BEING THE LIGHT IN SOMEONE’S DARKNESS

I've prepared for my supervisor’s imminent retirement which was originally planned for April 2020, but that is also the same time the world was starting a shutdown due to Covid. He decided to stay and ride out the tidal wave of unchartered waters and ride the wave as a first-rated surfer not sure of not the just what, but when will the next wave will hit. His fiscal austerity guided our YMCA association through these difficult times and just over two years, we may not be fully out of the impact of the pandemic, but there is light being seen with our membership and programs census coupled with staffing levels starting to steadily increase, albeit slowly.

Before I left for the day, embarking on a much-needed week off of PTO from the office, I walked by his office and dropped off the letter I reveal below. As I handed him the letter, he had asked in his quirky humor way, if it was my expressing my true thoughts of him (with a few choice adjectives omitted) and submitting my resignation. My words weren’t minced, over time I knew how to play my cards, I simply answered something along the lines that he couldn’t be so lucky and that I am not about to break my career tenure of service record. I told him, I felt it was only appropriate he doesn’t read it until Thanksgiving Day and wished him and his family a joyous gathering and proceeded my way. Upon returning from my time off, he came by my office, without many words which was unusual, in Mark’s way and on his terms, he thanked me for the letter. I understood at this point the true meaning of less is more as I made this man, somewhat speechless, perhaps it was because I was able to find the side of him so few of us working with him ever see.

There was more to come. Fast forward two weeks later… Here it is, the moment to celebrate 30 give or take years of servant leadership, Mark Russell.

Monday Morning…

The YMCA held the first exempt staff rally (meeting) since the pandemic erupted, with more new faces than the ones I became familiar with. After a state of our YMCA and recognition of programs and membership the event proceed to honor my supervisor. To keep it short, he was honored by the staff by presenting him a gift of appreciation for all the individually handmade recognition awards he has given to staff over his tenure. Each unique award was individually created by Mark with being totally mindful of the person he was recognizing and in turn the staff returned the favor.  My team, the finance team gifted him a rooster with vivid colors and a yellow candle ball.  The rooster represented Mark’s ability to be up before the sun (yellow candle ball) and the colorful feathers each represented not only his various skills but all the projects, tasks and responsibilities he took on as our Chief Financial Officer

Thursday Evening…

In the midst of a bright light shining on me, nervously I self-volunteered myself to be the first to speak at my boss's retirement party this December 9, 2021. It was a hard act to follow a well-produced video showing him in one of a myriad roles and responsibilities he carried in his seven years with our association and following the words of our President/CEO and one of our Vice Presidents presenting him various gifts and awards. I delivered a free form acrostic poem I wrote in his honor. I feel relatively comfortable speaking in front of a group. However, this time I practiced what I wrote over and over again, it wasn't that I had to memorize it, but I was worried that my emotions may cause my words to blend together and come out as huge incoherent mess.

Upon returning to my seat, I saw some of my colleagues stand in applause while others praised my poise and the delivery of my said words were both genuine and heartfelt. A few unfamiliar faces in the crowd came to me introduced themselves  praised and complimented my words. Yet, most importantly was the handshake and simple nod of the acknowledgement I received from Mark Russell himself, as now I personally am two for zero in leaving him somewhat speechless, which ironically speaks volumes of the man who always has something to say.

_______________

December 1, 2021,

Dear Mark,

I often feel as I have known you for my entire career at the YMCA, while other times it feels as if you have just arrived just a few weeks ago.  It all depends upon where my mind wanders and reminisces of our moments in time together.  I’ve always said my written word is vastly better than my spoken word.  My reasoning is when I write, I have time to absorb and digest my words.  When I speak, I sense being cornered in, with all eyes are on me … which as you know, I really don’t enjoy being the center of attention.

So once again, the time has come for me to let another supervisor move along in their own journey and start a new chapter, bringing them closer to their, whatever destination.  Despite what you may believe, you were not just not another supervisor, you became part of my journey from the moment when we first crossed paths.  As you dissect apart my words, shake your head, maybe let out a smile, or a sigh, you just allowed yourself to show your feelings that so few of us ever see.  As you continue to read on, you will see how much of an effect you had on me.  I am certain the ripples you created, left others sharing the same sentiment, yet their spoken words seem to be buried deep within, as most do not know how to share them with you.

Let’s get started…

I suppose I shared with you in our many conversations, I had unofficially met you several years prior you coming down to South Florida.  I was introduced to you when Pam Jones worked with the Central Florida YMCA the first go around.  She was one of my many mentors who helped me when I took on implementing the frameworks of the first Human Resources Department for the YMCA of Broward County.  She provided me endless and countless resources and invited me up to the Central Florida YMCA on more than one occasion.  She spent time with me to learn how to create job descriptions, establish a wage plan using the Hay Plan, put together an employee handbook, coordinate a centralized on-boarding procedures and countless other items to help bring not only a professional appearance to our association but much needed consistency in policies and procedures.  Unfortunately, after the President/CEO who supported this effort moved on, the new President/CEO coming in decided more of a decentralized approach to operating the association.  The end result was a culturally laid-back organization which appeared unorganized, ineffective and filled with consistently inconsistent enforcement of policies and procedures resulting in unclear expectations of staff and a sense of confrontational competition between the family centers.

I remember being first introduced to you at one of the many times when you came into Pam’s office or when I represented the YMCA of Broward County in events which I was invited to.  These events varied from the opening of the Lake Nona YMCA Family Center to Camp Training at Camp Wewa or an Annual Open Enrollment Benefits to finally getting Central Florida to be represented at AYP Board Meetings.  All which helped me gain experience and exposure to bring back ideas on what we need to prioritize for implementation, back here in Broward.  Regrettably, once the new President/CEO came in and merged the two YMCAs in Broward into becoming simply, the YMCA of Broward County, those ideas were sidetracked and my role evolved in taking on a increased role of being a Contract Compliance Director for our grant funded programs.  My new responsibilities included writing grants, lead training staff on evaluating outcome performance, assist with preparing monthly billing and end of year reporting and be the go to person for our administrative audits by the grant funders.  Both these career paths further advanced my experiences and knowledge and presented me an opportunity to grow professionally without having to leave the YMCA.

By the time you have arrived here in the spring of 2014, I was forewarned about you through the YMCA channels of people I knew who worked with you in Central Florida and others who knew of the “Mark” you left on them.  Since I already met you, I really wanted to go in liking you from the beginning and give you the benefit of the doubt, but the storm of rumors of your whirlwind reputation landed before you finally arrived in person.  I was not afraid of you, nor was an intimidated by your presence since I have already met you.  You came in with the black hat and kept it on much longer than anyone ever did.  I tried to suppress my first gut reaction, but deep inside I knew here we go again, another new supervisor, coming in to make a whole lot of changes and eventually pack up their bags and move on to the next YMCA.  As many times before, these new supervisors come in like a tornado wanting to change everything we’ve done “wrong” and they are out to “right” all that we’ve done overnight.  Before we know it, we get new priorities and revamped jobs assigned and before we know it the cycle repeats itself.  With the remaining staff left cleaning up incomplete projects and left to figure out how to do or what to do with these incomplete pet projects that supervisor left behind.

When you and I finally officially met, it was definitely not on the best of terms.  I reported to a supervisor in payroll who protected me from the rest of the association office staff.  He knew how payroll systems worked not only on the client and end user end but on the internal finance backend.  However; he lacked the experience in administering and maintaining the benefits portion of the job.  The four previous payroll directors I worked with, he was the only one who never worked in a non-profit organization but had the most knowledge of payroll and labor laws.  His abrasiveness, mouth and attitude, well to say it politely, was heard and known throughout the entire association.  He made sure everyone knew where he stood for the good, the bad and the ugly.  A shameless plug, to Mrs. Schott, my high school AP literature teacher who always said, “… write in active voice, avoid clichés and be on point.”  I, digress, back to the payroll supervisor I was talking about.  The aforementioned, coupled with his ego was as large as he was, vocally not liking to be micromanaged and treated like the new kid on the block, I am certain helped expediate his departure before we were fully converted over to a new payroll system which he pushed for.  He touted this new system which he initiated the conversion to, was a much smaller company, less robust and less expensive than the larger national platform we left but would be a win for us in reducing our payroll processing fees.  I believe it was a larger win for the payroll company for them securing a large organization such as the YMCA of Broward County.

I recall the day you and others in the executive suite decided to terminate his employment.  As my supervisor was being terminated in another office, you pulled me aside to your office to inform me what was going on.  I remember being overly pissed off (major understatement!) and walking out of your office to cool off.  I felt once again, I was trapped in holding the responsibility as a department of one again.  I would be left with no one to guide me through year-end, be my support in a new payroll system and juggle handling benefits and being the day-to-day contact person for the department.  It all seemed like déjà vu, since 2006, like the four times prior.  Reflecting in all the years I worked in payroll, I spent more times being a department of one than I did working as a team with an immediate hands-on payroll/benefits director supervisor.  Eventually, I did cool off and after having a direct conversation with you about my history, you helped me get a modest increase, I accepted it and believe I proved my worth. 

Every time I took over the department, I improved it from the previous payroll/benefits supervisor whom I worked alongside with.  Under your direction, I worked through challenging times and tight deadlines, which recently included working as a team through the pandemic and helped the YMCA of South Florida not just get through the day-to-day but to go above and beyond in submitting various applications for federal programs to keep our agency afloat. Though my title and my pay never moved to what previous individuals earned, I once again became a department of one, taking on the additional workload being vacated by the absent director position but I gained more knowledge and have been able to handle just about any situation thrown at me with greater confidence and tried not to seek your approval for everything I did.  I came to you when I was uncertain how something would affect the association overall or could cause cascading issues within finance.

My background, as I often share, both academically and professionally have nothing related to finance or accounting but I was blessed to work with those who were willing to be patient to mentor and teach me.  Much of my knowledge I acquired was from my strong network of YMCA professionals and others in the legal and finance fields, self taught; both on-line and through trial and error and a handful of classes I took the initiative to take.  I brought about a significant improved level of credibility since our fraud incident by implementing a system of checks and balance, established internal controls and separation of duties.  I managed to add new systems to better track manual checks and payroll adjustments.  Under my leadership, payroll had maintained accurate records, coordinated timely reports for grants, auditors and key staff.  I helped implement various improvements in the HRIS system and albeit slowly, with your support, began to make changes in our culture by improving accountability in payroll processing from the employee who clocks in to the supervisor who approves the said time.

A handful of us who still keep in touch (many no longer working with the YMCA, ours or other associations) made a bet prior to your arrival.  We bet on how long will you stay before moving on and how many of the original staff working in the department will remain by time you depart.  The bet will be null and void should you have stayed longer than five years and/or if the department maintained at least two of the staff you started with.  The winner of the bet will have a dinner at a restaurant of their choice, at our first meet-up after you officially left employment with what is now the YMCA of South Florida.  I can see you have already calculated it out in your head and realized our bet is officially off.  You have lasted just over seven and half years and still have Shenna and I remain as your original staff.  Ironically, we are the last of the long tenured remaining pre-merged YMCA of Broward County employees who’ve seen the many changes in direction as well as experienced the most tumultuous changes in our organization.

When I continue to look back at our time together, I remember what I felt was the turning point, where I finally saw you reveal the human side of you.  It was when I returned to work after my father passed away.  I’ll never forget how you startled me as I was getting my morning cup of coffee after I returned to work on Monday after taking my bereavement leave and a few extra days to regroup.  When you spoke, I practically leaped out of my skin, I didn’t expect anyone to be literally behind me.  Your compassion and heartfelt words of sympathy provided comfort during a difficult point in my life.  I remember one of the recent years after my Dad’s passing you invited my Mom and I over to your home for Thanksgiving, I believe it was your way of ensuring we would not be alone for the holiday.  I thanked you for your invite, your warmth but politely declined your invitation knowing my Mom would much sooner stay home.  She would have told me to go ahead and accept the invite, but being my only immediate family in close proximity, I couldn’t leave her alone on this day that’s all about family.  Ironically, Thanksgiving Day was the day my Dad let go of his terrestrial life, he was not too loving of most the whole Thanksgiving food experience, he enjoyed the intentional meaning of the holiday.  He looked forward to celebrating Thanksgiving not only with their friends, but my friends as well, with no family nearby, to come over to our home and enjoy a family gathering filled with food and camaraderie.  Thanksgiving now takes on a whole new meaning and new traditions with Mom and I since my father’s passing.  We celebrate Thanksgiving with a morning sunrise walk on the beach and enjoy something he looked forward to every Sunday.  Either his favorite homemade omelet breakfast or lunch consisting of a hamburger and french fries from his favorite fast food restaurant.  On occasion, a few of those friends will call or stop by and reminisce Thanksgivings past and share cherished memories we created. 

Over time, I have gotten to know you and you have gotten to know me and my idiosyncrasies which I am sure, often drove you crazy.  However; you supported me in ways very few of my supervisors over thirty plus years ever did.  You provided me explanations to my why things have to be done certain ways and never just told me simply to do it.  You made yourself accessible even when I know you were overloaded with your own projects and responsibilities.  You always found time for me and were able to make me see the other side, so to speak, when the bombardment of supervisor errors thrown at me seemed to be excessive.  We both became infuriated at our HRIS provider’s lack of sense of urgency to clear our cases or even worse find someone who will actually see to it being handled from start to finish and making sure it works to our satisfaction.  Sometimes it was obvious, yet other times it was not quite as transparent, but in your own Mark Russell way you continued to check in on me and how I am holding up.  Sometimes it was through the e-mails of wisdom you sent out to the entire association, which often made me feel as if you were speaking directly to me.  Even though my acknowledgement of your e-mails went by the way side, I quietly saved them in my mailbox and printed out the ones that touched my heart and I often shared them with my Mom and my closest circle of friends.  Other times it was you just being there and just acknowledging me in a subtle greeting.  For this, words cannot express the warmth and gratitude I have for your genuine kindness.

Along with your presence, my two inner characters; tenacity and resilience remained by my side in all that I do.  They always seem to come prepared helping me keep balanced during my most challenging times.  They remained with me for a longer period than usual this time, they remained by my side for a few years but less than a decade. Arriving as my Dad’s health deteriorated to the point of him needing more assistance than Mom and I could handle to his peaceful passing.  They didn’t stray too far from me, as if they knew I will still need them.  They kept me and helped me remain strong with my mother’s recent diagnosis of breast cancer, the unexpected loss of my beloved dog and handling some of my own health issues.  Much like my two inner characters, there is someone in your life who knows you just enough to see everything differently than those closest to you or may personally know you the best.  It’s this someone, through the darkness, you begin to see light.  You, were that someone who knows me just enough and were my light during some of my darkest days and stood by me.  For this, I thank you.

My closing words…

I bet you’re thinking, finally, he’s done with this long winded story.  But guess what, it wouldn’t be me, without being the storyteller.  As you pen your own final words of this chapter of your life, it’s time to begin thinking how you wish to write the next one.  May I suggest you share how you will fill your time with mindful moments with your family and friends and create and celebrate memories.  By now you must know you not only left a legacy of your illustrious career but introspectively deep within you, you will find the impact you had on being the light in someone’s darkness.

Godspeed in your next journey,

Robert W Kovacs

Robert W Kovacs  

 

_________

My first impressions of you did hold true.
Arrogant at times, but rightfully so,
Right down to how your body language speaks.
Knowing your words are just as direct and,
Rarely misunderstood, you stand boldly.
Under the rough exterior revealing,
So few get to see your authentic side.
Someone genuine, someone spiritual,
Even after thinking they know you.
Lasting impressions and my final words,
Leave me speechless and a better person.

 

I’LL TAKE A SIDE OF THANKSGIVING

I didn’t learn or fully understand and appreciate what Thanksgiving meant until my third grade teacher, Mrs Bowling was telling the tale of the first Thanksgiving, vividly she shared their first meals and traditions and encouraged the class to share their own celebrations. In turn, she too, shared how her beyond large and extended family get together every year. They thank God for their time together over a meal which everyone contributed to what was an organized pot-luck cornucopia filled with all the savory turkey and ham with mouthwatering sides and finishing off with more decadent desserts than one could imagine. When I got home from school that day, I was so excited to share with my Mom what happened in school and learning about the “copococo” or however I sabotaged the word, cornucopia, the horn of plenty. My Mom called Mrs Bowling to find out what I was so excited to share. Mrs Bowling excitedly shared the day’s events and story with my Mom just as she did at school that day.

Throughout my journey, I often share being a proud first generation American, born to two parents who immigrated from Hungary for the sole purpose to have an opportunity at a better life than the one they left in the soon to be communist Hungary. My parents, as most immigrants had to learn English, assimilate into a new country, adopt new customs and traditions and still manage to get a job and make a life better for themselves and call themselves proud Americans.

Little did I know when I wrote “Be There” in March of 2015 for my close friend upon the loss of her father, that I too would be in the same situation just over a year later. Although, Thanksgiving Day varies what date on the calendar it falls, Thanksgiving Day will always mark the day my Dad passed away. I remember certain parts of the day all to vividly, like a video on a continuous loop. I remember convincing my Mom to let’s go visit Dad before his dialysis treatment, then circle to my friend’s house for Thanksgiving lunch and finally return to the hospital to visit with Dad in the afternoon. I remember arriving at my parents’ house, Mom was still getting herself ready and the phone rang. I usually don’t answer their phone, but my suspicion told me to answer it that morning. It was the doctor at the hospital giving us the news Dad’s vitals are critically low and we should make every effort to come into see him as soon as possible. The rest became a blur as we rushed to the hospital and shortly thereafter, he passed away.

When they called my Dad’s death, I could hear Dad saying with laughter, something like, “Jó étvágyat kivánunk!” (Hungarian for bon appetite) and wishing us a good meal as he was being led to heaven by an angel. Ironically, it was Thanksgiving Day of all holidays he passed away, the holiday which he seemed to enjoy the most even though he wasn’t fond of turkey and all of its accompanying inviting side dishes. Thanksgiving for my Dad was the time his friends get together and enjoy the people who mean the most in our lives with a great Thanksgiving feast which Mom would begin preparing for once the calendar hit November 1. Even though we had the traditional turkey, the sides and desserts of our meal had a Hungarian spin which was differently delicious to the American counterparts.

Since our close family was only my parents, a dog and I - we invited friends over who were in much the same situation as us, to share the holiday with us. While I still hear my Dad laughing at those of us stuck eating turkey and the savory sides this Thanksgiving, Mom and I’s felt it was appropriate to have our first Thanksgiving meal since his passing. Many of the other faces around the table or have too passed away or moved away. Mom and I plan to celebrate the day with cherished memories of the many turkey days past which we shared with our many friends and let the cornucopia of moments of laughter and tears fill our hearts.

I learned grieving is very personal and very different, we all find our own way through time, personal pain and somewhere along the way accept our loss amiably. Sometimes best we can do is just be there for that friend who may need you in their time. No words can ever be enough but your presence is priceless. Often silence and presence is the best we can offer the one experiencing the loss. Even the darkest dreary days will eventually be conquered by the sun shining strongly, giving reasons to be grateful for another day to rejoice life and take time to remember those who are no longer with us. When it was my turn in experiencing a loss of a parent, one of my closest friends shared this with me when I lost my Dad.

“You never get over the loss, the pain remains constant, you just need time to work through the loss.”

Every year, especially this year, it is especially important to be mindful and thankful for the blessings we have. This year proved to so many, you just never know, when in an instant, all of can be taken away and all that remain are nostalgic memories. Rather than being told not to celebrate with those outside of your immediate household, I say celebrate with your families to the level you feel most comfortable. If you feel at ease, invite a friend or neighbor who may alone during the holiday season. If it’s in a family gathering be safe - if it’s only your immediate household make sure you reach out to those you love. You never know if that’s the last one you will be together.

While I may celebrate Thanksgiving a whole new way this year, I would be remiss if I didn’t wish my family and friends a blessed Thanksgiving gathering. May you be blessed to fill a cornucopia of memories with a side of traditional Thanksgiving meal to celebrate my Dad’s memory of what Thanksgiving is all about. There will always be a small part of me wishing my Thanksgiving Day were much like the ones Mrs Bowling and her family celebrated, yet I realize the Norman Rockwell canvas, “Freedom from Want” captured both of our ways of celebrating. It’s just a matter of your perspective of what the holiday is all about.

WHEN NOT TO CHEW ICE CUBES

Did a grown-up in your life ever tell you it’s rude to chew on your ice cubes and then further threaten and scare you by telling you, your teeth will crack or worse break? That hasn’t stopped me back when I was a child … at the same time, I will tell you even at 50 plus, I still chew on those ice cubes.

I am pretty sure I shared my biggest fear in a previous post, you know the one, where I am found passed out because my blood glucose levels dropped suddenly. I didn’t have time to act upon it and now the responsibility falls into someone else to react to it.

Last Thursday as I prepared for my workout with my personal trainer, I checked my glucose levels to be in my “safe zone” for working out (at least at 120) and normally don’t eat or drink anything before as it makes me nauseous during my workout. I didn’t feel off or anything out of the ordinary, other than being slightly tired so I drove to the Y to meet my personal trainer for my 5:30am session. After our usual morning banter and small talk, we began my workout session. All depending how I awoke or my morning started off, it becomes my hour dose of torture, or abuse, or medicine or motivation.

About halfway through my session, I told my personal trainer everything feels strangely heavier than usual and my workout seems to be more of a chore than feeling good after each routine. I was completing my last rep, of the last set, of my last routine for the morning when I suddenly felt as if I was going to pass out. The last thing I remember telling my personal trainer in a weakened voice was to go to my car and find my glucose tablets and mumbled with specific directions where in my middle console to find it. I normally only carry them on me if my blood glucose levels drop below my “safe zone” and when I workout either intensely and/or alone

By the time my personal trainer returned with my glucose tablets, I began to feel weaker and very lightheaded and that I was ready just face my dreaded fear, head on. I managed to muster enough strength to get up and sit bowed over on a weight machine and vaguely remember her giving me almost my entire sleeve of glucose tablets before I started to feel slightly better.

I sat there for what seemed like hours but was only maybe a half hour before I was able to make a planned wake-up call for my Mom and recover enough so I could safely drive home. I managed to call my Mom, she immediately knew something was going on with me … like all overprotective mothers, they know when something is not right … so I told her I was fine and not to worry about me. Despite being honest with her about what happened and assuring her I was OK, she was prepared to cancel her own appointment and drive me to her house to keep an eye on me. For her to not worry about me was like asking her to forget about me even telling her about the episode. After her appointment, she checked-in on me throughout the day. When I finally felt well enough to leave, I drove myself home where I took a long hot shower and ate some breakfast and proceeded on with my day, just as if nothing out of the extraordinary happened that morning.

Even with proper planning and when all seems to be going well, it doesn’t take much for the bottom to fall out when it’s least expected. I’ve always said the most frustrating thing about being a person with diabetes is not always the constant blood glucose checks, monitoring your food intake and taking insulin or other medication but the unpredictability diabetes plays in my own life’s journey. I have always thought of myself as always prepared for the worst possible scenario, yet this episode proved me wrong. Even with the best preparation you can still, literally, crash – pun intended.

As I sit back in my recliner, sipping on my favorite beverage and chewing on my ice cubes and begin writing my next post, the very one you are reading now, I am compelled to remind you to allow your ICE (In Case of Emergency) to get to know you and your medical condition. They should know who else to contact, what to do to help you, when and where to take you for medical attention if necessary. Much like how ice should stay in your favorite beverage as to allow yourself time to sip the drink so you get to know and enjoy the full flavors and not just taste the ice cubes, your ICE needs to get to know you on that same level. They should know when the flavor was not quite as robust as usual as they should know you when you are not your normal self.

It’s not if, but when, you will face a situation where the words coming out of your mouth will not make a whole lot of sense, just as if you were chewing on a mouth full of ice. You can only hope the ICE around you is not so preoccupied chewing on their ice that they will not realize their favorite drink has lost its robust flavor and is now diluted but take notice to be the one to order another round on your behalf, when you no longer can.
 
 

 

  

THE DAY TIME STOOD STILL

Every generation has its engraved moment when the day time stood still and will infamously live in our minds as if it were yesterday and can tell you with crystal precision about what transpired the whole day.  I can recall four of them, and two still haunt me to this day.  The first was when Space Shuttle Challenger exploded upon direction from mission to “go throttle up” – I was in Grade 10 and just got out of one of my mid-term examinations when our class walked over to the far reaches of the parking lot to look slightly to the northwestern sky.  We immediately noticed the plume from the launch looked awkwardly different from any previous mission we watched over the years past.  It was when some of us went to the library after exams, we were quite shaken to hear the “vehicle exploded” during launch.  It was so quiet, that even a mouse dropping a mouse sized pin could scream in it’s silence.  In my lifetime, only one event surpassed this silence in the library that morning, it was the numbness and the emotional deadness with anger I felt on September 11, 2001.

 

On September 11, 2001 I was at a child care trainer’s meeting sponsored by the local training coordinating agency and several other agencies, including my YMCA.  One of the students asked if we could turn on the television in the room as they thought they heard a plane accidentally flew into one of the towers of the World Trade Center in New York City.  Almost, within minutes of turning on the television we saw live footage of the second plane hitting the other tower.  We all congregated closer to the television and within minutes noticed this was no longer an accident but an intentional act.  Our meeting was dismissed, I returned to my YMCA office to find my fellow colleagues in the conference room all in tears and asking how could something like this happen on our own land.  Within a short while, our CEO told us if we wanted to, we could go home and be with our families.  I stayed for a little longer, still try to get my head wrapped around this whole incident as I watched the current happenings on live television and the explicit explosion now being repeatedly replayed on almost every television and radio station.  Afterward, I went to be with my parents at their home and they were behaving the same way as both my child care training and my YMCA family did while watching the television.  This day, much like a cartoon seemed to play in exaggerated slow motion and if anything, it was the day, time really did feel like it stood still.

 

I listened to my Dad’s comment about who could do such an evil act on our great country.  Within moments of him saying this, the news anchor mentioned it possibly could be someone who knew how hitting our such critical landmarks would more than likely cripple our country its core by hitting our financial and military strongholds.  Throughout the whole day I was trying to get hold of my best friend, a journalist living in Washington DC.  It wasn’t until much later in the evening, I finally was able to get hold of him.  It’s a good thing he has an awful sense of direction and was able to stay clear of the Pentagon and other key buildings in the area. 

 

For the next several weeks, perhaps even months, the media reported how one in every seven Americans had some connection to what was now labeled as the greatest terror attack on Americans on our own homeland.  I too had more connections than I would have ever thought I had with this infamous day.  I mentioned my friend, the journalist living in Washington DC was the first direct relationship.  A fellow student who I took post grad school courses with and fellow colleague whom I co-taught with also had a connection.  She was recently married to her high school sweetheart.  Her husband just secured a job at Cantor Fitzgerald, who held offices in the World Trade Center in July 2001.  She just finished packing up the last of her belongings at the university after the completion of teaching the full summer term and was looking forward to joining her husband in New York City.  Just two weeks before the demise of the Towers, she finally moved the last of her household belongings to New York City to start her life as a newlywed.  My final connection to this day was with a previous supervisor who escaped from the first tower before it collapsed and lost many of his colleagues.  He continues to suffer from post-traumatic syndrome, whenever he hears fire alarms, first responder sirens or a jet plane’s engines thrusting by.  Together with his hearing, his other senses were heightened like a blood hound fixed to his sense of smell.  The smell of jet fuel burning through the Towers and its contents to the radiantly bright orange flames pushing through floors and feeling its intense heat at every corner he passed.  From firsthand accounts of what my friends told me to the intense media coverage, I felt as if I was shoved to the front of the theatre of all that was happening.

 

Our lives have changed in so many ways that the days prior to September 11, 2001 are no longer even etched in our minds.  The most notable change was the airport security and scrutiny we go through upon arriving at the airport to the moment we board the planes.  I personally feel the trained eyes of employees at the airport and the airlines themselves have an eye on each and every one of us.  In a moment’s notice we can all be extricated from a flight for the slightest suspicion.  From how we pack our bags and what we can bring on to an aircraft and how we clear security takes patience and a clear head.  We all have become a little more apprehensive of the person we sit next to and may even have nervous conversation to calm our own fears.  It’s become a “know something – say something” climate in not only in our travels but living our everyday life.  General Colin Powell had stated “You can be sure that the American spirit will prevail over this tragedy.” 

 

Over the next several years, what seemed like a much shorter period time, not a day would not go by without something new being revealed of day’s events.  Whether that identification of the last human remains being found, to naming the culprits of this terror or even the pledge of rebuilding stronger as a tribute to all those lives lost, each day seemed to keep reliving the day as if it were on an old vinyl skipping a track and repeating over and over again.  We as a nation, pledged “we will not forget” but over time it’s not that we forgot, but other newsworthy items began to take the lead in the morning newspapers and on the evening newscasts.  Soon, it was only the days leading up the anniversary and the live coverage and the distinct sound of a bell being rung with each name being announced in a perfectly choreographed memorial ceremony.

 

I don’t believe Americans have forgotten this day as we’ve learned to live around the day.

As our country embarks on the twentieth anniversary since the September 11, 2001 terrorists’ attacks, some of us will still cringe and shake our heads wondering how something so despicable could happen despite all the evidence found this was building up for years before the actual attack.  Others of us may look at this as this was the wakeup call which our overly patriotic, proud country needed to be remind us of our freedom is not necessarily free while others feel this was an inside conspiracy with intention to create internal strife and tension with the current federal administration.  I am the one, when I see the plane aiming for the second Tower, I still jump in my seat, have a tear in my eye, still as hurt as the day it happened and not fully grasp the whole global political purpose and the consequences this caused.

 

The life’s lessons of this day were not as important to me as the outcomes in the following days.  It was this day, many of us reflected on when we all united as were Americans.  We wore our patriotism stronger than any day in recent times and we forgot once for which political party we belonged to and what divided our nation, but took time to reflect on us, us as Americans, who truly “pledge allegiance to my flag and the Republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all” and to live by President Kennedy’s words, “ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.” 

 

For me personally, I learned to take time to greet people and sincerely ask “how are you doing?” and patiently wait for the reply before continuing my way.  I pick up the telephone more frequently (still not quite enough) to reach out to family and friends to just catch up from the last time we connected.  I don’t take for granted my today, my health, my freedoms, I just try simply be better than my yesterday.  Looking back to where I was to where I am now, I became more spiritually connected and mindful of the present.  Although, I don’t stop to think of the events transpiring that actual autumn day, I will always remember September 11, 2001 as the day the entire Earth skipped a heartbeat and the day that time stood still, albeit for a brief moment in time. 

 

On this anniversary, I challenge you to find at least one way to make yourselves not only a better American, but a better member of the human race.  When tomorrow’s sunrises, I will find one of my local happy places and take time for reflection, remembrance and find inner peace on this milestone anniversary.   God Bless our United States of America.

 

 

 

SEEING MYSELF THROUGH CARNIVAL MIRRORS

It took half of my life to learn to physically accept myself. I say half my life as I don’t anticipate living to 100 years-old. My Dad reinforced this though on my 45th birthday asked me how does it feel to start climbing down the mountain of life. I strongly believe I love people for their character and can truly see beyond stereotypes of those different than myself. That being said, why was it hard for me to physically accept myself.

I have an uncanny knack to be able to spin a negative to something positive on a dime. I can hear my high school English teacher and seeing her arms being thrown up in the air and screaming my name in despair. I’m sorry Ms. Schott for the cliché, but if the shoe fits, I do have to wear it. Oops … I did it again!!! Let’s try it again. I like to find the positive in all and in all that I do than focus on the negative…

but…

when it comes to me.

I have always been the fat kid who didn’t like team sports. I enjoyed and still enjoy doing outdoor activities just not team sports. I never liked competing with others or being the center of attention. To complicate matters, I didn’t like watching sports on television apart from a few competitions in the Olympics. Unlike other boys my age, I couldn’t relate to other boys when all they started to talk about was the latest sports season’s plays and scores. I still don’t care much for competitive or professional sports and watch a handful of professional baseball or hockey games and my few Olympic events. As my friends know, I can enjoy a Super Bowl party simply for the food and a corner of the couch with a good book and be totally zoned out of all the sensory excitement around me.

So … my acceptance of my physical me, came slowly with time.

I work at the YMCA and have done continuously since I was 14. I always had accessibility to a pool, wellness center, exercise classes and other classes promoting a healthier physical me. It was not what I ate but how much I ate. Portion control has always been an issue for me. If one was good, two or more must be better. As my position and responsibilities grew at the Y, so did my waistline. Going to school full-time and having a job I became increasingly acclimated to more of a sedentary lifestyle. I found more excuses for my weight gain than solutions.

It was not until my Dad was diagnosed with a second round of cancer I decided it was important to get some kind of structured physical routine into my life. It was not because I looked in the mirror and said, “Wow! look how fat I become.” but more like “I really need an outlet for stress.” I determined I cannot continue to eat how I ate, sleep restlessly or find other negative ways to handle the stress of what was going on with my Dad, my academics and my newly growing career.

It took every bit of my gumption to walk into my home Ys wellness center and ask a personal trainer to help acquaint me to this new intimidating environment. First thing, my senses where overwhelmed with loud music and whirling equipment, a distinguished stench of sweaty bodies and the bright lights flashing from televisions. This quickly followed by the uncomfortable feeling of being winded and out of shape after doing a treadmill for the first time for 10 minutes at a ridiculously slow speed and then being called out by a senior citizen member. This active older member looked at me and with her stern face told me I am young enough to be her youngest grandson and I should be ashamed that “an old lady like her can put me away.” I swallowed my awkwardness and continued to let the personal trainer continue introducing me to exercise machines with weights (back then we called it Nautilus). By the time I finished my first day I was not only drenched in sweat, but filled with embarrassment at my failure and bound to be in dreadful pain from the little workout I managed to do in a half hour.

Notwithstanding, I did return the next day. I hung out my emotions to dry, put on a courageous smile and attempted to go at it once more.

Fast forward years, I have become good friends with this older member who held me accountable over the years. When I grow up, I want to be like her, when I become her age, I wish to lead an active life filled with both physical activity and a social life with gaps filled with humor and humility. There were times I had to drop off my workout routine as my life got in the way of my living, but I always managed to return to the gym. Each time, Sarah was there welcoming me back and greeting me with her wicked smile and offering me her words of wisdom and encouragement.

Through time, I have learned to accept the fact that I will never be the guy with a six-pack abs but maybe the one who might drink a six-pack of my favorite beverage. I know I won’t be the one who looks forward to waking up at 4:30am to be able to go to the gym for my daily workout before work. I am by far not the one who will say I get psyched for my workouts, but I will be first one to tell you, over time each and every one of my personal trainers have pushed my body to the point of no return. I have not only become physically stronger in strength, endurance and flexibility but I find myself and my mind in a better place when I do workout every day. Despite being able to point out the positives in others, I find myself my worst critic to find all the negatives in me. 

With the test of time, I still go workout and have gained increased confidence in physically accepting myself.   Yet, I silently still see myself as this fat kid who grew up but still fights the demons of portion control and find ways for physical acceptance a challenge despite seeing the positives which makes me the whole person I am today and would much more likely to enjoy a good meal than a good workout.