future. More so because I was so mad at the injustice of it. It is so hard to
understand people. You worked hard and felt an interest in the home and its
residents, while another goofs off and somehow impresses someone…
In the past, I experienced
a few injustices too when I was fired from jobs. My first experience was with
my second job in the office of a large shirt manufacturer. I was a “lucky boy:”
my salary was $8.00 per week and I was still going to school at night. In an
effort to bring back prosperity, the government raised the minimum wage to
$13.00. Rather than pay me the increase, I was told that next Friday was my
last day. I said, “No, today was my last day.” Today was Wednesday, so I was
paid only 3/5 of a week. (20 years later, they offered me the top job.)
My second firing was
in the Motor Vehicle Bureau. Our job was to inspect license applications and
compare them with last year’s to find discrepancies, if any. At the end of the
day, our work was measured, and my work was far ahead of most others’. But the
men’s room was about two blocks from my office. The state office building is
very large, and so it took me time to get there and back. One day after two
months on the job, I was called into the director’s office — a
Mrs. Harding — and she told me I was taking too much time in the men’s room.
She did not accept my explanation and fired me. This time, I did not worry
because I was on so many civil service lists, I was sure I would get another
call soon. And I did.
So all I can say is
everything in life turns out for the best. Not that it is destiny, but we can
make it come out so. You may feel a bit disappointed, but your usual optimism
will take over, and I am sure you will find what you want…
And to change the
subject: one other reason I could not fall asleep is that we play the radio in
our bedroom. They are all old songs of 50 years ago, and Mom sings along with
the radio… so how can I sleep?"
My dad taught me not to limit myself. In sharing his story, I write to
have my dad become a published author long after his death. I too wish to live
my life with no limits. Thank you, Dad.
My
Dad (and I)
We are both husband, father, brother,
relative, friend, businessman…
And if I could…
Live my life with the kind of love and
devotion towards Beth that my dad did towards my mom…
Then I would die a happy man.
Love and nurture Jacob and Marcie in the
way my dad did Sherrie, Marilynne, Rob, and I…
Then I would die a happy man.
Be the kind of brother to Sherrie,
Marilynne, and Rob that my dad was to Aunt Ethel, Uncle Mikey, and Aunt Sylvia…
Then I would die a happy man.
Be the kind of relative my dad was to his
family…
Then I would die a happy man.
Be the kind of friend to my friends that
my dad was to his friends…
Then I would die a happy man.
Be the kind of ethical businessman my dad
was in his business dealings…
Then I would die a happy man.
I dream of being the kind of man my dad was to all those he touched
with his life. I feel doubly blessed to have experienced my dad’s love and have
my own son and daughter to love and cherish. I dream of having lived my life
without regrets…
I love you, Dad, and thank you for all you have given me.
Behind this good writer is a great editor; Mark Bloom. Learn more about Mark's talents at
Why Walk When You Can Fly by Mary Chapin Carpenter
In
this world, there’s a whole lot of trouble, baby
In this world, there’s a whole lot of pain
In this world, there’s a whole lot of trouble
But a whole lot of ground to gain
Why
take when you could be giving
Why watch as the world goes by
It’s a hard enough life to be living
Why walk when you can fly
In
this world, there’s a whole lot of sorrow
In this world, there’s a whole lot of shame
In this world, there’s a whole lot of sorrow
And a whole lotta ground to gain
When
you spend your whole life wishing
Wanting and wondering why
It’s a long enough life to be living
Why walk when you can fly
In
this world, there’s a whole lot of cold
In this world, there’s a whole lot of blame
In this world, you’ve a soul for a compass
And a heart for a pair of wings
There’s
a star on the far horizon
Rising bright in an azure sky
For the rest of the time that you're given
Why walk when you can fly
Beck Rudick: Listen to the Little One (De Hes de
Kleine)
Whenever my mother was delighted with “her baby” (meaning me), she
would say in Yiddish, “De hes de Kleine.” In English, it translates into the
proud declaration: “Listen to the little one.” After saying it, she either
flashed a loving smile or else she uttered a joyful laugh.
My mother had the ability to elevate me to great heights at such times,
but she also embarrassed me as a teen when she introduced me to all as “her
baby.” It was not until I had my own baby that I understood the love you feel
for your children, a baby in particular.
When my own teenage children came of age, I better understood a teen’s
need for identity and the embarrassment a dad could cause. My kids eventually returned
home, but my mother is long gone. The house was strangely quiet when she died,
and I wondered if the hole I felt in my heart would ever heal. It did.
Decades later, I still hear her voice in my head: “Ian!” she’d shout.
“I’m in the bathroom,” I’d invariably reply. I can remember her calling out to
me to listen to everyone, especially to the little ones who society has devalued
as lesser people. I too wish to “de has de Kleinen,” and in so doing, elevate
all. Thank you, Mom, I love you and I miss you.
Behind this good writer is a great editor; Mark Bloom. Learn more about Mark's talents at
