Maybe I obsess over the question I’m about to pose because I’m a language geek. But seriously – have you ever been in awe of how powerful just a few words can be? I get caught up thinking about this now and then.
Early in my career, my CEO shared a handwritten note she’d received. It was from a woman who worked at one of our key partner companies. I had been the lead on a major project that included a lot of collaboration between us, which culminated in a very public community event. Her note praising my work was just a few lines – I’m guessing it took her fifteen minutes or less to write and send.
Many years later, I still think of that card. Sure it felt great to see her words, to know my boss had taken notice. It boosted my confidence, and maybe even helped as I earned more responsibility and an eventual promotion. Not to discount the incredible value of those (every bit of that was amazing and immediately gratifying), but here’s the meat of this thing: my whole world view on praising others shifted.
I’d been stingy with praise. Part guarded, part too-busy-for-that-kind-of-fluff. I hadn’t realized it, but I just wasn’t the sort of gal who told someone (or their boss, for that matter) when they were being awesome. It took fifteen minutes and a paragraph for a woman to challenge all of that.
There’s some sort of karmic law that I now feel bound to uphold. Having once been the recipient of such a kindness, I must do this thing for others. When I see awesomeness, it deserves a quick note. Today I sent another such letter in the mail. It’ll reach its intended recipient in a day or two, and then (crossing fingers) it may just make someone’s day. Or maybe, just maybe, those few words will positively shift the center of someone’s world.
This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “Nice someone! Whether it’s a gift, a helping hand, moral support, or just doing something for someone else – write about what you did.”
On one of the most oppressively hot days of the summer, Indy Film Fest packed a sold out crowd into the Harrison Center gym. Most of the ten day film festival took place at the Indianapolis Museum of Art, but we also programmed a few experiences where the film paired with an atypical movie venue. For a documentary about the Medora Hornets, the losingest high school Indiana basketball team – an old gym, turned art community center.
As a tiny high school, with just a handful of talent to choose from, Medora High had built up a scrappy, underdog team. And they lost. Again and again. But “Medora” is as much about the decline of the small, rural town, and the lack of opportunities for the young people who call them home, as it is about basketball. There was a bit of trouble, here and there. A recovering alcoholic mother, getting kicked out of school, the pressing business of getting a date for the big dance. Amidst it all, the mounting pressure to win a game. It wasn’t certain if anyone would be able to stay on the team, to graduate, to hold it together. I know I barely did.
Yes, that was me, the one sobbing in the far corner of the bleachers in the back of the gym. I was glad for the dark. As the lights flickered on, I was pawing at my throat, a throbbing lump, a weighty sadness. Despite the uncertainty of their future, there they stood. Four of them in a row, two wearing their letter jackets, with their coaches and the filmmaker, Andrew Cohn.
A couple of the boys were seeing the film for the first time. When asked their reaction, a meek reply. “It’s sort of awkward.” I can’t even imagine. I’d probably not have the courage to stand in front of a crowd after watching an hour plus of my life unfold on the silver screen. Especially if the evidence points to doom. Their town is failing, the school, shrinking. What chance do these kids have, especially if they decide they do want to stick to their Medora roots?
As the Q&A finished up and the crowd thinned out, I and the other volunteers starting grabbing the metal chairs, folding them up, and carting them over to a storage rack. Without missing a beat, the team started grabbing chairs, chipping in.
No! I thought. This is their night. They’re the stars. If my heart wasn’t fully broken for these boys by this point, I nearly lost it as I watched them dutifully shuffling chairs into place. They’d go on to celebrate the film at an after-party with family and friends. Just not until each chair was back in its place.
This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “Share a moment that stands out. Is it moving? Awkward? Infuriating? Ecstatic? Who was with you? Where were you?”
It’s pretty marvelous to think about the deep well of possible experiences available to us in this world. Each day, each week, every new year – a chance to discover more of them. Among the things I discovered this year:
Banana splits. They’re amazing. I’m not sure how I made it so far into my third decade without trying one. I had my first at Napolese. Chocolate and vanilla gelato, fresh strawberries, almonds and a four-inch high swirl of whipped cream. And bananas, of course. Mercy.
An eleven year old grocery list in the pocket of a bag. This was three cities ago! It’s amazing the things that slip unnoticed through the years.
Micro goals. There’s a lot of talk about stretch goals. I’ve often been in the “dream big” camp. But when it came to running, I found success by having small incremental goals, until one day I was running a half marathon. Then a marathon. I went from struggling mightily to run two miles in June 2012, to a sub-five hour marathon in November of 2013.
If I had set out to run a marathon early on, I think I would have been discouraged well before I started thinking insane things like, “I just have an eight mile run today.” It would have all just seemed too impossible.
The most amazing bread pudding recipe from Pen and Fork. Make it with brioche (from Rene’s Bakery, if you’re in Indianapolis).
Unstated expectations cause way more havoc than I realized. Now that I’m tuned into this, I find a frequent cause of frustrations and failures can be traced to an assumption or unstated expectation somewhere along the way. Major kudos to my husband Louie for showing me the light.
Bridge. Louie had wanted to learn this card game for years, and we finally sat down with Uncle Ed and Aunt Rosanne in Chicago over Thanksgiving to get the basics. We started playing one night at six or seven in the evening. Before we realized it, it was 2:30 a.m. We were so completely engrossed (and excited, and frustrated too), we’d lost all track of time.
Bridge is definitely a great game for language geeks. Learning to bid is like learning a foreign language. It’s incredible how much you say with just one or two words in this game.
At dinner with our supper club, our friend Dan asked about highlights of the year. I hadn’t thought of it before, but realized learning Bridge was definitely one of the them.
A new perspective on the appreciation of the small things. This year was all about saving for some bigger goals. Because of this, we decided against any major travel in 2013. We took small trips, mostly to visit family in other cities. I missed the grand experience of travel, but learned a pretty cool lesson: in an absence of big events, it’s easier to see and appreciate the wonderful, smaller things. (See above, re: Bridge).
What new things did you discover this year?
This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “What did you discover this year?”
Who doesn’t love getting mail that isn’t a bill or junk? In December, when more good tidings than usual grace the mailbox, it seems like a shame to just shove these notes into a pile, or to send them straight to the recycling bin.
I used to tuck holiday cards into the greenery drapped over my mantle as a way to display them for a few weeks. Today I decided to get crafty and make a paper garland to drape over a mirror by the front door.
I found the mini wooden clothes pins at Silver in the City. The silver cord is a yarn I purchased for a snowflake knitting project I planned to do, but eventually decided against. The multi-colored papers were leftover from making holiday gift tags, and the green paper was the stock we used for some of our wedding stationary in 2008.
Since I was going for a home made sort of look, I wasn’t too worried about making the triangle cut-outs perfect. I did some hand-lettering to spell out JOY.
I actually save the holiday cards I get until the season rolls around again the following year. When I pull out my holiday decorations and such, I have a neat little package of last year’s cards, which really helps me start my card list.
This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “Handwrite a _______. A tweet. A letter to a friend. A list. A note to someone you’ve never met. Your signature font. What’s it look like? Take a picture of it!”
I’ve been watching the paint curl away from the walls for the past several years. Now and then I take a photo of the dog on a bicycle with the bugle, but I haven’t shared them before. He won’t be there forever, I know. It seems like I should have some grand tale to tell – why else should I care so much about an aging mural on a cinder block wall? But all I have is the sad story that sometimes things fade.
This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Lifeline prompt: “Picture this. Post a photo(s) you took this year, but never shared with anyone. Tell the story behind the image.”
I’m a big believer that life needs celebration. Not just for the big stuff, but the little things too. It’s good to share life with someone who agrees. Here’s Louie, after adding another piece to the annual Thanksgiving puzzle:
My work day starts anywhere between 7 and 8 a.m., and the party doesn’t stop until about 6 p.m. I typically work at home in the morning, then take a break of about an hour for breakfast and getting ready to head into the office. I often have work-related lunch engagements, otherwise, I eat at my desk while I clean out my inbox, or do light social engagement on behalf of SmallBox.
I don’t mind the ten or eleven hour days. It gives me the flexibility to break my day up into blocks, to take a walk in the afternoon, or to decide one day to knock off early for a yoga class with zero guilt. Still, the sitting and screen time that comes with the long days takes its toll eventually, so I’ve been thinking more consciously about inserting little breaks into the day.
This morning, I was doing the usual – catching up on email, reading some blog posts and getting an early start on the day. But then there it was – an email in my inbox challenging me to mix up my routine.
It served as a bit of a wake up call – why do I need a prompt to remind me to do what I love? Weird, right? If I could design each morning, free of rush and hurry, with no care to an overloaded to-do list, I’d begin with creativity. So, I gathered supplies – journal, pen and pencil, graph paper, markers, and my coffee, with no idea what small project to embark on.
Since I didn’t have any particular inspiration, I decided to draw the horse-like figure from a pillow I bought on my honeymoon in Mexico. I fell in love with these make-believe creatures at first sight. He seemed a little lonely, so I made up a friend for him, inspired by a kangaroo.
I’d never looked up the history of these figures, so I did a little digging there too. This embroidery style is the work of Mexico’s Otomí Indians, and the figures were inspired by a paper craft practiced by Otomí shaman for thousands of years, and before that, appeared in paintings found in ancient caves.
Just as I was leaving the house, I remembered the challenge again, and made a last minute trip back to my bedroom for the book I’ve been reading. Instead of the usual lunch at my desk, I was able to get in two chapters over my turkey kale wrap.
Later in the afternoon when it was time to take a walking break, I decided to check out a nearby coffee shop I had never visited. The barista at Perk Up in Broad Ripple gave me the scoop about these pie-like almond and raspberry cookies. They don’t always have them, he said, but when they do, he “jumps on it.” So, I had a jump-on-it cookie in a new cozy spot.
Adding these little elements throughout the day might require a little extra thought and planning, but I do like the way things looked when I shut off life’s auto pilot.
This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “Try something totally different. Take a new route to work. Make up a new recipe. What did you come up with?”
Late in 2012, I was tasked with writing my own job description. My role had been shifting steadily at SmallBox. I was doing less client work, focusing more on marketing the agency. We noticed a growing need for some human resources expertise, which I’d learned a thing or two about in my accidental career. I knew I had the makings of a dream job, I just wasn’t exactly sure how year one as Chief Culture Officer might unfold.
Because I’m a bit of a geek, I actually included a pie chart of how I planned to divide my time on the job description I wrote and submitted to our CEO, Jeb. I’m not surprised I didn’t quite get it right. I vastly underestimated how much investment would be required in HR, and daydreamingly glossed over the need for crucial operational things like time-tracking and emailing.
The chart below shows in hours:
a.) how I thought I’d spend my time in the first year on the job,
b.) how I actually spent my time, and finally,
c.) how I hope to shift my focus in 2014.
The numbers from a.) were easy to come by, since I’d created that initial pie chart. Analyzing the data from our time tracking software, Harvest, made getting the data for b.) a snap. Now, if I can just will the figures in c.) into being.
This morning, I got a lovely email from my friend Jason Roemer:
I had the CRAZIEST dream last night that you and Louis had put together a little video of all these crazy and funny running strides. You’d filmed it in a parking garage and it was hysterical. I kinda wish it was real.
There was the “Hot Foot,” the “Panda Jam,” and one that didn’t even have a name, but included you and Louis sidestepping your way across camera.
Great stuff.Jason Roemer
I replied, “I wish this was real too! Also, can I blog about this?” Ha. (Thank you, Jason, for allowing me to share your words with the wide world).
It reminded me of my reaction to Miranda July’s project, We Think Alone. For the project, she curated emails from 10 celebrities, asking them to forward one email per week for 20 weeks around a common theme. For example, the participants were asked to share an email with an apology, a song, a dream. I loved the openness, that the emails had been written privately for an audience of one. Each weekly digest was like a sneak peek into someone’s world. I wrote about this more in depth, especially about openness and transparency on the SmallBox blog, if you’re curious for a bit more detail.
As a personal exercise, with each digest, I searched my own inbox, curious to see what my contributions might have looked like if I were a participant. My queries unearthed messages from years ago, and I loved re-living some of the stories I’d once told. Funny thing though. The stories sort of dried up at some point. It had been so long since I’d written an email as thoughtful as some of those I uncovered. There seemed to be a direct correlation of emails dropping off with the frequency of using Facebook as a means to stay in touch with friends. Without realizing it, quick social touch points had eroded my drive to share my life in longer form.
This realization was a bit of a punch to the gut. Somehow I’d let the busyness of life get in the way of meaningful contact with people I love. Quick status updates, the kind that are kosher to share with all the world, are a poor substitute for meaningful, individual interaction.
I’ve taken that lesson with me, and when I’m thinking of a friend, I’ve been sharing it with them. If I take a photo that makes me think of someone, I text it. If I re-live a memory from long ago, I share the story via email. You get the idea. I’ve been doing this as much as I can.
Back to Jason’s dream email: it made me think of this new habit. It’s not quite set in stone, but I’d really like to fix it so it is. Also, I if I ever figure out how to Hot Foot or Panda Jam, and record some sweet video of said moves in a parking garage, Jason – you’ll be the first to know.
This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “What habits did you start this year that you want to continue?”
Of course it would have been raining the morning of my first 20-miler, and not just a little. Oh no, this was a steady drenching – the kind of rain that blows in sideways and seems to change directional slant now and then. I’d finished 18 miles two weeks before, but something about 20 seemed exponentially higher, intimidating, even without rain. I steeled myself, took the bright-side approach: if the weather was terrible on race day, this would serve as good practice.
I’m not a very experienced runner. A year and a half ago, I could barely run two miles. I decided I wanted to be the sort of person who ran two or three miles a few times a week. I had no grander ambition than that. To find myself 13 weeks into training for a marathon on a rainy October morning was a bit unexpected.
What does one wear for a somewhat chilly, rainy, crazy-long run? I opted for a tank top, thinking it’d be better to not have a drenched long-sleeved shirt weighing me down. I was much more worried about soaked shoes that would feel quadrupled in weight throughout the run. And the fact that my phone was tucked inside a pocket, where it might or might not stay dry (and operational). I really wanted to track this run to know how I did in each mile, so I decided to risk it.
The Monon Trail on the rainy day that marked my first 20-miler.
I set out on the Monon Trail wanting to keep near a 10:30 pace for the first ten miles, an 11 minute pace for the next five, and whatever necessary in the final five, so long as I finished. I pushed the rain out of my mind and found a nice rhythm. I didn’t count the miles or pay attention to pace. I just went into a running zone – a clear mind, a body in motion/auto-pilot. It was such an occasion that exemplifies why I fell hard for running.
At one point, I got a 20-30 minute reprieve from heavy rain. I began to feel half-dried everywhere except for my feet. It didn’t last – the rain came back and re-soaked me from head to toe. My fingers pruned. With each step, water squished out of my shoes. As I hit 18.7 miles, I couldn’t think of anything except the rain and my tiring legs.
Did I mention I am (was?) an inexperienced runner? Just a few steps after finishing, a stark realization overshadowed the sense of accomplishment. Without the body heat from running, I was going to freeze. The temperature had taken a major dive throughout the afternoon, and the tank top choice suddenly seemed a terrible idea. I’d either have to take the typical mile cool-down walk half-frozen with teeth chattering, or I’d need to suck it up and jog another mile more.
Despite my wobbly legs, I opted for jogging. A few slow steps in, a biker wearing a black hood approached. I hadn’t much expected to see anyone (very few people were crazy enough to be out on the trail that morning), but I especially didn’t expect to see Louie.
My husband had also ran his very first 20-miler. We left the house at the same time, but with his pace being more in 8 to 8:30 range, he would finish at least an hour before me. I would have expected him to be home, completely wiped and still trying to warm up, or anything except venturing back out into the cold.
But there he was, with a basket full of provisions – a slice of sesame bread smothered with pesto, a bottle of water, a mug of hot ginseng peppermint tea, a towel and a long-sleeved shirt. “I just knew you’d be freezing,” he said.
As it turns out, the greatest surprise of the day was not that I’d been able to finish the 20 miles, but this kindest gesture.
p.s. My phone didn’t get waterlogged and I was able to track the whole run. I’m still proud of this run, perhaps more so than the eventual marathon finish several weeks later. But it may be that I remember this run most for that lovely act of kindness than the run itself.
This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Today’s prompt: “What completely surprised you this year? Was it good…or not so good? Tell us a story!”
