Riding the Wave on The Road Taken

Growing up we whined about minor discomforts like most children who had no idea about what constituted real pain. When we complained about a nuisance discomfort, one of Dad’s favorite remedies was to tell us to hold out a hand. He’d give it a swift slap that had a decided after-sting and incredulously we'd ask, “Why’d you do that?” “Well, you forgot about your sore (foot, throat, knee, head, etc.), right?!” he’d ask rhetorically.

On my trip back to Wisconsin this weekend, I had time to realize that the minor pains of wrestling with the government bureaucracy to get my health benefits in place and the trials of getting Muchmore user-friendly have had much the same effect as Dad’s bait and switch balm on distracting me from the overwhelming sense that I have left Kansas for Oz. I’m not using that metaphor strictly, but for me Madison had become a professional dust bowl where no big opportunities were growing. Cincinnati, though not on my short list of idyllic wonderlands, did offer NIOSH as the wizard with a job that offered some magical opportunities and enough money to enable me to purchase Delta’s red shoes anytime I thought there was no place like home. I tell you all this because even after a great weekend, I realized I was ready to go back to Cinci.

This weekend I had two wonderful presentations where I saw the fruits of my studies, degree work, and experience come together in a way that enabled me to provide information that my audiences valued and that provoked thought. A sense of bounty made me comfortable in sharing and I saw the cycle of prosperity feed back all weekend long.

The Karmic Motherload

My love affair with karma began Thursday night at Cincinnati/Covington airport. I got to the airport early so as not to stress driving through rush hour and getting parked and checked in. Consequently, I could afford to walk leisurely to the gate and, as a result, was captured by Delta sales reps trying to get people to trial a $95/yr preferred customer card fee free for a year. The incentive was 25,000 frequent flyer miles and a variety of travel gifts. I envisioned the 25,000 as a great addition to my air miles fund for flying the boys east. So I signed on, helped the nice guy make his quota, and got a Delta travel mug to boot. Down at the gate, our flight rep announced my Milwaukee flight was overbooked and would someone like $400 Delta cash to fly in the morning. Woohoo! I thought about it but figured I’d be tempting fate to arrive in Milwaukee only 4 hours to get a car, travel, and find the UW GB campus for my noon speaking gig. So I sadly decided against adding more stress to my life and continued my search for an outlet to charge my phone. 45 minutes later there was another more frantic plea for a volunteer willing to be bumped. This time the guy offered to get the prospective volunteer into Madison the same evening and make arrangements for land travel to Milwaukee. Could things have been sweeter? I never wanted to fly into Milwuakee in the first place — just made the choice based on the cost of airfare. So here I am faced with the decision to forego an hour and a half drive from Milwaukee to Madison for a direct flight to Madison. I rushed up and realized that I needed to figure my rental car into the equation. I told the attendant I would be glad to fly into Madison if there would be a car available for me there and, oh, did anyone know what the current destination fees ran? The Delta attendant thought it cost about 50 bucks, but upon calling in –I found out Enterprise charged $75. The attendant was so happy I volunteered. She was incensed that Enterprise was charging $75 for the destination fee and when I announced that I thought it was still worth it to me to get the $400 bump, she added $200 more for the car inconvenience. If you’ve been doing the math, I've now made two people happy and am the proud owner of approximately 3 continental US flights and a travel mug. It didn't end there.

Originally, I came back to do two presentations. As luck would have it, I was also able to attend the wedding shower of “reel” friend, Vicki Delacourt. This woman knows how to “shower.” She hired massage/cosmetology students from MATC (where she’s a dean) to come and pamper her guests. I got a chair massage, hands waxed, tarot card reading, and a henna tat. There was even a "gifts for guests" drawing. I sat back to watch, because in games of chance I have the luck of a 3rd class passenger on the Titanic — until Saturday. My name was picked for a bath gift highly coveted by another guest. With more interest in having won it than having it, I gifted it to my fellow guest. The final "creme de la creme" prize drew my name again — this time for a big basket of bakery goodies (which I didn't need but which were gratefully accepted by my son, Thomas — and, I'm guessing his roommates).

Even though I loved the spa, food, and good luck — my favorite entertainment was listening to Vicki, her intended, and other family members treat us to an impromptu string concert. Wonderful!

As if that wasn't enough, I found myself amid a sea of singers. We finished the night singing camp songs and classics complete with multi-part harmony. There were 4-H, Girl Scouts, and Church Camp favorites and we all basked in memories of comaraderie, fellowship, and music. By the end of the evening, there was a swell of goodwill and a warmth and memories shared between people who had been strangers only a couple hours before.

This morning, I was lucky enough to have breakfast with both my boys before heading to Milwaukee.

To Home and Back Again: A Traveler's Tale

Cinci was a still 70 degrees with sun shining through the last golden maple leaves. I stopped by a park on the edge of Mariemont that I've been eyeing each day on the way home from work. It was what Sunday afternoons should be — quiet with relaxed children and parents under sprawling ancient oaks next to a thatched old boathouse from another era chaperoned by a tall gothic carillion. My delight was complete when, as I got out of the car to take a few pictures, I realized the carillion was in concert. Pretty near perfect. I came home to Bambi's Dad waiting up for me and finished the day sitting on my front deck watching the sun move over the hill thinking how lucky I am.

— It's a story you should remember. Because it will help you appreciate the little things in life? Hell no. I want you to remind me of this when I report the next thing that breaks. (Please, not the car yet.)

In the glow of the moment, sweet dreams.