 |
Making
things happen - with integrity. A weekly CyberMemo designed to keep you on task. Monday, September 25, 2000 Volume II Number 39
|
FOCUS - The Right Person
Our Pastor told the story of his friend, Steve, standing in line at Costco last week.
Ahead of him was a single young man – looked like a GenXer (twenty-something). Ahead of GenX (we’ll call him) was an attractive young woman writing a check and finishing up her transaction. In her shopping cart, two pre-school boys waited, fidgeting and making noise and showing their impatience with the whole process. They’d had enough of the shopping cart for one day.
As the young mom thanked the checker, she turned and patted her little boys, telling them that the long ordeal was almost over and that there would be a treat waiting for them when they got to the mini-van parked outside. GenX looked her over and watched her walk away. Then he turned to the Checker, who was, apparently, a pal.
“It’s too bad, huh? You know what I mean? I’m talkin’ about what happens to a girl when she gets what she really wants.”
The checker nodded, “No kiddin’ man.”
GenX went on, “For a while there, you think she wants you. Then you find out all she really wants is kids… and when she gets ‘em, forget it. You are unnecessary. You are a paycheck. Period. Thank God I’m not caught in one of those bear traps.”
“Jeez. That’s the truth. Picture what she’s gunna look like in five years,” said the Checker, looking in the direction of his last customer as her receipt got marked off at the exit. “No thanks, man.”
Then the two of them exchanged a few more crude one-liners. Shameless sexist talk.
As our Pastor told the story, he made the right judgment call. He didn’t repeat what he knew they said. It was the kind of R-rated stuff that is all too acceptable in public places these days. You know, the inarticulate, limited vocabulary of some who don’t bother to do their homework, read a book or develop the skill of meaningful dialogue. The tongue-tied grunts of those who rely on the repetitiously profane to make a weak point. The inane banter of the street – that some consider communication. It went on like a B-grade cable movie.
And Steve had no choice but to listen. Along with everybody else in line.
“Thank God I’m free,” was GenX’s parting line.
The Checker turned to Steve. He smiled, taking Steve’s Costco Membership Card and said, “How ya doin’?”
Steve said, “Fine.”
And then, because he couldn’t constrain himself, Steve added, “You know something, pal?”
The Checker looked up from his computerized register. He sensed a change of mood. “What’s that?”
“I’ve been married nineteen years… we’ve got two great kids… and I’m convinced, it’s the only way to fly.”
Steve said it with a smile, in a matter-of-fact sort of tone. Up and down the line, you could see listeners-in show their approval of this straight on declaration. It was a simple statement. But it short-circuited the Checker’s earlier diatribe… and you could hear others standing there with their carts and wallets and purses and checkbooks mutter “Right-on.” And “Yes.” And “That’s right.” And “Good for him.” And “Amen.”
The Checker, rebuffed, back-peddled. Realizing perhaps for the first time that from his bully pulpit at the register surrounded by Costco members waiting to “save money” and write their checks or swipe their debit cards, he is not in a private place. He has an audience. A listening audience. And Steve’s simple statement caused him to go for the instant replay in his mind – (Oops, what did I say??).
“Oh. Yeah…” the Checker paused. “Hey, that’s great. I guess some people are happily married,” he said in a sheepish tone.
“More than you think,” Steve said.
“Well, I guess I just have not found the right girl,” said the Checker. “Maybe I will someday.”
“Nope, it doesn’t work that way,” Steve said in a strong voice. Then he looked the Checker dead on in the eye. The Checker stopped his checking. He listened. “It’s not a matter of finding the right girl.”
Steve moved in a little closer and didn’t blink.
“You’ve gotta be the right guy.”
* * * * * * *
The cover of TIME Magazine is an enduring centerpiece of American culture.
If your portrait makes the cover of TIME, you have arrived. No other magazine comes close. If you are an actor, or a politician, or a researcher, or a business leader, or a statesman, or an author, or an athlete… to be the cover story of the most widely read American weekly magazine in the world means that you have achieved a measure of success and recognition and fame that marks the pinnacle of American life.
Some consider it the kiss of death.
Expectations are raised to unattainable levels. The critics rally and make you a target. Whatever may have remained as a cherished personal life vanishes. Gone like a vapor. You are public domain. The property of the media. Scrutinized at every turn.
Sometimes the cover of TIME is not a person, but rather a hot issue. When it is, the issue becomes a priority in the public debate. It can sway public opinion. It may announce a breakthrough in research. A watershed new book. A hot new controversy. Often, the issue on the cover of TIME takes the nation by surprise.
This week was no exception.
* * * * * * *
My son Kevin and I have a standing Friday lunch meeting. He’s a college sophomore. His campus sits on the bluff of a Southern California peninsula, overlooking the blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. His surfboard hangs from the ceiling of his dorm room, suspended on a pair of bungee cords. His soggy black wet-suit hangs on a clothesline in the restroom across the hall, lined up alongside those of his dorm-mates.
I consider the weekly forty-five minute drive a due diligence trip. I’m checkin’ up on my investment. Carolyn supports me in it. We just want to keep the line open. Hear about the progress in the classroom, and the friendships, and the coursework and keep tabs on the cash flow. He manages to keep his end of the bargain, jockeying smoothies at the juice bar and parkin’ cars as a valet at upscale social events, all this between stops at the library, showing up in class and most important of all takin’ on the surf with his pals.
That lunch is just about my favorite time of the week.
Over hot turkey subs with avocado and mozzarella and shredded lettuce, this week we talked about life and love.
“Dad, I’m not so sure I buy into this thing about ‘the right woman.’” Kevin got philosophical, lookin’ out into the distance as he spoke.
“If it is true that there is only one woman out there… what happens if I end up with the wrong one? Just consider the odds. If there is only one… out of millions… chances are extremely high that I’ll miss it. And if I miss out on finding ‘her,’ does that mean I’m off the hook? Like that gives me an excuse to walk out? Or else, if I don’t walk out will I be stuck with a lifetime of misery… knowing I missed it? A lot of people think that way, even some of us Christians. But I’m not so sure.”
I’ve learned that these times go best when I resist the temptation to jump in with my answers to Kevin’s questions. In fact, when he’s on a roll, following an idea, working to connect the dots in his thinking and exhibit some measure of logic and some capacity for clear, rational thought… I bite my tongue. I don’t want to derail the train. I want to keep it on track. And as a dad, it’s more gratifying than I can say to watch and hear as bone of my own bone and flesh of my own flesh develops the ability to think independently. And I want to hold on long enough to see where this thing is going.
So I listen.
“I believe it would be possible for me to be happy with any one of quite a few different women,” he went on. I smiled knowingly. “Seems to me that what’s most important is to spend a lifetime with a really good one, and figure out what love really is and grow through all the stages together.”
Where did he learn that? I thought.
“Maybe after a few decades together, facing all the challenges, then you can look back and realize she is ‘the right one.’ Don’t you think, Dad?”
I just nodded. “Not bad, Kev,” I said.
And then I told him the story of Steve, the young Mom, GenX and the Checker at Costco.
“Alright, Steve!” Kevin said.
* * * * * * *
Dr. Judith Wallerstein is seventy-eight years old. She’s been a practicing psychotherapist in Marin County and a regular lecturer at the University of California at Berkeley. She’s just written a book that goes counter to a major social trend that is now decades old. The book is taking the nation by storm, stirring up controversy – triggering vigorous debate.
The social trend began in the Sixties when every cultural tradition and social institution was challenged by a tidal wave of Baby-Boomers armed with the rather naïve doctrine that it was the manifest destiny of this new generation to rid society of repression, dismantle authoritarian structures of every kind to make way for free expression, and through peace, love and the power of the flower, establish a brave new world of harmony and tranquility. Today, the bold experiment is called “Old School.”
The trend was fueled by what flower children called free love and a daring book called Open Marriage and then was popularized by a prime time comedy show called Love American Style.
The social institution called into question was Marriage.
The trend – Divorce.
Dr. Wallerstein isn’t so concerned about the statistics – her focus instead is on the general attitude toward divorce. The idea that it’s no big deal. That couples who have trouble getting along should just find someone else. After all, personal happiness and wholeness are primary; weathered, aging promises and yellowed, tattered legal documents secondary. People change. They grow. They need fresh new opportunities to become all they can be… old relationships restrict and oppress. Let’s not be so anal. Let it go.
Love American style.
Wallerstein laments the casual attitude towards the no-fault wholesale disillusionment of marriages for one primary reason – the children. In nearly fifty years of research, she has concluded that we have seriously underestimated the ghastly impact of marital break-ups on the children of divorce.
When she began her research, she said,
“I saw a lot of children very upset. But
I fully expected that it would be fleeting.”
It wasn’t.
“Her hunch [that the anxiety would just go away] was wrong. Paradise for kids from ruptured families wasn’t easily regained. Once cast out of the domestic garden, kids dreamed of getting back in. The result more often than not was frustration and anxiety,” said one commentator.
This week, Dr. Wallerstein’s new book, The Unexpected Legacy of Divorce, made the cover of TIME.
* * * * * * * *
On this Monday morning, you are a leader. And no doubt about it, you want to be the right person.
Let’s start at home.
If you are married, hang in there. Hang in there for the children. And in your loyalty to the kids, be the right person for that spouse of yours. Romance can be resurrected, as certainly as the sunrise and blooming flowers in the Spring.
If you are the victim of divorce, pay attention to those wounded kids. Be the right person for them. Healing happens. And don’t worry so much about finding the right person. Be the right person.
If you are still waiting, wondering if Prince Charming or Cinderella will ever make an appearance on your life’s stage - be the right person.
And at the office – today…
§ For your customers
§ For your students
§ For your patients
§ For your clients
§ For your parishioners (congregation, flock)
§ For your constituents
§ For your staff
§ For your colleagues
§ For your employees
§ For your employer
§ For your partners
§ For your stockholders
… be the right person.
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2000
Special Thanks to my good friend David Belcher, owner of Rhino Media Group and creator of WisdomGram
LeaderFOCUS is a service of Good Stewardship Associates
|
|