A Gesture of Kindness

Holidays can suck big time at the airport.  Socked-in airfields, delayed flights and lots of pushing.

As I ran to catch my connecting flight to Minneapolis from San Francisco, I began to lose breath.  The excitement of the Holidays had mounted and I wanted to do everything in my power to get to my connecting flight before its departure…I was 45 minutes behind schedule…didn’t want to make a mistake and so I ran down the corridor toward gate 72 with my luggage, computer bag and purse. 

As I rounded the corner and arrived at the gate, I was greeted by the most handsome of men. Oh yeah!  There were passengers all around and I had a beautiful man ready, able and absolutely willing to share the great news that our flight had not yet departed.  Catching my breath, I thought this was the greatest of tidings.  My friendly greeter realized I was out of breath and offered me a bottle of water.  I graciously accepted and began to guzzle the refreshment, albeit as delicately as possible.

We were enjoying small talk when I began choking due to the challenge of drinking and talking at the same time.  Ugh, I thought, in front of this most handsome and classy guy, I’m dying before his eyes.  A polite “excuse me” to use the bathrooms and off I went with tears running down my face and the inability to speak because of my situation. 

Upon my return he smiled and told me it was okay – to breath and relax and that all is well.  Calmed and refreshed, I boarded the plane ahead of him.  Instantly I felt relieved and somewhat calmed.  Our seats were a few rows apart…however, I felt connected and confident I would have no further choking (believe me when I say, I was coughing a good ten minutes).  We were going to make it to Minneapolis after all and I would live to see it.  Yay!

It’s so nice to have the Holiday Spirit in our hearts as we make our journeys to reconnect with loved ones over dinners fantastic, memories revisited and stories of promise.  As I look forward each year to this holiday season, I am reminded of the small gestures of kindness that can be so easily given and so gratefully received.

With joy in my heart, and a clear throat, I leap into the next year!  Thanks Mohamed for the refreshing water, peaceful state of being and your kind, beautiful face in the crowd.  In the Spirit of Giving I shall remember your gesture to help a traveler in need, and Merry Christmas!

Love Letter Found

I have been working in a home that has recently changed ownership.  Making things beautiful: plastering a wall to match existing venetian plaster; ensuring there is congruity throughout the bones of the home; tinting metals, chandeliers; waxing built-ins and painting frames of mirrors to look as if they'd been 100 years in a French Chateau.  This has been a huge task but one that I just love, to no end, ensuring the home is ready for my clients - its new owners.


A few days ago, I was sanding the edges of some drawers I had painted a soft creamy white and saw something in the bottom of the cabinet.  I reached in and my fingers grazed the edges of an envelope.  I pulled it out, dusted it off and opened it.  I read the most touching sentiment from a wife to her husband.  The card was a beautiful champagne color with glitter and the foil from a champagne cork with a grosgrain ribbon on threaded on the left side.  Very elegant.  A satiny feel under my fingers as I turned the page; apparent that love was in the choice of this card.

As I read the the promising message, my heart clenched.  You see, the previous owner of the home had been in the middle of a renovation when her husband passed away.  He had been the love of her life and when I had met her, I could feel the weight of her loss and the burden of having to quickly move on with her home and her life.

In my hand was a letter of love and hope for the coming year.  So beautifully written.  So mature in its sentiment.  It must have been in the bottom drawer as a keepsake.  Dated a couple years prior, I imagine it was very special for him to keep it.  I felt fortunate to witness such a love that comes with maturity.

Sitting in the room, with paint up to my elbows, sandpaper on the floor, and dust floating through the air, I wondered about the magic of this moment and what I should do with this special message of promising plans, hope and deep abiding love.  Should I find her address and mail it to her with the message of where I found it - letting her know he had kept it?  Should I leave it in the bottom of the cabinet for the next person to find - maybe fifty to a hundred years from now?  Or should I just make note of it, cherish the moment and toss it in the trash - perhaps saving her from reliving the grief of her loss?  hmmmmm......

What would you do?

Convenience Stores

Convenience Stores.  It's been a long time since I heard those two words....but I've been thinking lately about words and their meanings...about convenience stores and how they have changed over the years.  When I was a young girl, the convenience store in our neighborhood was Brooks.  Down West River Road from our house about 1/2 a mile or so.  A good walk for kids looking to spend their allowance on slow pokes, rocket candy and ice cream bars.  Brooks was the place where most kids tried their hand at steeling for the first time and most were caught and forgiven if the items stolen were returned.  The place where first time cigarette and condom purchases were attempted, as well.  A few ruffians would hang out by the ice machine and smoke, watching girls coming and going.

The convenience store was also the place where one went to gladly part with a few more pennies for the convenience of a loaf of bread or gallon of milk at nine o'clock at night.  Sometimes referred to as the corner store, they all had personality or something that defined them as part of what was known to be your neighborhood.  Our store (sense the ownership?) carried a butcher in the back and we would order the most fabulous hot dogs ever made!   The meat would be ground and cased right there in the shop.  The excitement and the smell (I know...sounds weird but they would add spices I still can smell) would be the pre-empt to our Friday night dinner.  I no longer eat meat but if one of those dogs was in front of me, I would make exception!  :) yum.

Usually, I would feel claustrophobic at Brooks, as I was so small when I was a kid - still am rather short at 4'11".  I would be face-to-face with merchandise, peoples legs usually dodging the occasional careless smoker as their hands would brush by my head with lit cigarettes between their fingers.  A unique ambiance, there was the smell of beer in isle 6 and the smell of chocolate donuts in isle 2 and bleach in isle 4 - all laced with the ever-present smell of tobacco.  The lights buzzed and there were always flies trying to get out of the store by way of the solid glass paned windows.   A place where the men from the neighborhood would make a quick run to the store last for an hour as they groused about this and that with "the old lady" at home or brag about the winning touch-down Johnny who's-it got at last Friday night's game.

As I became a teenager, I found the convenience of running to the store for last minute things a saving grace.  Pads of paper, pens, tampons - usually hidden amongst the pads of paper and pens, and the occasional can of Tab.  It was great having this little store in the neighborhood.

Somehow, we have lost the quaintness of having the cashier know your name and that of your folks. No longer a store owned by a family for two or three generations where you could buy a few groceries on trust until pay day.  Now it's all about coupons and vitamins and drugs.  There really isn't anything personal about our stores today as they are just a place that sucks the money out of our wallets as quickly as possible so that we can be on our way in our busy days.

Do you have a favorite convenience store memory?

Putting myself out there!

Isn't Life Grand?

My life is and always has been charmed by events that come full circle in some way or another.  It's fun to look back and see the threads that weave the most amazing chapters in my life.  Like the time, when I was in radio, and met Robert Hayes when he was touring and promoting the movie "Airplane."  Thirty years later, I meet him at a friends dinner party and learned they went to school together.  :)  Full circle.   Fun.   Insightful.

Well, here's a story that will definitely give you a tingle up your spine:

My father's grandfather was an immigrant from Belgium.  His name was Albert Van Overberghe and at this time, 1914, his residence was in Manhattan.  He was married to my great grandmother Julia who was from Paris...they had met on a ship bound for America.  He found work with Barnum and Bailey Circus as a high wire act and a clown.  Attached are two photos of him at that time....in costume as both the high wire performer and the other as the clown (I think he looks like Jack Nicholson in his clown garb!).

Who would ever think that decades later, on the opposite side of the United States, his great granddaughter, me, would end up working for Mr. Barnum's offspring as an artist painting woodgrain on his study door in his home in Pacific Palisades, CA?   We had a good laugh about it as we connected the dots between our families.

  Here's to you, Great Grandpa Albert!