YOU AIN'T GONNA LEARN WHAT YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW

My Busy Road

 

 

I was crossing a two lane, very busy road with a bunch of guys I knew.    

 

 

We were walking into a bar, to celebrate our team winning the playoff game. 

 

 

Our softball team played well – and we went to a local bar to have a few beers, and get some appetizers.

 

 

 

We were crossing the street.    Cars were coming mostly from one direction.

 

 

4 or 5 of my teammates were crossing the street with me.

 

 

Out of nowhere a car does a UTURN on the busy street, and slams into a man who was riding his bicycle. 

 

 

The biker went flying about 10 feet into the air.

 

 

It was like slow motion.    The man was airborne – and he let out this helpless kind of a screetch.

 

 

The driver of the car barely stopped or even noticed that it had just hit a person.

 

 

 

I ran to help the man on the bike.

 

 

 

He was mangled around the bike, his legs twisted in different directions, and blood was everywhere.  He was groaning in agony.  

 

 

 

It was a surreal scene.

 

 

 

As I ran to help the man, I had a million thoughts going through my head – but, the first one was --- STOP THE BLEEDING.   

 

 

So, I took off my shirt.

 

 

I helped him, and so did the many motorists in their cars, that stopped on the road, backing up traffic.   

 

 

I noticed though, that my teammates who were crossing the street with me, were nowhere to be found.

 

 

As I sat with the biker --- I tried to calmed him down, and attempted to help him feel a bit better until the ambulance arrived.

 

I sat there on the ground, next to him (I was shirtless) it was then that I noticed that --- NO ONE FROM MY TEAM WAS NEXT TO ME, OR HELPING THIS INJURED BIKER.

 

Not one of the guys who saw the biker get hit, bothered to run over to the scene with me, and help out an innocent young man.   

 

 

I was mad.

 

 

I was hurt.

 

 

I was angry.

 

 

I was disappointed.

 

 

 

They (my softball teammates) had all seen the accident, and chosen to walk away from it – and go get their beer instead of helping out, showing their concern, or basically doing anything.

 

 

******************************************************************** 

 

My kids were visibly upset.

 

 

I was talking to the kids over dinner, and they told me a story of an IDF officer (Israel Defense Force) who spoke to their school at an assembly that day.  

 

 

He spoke about the humanitarian side of the conflict in the Mid-East.   He was talking to the kids about how Syrian Mothers are bringing their injured children to the fence with Israel.   Syrian Mothers who live in a country that is in a state of war with Israel – and yet these women walk through minefields on the Syrian side -- they drag their children past all kinds of impediments, to place their hand on the border fence – and beg for medical help.

 

 

He explained how the IDF quietly, and with little fanfare – at great risk to themselves, crosses into hostile, enemy territory to bring the injured people into the State of Israel.   

 

 

A moving story – coming from a young officer who has seen and experienced this first hand.    From a news story on the subject:   

 

 

 

Syria and Israel are formally at war, and the idea of Syrians being treated in an Israeli hospital once would have been unthinkable. But the brutality of the Syrian civil war has driven some 200 wounded Syrians in the past six months to seek help at the Israeli frontier on the Golan Heights, according to the Israeli army.

Soldiers take them to a field hospital for treatment and triage, with more serious cases sent to hospitals in northern Israel. About 100 have been treated at the Nahariya hospital, with more arriving as news of the Israeli medical aid spreads by word of mouth.

For the man in the bed, who declined to be named for fear of retribution against his family back home, treatment in Israel has been a profoundly transforming experience.

“I thank the Israeli army,” he said. “Two and a half years of revolution have changed my opinion of Israel. Look what Bashar Assad” – Syria’s president – “has done to his people. Everything he says is a lie. He spreads hatred of Israel, but Israel is a friend, not an enemy. The Israelis showed us their humanity.

 

 

The IDF officer spoke in front of many children that day.  Sharing his experiences about stories like the above.   

 

Few students paid attention to the young officer who was speaking to the class.   Others were disrespectful, and poking fun at his foreign accent.  

 

I listened over dinner to them tell me this story -- watching them explain how they felt, about how this young man was being treated at their school.    

 

 

My daughters together went up to the man at the end of the IDF officers presentation, and apologized for their classmates behavior, and thanked him.

 

They thanked him for his dedication, his service – and his ability to share his stories --- and they told him how it made them feel.   They shared with the young many how the talk that he just gave, made them honored and humbled to be in his presence.

 

As my daughters told me this – I was moved.   I was proud.   I was humbled by my very own children.

 

(At this point, more transpired – such as phone calls to the young officer, but that isn’t the point, nor is it pertinent to the story)

 

 

What is pertinent is that our children learn by the unspoken word – they learn by actions.   Sometimes we talk too much.   

 

 

My teammates left me that day to care for an injured biker on a busy street.

 

 

I am confident that I am raising children that would not do that.

 

 

In fact, I know it.   

 

 

 

Shiny Cars and Bad Bosses *

 

 

I pulled out of the car wash.

 

 

My black car was shiny, and I got the extra $3.00 wax to make it just a bit, “extra” shiny.

 

 

As I pulled onto the Westside highway, I was feeling good.    The sun was shining, the roof was open --- and, it was a glorious fall day in NYC.

 

 

A clean, shiny car makes me smile.  Especially when it’s my car.

 

 

I passed the 57^th Street sign on the Westside Highway, which then turns into the Henry Hudson Parkway.

 

 

 

Suddenly, out of nowhere the biggest splat EVER recorded by mankind, hit the front hood of my car.   The bird poop was so big, that it splattered across my entire windshield.

 

 

A perfect shot for the bird, and  -- instant stress for me.

 

 

 

Do I turn around, and go back to the car wash?   Do I pull over and try to clean it?

 

 

This bird poop was colossal.   It was so big it was easily the size of an entire hand, with huge chunks of something dark that did not look good to the naked eye.   (In other words, this was no small bird dropping)

 

 

I had been hit by the equivalent of a winged animal drone missile, coming from the butt of a big giant Seagull.

 

 

My blood pressure rose, and for the rest of the ride home I stared at the hood of my black car – and watch the wet poop, morph into a solid mass --- and petrify right there……splattered dots across my windshield as well, mushed in by the wiper blades -- which made a valiant attempt as they went back and forth – only to have the poop get rubbed across the glass, even more. 

 

 

“As your new boss, I encourage you to speak your mind, be open and transparent, challenge me – and lets fix what’s broken, and understand better what is working.” 

 

This was my new boss speaking to a room full of his new direct reports, of which I was one of many in the conference room that day.

 

 

I was excited to have a new boss.   I was excited to hear he wanted open feedback on what we could be doing better as a group, and as a company.    I was thrilled to learn something from this new executive coming from a giant Telecommunications company to teach us……and to lead us.  

 

 

His first day was awesome, filled with good energy – and what seemed like great leadership.  

 

 

 

 

Two weeks later we were in the same conference room, but this time he was dictating some new ideas that he had acquired --- after getting 2 weeks of feedback, opinions, and insight from people in the company.  (I was not one of them providing my input)

 

 

He started, “We will do this, and focus on that --- and this is how we will market and sell it.”

 

 

I cringed.

 

I knew it was wrong,   I knew what he was saying was not going to work.    I knew it was a bad idea because I tried it months earlier – and it failed.   I knew he was pushing a bad strategy, on his new team – and his new company.  

 

 

As I raised my hand to speak – I wanted to be sincere, passionate, and diplomatic – as I gently tried to explain that this concept of his, would surely fail.   It would fail because I road tested the concept, only to have the customers say, “No.” 

 

 

 

All eyes focused on me. 

 

 

I tried to remember what he said in that same conference room a short 2 weeks ago.  

 

 

“As your new boss, I encourage you to speak your mind, be open and transparent – and lets fix what’s broken, and understand better what is working.” 

 

 

I thought he meant it.

 

 

Apparently he did not, (mean it) and I was about to learn the valuable lesson called, “Corporate Doublespeak.”

 

 

After I was finished speaking (or politely challenging his idea) he thanked me for my feedback, and willingness to stand up and share my opinion. 

 

 

 

He promptly shot me down without even acknowledging anything I said --- he moved on to how he was going to execute on the losing strategy that I just challenged him on.

 

 

 

It was Friday afternoon.

 

 

I walked out of the conference room, along with the other 20 people who shuffled in a line to escape the room.   

 

 

I went back to my desk and sat down. 

 

 

He came in, and calmly sat down in the chair directly in front of my desk.

 

 

He smiled, as he spit out the lines, and slowly uttered the following missive:

 

 

“If you ever challenge me, or so much as dare to offer a counter opinion to anything I say from here on in, I will kick your ass.   I want to be clear about this, you are a piece of sh*t to me, you mean nothing – and I will enjoy watching you squirm in pain, as I knock your teeth out.” 

 

 

I was in shock.   I thought this was a joke.

 

 

I smiled nervously, not knowing what to say or do --- with my new middle-aged boss basically threatening me with physical harm.

 

 

He got up, smiled and said,  “Have a nice weekend.”

 

 

 I was in shock.

 

 

Last week, when I got hit with the bird poop – this story came roaring back to me......   

 

 

Because that day – when my boss pulled up the chair at my desk and threatened me with a beat down – I got hit with bird poop in a different way.

 

 

My new boss hit me with his bird poop – and it splattered across my psyche.   The shrapnel of the bird poop delivered by an emotional boss hit my confidence – the same way the bird poop hit the hood of my black car.   It momentarily wrecked me, until I allowed myself to fix it......

 

 

I went to the car wash on the way home last week.   My black car got 2 car washes within an hour. 

 

 

 

My new boss made it exactly three months before he got canned.   Apparently, the “Corporate Doublespeak” caught up with him. 

 

 

When I got hit with the bird poop in my car, or a new boss who threatened me, I immediately stressed out on both occassions – and felt my blood pressure rise……but, for what?

 

 

 

Why?

 

 

 

I lost control of both situations.  In both cases I could not alter, or change, or control what had happened to me.     The truth is, I was never in control.  

 

I don't think I ever will be.     

 

 

I drive a black car.   I love Armor All on my tires.

 

 

And, extra wax to make it shiny.

 

 

It covers up the lack of control.  Or, my very own insecurity.  

 

 

   

    

 

 

 

Leaning In *

 

 

The oddest of things, happen to each of us, and sometimes we don’t even see it, recognize it, or acknowledge it.

 

We miss it.   

 

My friend called about a year ago, to tell me that his young son had ALS/Lou Gehrig’s disease.   The boy had numbness in his thumb, and within a week he was diagnosed with a near certain death sentence.

 

I followed up to inquire, many times in the past year – but never REALLY CONNECTED with him.....never more than a 5-10 minute check in.  

 

Two weeks ago I did connect with him, and it appears – not many friends are REALLY CONNECTING with him -- and leaning in to find out how he is doing --- to engage with him, express interest -- few friends are leaning into hearing, and listening to what he is going through.

 

The pain in hearing him tell me that few people are leaning into what he is experiencing and going through, was a dagger to my heart.   

 

It hurt me to hear his voice, and it hurt me more to know I may have let him down.   I was too busy with my life, to dive into his.  

 

 

The boy has lost feelings in both arms,  he now needs a wheelchair to get around.   During the last Yankee homestand, Mark Texeria invited the boy as his guest to tour Yankee Stadium, sit in the dugout, and meet the Yankees before the game.

 

It was the young man's dream come true.   Hearing his father tell me the story might have been the proudest moment of his life --- that he was able to help his son feel great “Spiritually”, for at least a few hours. 

 

To hear this story, is mindblowing.   The world stops dead in its tracks -- and it renders all of my problems to be insignificant.  It makes my issues, trivial in comparision.   

 

Last week, I reached out to a person that I needed to mend a fence with.    He replied, “now isn’t the right time.”   I’m OK, with that. 

 

 

Last week, I called a soldier to thank him for his years of service, and he cried on the phone as I spoke about how much his dedication, loyalty, and compassion mean to me, and our country.    I'm OK with that.  

 

 

Being a better person to those around us, often involves – time and energy, two things that are in short supply.

 

Sadly, sometimes it takes a health problem to bring us back to reality – and focus on what we should be doing, in order to --  actually be better people than we are, to those around us.   

 

That’s a shame.    I hope that it isn’t that way for my children – as I try to set an example – whether its calling the soldier in their presence, or reaching out to an old friend who I lost contact with.

 

 

Time is a stripper, doing it just for you.  

 

 

It strips away everything in the end --  time, and health are our most valuable of possessions.

 

 

Don't let a tragedy push you to be the person you should be.  I made, and continue to make this mistake......

 

I'm trying now to fix it, but a friends tragedy, just shocked me into doing what I should have been doing all along.

 

Oddly -- I recognize, and acknowledge it.