An Attitude of Gratitude

  I get a lot of mail. Most of it is garbage, too much of it is bills, and on a rare occasion I get a letter from an old friend that makes sifting through the pile worth the effort. This past week I was fortunate to find a small card in a rather large pile of mail. In that small card contained some of the most meaningful words that have ever been sent to me, and it has taken me a few days to fully absorb the content. It was in the form of a Thank You Note, but it's significance extends well beyond those feelings. I will attempt to share some of those sentiments here, not in an attempt to build myself up for you good folks but more so to illustrate how our interactions with each other can be so important. Especially when love is involved.

 The Monday after Easter brought incredibly sad and difficult news. My partner in our NY business, Chef Dan, had passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. At his funeral his beautiful wife and three daughters eulogized him perfectly, I will not attempt to do that here. I will say that he was an extremely warm and well loved individual and the news of his passing at only 54 hit many people, including myself, very hard. To know Dan was to love him, just one of the sweetest guys you'd ever want to meet. He was also the man, along with my father, who defined to me what a hard day of work was really all about. And he taught that same lesson to literally hundreds of young people in our 15 years of working together, many of them high school students working their first job. He was a shining example of old fashioned work ethic, his actions taught those youngsters as much as his words did. It was impossible not to see that you were in the presence of a special person. And his effect on people is still being felt. Which brings me back to that small card in the mail.

 Paul was a typical hire for me, a really nice 16 year old from a great Irish family of 6 or 7 kids, can't recall exactly. His parents had taught him old school values, from working hard to being polite and honest, so he came to our shop with a great head start. His older sisters were customers that I had become friendly with, and I knew that if he was anything like them we would get along fine. He began like they usually do, washing dishes and mopping floors. He would grow into a solid deli counter man, and we would begin to add more and more responsibilities to his job. If it was Chef Dan's job in our shop to teach them how to work hard, it was my job to insist that they do. And at times that has brought me to bang my head with an employee or two, pushing them to work a little harder than they might on their own. And so I would certainly push Paul, maybe a tad harder than he appreciated. One day it came to a head.

          "Dave, me and the rest of the high school crew would like to have a sit down with you."

 I had never heard those words before, not from adults and certainly not from a group of high school kids. I could see he was upset, so after a very busy Sunday we closed the doors and aired it out. The group had obviously been planning this, and they were coherent and concise in their points. And they were right. I had been riding them too hard. They needed more Dan and less Dave, and that was fine with me. After about an hour we reached a deal. I would lighten up on them if they would do the things I felt they were slacking on. Within days it became apparent that each side would live up to their end of this bargain. They would continue to work together for another couple of years before three of them left for college and one for the Air Force. Dan and I would enjoy our time with this group immensely, and for the most part they have stayed in touch with me. One even married my nephew, but that's another story for another day. Keeping in touch today is mostly on computer, so when I saw a hand written note from  Paul Sullivan I was excited.

 Paul had gone on to college, started out in the usual way. Soon though he knew his calling was in his faith, and he would go on to school to become a priest. He worked with extremely poor people in Mexico, and now has a Parish in South Phoenix Arizona. Today he continues to help those in need, and is actually mentoring young people who are considering Seminary School. I had not heard from him in about 5 years, and his letter started on a sad note...

                           "So sorry to hear the sad news about Chef Dan."

 Paul would go on to list the many ways he felt Dan & I had taught and inspired him. He joked that when people ask him how he has the patience to deal with all the issues a priest has to deal with, his standard reply is "I worked at a New York Deli." He wishes that his aspiring priests would spend some time with that type of experience, that working for us in NY was actually good preparation for the life he would follow. He went on to say that he had wished he had gotten the chance to thank Chef Dan while he was alive, and that was why he wanted to reach out to me. I never could have imagined that the lessons Dan & I were trying to teach young employees way back when would stick so well, or that nearly 25 years after buttering his last bagel that Father Sullivan would still look back fondly on our time together. But maybe that is the lesson in all of this, just how important our interactions with each other really are. Perhaps this is why we need to seize every day, to hug those close to us. Paul told me he had a "Calling to Gratitude." I myself am so grateful for the people in my life, including those we have said goodbye to. I only pray that Chef could hear the words of gratitude. They come from me as well as Paul, and every other young person he was able to teach. I try to honor him by being more Dan than Dave with my current group. They have Paul and his crew to thank for that.

One Step Up, Two Steps Back

                 "You will never find a better sparring partner than adversity" 

                                                             Golda Meir

Not that anyone would notice but I have not written since August. In my case no news is not good news. In fact I found myself spiraling in a direction I thought I had removed from my personal compass. I hear so much whining in my world today that when things are not going well for me, well, I tend to close up. So in this light the mere fact that I finally feel like writing again today is a major step, I hope the first of many that get me back to "Stepping to the Music I Hear."

 Many of my blogs last year were about loss, specifically the passing of my hiking partner Rock. You remember, my hero. The dog that got me hiking and losing weight, the pup that made me feel like really living life again. We added a new family member, Miss Stella Blue, in the hopes that a new puppy might keep me moving, in spite of my sadness. Only two weeks after she joined us Sue & I took little Stella on a ride to the North Country with our son Adam, visiting us from Chicago. We had a great day up in Grafton Notch State Park, and decided to take the long way home. In Berlin we were stopped in traffic, waiting for a pedestrian to cross. With my foot on the brake Adam and I were talking about Scallop Rolls that we were about a minute from picking up. Sue & Stella were napping in the back seat. Just a normal moment in time, then..
                                                              BOOM
 Without any warning our truck was rear ended. It literally felt like a bomb had gone off. Having been stopped I really had no idea what had happened. The first words out of my mouth, to my passengers, was "I'm sorry." I did not even know what had happened but I felt like it was my fault, which it was not. Immediately checking ourselves for injury we could not find the puppy ! She had literally flown into the space under the front seat. We were quite relieved to discover her unharmed. And for the most part we were lucky, we all had our belts on or our injuries may have been much worse. I felt some pain in my foot but declined a ride to the hospital.
 The next day x-rays would show no broken bones. Yet the pain in my foot persisted. I tried acupuncture,  physical therapy, etc. but it has been persistent. Long story short is I have not really hiked since that fateful day. The pain also took the fun out of exercising. So the weight has returned, followed by the inevitable bout of depression. Of course I am aware of how minor an ailment this is, in a world of terminal diseases I hate even talking on this subject. But I lost a lot that day, because hiking has become so much more than just physical exercise for me, it became my balancing beam. If I started a hike in a foul mood by the time the woods and Rock were done with me I was always happy. I never had a 'bad' hike. This I could always count on. And in our uncertain existence it's nice to have some sure things.

 Last week found me at my third doctor, a foot and ankle specialist. This time the x-ray did show a spur that digs into my Achilles Heel. Now I know that the pain was not just in my head, something I was starting to wonder about. The bad news it that to fix it they would need to detach my tendon and then reattach it, a procedure that is not recommended. This problem, minor that it is, will probably always be with me.
 What does that mean ? It means I will hike again knowing that there will be minor pain in every step. It is up to me to mentally box that pain in and not let it stop me. It is my current dilemma. But hiking means a lot to me, and I need it in my daily life. Sometimes we truly do not understand how vital something is until we lose it. The one step forward followed by a back slide, well, that's just life, isn't it. We are not on a linear path to success and happiness, and in my case good health. There are always bumps in our way, obstacles to be overcome. I know mine is a minor one that I let have a big impact on me. No more. The past few days Miss Stella Blue and I have started small walks up the hill behind our house. Her romps in the snow have been spectacular. I want to develop our bond hiking the same way my old buddy and I did. She deserves that opportunity, after all it is why we got her. She is a great partner already, much sillier than Rock and always making me laugh.  I find it's hard to complain when one is laughing, and it sure as heck beats whining.