Rising waters

I’m looking forward to a “mini-reunion” with high school classmates in a few weeks at a South Carolina beach town. For some reason, a number of them have settled there, making it a nexus of sorts for us. It seems that within the past decade or so, participants felt our reunions became more enjoyable and anticipated. So, the people in South Carolina added events there, kind of recreating the Jersey shore beach parties of our youth. Golf, fishing and Metamucil have displaced some of the frolicking in the surf. We were a good-sized class (1,100) and many weren’t close back then, to say the least. But, those who have attended reunions have become connected. Franco was a class clown. Still is. We exchange witticisms on occasion, via the internet. In a rare serious moment, he commented on the growing sense of unity among the class. While we always had a potent class spirit, he thinks maturity has dissolved any of the puerile differences. I have a slightly different theory. In rising waters, all the animals take to the high ground and get along because they have a common nemesis. In the case, the rising waters are health issues and even death. The Grim Reaper visited us upon graduation, with many of the males being whisked off to war zones. He dropped in sporadically with others meeting their fates in crime and substance abuse. But, in recent years, he has become a more frequent visitor. We are the survivors and celebrate that, but not without toasting those who have passed before us. We will have a great time reveling in stories of the past and partying now because we know we should make the most of what we are fortunate enough to have. We still have life and each other. I’m really looking forward to it.

An indicator

I asked a photographer about a waterproof camera I was contemplating for a purchase. “Didn’t you just buy one?” “That was a couple years ago. It kind of crapped out.” “Already? How?” “I was kayaking last week.” “Those things are waterproof and shockproof.” “Well, there was a lot of water and even more shock.” “This isn’t the first time I heard that from you.” He’s right. I bought the first generation of this model about eight years ago. I went over a waterfalls, getting separated from my kayak in the process, and the camera developed malfunctions. Its successor took a number of hits before it succumbed. I had the third one along when I was the crash dummy in rescue drills among rock breakers in a surf zone. The most recent was a whitewater casualty. “You know, when you trash four cameras in eight years, you might want to re-examine your life plan.” Yes, that would be an indicator of sorts.

Cave of the good stuff

Somewhere there is a cave with the coolest stuff on earth. Only a select few seem to know how to access it. I met some women for lunch a few weeks ago. Their conversation was buzzing away but came to an abrupt halt when another woman walked by. They appeared to be staring at the floor. “Did you see her shoes?” “I didn’t know they even came in that color.” “We should ask her where she got them.” That may have been the only aspect of their chatter I actually related to. For some reason, I thought of Rob. He was part of the big group of single partiers I ran with years ago. The events were usually comprised of renting a hall, hiring a band, dancing and drinking. About half came stag with the remainder showing up as couples. The latter were mostly people in the group who were paired up at the time. Once in a while, we’d go all out and organize an elegant affair at a posh location for a black tie event. For the usual activities, Rob showed up stag and circulated the room. For the special events, he’d bring a drop-dead gorgeous knockout no one had ever met before. Where did he find them? Was there some island where they were bred? You never saw women like these on the street or walking the aisles at Kroger. Or, anywhere else. Maybe on the silver screen, but that’s about it. Yesterday, I paddled my kayak on a local lake. I was idling in a cove, lost in contemplation, when I greeting snapped me out of my reverie. A stranger introduced himself and struck up a conversation. I caught the first part about his being new to the area, but that’s about it. My focus was on his kayak. I was familiar with the model but had never seen a color combination like it. I hadn’t even seen any of those colors available. It was a stunner. “Where did you get that boat?” “Back in Wisconsin where I’m from. I walked into a dealer to browse boats and he showed me this one. He had special ordered it for a customer but the deal fell through. It looked nice, so I bought it.” It looked nice. That’s like saying Hawaii is pleasant. When I got home, I pulled up the manufacturer’s web site and wasn’t surprised that the colors weren’t shown as either standard or optional. Not the first time. I’ve looked at a lot of kayak sites and ordered the best I could find, only to later trip over someone who had the same boat in beautiful colors or combinations that never made it to the brochure. I can live with a select few getting the rare shoes or women. But, I demand to know where they keep these kayaks.

A reunion of a reunion

yesterday was about as bad a day as they get. And, I still had a party to go to. I texted the person who had asked me to go with her. She said she understood if I wanted to skip it and that was fine. But given the circumstances, it might provide a good distraction. She had a point and, as it turned out, it was, We showed up, were introduced around the room and I made my way to the beverage table. Alcohol is never a solution to anything but I did feel a need to take the edge off with one stiff one. I poured that and found a seat a little away from the action. Katie, the hostess, plopped down in the chair across from mine and smiled. Maybe she thought I needed some help warming up to socialize. But, it wasn’t that. “You don’t remember me, do you?” Uh-oh. I’ve heard that opening a few times (not always directed at me) and it seldom led to anything good. I studied her and wasn’t getting the picture. “Give me a hint.” During my heavy party days, about fifteen years ago, I ran with a big group of like-minded singles. She was part of that. She connected the dots by telling me who her best friend was, someone I did associate with to some extent. “Okay, now I do remember. The way you said that before, I thought you were saying we dated. But, we never went out or anything.” “Oh I wouldn’t rule out the anything. “ That could’ve been a red flag except her smile broadened. “Think high school reunion.” Bingo. Now it was my turn to smile. At the time of her clue, I was dating a woman in the group named Brigit, a willowy Sharon Stone type. I can’t think of a thing we had it common but, during that phase of my life, that was irrelevant. Sharon Stone type was more than enough. And, I was pretty sure we understood the ground rules. So, I was a little surprised when she asked me to her high school reunion. That seemed to carry too much gravity for a relationship based upon the Victoria’s Secret catalog. But, I finally agreed to go. We sat at a table with her old friends, who largely seemed to be beautiful and vacuous. Growing weary of hearing names of hair dressers shared, I wandered about the room. A face caught my eye. It was one of those experiences where you see someone you think you know, but you can’t place it because they’re out of context. Then it dawned on me. Katie. Since I was bored, the thought occurred to me to do something creative. It is not unusual for that mode to veer the bus off the road and into the ditch. But that seldom deters me. Katie was conversing with a guy who appeared to be her escort, but there was an empty chair next to her. I went over, sat in it and put my arm around her. “Sorry, I must’ve misunderstood. I stopped by your house and you weren’t there. I thought then that maybe you said you wanted to meet here. Good thing that occurred to me. All’s well that ends well.” She glanced in horror at my arm and then back at me with a confused look that slowly came into focus. “Henry? What are you doing here?” “Very funny, you know.” “No, I don’t. What are you doing here?” I feigned shock. “Why, you asked me to your reunion. So here I am.” “I did? No, wait. I didn’t. I’m sure I didn’t.” “Then what am I doing here?” Feeling the weight of her date’s inquiring stare, she swung around to look at him. Finding now words, she turned back to me. “I have no idea what you’re doing here!” “Well okay, then. I’ll just leave.” I stood, noting all eyes at Katie’s table fixed on her, and resumed wandering about the room. It didn’t take long before she hunted me down and demanded an explanation. I gave it to her, barely able to get it out because of laughter. I thought it was hilarious. Katie made it clear that that was the assessment of just half of us. Until now. I am glad to find out that in retrospect, she finds it humorous.

A Great Day

It’s a great day. Didn’t start out that way. Last night was my monthly dinner with the group that debates the pressing issues of the day. And drinks. The more of the latter, the more the former. At the head of the to-do list this morning was repairing a portable camping shelter that has been damaged in a severe storm. The frame of it is a web of metal bars that accordion open and closed, stretching a fabric canopy. Some of the bars had been twisted by the strong winds. The replacement parts had arrived and it was time to face the music. I knew it wouldn’t be a good time, especially in my impaired condition. The fasteners were small and balky, usually located in inaccessible places. The components were under tension and refused to stay aligned long enough to sneak a bolt through. An octopus wouldn’t have enough appendages to pull this off. After a lot of sweat and swearing, the deed was done. I came inside and plopped down in front of ye old computer to check for messages. One jumped out at me. I haven’t seen Linda for about 30 years. The first time I laid eyes on her, she was divorced, pregnant and struggling to make ends meet with a high school diploma. If it was present day, you might think she’d be a prime recruit to occupy this or that, protesting the outcomes she created for herself. That would be because you didn’t know Linda. I met her the first day of class I taught at a weekend college. She came up, introduced herself and stated her purpose. She saw people making good money and wanted to be one of them. She didn’t begrudge them their education, jobs or wealth. She just wanted that for herself and would do what it took to get there. I responded I had no doubt that she would make it. Those weren’t empty words. She had the earmarks of a winner. Winners applaud the successful, whether they desire to be among them or not. Her attitude was positive. As the course unfolded, we got to know each other and my respect for her rose. She was candid, honest, smart and industrious. Unlike many students, she didn’t ask for concessions or make-up assignments. I never granted them anyway. I was preparing them for the real world which seldom gives you a mulligan. She did request one accommodation. She gave birth the weekend of the final. I was happy to take it to the hospital and let her complete it there. She had all As going into it and didn’t let down in the end. This morning, she tripped across my presence on the internet and had to contact me to express her gratitude for all I’d taught her. She had gone on to get a PhD, was teaching college and had a successful business on the side with her son (the one who was born the day before the final exam). I always get a warm sense of pride when one of my students contacts me in this manner. But, I’m a realist. Linda would’ve succeeded if she had a doorstop for a teacher. Nonetheless, it’s a great day.

Happy to be of help

I received two calls yesterday and enjoyed them both. The topic was the same, but coming from two decidedly different viewpoints. The first was an invitation from some former employees to an open house. They had opened a company, hit the ground running and I am very excited for them. Great people. The second call was from an executive of the company they had left and were competing with. He wasn’t real excited for them. Why was he calling me? I ran an entity that employed these fine people and had negotiated the acquisition of it by this larger organization. An acquisition was the best course for this entity and its stakeholders for a myriad of reasons. The biggest issue was finding the right buyer. None of the most logical candidates were especially well-run and weren’t people you’d want to hang out with. We boiled it down to one finalist, who made all the right noises and appeared to be the best fit. I harbored no illusions about them. As soon as the letter-of-intent was signed, the true colors began to show. The first thing that emerged was arrogance, particularly on the part of the CEO, about how they were larger than us and would have to show us how to manage something. We were making a nice margin and they were squeaking by, so the attitude was inane. I had already decided this would be my exit point, so I didn’t have worry about future conflicts on management philosophy. But, that led to their first significant error. The agreement was that I would stay until the end of the year. The minute the final papers were signed, I was abruptly escorted to the door. They were still going to pay me through year-end, so that wasn’t the issue. I understood their thinking. They had interviewed key employees and detected confidence in and loyalty to me. They considered it an impedance and wanted a clean break. Fine, but that isn’t a smart way to do it. In every employee’s mind was the question, if that’s how they treat him, how will they treat me? They didn’t have to wait long to find out that their concerns were justified. The call from the executive began all cordial and he said he was wondering how I was doing. Yeah, that’s why you’re calling. I told him I was doing great and waited for the other shoe to drop. He finally got around to it. Trying to sound casual, he asked if I knew about the new company. I said I had received an invitation to the open house. He waited for me to elaborate, but I didn’t. So, he asked when I first found out. I inquired why he wanted to know. He said he was just curious. I already knew why he wanted to know and it was more than curiosity. They would want to know if they had grounds for a lawsuit against the former employees and maybe even me. If anyone had violated non-compete agreements, they might. I told him I had reservations about the intent of his questions and didn’t think my affairs were any of his business. That was met with a protracted silence. I did know about the formation of the company in advance because the employees had come to me. We agreed that the right thing was to not engage in anything that breached our contracts or that was unethical. It’s not like they needed my help, anyway. These are people who consistently generate good outcomes. That’s why I employed them. He finally found his voice. “So, you’re saying there’s nothing you can do for me.” “I can give you a ride to the open house.” He hung up.