Facades

In my quest to become even more Midwestern (very proud of my heritage as a Scandinavian), I finally picked up Lake Wobegon Days by Garrison Keillor. While set in small town Minnesota, I love the vivid imagery and storytelling ability of Keillor to relate even to us city folk. He picks up on the subtle nuances of life and character so well. Here's a passage from chapter 2 that I found striking a chord.

It was a printed poster entitled NEW ALBION, THE BOSTON OF THE WEST, and under the title, a perfect picture of a town with great buildings, stately homes under broad trees, avenues thronged with traffic. "Home of New Albion College, World Revered Seat of Learning Set in This Mecca of Commerce and Agriculture. Dr. Henry Francis Watt, Ph.D, Litt. D, D.D., President. Choice lots Remain For Purchase, $100."

"Mr. Bayfield," Henry gasped. "You take me for a much better man than I am!"

"Mr. Watt," Bayfield replied, "you will do just fine, sir. You will accomplish the purpose admirably, I have every reason to believe it."

"But Doctor! You have me a doctor of philosophy, literature, divinity-great God! I'll be found out! There will be a scandal! Outrage! People will never forgive it!"

Bayfield put his arm around the young man's shoulders. "You seem to be ignorant of the true nature of doctors," he said. "My boy, the first and foremost work of a doctor is to inspire confidence in his being one. So long as the public has faith in him, then any man can be a doctor, and if the public hasn't faith, then the greatest doctor in the world will have no effect on them."

"But the degrees. I have no degrees," Henry pleaded.

"First, we shall get the college on its feet. Then the college will grant you every degree that is needed."

"I will get my degrees from my own college? Me, the president of that college? Do you think it is right, Mr. Bayfield?"

"This is the West, Mr. Watt. Here, men are not so dependent on the opinions of others. Here, it matters less what others think than what a man himself says he is. Look around you, sir, and you will see men who are mere mechanics, workingmen, even foreigners, become masters of great affairs and vast estates. That is why we have come here. So as not to be held back by requirements!"

The facades that we erect around us are many. The 'degrees' that we hold are even more numerous. If you have any confidence in the world, I wouldn't doubt you, like me, have faked it. Be it in a work setting, at home, or before an audience at a dinner party. We're trained fakers.

Unless you're willing to spend lots of money and time, sometimes the best education is living. It's getting involved. It's meeting new people, engaging. Learning through experience. I've found this is how I learn best and I'll never have a degree to show for it. After all, I'm a writer.

Togetherness

As I was sitting in my favorite spot the other day eating my favorite food and drinking my favorite drink I experienced a flood of short conversations I've had recently. Not the ones in my head, mind you, but rather chit chats with Mary, my Mom, Chad and, o.k., maybe a few from my head. I'll spare you the backstory that led me to this place, but all at once I realized I am enjoying a great sense of togetherness right now. Not that I don't normally, but it's always a good time to take stock in the many small and big graces I both enjoy and take for granted. And not that I'm 'happy' or 'carefree,' because words like that don't ever tell the story-no, it's more of a deep-seeded sense of togetherness.

I'll explain. Mary is getting her MBA right now and so the simpler life we enjoyed until September waved bye-bye, at least for Mary. But, this new challenge affords creative ways to spend time together. I had the privilege of putting together a short video for her last big group Organization Development presentation (no one else had a video in theirs) this past week. It wasn't a paying gig, but it was rich in time and creativity spent together.

This month is a month of celebration for Mary and I: both of our birthdays, our anniversary, Christmas, nephew birthdays, brother-in-law birthdays. Exhausting! And one of the joys is getting to eat and laugh and play games with our family. These precious times are here, right now, ripe for the picking. We're both so grateful for those in our family who encourage and challenge and love on us. It's a good day being together with family.

I get to meet my dear friend Chad at Starbucks every single week. We talk shallow, deep and anything in-between. We've been getting together every week for something like 6 years now.

Mary and I get to take Tabby to the 'parky' a lot this time of year and watch her frolick in the snow. She absolutely loves the snow and can't get enough. So, more Mary, Troy and Tabby time...together.

And today Mary and I celebrate 3 years of marriage together. She is the beautiful-inside-and-out woman who talks me through sleeplessness, pursues laughter, stays in shape (and keeps me in shape,) challenges herself, desires peace, lives a raw determination yet balances the chaos, spends time every single day being quiet and enjoying God, has became the loving adoptive mother of my doggy daughter, cherishes my family and so much more. Every day of being married holds new promise and I'm grateful to Mary for helping me see life in a way I never could have experienced it. I only hope I can be this for you, Mary.

At the end of the day-when I've given up on an unreturned e-mail, read one too many news stories, been disillusioned by empty promises-togetherness is a gift I can't hope to parse with words.

Expensive newspaper

It's four below zero in Burnsville this morning. We've got an ongoing battle with our 20 year old furnace that wants to keep puttering out and I've gone to bed several nights in the past two weeks of below-average temperatures thinking we may be frozen to the bed in the morning. Last night we were victorious once again. So, it's really cold here. But we've got nine inches of snow on the ground and it definitely feels like December should 'feel.'

I am sitting on the downstairs couch that looks out onto our small plot of back/sideyard with a view to the main road in front of our place. From my vantage point, I can see (an obviously crazy) person walking slowly on the street. I couldn't see what this person was doing until he got over the snowdrift that was blocking my view of him/her.

It was the humbly paid local newspaper delivery boy/old man. It's hard to tell how old anyone is after age 12 nowadays, especially so bundled up in layers in four below zero temps. But, as he slowly, slowly got closer, I could tell he was an older gentleman. With a beet-red face. And he was delivering the little local paper that I read maybe once a year because of someone I know in a story. It typically sits on our front step, two, three or four bi-weekly editions deep, collecting mold, until someone decides it's finally time for recycling.

I watched the man amble slowly-with his drop foot and shuffling gait, to the other townhouses on our street. It took a while-long enough to develop frostbite if you weren't very careful-to get to our place. I imagined why he must be doing this. The news must be delivered to the people! Or maybe the regular delivery guy was "sick" and he was a last-minute stand-in on this frozen day. Or maybe it was his only source of income as a retired person and he is supporting himself and his wife with it.

We're really good at being end-users. That neat little boxed-up term that means we don't have to do any of the grunt work, we just get to enjoy the final product. I get to savor a meal prepared by a middle-aged man on medication for depression-just barely holding his job. I get to wear clothes made by children who are forced by their parents to work 15-hour days. I get to experience life and freedom because someone who didn't have to gave their life.

There is a backstory to everything. I have an intense 'context' complex that (forces me or allows me) to see situations, attitudes, facial expressions, dialogue, etc. nestled in the context of the backstory, the history or special circumstances surrounding a person. It helps me to a better glimpse of why we are the way we are. We are so accustomed to seeing the tip of the iceberg, the head of the pin, that we often forget what went into getting to that place. I wonder if we stopped and considered the backstory more often we would hold our tongue, our thoughts, suspend our judgements more...just long enough to find the common ground in both of our contexts.

The CEO who has risen to the top of his/her field after 40 years in the industry. The alcoholic desperately trying to cover a life of disappointment. The single parent. The successful teacher. The car salesman. We all have backstories. The man with the makeshift cart delivering the community newspaper to a townhouse development on a crazy cold Saturday morning.

If for no other reason, I'm going to read that paper for the delivery boy and the painstaking effort I know he took to deliver it.