Finding Joy

I knew immediately she wasn't a conference attendee. Not so much based on what she wore, clothes I remember seeing at Grateful Dead shows in the late 1980's. Colorful, loose-fitting shirt and pants. A little dingy, but no body odor smell. She had a small, kind face, tan and leathered, but I assumed she was only in her forties. She also didn't have on a conference badge, so that was telling. 

She stopped in from our table in the exhibit space eyeing the LEGO figures we had on display. They were part of our fun giveaway; attendees could build their ideal job candidate with the Legos and then we'd talk with them about optimizing their candidate and experience. Our company, Survale, helps companies improve their recruiting, hiring, and retention, through candidate and employee experience feedback. 

"How's the conference going for you so far?" I asked. I instantly felt bad asking her that, knowing that she wasn't attending.

"Great," she said. 

I wasn't surprised she said this. She was eating one of the tapioca deserts they had served at lunch. 

"The tapioca's good, isn't it," I said.

"Yes. Can I build one?" she said, referring to the LEGO people. 

"Of course," I said. 

My co-workers engaged with her as well as she built her first LEGO person. We all knew she wasn't attending the conference.

One of them asked her about the conference, and she said, "Oh, I'm not attending. I was just walking down the beach and saw this event. I came over and had some lunch and now I'm building a Lego person."

As she built her person, her face awakened with determined joy. There weren't a lot of parts to build these Lego people, but she methodically took her time, selecting and re-selecting the legs, body, head, hair, and accessory the figure would hold. 

She finished and I told her it looked great. Then she asked, "Can I build another one?"

"Sure, please do," I said. 

More determined joy. The exhibiting part of the conference was almost over, so we gave her the space and the time to build. 

One of our team asked to take her picture putting the Legos together. Her joy drained away and she looked concerned. "No, I don't think so," she said. But she ultimately agreed when she didn't have to look directly at the phone camera, that it was just for our marketing team.

When she was done with her second figure, she started to walk away, paused, her eyes fixated on the Legos still, and then turned to face us again.

"Can I just do one more?" she asked.

"Of course," I said. 

After the stranger left our table, I realized I never asked what her name was, nor did I share mine. I knew nothing else about her -- whether she was unemployed and/or unhoused; whether she had a criminal past or not; whether she was alone or had her own family; whether she had physical and/or mental health issues. 

What I did know is that for a few moments, she found intentional joy in putting together the LEGO people, and we encouraged her to do it, without shame or judgement. A simple moment of empathic humanity.

I also knew she was someone's daughter, and that made me think about our own daughters, and their adult lives that have yet to unfold. Supposedly humans make over 35,000 decisions each day equating to nearly a billion decisions in a lifetime. Because adulting is hard, we've encouraged our kids to consciously manifest a happy and healthy life. But there will unforeseen circumstances to deal with and poor decisions will be made along the way. Hopefully fewer and farther in between than we experienced, especially me. 

If there's one thing I believe we've imparted on them to date, it's finding joy in everything they do. Always. Intentionally. Unequivocally. Joy.

Careful to Not Be Careless

My dad used to call it "being all stoved up", meaning he felt stiff and sore. He'd stand after sitting for a while and moved stiffly around until his body complied with where he wanted to go. That was usually after working in out in the yard or in the garage or whatever the physical activity was, including walking the dogs and/or walking with my mom. He didn't really exercise otherwise, but after the stroke he had right after he retired from the police department in 1994, he did the best he could to take care of himself and stay active until he passed in 2012. 

I'm thinking of him because his birthday is right around the corner. He'd be 93 if he was still alive. Mercy me. I'm also thinking of him because I've got a big birthday coming up later this year and it includes the numbers 6 and 0. Mercy me, again.

My wife Amy and I are gratefully healthy and exercise regularly, and yet are both north of 50 years old. Amy, who's almost six years younger than me, is much more flexible than I am, but gets just as "stoved up" after sitting down to work for any length of time. Since we both work from home, we'll both be sitting and working away after our morning workouts, and then when my watch reminds me that it's time to stand, I can feel and hear my bones creak and pop as I do so. Same with Amy. We'll both moan and laugh, but we feel it all. 

Which is why we're careful not to overdo it when working out and careful not to trip and fall when walking or hiking. Our two teens don't play sports anymore, but they are both active. Our oldest Beatrice uses our home gym a few times a week and our youngest Bryce, well, doesn't -- but sometimes walks the dog with us at the end of the day. They'll be starting high school this year and both will be in theater and choir, so there will be some physical activity within those activities.

Our teens are still young and spry, as they should be. Amy and I are not. Healthy, though, and grateful to be so, both of us with positive and balanced body images. Balanced as in "a little fit / a little fat". In fact, Amy saw a t-shirt with that on it, and we promised we'd get one for each of us. Stay tuned for that.

Now that I'm almost 60, I want to ensure that I'll always be active and able to do the beach workouts that I do each week, or to just be able to take walks with Amy along the water or in the redwoods when I'm 90+ (and she's 84+). And to stay healthy and active for our kids and grandkids someday. Of course, you never know what could happen in life, when you're going to go, or what you might break, even just working around the house, which is why we're careful to not to be careless no matter what we're doing. 

Blessings to the old-ish folks. Stay as healthy as you can, kids. 

Coronavirus Sucks, But We Don't Have To

I was at the airport ready to fly home from a speaking engagement when my wife Amy called. She was clearly upset, which isn't common for her, and what I heard her tell me was "she can't go." I had no idea what she was talking about, until she mentioned our youngest daughter Bryce. Then it became painfully clear.

Bryce had looked forward to 5th grade science camp for weeks, something that hadn't happened for three years since the pandemic started (something her big sister had to miss because of covid). Bryce had been slightly apprehensive about going, but more excited overall to experience it with her friends. Two days before science camp, the 5th graders were tested for COVID-19, and Bryce was negative.

But the morning she went to school to join her classmates on the bus to go to camp, her and a few others tested positive. At that moment, she could no longer go to science camp. It crushed her, and then it crushed Amy who had to go pick her up, and then it crushed me.

While I waited for my plane to board, I fumed about the situation and my heart ached for Bryce. Someone in line next to me started griping about having to wear masks at another airport, while the one we were in didn't require it any longer, or the airlines. Another person joined in on the griping and then they both went on yet another personal freedom diatribe that I've become so sick of -- I just wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up. 

And then I wanted to tell them that over 1 million people in the U.S. had already died from covid or covid-related complications. I wanted to tell them that over 6 million have died globally. I wanted to tell them that millions are experiencing "long covid" with a myriad of debilitating and science-stumping respiratory symptoms. Instead, I just stared straight ahead and boarded the plane. We may all want covid to go away, but it's not going anywhere anytime soon.

I was obviously angry and sad for my daughter. All I could think about on the short flight home was the fact that I wasn't there to help them in that moment. I got there soon enough though and gave Bryce a big supportive hug and told her I loved her, that it wasn't her fault she got covid. We've been instilling resilience in both our daughters, and while Bryce was disappointed in missing science camp (and a whole other week of school, another fun event, all at the end of her 5th grade year), she dealt with it better than we thought. Better than me, that's for sure. Fortunately her symptoms were brief. 

After Bryce caught covid, I got it too, even after all this time of being double vaxxed and boosted. We all spent nearly two weeks masked and isolated from each other as much as possible. However, like most viruses, SARS-CoV-2 (which causes the infectious disease known as coronavirus or COVID-19) only wants to infect its hosts, evolve, and thrive; it doesn't care about anything or anyone else they infect or those it makes sick or kills. It doesn't care about vaccinations, or antivirals, or masks, or other healthcare safety measures put into place. It doesn't care about covid deniers or anti-mask advocates (although I'll bet it thanks them in its own surly viral way). 

It doesn't care how disruptive it's been to families and communities around the world. It doesn't care that it stopped our Bryce from going to science camp and missing another fun class event in her last year of grade school. But no matter what, we're thankfully still a resilient, mostly healthy, loving, and grateful family, so blessings for that. Coronavirus sucks, but we don't have to.