Thankful, Part III

This is the third year I’ve shared a list of things I’m thankful for. This past year proved more challenging than most, and I feared having to skip this year’s column and hope for a better year ahead. But as it turns out, being thankful is less about having a lot of great things happen to you, and more about reflecting on the small things that make the not so good stuff bearable. So once again, I humbly share my 3^rd annual thankful list.

Being humble, not having to eat humble pie. Lemon meringue pie. Kids who run lemonade stands. Seeing your friends’ kids grow up. Seeing your friend’s kids have kids. Kidding around with them. Still feeling like a kid on the inside. Accepting what you look like on the outside. Being outside. Acceptance.

Confirmation of acceptance to the Boston Marathon. A strong tailwind. Feeling strong, physically and mentally. Getting out of something what you put into it. Not putting anyone out. Not fearing the unknown. Knowing something for sure. Contentment.

Exercising your right to vote. Having rights. Exercising. Climbing Mount Washington. Not making a mountain out of molehill. Turning a negative into a positive. Turning a wrong into a right. Not always needing to be right. Not being needy. Good news when you desperately need some. A massage when you desperately want one. Knowing the difference between need and want. Not being desperate. Just being, for a minute.

Bubble baths. A fluffy bathrobe. Dark chocolate. Those last three things, enjoyed in that order.

Having nothing to hide and nothing to lose. Going for it. Big ideas. People who say things like “What’s the big idea?” People who give back to their community. Community service. Getting great service. Extended business hours. Expecting to get a bill for service and receiving a donation to charity instead.

Generous donors who make special events possible. Believing anything is possible. Not having flooding rain during your charity golf tournament. Friends who come anyhow, and make it a record success.  A successful track record.

Drivers who let you pull out. Drivers who wave thank you when you let them cut in. Plenty of parking. No traffic. Not hitting the Kernwood Bridge. No wait for a table. No line at the registry. Realizing the police car behind you is not pulling you over.

Dreaming about going to Paris with friends. Going to Paris with friends. A trip that lives up to the dream. Dreaming of going back. Visiting Normandy. Remembering those we have loved and lost. Remembering how fragile life is. Living it. 

Fresh air. Friends you can be fresh with. Friendly competition. The competitive spirit. The spirit of giving. Realizing the best gift is not a present. No time like the present. Good timing. A whole day spent not looking at a watch.

Watching funny videos. Using your credit card points to buy a video camera. Making your own funny videos. Making fun of yourself. Friends who pretend you are funny.

The calm before the storm. A snow blower after the storm. Not losing your power. Not losing your cool when you do. Surviving the storm. Surviving a layoff. Knowing when to lay off of someone. Not laying it on too thick.

An invitation to an exciting event. Not getting invited to a boring event. Things that turn out better than expected. Finding out the new way to do things really is better. Butter.

Raking a big pile of leaves then jumping in it. Not getting injured doing aforementioned. Reaching into the pocket of a coat you haven’t worn since last year and finding $10. Score!

Escaping a close call. Escaping the office for lunch. Chipping in with the office for a lottery ticket. Dreaming about what you’ll do with your riches. Not giving up on your dreams. People who say “living the dream” when you ask them how they are. Sweet dreams, and someone to share them with.

Teaching old dogs new tricks. Teachers. Old dogs. Letting sleeping dogs lie. Lying in bed and thinking of all the things you are thankful for before you fall asleep. Thanksgiving. Giving.

Thanks for reading.

The Tipping Point

Life is about balance. It’s about knowing when to push, when to pull and when to leave things alone. It’s about making your statement loud enough to be heard, delivering it confidently enough to be believed, and stepping back so it can speak for itself. Continue to hammer your point in too hard or hang around too long, and your previously positive message runs the risk of ruin. In other words, you’ve passed your tipping point. 

Lately, it seems the Occupy Boston encampment has passed its tipping point. Occupy has the potential to be a voice for change, because even if we don’t understand exactly what they want, we are curious enough to listen while they figure it out. But recently, their physical location has received more attention than their message, causing the shifting tide to turn into a tidal wave, washing over their camp and leaving the debris and ruins of what it destroyed. At least that is what I saw when I walked down myself to check it out. No longer a gathering place for political ideas, it has become a gathering place for anyone who thrives on large gatherings, including drug dealers, thieves, transients and others with random, unrelated platforms hoping to steal the spotlight. The Occupy camp has passed its tipping point.

Which led me to think about more ordinary tipping points in life. 

In a disagreement, it’s the point where you feel you’ve won, lost, or forgot what the point was. This is the time to call a truce. But too often one side pushes too much for too long, reigniting the fire that was almost extinguished. My recent tipping point at work went something like this:

Me: You know, you are probably right.

Him: What? Ah, yes. Thank you.
Me: Ok, back to work! (here comes the tipping point…)
Him: You know, I’m right a lot more than you give me credit for.
Me: Huh? I thought we were done….
Him: I was right about that other thing a few weeks ago you fought me on, and remember that other thing five years ago you were wrong on too?  My ideas are not as bad as you think they are and it’s about time you finally gave me credit.
Me: Aaaahhhhhh!

As a teen, my love of yogurt hit a tipping point when my mother realized I liked it and added it to her weekly food-shopping list. First I was in yogurt heaven, feasting non-stop like royalty on my bountiful bacteria supply. But soon, my appetite couldn’t keep up with the abundance, and instead of being a yogurt-eating bundle of joy, I became the ingrate who let good food expire while others around the world were starving.

There’s even a traffic tipping point, where I know that if I’m the last car to pass through the first green light on 1A in Lynn headed towards Boston, I’ll hit every green light after. But if I’m the first car to hit red, my commute is doomed.

And perhaps there is even a life lesson to learn about tipping, as demonstrated by my favorite childhood ride, the Tilt-A-Whirl. Tip in the wrong direction and you’d wobble back and forth weakly with no momentum just waiting for the crappy ride to end. But tip in the right direction and you’d twirl around at top speed, jowls stuck to the back of the cart from the intensity, catching your breath just long enough before the end to exclaim “What a great ride, I wish it didn’t have to end!” Not a bad ending for a ride.

Or a life, for that matter.