Every year I think I'm finally over it. But every year, when September 11 rolls around, I cry like a baby. I'm just not quite over it yet.
This year, at church, an image of the burning buildings was shown as part of a slide show commemorating the anniversary. The tears began to flow before I even knew what hit me. The photo of the buildings triggered a memory of a time a few weeks after the attacks when Wes and I were taking a ferry across the Hudson into Manhattan. He was going in to work; I had a business meeting to attend. The ferry route around Lower Manhattan gave us a close-up view of the site, which was still smoldering.
What was so telling about this persepctive was not what was there, but what was missing. The towers that had been a fixture in our lives were gone. The place where I had taken my nephews when they visited me -- riding in the elevator all the way to the top so they could see the view from the observation deck. The place where the PATH train left me off when I came over from New Jersey each week. The place that defined the landscape of a city where I did business, made friends and went to the theater. In a matter of minutes, as I watched on the TV, the towers had fallen and were forever gone. All that was left was a gaping, festering wound in the earth.
September 11 left a gash not only at the sites where the planes crashed, but also in my heart. It is taking some time to heal. I grieve for the man who sold apples on the World Trade Center plaza, for he lost his livelihood. I grieve for the fathers and mothers who lost their sons and daughters -- and their hopes for a family's bright future in the process. I grieve for the children of the commuters whose cars were still in the parking lot when the sun rose on September 12th; their parents never returned to tuck them into bed.
I am no stranger to grief; I've had my share of trauma in life - and perhaps a bit more than my share. (I'm the only white woman I know who has lost two significant relationships to murder.) I know all too well the emotional impact that violence leaves behind. For years I kept these stories hidden in the hope that I would not be defined by them. All in vain. We cannot help but be defined by what happens to us -- the good, the bad and the ugly. Our experiences shape our psychology.
What I am finally learning is that by more deeply accepting the truamatic events of our lives, we can play a role in how a specific experience defines us. In the clutches of the survival insticts of our reptile brains, despair and revenge are understandable and inevitable - the human version of the fight, flight or freeze reaction. But we have a capacity to create a more interesting and life-affirming story when we choose to activate it. We have the power to take the destructive energy of violence and re-imagine it into a force for love and goodness. Is this not the essence of faith?
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Gifts - One at a Time
My nephew Michael just turned 4 years old. I had to miss the family birthday party on Saturday so we set up a Skype call on Sunday evening. He had arrived back home from his grandparents' house, taken his bath, put on his jammies -- now it was time to talk to Aunt Margaret.
First he showed me a fire engine. He pressed the button so I could hear the siren. Then he disappeared from the screen, returning with an ambulance. More sirens. He was gone for a few minutes and finally returned with an orange dump truck. One by one, Michael brought out each of the gifts that he had received at the party, clearly relishing each one and proud to demonstrate its features to me. There was a pickup truck, Play-doh set, modeling clay, LeapFrog and finally - 2 birthday cards.
I was inspired by Michael to consider the gifts I am given each day. How often do I bring them out one at a time, delighting in their features and sharing my joy in them with others? Thanks, Michael, for showing me what gratitude looks like.
First he showed me a fire engine. He pressed the button so I could hear the siren. Then he disappeared from the screen, returning with an ambulance. More sirens. He was gone for a few minutes and finally returned with an orange dump truck. One by one, Michael brought out each of the gifts that he had received at the party, clearly relishing each one and proud to demonstrate its features to me. There was a pickup truck, Play-doh set, modeling clay, LeapFrog and finally - 2 birthday cards.
I was inspired by Michael to consider the gifts I am given each day. How often do I bring them out one at a time, delighting in their features and sharing my joy in them with others? Thanks, Michael, for showing me what gratitude looks like.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Thursday, January 06, 2011
The Crucible of Change
I’d like to take you back in time over 200 years to a place in eastern Pennsylvania called Valley Forge. You’ll remember from your history lessons that Valley Forge was the location of one of the darkest periods of the American Revolution – a place where everything was on the line and almost lost. It was December of 1777, and the troops were starving.
Now how could that be? One of the reasons General George Washington had chosen this spot for the winter was because of the ready availability of crops and livestock to support the army. That territory around Valley Forge was the most fertile farmland in the entire 13 colonies. Unfortunately the farmers were loading the harvest into wagons and shipping it 18 miles to the southeast to Philadelphia -- to sell to the British army.
Wasn’t it only 16 months earlier, in July of 1776 that Philadelphia had been the site of the first public reading of the newly printed Declaration of Independence, followed by the ringing of bells for the entire day – the first Independence Day celebration? Now the largest city in America was held by the British forces under General Howe, whose imminent attack had forced Congress to flee the capital and set up temporary headquarters of the new nation farther west.
At the time, everyone had seemed to be so excited by the announcement that the colonies had defied the tyrants that were denying them their inalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Now the very people that independence was supposed to help were betraying the new nation by supporting the enemy. What had gone wrong?
What we have in this story is a graphic, even painful example of the challenges that change leaders face while trying to gain widespread acceptance of revolutionary ideas. Were the farmers really traitors to the Glorious Cause or as one leader said at the time, motivated by “boundless avarice? ” A closer look at the facts reveals a perfectly understandable rationale for their actions.
Fact: When farmers sold goods to the British, they were paid in pound sterling. When they sold to the American army, they were paid with Continental certificates that were practically worthless.
Lesson: The highest priority for most people is to feed their families. Few, if any, of the general populace of a society or the rank and file of an organization will put at risk the economic security of their children, even if they believe in the cause.
Fact: Support for the American Revolution was not universal among the colonists. Some were patriots willing to put their lives and fortunes on the line. Some were loyal to the British crown and nothing could sway them. But a majority of citizens were either non-committal about who won or lost the war or whose loyalties shifted back and forth depending on who seemed to be winning at the time.
Lesson: The crux of any change initiative is the hearts and minds of the rank and file and to hold their allegiance when things appear to be falling apart.
Reflection questions:
1) What is similar between this story and the situation in which you find yourself as a change leader? What is different?
2) What lessons can you draw from this story to help you lead more effectively during tumultuous times?
Note: The source of this insightful version of the Valley Forge story is Joseph J. Ellis, American Creation: Triumphs and Tragedies at the Founding of the Republic (NY: Knopf, 2007), 73-77.
Now how could that be? One of the reasons General George Washington had chosen this spot for the winter was because of the ready availability of crops and livestock to support the army. That territory around Valley Forge was the most fertile farmland in the entire 13 colonies. Unfortunately the farmers were loading the harvest into wagons and shipping it 18 miles to the southeast to Philadelphia -- to sell to the British army.
Wasn’t it only 16 months earlier, in July of 1776 that Philadelphia had been the site of the first public reading of the newly printed Declaration of Independence, followed by the ringing of bells for the entire day – the first Independence Day celebration? Now the largest city in America was held by the British forces under General Howe, whose imminent attack had forced Congress to flee the capital and set up temporary headquarters of the new nation farther west.
At the time, everyone had seemed to be so excited by the announcement that the colonies had defied the tyrants that were denying them their inalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Now the very people that independence was supposed to help were betraying the new nation by supporting the enemy. What had gone wrong?
What we have in this story is a graphic, even painful example of the challenges that change leaders face while trying to gain widespread acceptance of revolutionary ideas. Were the farmers really traitors to the Glorious Cause or as one leader said at the time, motivated by “boundless avarice? ” A closer look at the facts reveals a perfectly understandable rationale for their actions.
Fact: When farmers sold goods to the British, they were paid in pound sterling. When they sold to the American army, they were paid with Continental certificates that were practically worthless.
Lesson: The highest priority for most people is to feed their families. Few, if any, of the general populace of a society or the rank and file of an organization will put at risk the economic security of their children, even if they believe in the cause.
Fact: Support for the American Revolution was not universal among the colonists. Some were patriots willing to put their lives and fortunes on the line. Some were loyal to the British crown and nothing could sway them. But a majority of citizens were either non-committal about who won or lost the war or whose loyalties shifted back and forth depending on who seemed to be winning at the time.
Lesson: The crux of any change initiative is the hearts and minds of the rank and file and to hold their allegiance when things appear to be falling apart.
Reflection questions:
1) What is similar between this story and the situation in which you find yourself as a change leader? What is different?
2) What lessons can you draw from this story to help you lead more effectively during tumultuous times?
Note: The source of this insightful version of the Valley Forge story is Joseph J. Ellis, American Creation: Triumphs and Tragedies at the Founding of the Republic (NY: Knopf, 2007), 73-77.
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
Technology without Compassion - A Bad Combination
A couple of years ago, I made an unplanned visit to an emergency room in a major urban hospital. The staff was top-notch in the triage phase of my treatment. They ruled out imminent danger and then put me into a bed and hooked me up to a very sophisticated monitoring system. I had wires connected to nearly every part of my body, which transmitted signals about my vitals signs to a centralized hub of computers so that my nurse could oversee the care of a cadre of patients (myself included) from his cubicle.
After several hours, I required a nurse's assistance. I looked in vain for a call button. There was none. I thought at first that I was just confused about where it might be located. But it soon became apparent that the one-way communication system was intentional; there was no way for us patients to contact our assigned nurse. The man next to me, who was a diabetic, began to call out for someone to bring him some orange juice as a precaution against insulin shock. No one heard. No one was listening. Even when he said that he'd never ever come back to this hospital again.
Another patient cried out periodically, warning that she was going to lose her dinner. No one responded. I heard her call out at least 5 times over 30 -45 minutes. She wasn't kidding. We all heard the retching and then the inevitable disgorging -- all over the tile floor. The resulting mess was a half-inch thick and covered an area 6 feet in diameter, I observed later (it was over 15 minutes before the staff mobilized to clean it all up).
Technology is a wonderful thing. I personally and professionally endorse the development and use of technology on nearly a daily basis. I owe my career to the advent of the computer age; my first 7 years of professional life were spent in a software application company where I thrived in the atmosphere of creativity and innovation.
But technology is no substitute for human interaction. There are things you cannot learn about your patients sitting at a centralized hub of computer monitors. Technology without compassion is more than bad medicine and bad business; it drains the human community of its life force. The essence of good medicine is the comforting touch of a nurse's hand on a troubled brow.
I had an advantage in that environment; I was mobile. When I needed something, I pulled all the plugs out of the machines, gathered up the wires so that I could carry them without tripping, walked up to the hub and demanded attention. When I returned to my bed, I plugged everything back in. Once or twice, when I was bored, I pulled everything out and went for a walk. I watched to see whether the nurse would notice the flat lines on the monitor and come check on me. But he never even looked up from his screen.
After a miserable 36 hours in that ER, I finally checked myself out against medical advice and went to another hospital where I knew a doctor. The first thing I noticed when they showed me to a bed was an old fashioned call button attached to the pillow. I felt strangely comforted by the sight of it.
After several hours, I required a nurse's assistance. I looked in vain for a call button. There was none. I thought at first that I was just confused about where it might be located. But it soon became apparent that the one-way communication system was intentional; there was no way for us patients to contact our assigned nurse. The man next to me, who was a diabetic, began to call out for someone to bring him some orange juice as a precaution against insulin shock. No one heard. No one was listening. Even when he said that he'd never ever come back to this hospital again.
Another patient cried out periodically, warning that she was going to lose her dinner. No one responded. I heard her call out at least 5 times over 30 -45 minutes. She wasn't kidding. We all heard the retching and then the inevitable disgorging -- all over the tile floor. The resulting mess was a half-inch thick and covered an area 6 feet in diameter, I observed later (it was over 15 minutes before the staff mobilized to clean it all up).
Technology is a wonderful thing. I personally and professionally endorse the development and use of technology on nearly a daily basis. I owe my career to the advent of the computer age; my first 7 years of professional life were spent in a software application company where I thrived in the atmosphere of creativity and innovation.
But technology is no substitute for human interaction. There are things you cannot learn about your patients sitting at a centralized hub of computer monitors. Technology without compassion is more than bad medicine and bad business; it drains the human community of its life force. The essence of good medicine is the comforting touch of a nurse's hand on a troubled brow.
I had an advantage in that environment; I was mobile. When I needed something, I pulled all the plugs out of the machines, gathered up the wires so that I could carry them without tripping, walked up to the hub and demanded attention. When I returned to my bed, I plugged everything back in. Once or twice, when I was bored, I pulled everything out and went for a walk. I watched to see whether the nurse would notice the flat lines on the monitor and come check on me. But he never even looked up from his screen.
After a miserable 36 hours in that ER, I finally checked myself out against medical advice and went to another hospital where I knew a doctor. The first thing I noticed when they showed me to a bed was an old fashioned call button attached to the pillow. I felt strangely comforted by the sight of it.
Monday, January 03, 2011
Danger Zone - No Feedback Mechanism
Those of us who have worked side-by-side with the near-geniuses who write computer programs know the problem -- software designers often have a blind spot about their works of art. They exhibit an enviable pride of ownership, but sometimes perceive negative criticism as a slight on their right to creative expression.
One company I read about recently was having a hard time getting its software designers to listen to the customer service reps about end user complaints. No matter what the feedback, the designers retorted with the classic comeback -- "the end users are just stupid and don't know how to use the program correctly."
So the company instituted a new policy in which the people who created software were required to visit client sites for a certain number of hours each week and watch how their programs were being used. The first thing that they learned was that, while the software designers wrote and tested their code on state of the art computer systems, most end users were utilizing the software on older models. No wonder systems ran slow.
The more they observed, the more they learned. The software developers returned to their own workstations with at least 2-3 ideas of how they could tweak their programs to make it easier for end users to get the maximum benefit of their ingenious designs. The result was not only improved customer satisfaction; the software designers actually got more acknowledgement of a job well done (which is all they ever really wanted).
Technology without feedback is a danger zone. Many of us would love to do our work in an ivory tower where we are unemcumbered by the opinions and frailties of others. Unfortunately life doesn't work that way.
How can you open up your life and work to more involvement and interaction with others - especially others who are different from you?
How can you set up a system that invites feedback (and even criticism) so that you can hone your skills and become of even more value to the world?
One company I read about recently was having a hard time getting its software designers to listen to the customer service reps about end user complaints. No matter what the feedback, the designers retorted with the classic comeback -- "the end users are just stupid and don't know how to use the program correctly."
So the company instituted a new policy in which the people who created software were required to visit client sites for a certain number of hours each week and watch how their programs were being used. The first thing that they learned was that, while the software designers wrote and tested their code on state of the art computer systems, most end users were utilizing the software on older models. No wonder systems ran slow.
The more they observed, the more they learned. The software developers returned to their own workstations with at least 2-3 ideas of how they could tweak their programs to make it easier for end users to get the maximum benefit of their ingenious designs. The result was not only improved customer satisfaction; the software designers actually got more acknowledgement of a job well done (which is all they ever really wanted).
Technology without feedback is a danger zone. Many of us would love to do our work in an ivory tower where we are unemcumbered by the opinions and frailties of others. Unfortunately life doesn't work that way.
How can you open up your life and work to more involvement and interaction with others - especially others who are different from you?
How can you set up a system that invites feedback (and even criticism) so that you can hone your skills and become of even more value to the world?
Sunday, January 02, 2011
To Whom Do We Report?
As we begin a new year, I'd like to invite all of us to find a photograph of a child who is precious to us and put it on our desks. Over the next 364 days, we will make a lot of decisions, most of which we will not even be conscious we have made. I'm hoping that in the middle of one of those unconscious decisions, the image of that child will catch our eyes and cause us to think about the decision in a different light. We don't really report to the man or woman in the big office. Or to the bottom line. Or to the expectations of our families or friends. Or even to our own consciences. We report to the children who will go on living in the world after we are gone -- and who will be living with the choices we have made.
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Cause for Excessive Celebration
On Dec. 30, 2010 a young man on a football field celebrated his touchdown reception by saluting the fans who had come from Kansas to Yankee Stadium to watch their team play. A referee thought he was “calling attention to himself” and threw the flag. A 15 yard penalty was assessed and his team lost the bowl game.
On Nov. 26, another young football player, usually quite accurate, missed two field goals during an important game. His team lost and as a result, the NY Times reported, he cost his school and conference several million dollars.
We make these young people pawns in the multi-million dollar business called college football. Then we penalize them for being a little too excited when they are successful. What would have happened to this kid if he’d dropped that pass? He’d have been criticized as the reason the game was lost. But we found a way to make him a loser in spite of his successful catch. Something is not quite right here. Can we put a few things into perspective here?
Between 1970 and 2009, US high school graduation rates dropped from 84% to 69%. That means over 30% of the children in our country are entering adulthood without having fulfilled the most basic educational prerequisites for success in the work world. Most experts agree that a college education is essential for both economic and social success in the 21st century, adding between $18,000 – 26,000 to the annual median income for men and women over 24 years of age.
Do you suppose we could get a little less focused on excessive celebration on the football field and a little more focused on getting more kids through high school and college? How about if we took half the money and effort expended on equipping college football programs for a national championship and redeployed it to reshape our educational system to prepare young people with the intellectual and social skills they need to be become productive citizens?
Now that would be a great reason for doing a victory dance in the end zone.
On Nov. 26, another young football player, usually quite accurate, missed two field goals during an important game. His team lost and as a result, the NY Times reported, he cost his school and conference several million dollars.
We make these young people pawns in the multi-million dollar business called college football. Then we penalize them for being a little too excited when they are successful. What would have happened to this kid if he’d dropped that pass? He’d have been criticized as the reason the game was lost. But we found a way to make him a loser in spite of his successful catch. Something is not quite right here. Can we put a few things into perspective here?
Between 1970 and 2009, US high school graduation rates dropped from 84% to 69%. That means over 30% of the children in our country are entering adulthood without having fulfilled the most basic educational prerequisites for success in the work world. Most experts agree that a college education is essential for both economic and social success in the 21st century, adding between $18,000 – 26,000 to the annual median income for men and women over 24 years of age.
Do you suppose we could get a little less focused on excessive celebration on the football field and a little more focused on getting more kids through high school and college? How about if we took half the money and effort expended on equipping college football programs for a national championship and redeployed it to reshape our educational system to prepare young people with the intellectual and social skills they need to be become productive citizens?
Now that would be a great reason for doing a victory dance in the end zone.
