Perfect Strangers

Yesterday afternoon I decided to do some work at Starbucks, so I packed up my laptop and headed for the intoxicating aroma of java. I ordered my standard skinny vanilla latte and yes I know most men would never order such a drink, but I don't care. I love the way they taste.

I fired up my laptop and as it was booting up I saw a woman sitting by herself. She was pounding away on her own laptop and I couldn't help but wonder what she was working on. Maybe it was NaNoWriMo. Maybe it was a book. Or maybe she was working on a report of some sort. She finished what she was doing and then moved across the store into a more comfy seat behind me. She pulled out a book and began to read.

Another woman came into the store after I started working. She smiled at me briefly and sat down at the same table the previous woman occupied. I love the fact that she was willing to smile at me. I didn't take it as an overt come on. It was more just one human acknowledging another. Anyway, she fired up her laptop and dove into whatever she was working on and just like with the first woman, I wondered what the second woman was working on too.

Something struck me as I thought about the three of us. All of us were there by ourselves and none of us seemed to mind it one bit. I've always been one who didn't mind going to a restaurant, bookstore, or coffee shop by myself, but I know that some people are uncomfortable flying solo. Maybe our culture has finally reached a point in which we are more comfortable in our own skin and we aren't afraid to take on life by ourselves.

But the interesting thing is, even though we are by ourselves, we still crave the company of other humans. We want to hear the dull buzz of conversation, even if we aren't included in it. We want to hear laughter, and passion, and every other range of emotion, even if we aren't involved in the experience. We want to take in the background music, sip our lattes, and write our email in the presence of others, even if we never interact with each other directly because humans desperately need each other.

We need to know we aren't alone. That's what it comes down to. Because the thought of music and coffee and laptops that are void of humanity seems to somehow empty such things of their meaning. There is a time to enjoy such things alone. But how much better does a cup of coffee taste when sipped in the presence of a friend or a loved one? And when that's not possible, even a perfect stranger will do.

500 Words

I went through some photos this weekend for a family member and it made me think about the old saying, "A picture is worth a thousand words." Being a person who loves words, I decided to put the saying to the test--at least partially. One thousand words seems a bit long for a post, so I decided to see if I could write exactly 500 words about a photo instead.

I chose this one from my collection:

This photo shows my late father holding my niece, Brooke, in 1990, shortly after she'd been born. So many things come to mind as I study it.

Let's start with their faces. It's hard not to notice Dad's wrinkles in contrast to my niece's smooth, new skin. Dad lived a hard life and you can almost see each struggle in the crevices of his face. Brooke's life was just beginning, and while she would know hardship early (she was born with Cerebral Palsy in her lower extremities and would undergo many surgeries), her face shows no evidence yet.

They both have a look in their eyes that seems to be saying, "I don't really know who you are yet, but I'm comfortable enough to hang out with you for a while to learn more about you." And look at their mouths. Both are in a similar position--sort of like the shape that would hold a set of those goofy wax teeth that probably nobody under 35 remembers. And it sort of adds to the case that they were searching to understand each other.

Dad is gently supporting Brooke's head with his left hand--which is a good indication that he knew how to handle an infant. And like all babies do, Brooke seems quite content to let him hold her head up. It's a beautiful picture of the way older generations understand the vulnerability of younger generations and just naturally do what needs to be done to protect them. And it also depicts the way the youngest generation innocently depends upon and trusts older generations.

Their hair tells a story too. Dad's hair is still jet black even though he was 54 in this photo. (My hair on the other hand is speckled with gray on the sides and I'm just 41.) Brooke has new-born hair. It's not all the way filled in yet. In a sense, both of them have hair that is untouched by the ravages of time.

Brooke's hands appear to be on the verge of lunging out at Dad's face to grab his glasses, or one of his lips, or maybe she was thinking about sticking her fingers inside his mouth. She liked to do that. And if she did it during this particular instance, I'm sure Dad was quick to tuck his lips over his teeth and pretend to gum her fingers. I can just hear her giggle as he does it. It would have filled the entire room with joy.

Finally, I can tell a lot from the background of the photo. It was taken at my grandmother's house--the same house I spent so much time in growing up. I can see a portion of her old familiar clock on the wall. And I can see her exercise bike, which she was probably still using during this point in her life while she recovered from quintuple heart bypass surgery in 1989.

So much family history in one snapshot. So many great memories.

Little Nuances Drawings

Just held two drawings for a free copy of my book, The Experience of Christmas: Family Devotions and Activities to Prepare the Heart, published by Barbour Publishing. If you are a subscriber to Little Nuances, check your email inbox. You may have won a copy. If you didn't, but would like to be eligible for future giveaways, you can subscribe by placing your email address in the subscription box in the top right hand side of the page.

And even if you didn't win a copy of the book, it's only $4.97 right now on Amazon.com. Pick up a copy and use it around your dinner table this Christmas season. And then email me to tell me about your experience. I wrote the book hoping that it would enrich the season for families and maybe even bring them closer together.

Friday Free-for-All

--For those who are interested in casting a vote for Little Nuances in the 2007 Weblog Awards in the Best Diarist category, the polls are open. Here's a link. You can vote one time every 24 hours up until polls close on November 8. As I said yesterday, when I look at the other finalists in the category I know that I'm way out of my league and have no chance to win the award. But that's okay. Knowing that it is a finalist means a lot to me.

--Thanks to the folks over at the Blog of the Day Awards blog for giving Little Nuances a Blog of the Day Award on Wednesday. It's much appreciated.

--I received a letter in the mail from the county jury commission yesterday telling me to complete a prospective jury form and return it within 10 days. In other words, I may be headed for jury duty in mid-December. And if it happens, I'm fine with that. I absolutely believe in our system of due process and the court system needs jurors to make that happen. So if I'm called, I'll happily serve.

--I saw Elizabeth: The Golden Age this week with a friend one night. I love historical plot lines in which a country is fighting to defend its freedom. Such times make heroes out of ordinary people and fools out blowhards. Unfortunately I don't know my English history well enough to know whether this movie accurately portrays events as they happened, but it was inspiriting nonetheless.

--I'm still slowly reading a novel called The Lay of the Land by Richard Ford. I'm underlining all sorts of great insights by protagonist Frank Bascombe. Here's one: "I've stood at that window, my breathing shallowed, my feet heavy, my hands cold and hardened. I've calculated my fate on the slates of the neighbors' roofs, their mirroring windowpanes, roof copings and short jaunty front walks." I've done the same thing many times as I stare out my home office window contemplating both big and small decisions and it's amazing how much the process seems to be tied to the roof on the house across the street. 

That's it for this week. Hope you have a great weekend!

2007 Weblog Awards

Just found out that Little Nuances has been named as a finalist in the 2007 Weblog Awards in the Best Diarist category. Voting is scheduled to begin on Thursday evening and I'll post a link when one becomes available.

When I look at the other finalists in this category, I realize that I'm way out of my league. Dooce is one of those blogs. If you haven't heard about it, it is a blog that became so famous after Heather Armstrong lost her job for writing posts that included people in her workplace that the term "dooced" is now routinely used in the media when a blogger gets fired for doing the same thing Armstrong did.

But, as I said last year, I really do count it an honor to be a finalist in the 2007 Weblog Awards. Thanks to Doc Bear for the nomination, and thanks to all of you who come back day after day to read about my take on the world. I hope you find a little piece of yourself in each post.

You are much appreciated.

Passion

You hear a lot about passion these days. I just came from a writer's conference and the question everybody seemed to be asking was, "What is your passion?" And the theory is, that if you write about your passion, then your writing will ring true. I buy that. But I'm sort of new to this passion thing. Like everybody else, I've always had pursuits in my life that I've been passionate about, but until recent years, I've never really chased hard after my passions.

I think I always felt like I needed permission to do so. My first real passion was probably tennis. My parents bought me racquets. My high school coach taught me how to improve. But I never really immersed myself into the game, meaning I didn't buy a lot of books about the proper techniques, or I didn't take any lessons. I basically hit a lot of tennis balls with friends, learned what worked for me, and then I competed. Sometimes successfully, but usually not.

When I started playing guitar in the late 80's and early 90's, I went a little deeper, in that I took lessons, but I never truly immersed myself into the guitar. Partly because I was shy and reserved, partially because throwing myself into such a thing meant that many other areas of interest would suffer, and partially because I felt like I needed someone to get behind me to push me over the hump. Someone who saw my "talent" (which wasn't much, believe me) and then admonished me to go all out.

Now, as a writer, things are different. I've sat under some great teaching over the years and I've learned how novelists construct scenes, and I've learned how non-fiction writers use fiction techniques in their writing to bring it to life, and I've learned how to craft an article in such a way that it compels people to continue reading--all of these things have made me a better writer.

But I also know that I can dive so much deeper. And I love that. The deeper you dive the better you become. In fact, I don't think you can become great at something until you've truly uncovered the little nuances that most aren't willing to look for. Natural talent is nice to have, but it only takes a person so far if he or she is unwilling to strive for excellence.

If you find yourself stuck in a rut today, hoping that somebody will give you permission to pursue something you already know that you should be chasing, then I hope you'll hear what I'm saying and just do it.