Open doors and Other Small Things

Sometimes when we are generous in small, barely detectable ways it can change someone else's life forever. ~Margaret Cho (b.1968); comedian,actress

My workouts at the gym have gone late into the evening during the past month or two, as I put the miles on training for a ten mile race in San Juan Bautista. One Wednesday night I ran on the treadmill for eight solitary miles and closed the place down. As I dragged myself into the foyer toward the double doors to go home, two men about my age chided each other about their basketball scrimmage. I was a pace or two behind them, so I let them go ahead assuming they would hold one of the doors--or at least not let it slam into me. Hormones must have been overflowing from their game, because they hardly noticed another human was in their midst and both doors clipped me as I tried to squeeze through.

The next night, I had a little stop to make at TJ Maxx on my way home from work to pick up a birthday gift. After the night before and bumping into the doors under false assumption, I didn't want to embarrass myself so I reached out as another mom entered before me. Surprisingly, she made eye contact and then intentionally held the door for a few extra seconds to give me time to go through. All the mom's poking around at TJ Maxx that evening seemed tired like I was--just trying to do the bare minimum and go home. I was even more tired that night, just from hard work all day, so her gesture energized me just enough to find the birthday gift and head back into traffic.

The following Sunday in church I heard an old friend of mine give a talk about the little things we do to uplift each other, and she cited the example of her mom waving goodbye to the family as they drove down the street after their visits. She had other examples of small acts of redemption we do for each other, things that really make a difference. I thought about my observations over the past two years in this blog. Even though I haven't had the time to write about everything I've witnessed, the constant theme has forced me to look for more good during another somewhat difficult "transition time" in my life.

I was given a thankfulness journal in a church meeting last Fall, so I put it in the driver's door compartment of my car in hopes that I would find a few minutes each day to note some "small things" that others did to uplift me. I find that when I start writing, the list just goes on and on. Those days when guys at the gym let the door slam, or when someone is rude to me on the road, are turned around by so many others who take the time to stop along the way--to open the door, to say hello, and recently to bring a magic Valentine to our house. All are reminders that life is good, and the world is abundant with good people who do good works. The only way to truly appreciate this bounty is to watch for and take note of all the small things.

Looking for small things you can do?
Check out the Random Acts of Kindness tool.
http://www.randomactsofkindness.org/Kindness-Ideas.html

My Dad, Dr. King, and a Day of Service

I grew up in the sixties and seventies here in the culturally rich region of Northern California, the Bay Area. When he was a teen, my dad couldn't wait to get out of Spencer, Iowa and after graduating from college he took the opportunity in 1957 to serve as a pilot at the Alameda Naval Base. Possibly there was a connection between the next-door Iowa county "Palo Alto," and his decision to settle in the extremely diverse community of Palo Alto, California. Even in those early years, this was a melting pot. For once in his life, my dad "fit right in." Northern Iowa was not the kind of place where a black-haired, blue-eyed, exotic-looking man could exactly blend into the community. Most were of German or Scandinavian descent, so Carl had to charm them with his intelligence and affability.

Sadly, my dad passed away unexpectedly from injuries sustained in a Memorial Day water-skiing accident just before my eleventh birthday. However, his star shone brightly and left indelible impressions on my soul about acceptance, fairness, and a sense of community. The town of Spencer, Iowa was a safe place for him but he longed to know other cultures and ethnicity; he longed to find his own. Being the strong personality that he was, I learned some important lessons from Carl at a young age. I'll never forget the day I learned that racial discrimination was inhumane. He had taken a few of us kids, including my neighborhood friend, to McDonald's on Blossom Hill Road for lunch, it must have been a Saturday. I remember ordering my favorite: hamburger, fries, and chocolate shake. (I'm convinced they tasted better in 1969!) A few of us sat in the rear-facing back seat on the way home, munching our burgers and slurping our shakes. As a few people with warm brown skin walked down the sidewalk, someone from inside the car--selective memory prevents exact recollection--yelled out the now nearly-extinct racial slur for no apparent reason other than to harass the walkers. It didn't sound right to me, but as a painfully shy girl I giggled anyway at her brazenness.

My most vivid memory of my father is attributed to what came next...His slamming on the brakes of the station wagon, followed by flinging out of the driver's seat and to the back of the car and the open rear window. His towering, six-foot-four stature glared into our wide-eyed faces as he made it perfectly clear that we were out of line, "Don't you EVER say that word again, DO YOU HEAR ME?????" Then he called across to the couple walking and apologized for his naive children. Dad did not speak the rest of the way home down Almaden Expressway, and neither did we. I don't think I finished my chocolate shake, nor do I remember liking them nearly as much after that incident. But I do remember the message from Carl that day, and the message of acceptance that he continued to live throughout his short 39 years: We are all acceptable, none is better than another.

Dad came from a homogeneous little mid-western community where he tried to fit in, and later when he arrived in the town I now call home he was determined to make others feel the acceptance he always craved as a child and teenager. I wish I could ask him how Dr. Martin Luther King affected him in those years, I have a hunch it was profound. In reading about Dr. King I see his timely themes of social justice woven into the empowerment of all races in America; this is evolving into present-day interpretation of contributing community service as a means to promote social equality and to celebrate his life. I can think of no better way to honor Dr. King, and Carl Steffens, than to give back to my community and to my fellow man on this relatively new national holiday. Thank you Dr. King for the legacy, and thank you Carl Steffens for making your unquestionable statement of racial equality to a bunch of ignorant little kids who didn't know any better until you set us straight!

Want to give back to honor Dr. King? This will inspire you:

Idealist Blog Post, Honoring Martin Luther King, Jr. with a day on, not a day off. http://www.idealist.org/blog/en/honoring-martin-luther-king-jr-with-a-day-on-not-a-day-off/

These are yearly events:

Martin Luther King, Jr. Week of Service: http://www.handsonbayarea.org/AboutUs/index.php/specialevents/MLK.htmlSign-up for a Community Service Project - The Palo Alto Jewish Community Center is organizing a day of service, with more than 25 local volunteer opportunities, ranging from habitat restoration, making cat toys and dog biscuits for homeless pets, visiting senior citizens, serving meals at a shelter, working on crafts for hospitalized children and helping with the creation of a library in Botswana. Details: www.paloaltojcc.org/mitzvah Info: www.CityofPaloAlto.org/dayofservice
Community Service on Lytton Plaza - The City of Palo Alto in collaboration with Youth Community Service (YCS) will provide opportunities to donate food and clothing and to participate in a volunteer project on Lytton Plaza. Bring the whole family between noon and 3pm. There will be music and fun for all - and more importantly, this will be a chance to do something to help others.

Give a Little Push

We drove on frozen roads and braved a frigid blizzard in Salt Lake City last Wednesday during our vacation, attempting to rent snowboards for kids and pick up a cake for my daughter Sheridan's twenty-second birthday. I know every dangerous hill in town, having bumped into snowbanks and parked cars a time or two when I lived there. This time, we were in a heavier car with new tires so I wasn't too worried we'd get stuck. The police have become more considerate these days, diverting traffic from the hills where we used to slide, onto residential streets with less of a slope and better traction. I don't know why the snowplows there take so long to catch up to the storms.

As we took our mandated detour from 7000 South to 2700 East, the line of cars slowed to a crawl and then stopped. We looked ahead to the slight curve and no cars made it past. "There must be someone stuck on the hill ," we said to each other. We were tired of trudging through the snow and ready to go back to our holiday rental house for dinner. After five or ten minutes of waiting, slowly cars began to go around the vehicle to make their way home. As we approached the motionless white Saturn, I could see an elderly person in the driver's seat spinning the wheels--clearly not cut out for winter driving. A younger man futilely pushed from the back corner, ready to give up from exhaustion. He had been attempting to heave the car out of the ice since the beginning of the back-up. I couldn't refrain from commenting to Bob that these people must need some help. I would have understood if he had kept going; our car was sliding too. But he quickly pulled over as the other cars went around us, to find out why the Saturn couldn't make it up the little slope. Two more cars lost traction, Bob slipped on the ice in his tennis shoes, and the rest of us realized we would be lucky to make it back to the house without incident.

As I watched the first gentleman pushing the Saturn, and now Bob trying to help the stranded drivers I caught myself momentarily wishing we had just gone around them like everyone else. But if we had, I would have worried about them and felt horrible all night. "Patience. We are lucky and blessed," I thought. With three stranded cars at Cottonwood Heights, and Bob and the stranger offering their help, they started to talk about the feasibility of rear-wheel drives on hills in a snowstorm. Other cars, better equipped for the conditions, slid sideways and past the curve. Then I saw the unexpected: Bob and the stranger talked for a few minutes and shook hands. Then the elderly man got out of his car, stooping shoulders and white hair, and walked over to the stranger's pickup. The stranger would take him home, we were later informed. The young girl in the little rear-wheel drive behind us also talked to Bob. Her dad would pick her up, she told him in a relieved tone.

When Bob came back to the car twenty minutes or so into our detour, I asked how it went. "Those cars are staying put tonight," he said. "I just needed to convince them not to try and drive them home." I was thankful that he was willing to get out and help, but even more thankful that he could reason with them--especially the elderly man. Sure, they've driven that hill in snow before, but why take a chance? When random strangers can pull over and give an old man a push, and then offer a ride after that doesn't work, my faith in mankind is restored. All they needed was a gentle reminder that the storm would not last forever, the car could be safely parked overnight, and there were other drivers willing to give them a lift. It's great to help someone push their car in a storm; it's even better to give them encouragement when it's time to give up and try another day. After we safely arrived back at the house from which we had started our little errands, I counted my blessings and expressed thanks that we didn't have to drive the storm anymore that night and that the stooped-over, white haired man was able to accept first the help of a stranger and second the life-saving suggestion of my husband in his slippery shoes!

"We Are All Homeless"

Bob was looking for a service project idea for our church youth group, so we brainstormed options within a tight time frame--a Wednesday night during the next few weeks, from 7-8:30 p.m. There aren't too many agencies that can use help at that time. I had given him and a friend who is a Boy Scout leader the same leads to try: serve dinner at an Innvision shelter, sort donations at Second Harvest Food Bank, go to the Family Giving Tree and do warehouse work, or gather treats and supplies for troops in conjunction with Operation Shoebox. It sounds easy to pull together a simple service project for a Wednesday night, but it really takes at least a month of planning; coordinating with the organization and with the youth takes some time. Luckily a local organization, Innvision, has taken over management of several shelters in the Bay Area and they have a dedicated volunteer coordinator. After Bob filled out an online volunteer opportunity request, she called him back with a group assignment.

The designated night arrived and I figured it would invigorate my work-drained soul to join Bob and the youth group at Innvision's Loaves and Fishes Family Kitchen. We would serve dessert and sing Christmas carols to the men who would be staying in the shelter that night. Logan printed off the lyrics so we wouldn't get stuck after just one verse. We all met and loaded up into cars to make the drive downtown. When we arrived it was a little chaotic, as the coordinator must have missed a step in communication to the supervisors. They were a bit rattled to work outside their routine, as dinner had already been cleaned up. However, a large jovial man named Emmanuel was willing to rally the daily residents for a post-meal cookie and cider buffet accompanied by "Silent Night" and "Jingle Bells."

The kids seemed a bit uncomfortable at first around the strangers as they set out their abundance of chocolate chip, oatmeal, snickerdoodle, brownies, Rice Krispie treats, on platters and plates. But just when I wondered how I could help lighten things up and make it fun, one of the men called out, "We're all homeless!" It was a deep message for me during the holidays, though the kids later suggested he was stating the obvious. No, he was a smart guy, and his inflection was exactly that: All of us are homeless in a sense. Nothing is secure in this world. I'd heard this before, it's a saying that keeps the indigent looking up and the proud looking back. With his declaration, I started to see these men, rather than a bunch of guys in a shelter for the night, but individuals with hopes, dreams, and wishes just like ours.

With cookies heaped onto plates and hot cider poured into plastic cups--nearly hot enough to melt--our group began the carols. One spirited gentleman realized he could sing along. "I'm engaging them," he told Emmanuel with a childlike smile. Another man in a perfectly clean white tee and khakis would neither engage in carols nor partake of the treats. Finally, toward the end of our visit I noticed he had filled an entire paper dinner plate full of cookies. The one next to him smiled. "These are real, homemade!" As we gathered our supplies and prepared to leave, I asked Emmanuel how often the residents get homemade cookies and desserts. He said hardly ever, and to have a visit after dinner was out of the ordinary and extra-special to these guys. Their Christmas tree would be set up the next day and this was a perfect way to set the tone for the holidays.

As I sit in a cozy living room reflecting on our little service project last week, I am listening to Michael McLean's "Forgotten Carols," and the song "Homeless." I think about Emmanuel and the guys at the Loaves and Fishes shelter. We can never take our circumstances for granted, not during the holidays nor during the rest of the year. The gentleman was right, we must remember that unpleasant things can happen to any of us. They've happened to me, and they've happened to people I know. The only way to remember how lucky we are is to keep reaching out to those who have less, and when we get outside of our comfort zones they reach back out to us. They "engage us" and remind us of what is truly important in life; sometimes all it takes is a plate of cookies to step back and realize how blessed we are and how much we have to give.

Interested in Bay Area service projects during the holidays and the rest of the year?
These organizations can always use your help!

• http://www.innvision.org/volunteer_group.php

• http://www.loavesfishes.org/
  

• http://www.shfb.org/warehousesortsmc

• http://www.familygivingtree.org/volunteers/admin/showtask.php

• http://www.operationshoebox.com/

Last-minute Volunteers

Most volunteer jobs require training or some commitment, but you can feel good in a heartbeat by just paying attention to those around you. That's what three sophomore students did for me today. I was swamped, and nearly in tears this morning to think the job before me would last into late night hours, after the family dinner and birthday party for my stepson Logan. The day whizzed by, I tried not to notice the clock as it crept closer to 3:30 p.m. That would be time to go pick up supplies for the dinner and pick up my daughter from her job interview and head home at rush hour.

First Elizabeth was determined to alphabetize a stack of 200 letters. She had so much "fun" that she asked if she could invite her friend Adriana. They both decided it would be faster if Jennifer joined them, so we started an assembly line of the papers to be delivered. First sorting, then stapling, folding and taping. The girls enjoyed bantering back-and-forth, with me chiming in whenever I had a clue what they were talking about. The sweetest part was when Jennifer asked, "Don't you have any help to do this? Like, what would you do if we weren't here?" I told her I had already planned to take it home and stay up late, knowing the papers had to be delivered to 200 students on Friday morning. "Wow," she said, "that makes me feel really good that we could help."

And that's all it takes to feel good sometimes. Just pay attention and be willing to lend a hand if you've got some extra time. The girls stayed with me for fifty minutes--just long enough to sort through most of the papers and to be ready for tomorrow. As we finished the birthday dinner at my house tonight, I took my dog Maxie for a walk, caught a falling star, and packed my bag for a weekend getaway. None of this would have been possible without the help of my last-minute volunteers at school today!

Students Do Make a Difference by Volunteering!

Students at Palo Alto High School documented more than 17,000 volunteer hours this semester with the President's Award for Volunteer Service! There were 129 recipients Fall semester, with another 75-100 applicants who will receive their award in the Spring. The best part about my job is observing these young people who find their passion through volunteering and community service, contributing their talents and energy with no remuneration to make the world a better place.

Community service and service-learning are important aspects of a balanced education, and it makes you feel good along the way. Find something you really care about, and devote some energy to that by volunteering. Check out the groundbreaking Do Something College Survey, showing the nation's leading colleges look for students who are engaged, who show leadership qualities and creativity in community service--not just students who rack up hours for "credit".

Go to: http://www.dosomething.org/college-survey-download

Then read this article from Leif Erickson, of Palo Alto's Youth Community Service. We ALL agree that student-driven, interest-based community service is the way to go.

Click on:

Palo Alto Online Palo Alto Weekly: Guest Opinion: Service to others — gateway to youth well-being (September 24, 2010)

23 Volunteers and Counting

October was another jam-packed month at Palo Alto High School. Finally I came to terms with the truth that the older I get, the less I am able to juggle and the sooner I run out of energy; it was time to sincerely ask for help. The volunteer coordinators at our College and Career Center graciously agreed to issue a plea at the Fall training meeting to see if a few parents would be willing to help with our "Get Involved" student community service program and our "Excellence" Career Month Speaker Series. I made a simple breakdown of tasks and took names and numbers at the back of the room. Thirteen asked to help with community service, and another five with Career Month. Combined with last year's returning volunteers, that brought my team to twenty-three active and engaged parents who were willing to take on the school year's activities.

After working at such a manic pace last year, I hesitated to even get started with these willing souls, but just over a month later I could attest that volunteers are some of the most productive and capable people around. It doesn't hurt that we are in the heart of Silicon Valley and across the street from Stanford University--there is an aspect talent and education here. But I have seen the same mentality in Salt Lake City, Utah where I was one of 23,000 registered Winter Olympics volunteers in 2002. No matter what the occasion, give a volunteer his or her choice of jobs and they will astound you. We divided up the workload into categories: events, marketing, bookkeeping, database management. When volunteers sign up for jobs they enjoy, their contributions are high-quality and far beyond minimum expectations. I've learned over the years not to ask a meticulous person to manage the big picture or an entire event, and vice versa. We are all happiest when doing what we enjoy, where we have an aptitude and some level of interest.

This is the concept we are trying to instill in our students in the service-learning program at Paly. When you take on a project, volunteer in a specific area where you are actually interested; don't just show up to get credit for time served. Interest-specific volunteering produces meaningful, high-quality results for both the volunteer and the organization served. This can lead to increased self-esteem, finding a sense of purpose in one's work, and discovering or exploring talents and passions. The Do Something survey (http://www.dosomething.org/college-survey) substantiates the fact that high school students are better off developing creative projects on their own, or dedicating their service to just one meaningful cause, than various disjointed projects with no personal relevance to the volunteer.

With parents devoting their energy in their personal areas of strength to benefit students, I hope our young people will be similarly inspired to give of their time in a way that adds purpose and meaning to their lives. We are all better assets to the community when we get involved in projects that inspire personal growth. I am thankful for twenty-three volunteers and counting!