2011 - Getting Along - The Power of One

I held a new hire orientation class on the eve of New Years Eve; so I thought it would be fun as an ice breaker to ask the participants what goals they held for the upcoming new year. The responses were standard: One wanted to lose weight, another wanted to complete an educational goal, a third said she and her husband were trying to have a baby in the upcoming year.
One very quiet new member of our team spoke softly when asked. Of Asian descent, her English words were pronounced carefully and precise; and her accent was strong. She said, "I want people to get along better. That is my wish." When I asked her to elaborate, she told me that when she came to this country about ten years ago, she obtained a job working at an adult education school. A man approached her and asked for directions. She said he spoke too fast, and it was difficult for her to understand him. When she asked him to repeat the question, he looked at her and said, 'Can't you speak English?' She told him that she could, it was just that her English was not that good. He replied, walking away, 'Then you shouldn't be working here.'
She told me she cried that day, and his insensitive comment will always be deeply embedded in her mind. 'It hurt me so much,' she revealed to the class, 'in ways he will never know.' She said, 'It took so much for me to come here, to get here for the opportunities - for work, school, and a better way of living.'
She continued: 'My uncle has been here in the states since 1922. He came as a young man, worked in San Francisco, and was rounded up and jailed for three months during the war, just for being Chinese.'
Curious as to where she was headed with this story, we continued to listen. 'He has seen so much, and is proud to be an American citizen. When I came over here, he told me, Thank God for Dr. (Martin Luther) King Jr. He would tell me over and over that Dr. King's legacy was so significant because he fought for equal rights of every person of color. So this year, I wish for people to recognize that every one has the right to be free from oppression and poverty. I wish for everyone to get along.'

Touched by her heartfelt wish, we all agreed. With 6.8 billion people on the earth, wishing for world peace sometimes sounds futile or lame, but then I thought later, 'It starts with one.' Dr. King, her uncle, Rosa Parks, Mahatma Gandhi, Mother Theresa, you and me. If everyone could influence one other person, what a difference it would make in the attitudes, comments and the thoughts of others. It would diminish prejudices, and ignorant assumptions that all people of one particular ethnic background are one and the same.'

So this year, for 2011, influenced by a Chinese girl insulted by a white man, but with the foresight to listen and heed the wise words of her Uncle influenced by a Black civil rights leader, I wish for world peace. One person at a time.





Peace, God Bless and Happy New Year.

Crossing Paths - Spare Change

The other day I stopped at my friendly neighborhood drugstore to pick up a bottle of nail polish remover. As I parked near the front of the store, I saw a young black man in a long trench coat, standing about ten feet away from the front door. I sat in my car for a minute and watched as he politely spoke to every one who approached the door, but it didn't appear he was asking for money. As I continued to watch, I noticed he only asked of those who were exiting the store.

I thought about his routine for a moment as I walked up through the breezeway that led to the front door. It made sense, I thought, for him to ask for a handout after everyone had made their purchases, and then ask for 'spare change'. What is 'spare change?' Every penny in my purse is the fruit of my labor; and in my eyes there is no such thing as 'spare change.'

As I got closer, I became more curious as to why he was there. He didn't smile, but nodded at me as if we ran into each other every day. I kept walking and as I browsed through the store, shopping and selecting knick knacks I didn't need, I thought about the young man and wrestled with my thoughts; trying to decide if I would give him some 'spare change' if he asked for some.
I wondered what he was: a drug addict, a teenage father, an alcoholic, a thief. I berated myself for assuming the worse, but decided for my dollar that I was going to ask.

As I approached him, he looked directly at me and asked if I could spare some change.
Could I 'spare' some change? Not 'did I have some spare change?' The request for 'Spare change' had been shortened. For the first time, I understood.
I smiled at him, hoping to give him some encouragement and handed him a folded dollar bill. His face and jawline looked hard. I looked into his eyes. They looked young and sad. His clothes were not tattered; his shoes looked average, not new, but not too run down. I guessed he couldn't have been older than twenty years of age.

I asked him why was he out there. He looked surprised for a moment, then explained in a very humble and soft spoken voice:
"My girlfriend and I were in foster care. We're both eighteen now. We're trying to get a place together because we don't want to be apart. She just got a job down the street at Mickey D's - that helps a lot; but if I can get a few more dollars in the next couple of days we'll have enough for the first month's rent on a place we found. Right now we're sleeping in my car." I wished him luck and told him I would pray for him and his girlfriend and went on my way. He gave me a big smile, thanked me and said, "Thank you ma'm. I needed that."

We hear these stories every day, but when these situations stare you in the face, sometimes it catches you off guard. It is certainly a wake up call. I chided myself, thinking how I assumed so much because he was asking for a handout. I walked slowly back to my car. As I drove away, I saw him bend over and smile at a baby in a stroller as the child's mother dug through her purse for 'spare change.'

I thought about his story and hoped he was telling me the truth. A couple of weeks after this encounter, Gov. Scharwzenneggar signed into legislation to extend transitional foster care services to the age of 21. Currently children in the system are emancipated at age 18. I hope the young man and his girlfriend will be able to take advantage of this program and move forward with their lives.

I know we can't help everyone, but I think we can all make a difference, with brief words of encouragement, a prayer, sharing knowledge, and even a dollar, one person at a time. The next time someone asks for 'spare change' it may not just mean they need a dollar or two. If you have time, say a prayer, give them a smile, or a kind word to help them along the way.

in laws and play cousins.wmv

Book Signing - September 18th, 2010

Join me at the Euro Cafe on September 18th, 2010, from 3-5pm for coffee, conversation and a signed copy of In Laws and Play Cousins! Copies will be available for $20.00 each. Please click the link for detailed directions: http://stores.lulu.com/inlawsandplaycousins
I would love to see you there!

Robyn

The Fourth of July 2010-07-04

The Fourth of July is significant because it commemorates the adoption of the Declaration of Independence in July 4th, 1776 and declared our independence from Great Britain. Most Family and friends usually celebrate the 4th of July at ceremonies, festivals, events, on vacations, at reunions and of course with the traditional barbecue. My family was no different, and the beauty of a family barbecue is that it can move around from one place to another, with the importance of the requisite fired-up grill, the savory meats, delectable side dishes and of course scrumptious desserts.

The day after the barbecue, I received a short, but emotional note from my adult daughter, tearfully apologizing for a very small incident at the barbecue. I thought about the incident, took notice, but it was irrelevant because there were so many other important things happening there.

I replied with the following:

Dear Daughter: Whenever we get together with family, nothing else matters except for the beauty of seeing everyone together. You may not realize this, but whenever family gets together, it is indelibly stamped in our memories forever. Twenty years from now, Steffi (my granddaughter) will be telling her kids, 'I remember one year at our family's barbecue, and my daddy burned most of the meat and threw water balloons at us.'
We take the good with the bad, the serious with the silliness; it all makes for memories that are a part of our lives. Thank you so much for getting our family together. It is very important for everyone. Yesterday was the first time I saw my newborn youngest niece, and met my adult niece's boyfriend, whom I know she is very fond of. He and I had a very pleasant conversation, and I found out he is from Brooklyn. I like him. Your mother-in-law finally met your Aunt Silvia for the first time, and that meeting was special because Silvia is like my sister. Silvia also beat me at double 12 dominoes, after I taught her how to play them, so now she has bragging rights.
Silvia and I had a good laugh when a little boy walked outside with a batman costume on, and we both hoped it wasn't either her grandson or mine. You were responsible for putting all that together; the smiles, the laughter, and the camaraderie. That is what I took away from the barbecue yesterday. Forget about the mishaps and cherish the memories.

Love you always, Mommy

Crossing Paths - The Sound of Music

I recently heard a psychologist say that people who played musical instruments were pretty versatile and well rounded in thinking, feeling and passion.
During that same session, the moderator asked us all to reveal something about ourselves that the other group members did not know. I shared that years ago I was a classically trained flautist. As he evaluated each our hidden talents, he asked the group, “How many here think Robyn should pick her flute back up and play again?” All hands immediately went up. I thought about my beautiful open-hole Haynes flute safely tucked away in a drawer. I hadn’t lifted it to my lips in years.

About a week later, I reconnected with a dear childhood friend and received a beautiful note on Facebook from him. He asked me if I still planned to play at the Hollywood Bowl one day with renowned jazz flautist Herbie Mann. He said, ‘I remember you used to write that on the chalkboard in the music class – Robyn Gant vs. Herbie Mann, Hollywood Bowl.’ I became emotional. It is amazing what people remember about you and your dreams. I read the note again, saved it and pulled out my flute. It still looked the same. I put it away.

The next day on the train, about two seats over, two young people got on the train and she asked him what he’d done that weekend. He shared that he had attended the Playboy Jazz Festival for the first time. The excitement in his voice caught my attention and I began to ease drop. As he talked, I realized he had to be a music student. He told her how he watched the bass players, the full orchestras, and described to his friend in detail how his favorite musicians played: their percussion styles, even describing the beauty of fifths, sevenths and adagios in the music. I recalled how excited I was the first time I went to the Hollywood bowl. I was playing in summer school concert band, led by the late great Bill Bogosian, and each year we went on a field trip. That year the soon-to-be legendary Zubin Mehta was directing the Los Angeles Philharmonic.

I wanted to get in that conversation and tell him I used to play jazz flute, first chair concert band, high school and college marching band. I wanted to speak the same language, and share that I’d written, published and recorded music and had airplay. I’d played piano and directed choirs, and then one day I just stopped.

And I remembered that my flute had been placed in a drawer, hidden away. I’d abandoned something that I’d lived and breathed for nearly twenty-five years, over half my life. And just when I thought that those subtle, subliminal hints weren’t enough, a few days after eavesdropping on the teen discovering his first jazz concert, I watched a young man walk onto the train with a shiny new acoustic guitar. There were no seats left so he stood nearby, and I noticed his tennis shoes were tattered, had holes on the tops and the sides were worn out. My eyes traveled back up and I said a silent prayer, asking God to bless that boy with a new pair of shoes. Then I looked his guitar again. It was shiny, beautiful, and expensive. I smiled and understood.

I remembered when I was a teenager, my junior high friends and I all got summer jobs making three dollars an hour. They would head to the mall after their parents cashed their checks, planning to spend their money on clothes and fashionable matching gear. I would catch the bus to a music store on Garey Avenue in Pomona, and spend nearly half of my check on sheet music. I would sit in my room and play and practice for hours until my mother told me to go to bed. I never got tired of playing and listening to Mozart, Bach and Gershwin.

Those young people will never realize how much they influenced my decision to dust off my flute and pick up where I left off. I know that I will never duet with the great Herbie Mann or play with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, but as I closed my eyes and fingered ‘Little Prelude in C Minor’ by Bach, I realized that it is not too late to rediscover, or reawaken a dream.

Are you doing what you dreamed you wanted to do? Don’t let life pass you by. Take a chance, reawaken that inspiration, dust off that idea, take some time to walk through the door you closed long ago, when you thought your dream was impossible or unattainable.

Crossing Paths - A Suggestion for Your Bucket List

It is my opinion that one of the few delights in life are meeting someone who speaks another language, and then attempting to communicate with them. A few years back I listened to a lovely lady in a retirement community lament because she had no one to speak to her in her native German. About six months later, the company hired a German chef who was fluent in her 1st language. I was giving him a tour of our facility and we ran into her. She had heard about him and was eager to converse, so she greeted him and they instantly hit it off. They talked for about ten minutes or so, she discovering they knew the same people in a small town off the left bank. I smiled as I watched her face light up in recognition of the places he shared that they were both familiar with.

I thought about that day as I sat on the train, watching two gentlemen converse in ASL. As I sat across from them I watched, slightly envious, wishing I could remember some of the words I’d been taught years ago. I watched as one spelled his name to the other and I chuckled out loud, happy that I’d been able to decipher his name. They looked over at me smiling. That was my cue. I immediately signed my name back and one said out loud, ‘Robin.’ When I nodded, they signed their names back and showed me a couple of words.

I think everyone has a bucket list. Places they would like to go, family and friends they would like to see, frivolous trinkets they would like to buy. I’ve heard people say they would like to visit the seven wonders of the modern world, run with the bulls in Spain, relax on an exotic beach, visit the motherland, trace their genealogy, the list goes on and on. What about the beauty to be able to communicate with those who are unable to in conventional ways? Can you now imagine a world, where perhaps, one day out of the week, everyone stopped to talk to each other, face to face, or via American Sign Language, instead of electronically? We could again revert back to studying human emotions, smiling at each other, expressing ourselves, with no misread on comments, blogs, emails or tweets. We have become so electronically connected, that we have disconnected ourselves from human emotion. The detachment is leading to social retardation and we have become dependent on it to the degree that it is now the preferred method of communication. I too, am guilty, but that day on the train awoke my senses and excitement in being able to communicate with a stranger with a smile on his face as I signed my name. On my bucket list I’ve just added ‘Take a class in American Sign Language.’