June 2023 – Page 2 – Leadership Blog

The Value Of A Well-Lived Past

I’m beginning to think we must live in the present when young and productive with mind and body. Time is precious and limited in each period of life. From conception to birth, childhood, youth, and adulthood, every chapter is relatively brief. When considered in terms of life span, considering the average life span is 75 years, none are long enough for us to grasp the significance of each of these periods. If we did, living in the present would be easy.

I knew many 7-year-olds that came to our camps incapable of caring for themselves, then leaving after a summer responsible for themselves—and yes, responsible for others. They grew for several reasons: The way they were treated by staff, being involved in the activities of the day, keeping clean, and keeping the environment they lived in as they found it. Here, age was no restriction, only the capacity to participate. This meant being present; for most kids, this is where they lived or ought to live.

When doing workshops with adults and their leaders, the importance of all being present was everything to me, and we often dealt with this as a subject. The fact is that as participation increased, and improved, so did their communications and relationships. As the workplace became more secure and safer, staff began to take over the workshops. They knew their issues and, in time, went for them with gusto, and neither the leader nor I was safe from being confronted. How refreshing and challenging those moments were and are.

So, I understand the need and vital importance that we are present as essential to getting the most out of life. However, now, I’m not sure that this is where the aging should be. I am coming to understand that there is a reason we have memories, and I must ask myself, is this the best place for the aging to live? There is value in taking refuge in good memories, and a past well lived. They provide comfort in a present that has comparatively less to offer. Am I wrong?

A Story Worth Telling

She is a dear friend, a super caregiver, who is barely reaching middle age and is exceptionally bright. Her family history for the first five years (based on her memory) was positive, but not much good occurred after that. I don’t know why because we have not gone there.

She seeks to know the answer to many questions and is a self-motivated student of many things. A researcher on her own, she wants answers to many issues from health, diet, medicine, history, and government. She studies on her own and is facile with her laptop. So, this is who she is and what she does. But she refuses formal education, although she is smart enough to become a lawyer, Doctor, or professional in almost anything she chooses.

My read is that she is fearful of failure. I believe her background was dysfunctional in many ways, and she carries the scars of childhood deep within her. When we talk about education and school, her excuse for not seeking to become almost anything she chooses is, “I don’t want to be given a bunch of bullshit and be forced to sit silently taking it in.”

She sees a teacher/professor as an all-powerful force and anticipates that she, as a student, will be required to sit silently, taking everything said in. She is adamant about not wanting to be a piece of clay to be formed by someone that refuses the truth. It’s interesting that what she researches she considers as “truth.”

Being me, I confronted her with the thought that her fear of failure is such that she runs and hides behind all the excuses she verbalizes. I asked her if she would challenge me if I were her teacher, and she said that she would because I invite dialogue, give and take.

Maybe our “dialogue” made a difference? We will see. She recently announced that she will take some classes at the local college, and if all goes well, she will consider law school. If this works, look out!

71 And Cyclone

A HORSE STORY:

We met in the mid-50s at a horse sale. She came to me, and I went to her. I was told she was a “Tennessee Walker” (which meant nothing to me) and about seven years old. I knew nothing about horses, but seemingly, she called out to me to bring her to Purple Sage Day Camp. I didn’t realize then that she was carrying a yet-to-be-born filly.

She had a big “71” blazoned on her thigh, so that’s what we called her. She was also difficult to ride, but with me, she was gentle, willing, and able. She made it clear that I was whom she wanted on her back, and we became a twosome. Thus she became known as “Sy’s horse.” I rode her often when I wanted to visit groups located everywhere around the forest at Purple Sage. Campers and staff became accustomed to having this big horse and me paying them a visit. How did a kid from Chicago who knows nothing about horses get so lucky?

So, the day came when 71 had her filly. A beautiful little pony that the kids at camp named: “Sy-the-clown” or Cyclone. She became the camp pet and knew she was. She was undoubtedly one of the gentlest and brightest animals we ever met. Cyclone was like a dog with kids and staff and always wanted to be around them. And if not given attention, she would ask for it by getting into the center of things and nuzzling kids and staff to pay her some attention. When we left Purple Sage at Malibu Canyon for Camp Shasta in the wilderness of Northern California, we took Cyclone with us. Imagine this picture: Lenette and me, Heidi, Brutus, Cleo, and her kittens, riding in our pick-up, hauling a large Trailer, a small sailboat, and a horse Trailer with Cyclone inside. We were the Israelites heading into the wilderness and freedom. When we stopped for a break, we would take them all for a walk around a darkened street. Needless to say, any who saw this odd parade stopped in their tracks! Amazing what young but responsible idiots will and often must do. Sy

Haiku: A puppy horse—was Cyclone our gift of a horse—She gave us such joy.

Past Vs. Present

I’ve spent my adult life stressing the importance of being in the present as much as possible and that dialogue, the highest level of communication between people, demands that we be present with each other. How else do we hear, understand, and are able to confirm if not present?

But living long enough brings many physical, mental, and emotional changes. So, staying in the present is a challenge. If you have ills and pain that are with you most of the time, what sense is there being omnipresent with any of this? Instead, doing everything possible to get away or at least to alleviate pain and discomfort is what we do. If the pain and discomfort become too much, drugs come into play, and if they are strong enough, they take us out of being altogether.

I have come to appreciate that our memories have value to us beyond their real-time experience. Our travels were, for the most part, physical and educational adventures. We occupied our days with as much as possible, always taking the “blue” roads, rarely sure where we would stay, camp, and eat. We just let the road and “events dictate.”

This filled our minds and senses so that those experiences are as much with us today as they were then. Perhaps this is what pushing the envelope of living is about, building up a memory pool to be used when we cannot do anything except live with what each day of aging brings us.

Consider the possibility that we live as fully as possible when we are able so that we can then go back to our memories for those moments when the present becomes less important than the past.

I Reminisce About Heidi

A “Lion’s Head” shepherd has a mane that encircles its face. They are enormous; the female can weigh as much as 110 plus pounds, and regardless of whether we think of them as ”house pets,” they are incredible guard dogs from the tip of their nose to the end of their substantial tail.

Example one: In 1959, I worked for the LA Bd of Education. On most weekends that year, I would leave for Shasta to prepare for our first summer at camp. A 600-mile drive on two-lane country roads awaited me. I would take Heidi one weekend, Brutus the next, or a very young Kim Wilson might join me.

When I took Brutus, I would give Heidi instructions to watch over Lenette. Lenette always told me that Heidi would follow her to the toilet, sleep beside her and not leave her alone even once while I was gone.

Example two: When a strange car drove into Camp Shasta (usually a visiting parent), Heidi would be at the car door’s side with her paw on the door and all her teeth showing; it was not a grin. When I came to join her, all was well and safe.

The wilderness surrounding camp was also “open range,” so cattle, bears, and mountain lions roamed those thousands of acres. If any cattle or wild animals entered camp territory, Heidi knew it and would aggressively take on that uninvited guest, whether bull, bear, or lion. She also loved Kim and the stables. It is where she daily assisted him who, apart from so much else he was capable of, was to become our wrangler. The two of them ran the best program imaginable.

What a remarkable animal, companion, loyal friend, and guard dog she was.

Making The Past The Present

I am coming to believe that what I have written recently about the significance of memories is even more important than I first thought. Our memories, particularly the good and happy ones, are essential to our well-being as we age. Why and how did I come to this place?

I wish I felt differently, but getting old is not for the weak or cowardly. It’s a lousy journey no matter how one lives it. It’s like getting undressed slowly, taking off one item at a time until we are completely naked. And this is aging. One hour, day, week, and month at a time. So I ask, why spend any time in the present other than taking care of the essentials?

And, if not in the present, where? Back to your memory bank. Search out the good ones that made you happy, feel worthy, and bring tears of joy and smiles. Let go of the bad memories and resist those which want to come out. Stand your ground against the memories that have brought pain, sadness, loneliness, and despair.

Aging is a battle against eventual breakdown. As I have written repeatedly, we will lose the war, but we can and will win some battles, and our good memories are among our best weapons. They make us feel better, stronger, worthy, and loved. As I recently wrote, reminisce with others and help them share their good memories with you. Make this a part of any gathering.

When we have a visitor, which is often, we always share the fond memories that initially brought us together. Invariably, we laugh and maybe cry; how sweet this experience is. That is how the past becomes the present.

Living, In The Past?

A recent essay dealt with memories that I considered good ones. After reading the paper a few times, I felt I was also saying something else between the lines. I firmly believe that aging is not a pleasant journey. As we age into our 70s and 80s, much that we experience is quite trying. Remember, I wrote that Lenette and I had no thoughts of aging until I was 92 and she 86. It was a sudden realization and challenging to accept.

Giving up our adult toys and our way of living is not easy for anyone who has enjoyed getting where they are. Through our businesses and life’s tribulations, we certainly squeezed the most out of our journey. We took things as they came, wave after wave, whether by planning or pure serendipitously. And on the way made a few waves ourselves.

Having given up driving, among other things, we have become dependent on others. How is any of this a “happy time?” Yet we must be realistic. Accepting that we need the help of others while knowing how lucky we are to have them here for us is our new reality.

I have concluded that it is our memories and the good times from our past that we must bring back into our lives. Not as if able to be our former selves, but back through our discussions with others our age.

This is an interesting realization on my part. I spent years teaching and keeping people in the present, and that dialogue is impossible if we are not “here and now.” Yet, there is value in sharing our good stories and laughing with the others we share with and who share their stories with us. This, as opposed to being mainly in the present, discussing our aging and health issues. Ironically, I now suggest that revisiting the past by sharing our fond memories is a positive way to address our aging.

A Brutus Story

The Warner Mountain Ranges is in a lonely corner of Northern Nevada a few hours due north of Camp Shasta. We decided to explore the area with a week-long backpacking trip. We planned this with an older, experienced backpacking group since we had so little information on the region regarding water availability and other necessities vital to a backpacking trip.

Since I was joining the group, Heidi and Brutus also came along. We left Camp and arrived about two hours before sunset. We made camp for the night near the trailhead and immediately headed into the foothills the next morning, seeking our destination, Patterson Lake.

The further into the mountains we walked, the more the lack of water became a major issue. Despite our expectations of flowing creeks, no water could be found. So, we kept walking and searching for a spring or other water source. We had gone about nine miles and it began to grow dark, and still no water. Although it was not an easy choice, I began to think we might have to go back. While I pondered solutions, Heidi and Brutus were way out in front on the trail, exploring every scent. Suddenly Brutus began to bark loudly, and moments later he and Heidi came running back to me soaking wet.

Brutus had reached Patterson Lake, which was only a short distance ahead, and was letting us all know by barking away as only a hound dog can. It was a thrilling moment and a great relief to us all, exhausted and fighting dehydration. We ended up having a magnificent time the rest of the week exploring lakes and snow fields with no other humans around. Yea, Brutus.

Brutus and Heidi—Are real heroes our in life—They were only dogs.

What Makes A Leader

Why and how anyone becomes a leader is an interesting question I challenge myself with. You would think that my study and years of work with leaders would be sufficient to give me a clear answer, but in truth, I can only speculate. So, I leap into the unknown because I cannot know for sure.

I believe leaders are made not by blood or inheritance but by the environment they are born into. Therefore, it must be their parents, as leaders, who lead them in their immediate world and set what is to follow in motion, whether or not they are aware of their role. I suggest the child Is made a leader or follower by how their parents related to them.

If the child’s voice is nurtured to be as much itself as possible, the child knows “self” and “being.” It freely expresses its wants and needs and does not fear to be what they feel and think. This baby is learning that they are unique as an individual and self. As they age, this history grows with them, and they both want and need to continue being themselves. And what is a person that must be themselves, unafraid to call their own shots, and to be what is inside them to be? They are a leader! Now it becomes a question of what kind of leader they are or will become.

And, what of the baby that is raised to be what their parents want them to be, perhaps in the image of themselves that they are not? They become followers, as are most people. So, a natural leader is a rare bird and primarily the making of their parents. Whom you are born to is the roll of the dice, the way the cards are dealt. No human has control of their childhood.

My child is a self—I nurture this self to be—Not me, but themselves

I Reminisce About Our Cat, Cleo

This is about Cleo, a pure white cat that we belonged to for about 17 years. Her most endearing charm was her relationship with Heidi and Brutus. Cleo loved them both and was almost always with one or the other, usually sleeping curled up between Heidi’s legs.

This threesome took care of each other. When Cleo gave birth to her kittens, Heidi thoroughly cleaned each before gently returning them to Cleo’s breast. We were constantly amazed by the care shown by the dogs for their companion Cleo. Brutus was not big enough to get his head in Cleo’s box, but he never took his eyes off both the kittens and Cleo.

Although Lenette and I did not consider their wonderful relationship as an example that held vital importance in human relationships at the time, it was. Even so, perhaps we learned something applicable to what we humans need from each other. How, front and center, their example was to us then and remains to this day.

Readers may remember the dog and cat fight I wrote about in “Events Dictate.” If not, I suggest you find it. It describes what happened when Heidi and Cleo came to Brutus’s aid. I was in the middle of the melee and witnessed their complete dedication to their friend. While we may regard this as a “human quality,” it appears to apply equally to the animal kingdom.

Love surrounds us all—It comes out but not when forced—It is or is not