It's Secretaries' Day!

Given that tomorrow is what I still stubbornly refer to as "Secretaries' Day" (none of that pretentious, tongue twisting "Administrative Assistant" stuff for me) following will be a number of posts which were initially written for a book which never came to be. More about that later. Since the piece was to be a 17-page chapter, I have divided and will post it by its original divisions, each of which will bear the pre-heading “Old Secretary." In any event, here's to secretaries everywhere! Happy Secretaries' Day!

Old Secretary: Never Make a Secretary Mad at You

I once worked for a young associate who was such a pleasure that I suggested he consider teaching a course entitled, “How to Treat Your Secretary.” Ken was always pleasant and easy-going, probably a quirk of his personality, but appreciated nonetheless. After reading the first letter I edited for him, he said, “Did I write this? It sounds great!” From then on, we were a team in the truest sense of the word. Even though he asked me to do things that went far beyond duties normally considered “secretarial,” I would have done anything for him because I never felt that he was taking advantage of me. Requests were made on an “if you have time” basis and I had the freedom to say “I just can’t do that today.” Completed jobs were consistently rewarded with gratitude. When I asked how someone so young had learned such an important lesson, he said, with a smile, “At my old firm, I saw what can happen if you make a secretary mad at you and I determined then and there that I would never do anything to put myself in that position.” Treat a secretary well and you’ll be richly rewarded. On the contrary, consistently treat your secretary like a jerk and I can guarantee you that she knows 101 different ways to jerk you around, and still be a competent secretary. Eventually you’ll end up with a secretary, nothing more and nothing less, and that one time you really need her to shine will be the time she declines to go beyond her bare bones responsibility.

Old Secretary: Hang On to Your Sense of Humor

In the dark ages, when sexual harassment and political correctness were unknown concepts, I worked for a partner who could only be described as insane. However, he was probably one of the funniest people I had ever met, which made up for a lot of his transgressions. One day he came running out to my desk, in a panic. “Deb, I did something really stupid and the client’s in my office and he’s on the verge of discovering it, so in a couple of minutes, even though I know it wasn’t your fault, I’m going to call you into my office and scream at you!” I laughed and said, “Go ahead. The client’s not dumb enough to think it was me and he’ll know it was you anyway.” We laughed together, and then went through with our little charade, both knowing that I was right! I kept his finances straight, dealt with irate ex-girlfriends, kept the current girlfriends separated and, in general, ran his life. In spite of (or perhaps because of) his insanity, he was extremely generous. He made my IRA contribution out of his own pocket for several years, gave me my first Coach bag and showed up with a beautiful little sapphire and diamond ring one Secretary’s Day. I remember him with great fondness.

Old Secretary: R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Along with a sense of humor, respect can go a long way toward keeping you on the right path with your secretary. In my now advanced age, I have been known to approach new, young assignments with this warning: “Just remember that I’ve done this longer than you’ve been alive and we’ll get along fine.” Treat your secretary with respect and you’ll get it back 100-fold. For the obtuse, here are a few specific hints in the respect category:

Never, ever revise a one-sentence “enclosed please find” letter which you asked your secretary to prepare.

Don’t automatically assume a mistake was the fault of your secretary. Do a little checking before you start screaming. We all know about “assume.”

Cursing and slamming down the phone are not good habits.

Being pleasant and friendly only when you want something is not only childish, but ineffective. I can spot a phony a mile away.

If you’re having a personal conversation you’d like to keep personal, leaving your office door open and assuming I’m not listening is probably not wise, especially if you’ve annoyed me lately. I’m not a non-hearing, non-seeing machine, and things you never wanted anyone to know have a way of making the most delicious fodder for the secretarial grapevine.

Be consistent in your attitude. If we’re friendly when it’s just you and me, then be friendly when you’re with your little lawyer pals, or that partner you’re trying so hard to impress.

Little words go a long way . . . little words like “I’m sorry” and “Thank you” and “Great job” can cover a multitude of sins.

Old Secretary: Gifts

To the vast majority of the people for whom I have worked, I would say: “Don’t bother. I appreciate respect, gratitude and honesty much more than any thoughtless, hurried gift you mistakenly believe I expect.” There are, of course, exceptions to this rule. I worked for an attorney several years ago who gave me gifts that almost brought me to tears on more than one occasion simply because he took the time to get to know me and in the process learned what was important to me. In 1994, my husband had a double lung transplant which, as I’m sure you can imagine, is not only life-changing, but an event which becomes a major part of your life. A few days before Secretary’s Day, Bob came to my desk and asked if there was a transplant organization to which he could make a donation on my behalf as his gift to me. Not only did he take my suggestion, he made an extremely generous donation, something which I will never forget. He took the time to get to know me and that in itself was a priceless gift. Even though we don’t work together anymore, we stay in touch and he’ll always be one of my favorites.

Old Secretary: A Special Note to Women

At the very real risk of being totally un-PC, my experience has been that, unlike men, who exhibit a wide range of personalities/expectations/ attitudes, women bosses fall easily into two poetic “There was a little girl” categories: “When she was good, she was very, very good, but when she was bad, she was horrid.” One of the biggest disappointments for me has been that women have not made an appreciable difference in the practice of law. They have not brought a softer edge to law, but have instead often become horrible little men in their frantic efforts to scramble toward success. In many cases, the oppressed have become the oppressors and women who have “made it” certainly have not remembered those of us who chose the more traditional route. I sometimes wonder whether the whole feminist revolution was worth the struggle. My advice to women in power: Remember from whence you came and never forget those of us who fought to make the way for you.

Old Secretary: Are We in Calcutta, Toto?

One of the most hurtful things that I have watched occur over the past several years is the development of what I call the “caste system,” that demeaning arrangement which delineates the various levels of personnel and their respective “importance” in the firm. The resulting levels of respect or lack thereof and sporadic spasms of civility-meltdown, while not officially sanctioned by management, are certainly tolerated. Evidence of this ranking system is almost overwhelming: Identifying staff as “professional” or “support,” meting out different punishment for similar offenses, holding attorneys and staff to different standards for everything from attendance to office décor, and choosing with whom information is shared are just a few examples I can name. Not only is this atmosphere humiliating, it can totally destroy any team spirit or semblance of working toward a common goal. No one expects to be coddled or catered to, but everyone needs to feel like they’re an important, vital part of the team.

And, now, a good example: One of the best places I ever worked was Mennonite Broadcasts, where the entire staff gathered every morning for a short devotional period, followed by announcements, work assignments and dissemination of information to every single employee. Not only did I feel included, but that daily get together had a leveling effect which allowed me, a minor little player, to become and remain friends with the man whose voice was heard around the country on MBI’s weekly radio broadcasts. I understand that this was a small, church-related organization where I worked 30 years ago, but I’m still convinced that they had it figured out, and the resulting atmosphere of respect and inclusion could serve as a model for any organization.

Old Secretary: Allow Your Secretary to Shine

One of the most important things a young attorney can learn is that you can’t do it all by yourself. Inherent in that realization must be the understanding that there are just some things you aren’t good at and, finally, must come the acknowledgement that, oh, my goodness, there really are people who do some things better than you! One of my strong points is my ability to organize, from keeping things in their proper places to creating workable methods for storing and retrieving all kinds of information; from insuring that important data is current and correct, to organizing information in a digestible manner, in short, to do whatever it takes to “get your back” in the information-managing area. Nothing makes me happier than a big mess that needs to be organized with some coherent instructions and a little time. But remember, if you withhold information I need, or cling to your files with infant-like-security-blanket tenacity, or insist on micro-managing the most menial task, I can’t do my job.

In the mid 80’s, when law firms were just beginning to understand the capabilities of technology, the firm at which I worked was one of the first in Chicago to computerize its billing system. I was the person selected to head the new billing department and the office manager and I spent many hours looking at equipment and hardware. After selecting and ordering the necessary items, Jan sat me down and said, “Look. I don’t have time to be bothered with this billing stuff. It’s your baby. Take it and run with it and I don’t want to hear from you unless you have a problem you can’t resolve.” Needless to say, Jan was the best office manager I ever worked for, and though it was a stressful experience, setting up and running that system all by myself remains to this day one of my proudest accomplishments. Over the years, attorneys who have recognized my strengths have saved themselves countless hours by simply explaining what needed to be done and then trusting and allowing me to do it. Give your secretary some credit, giver her the information she needs, help her stretch to her limits, show her you trust her and then turn her loose. It’s a move you’ll never regret. A word to the wise: Always give credit where credit is due, even if it’s only recognition between the two of you.

Old Secretary: We All Have Our Days

One day, one of my attorneys called me and prefaced our conversation with this comment: “I’m going to apologize up front. I may be a bit testy today.” And I replied, “Okay. I’ll take everything you say with a grain of salt.” We laughed together and then got down to work. What a simple, but thoughtful thing to do! Explain that your day hasn’t been great so far and ask for understanding. While I know, probably better than most, that personal situations can take on a life of their own, people around you don’t understand that unless you tell them. I don’t need details, but cluing me in that today may be a little crazy is crucial. A warning: Not every day can be crazy and coming to my desk with a wild look in your eyes, shrieking, “We’re going to have a terrible day” is not acceptable behavior.

In that same “personal information” vein, I once worked for an associate whose wife called him many, many times a day, to the point where he felt obliged to apologize to me. My years of experience served me well as I explained, “It’s not a problem. I would much rather work for someone whose wife calls all the time than for someone who’s not speaking to her husband! If you’re getting along at home, you’re much easier to work for!” My relationships with spouses and significant others have run the gamut from those who called all the time and never said more to me than “Is so and so there?” to people who asked for (and sometimes received) advice or information that was crucial to their relationship. How can I say this? If your spouse or significant other (or even the person who supervises you) should happen to endear themselves to your secretary, you’d be well advised to get along with her! We can overlook or snoop, keep it quiet or let it slip, confront you or stab you in the back. I believe that most secretaries quietly sit on vast amounts of damaging information for the entire span of their careers; however, I have seen the havoc, both personal and professional, which can be wreaked if a secretary decides to talk. Secretaries know far more than you’d ever imagine and they know it long before you suspect they do (and sometimes even before you do).

Old Secretary: Jus' the Facts, Ma'am

I am a true believer in total and brutal honesty. I was raised in a family where honesty and forthrightness were treasured and encouraged and my Dad always said, “Just tell the truth. You may not be the most popular person, but when you tell the truth, two things will happen. First, when people want to know the truth, they will come to you, and, second, you can always look at yourself in the mirror.” I have been accused at times of being too honest, but I am unwavering in my belief that honesty is always the best policy. On those occasions when things are not going the best with a boss or co-worker, I have found that an early and honest conversation about the problem can clear the air and make it possible to get back on the right track. Get the problem out in the open, apologize when necessary and get back to work. Even though few people are willing to step into the truth-telling arena, I have had wonderful, memorable experiences when the truth was aired.

An associate once asked me to make suggestions for changes to a document he was preparing and then after I spent a good little while doing what he asked, used nary a one of my ideas. I was insulted and took his slights personally. He came to my desk and said, “I think we’ve got a problem. Can we talk about it?” In the privacy of his office, I explained how hurt I was that he had asked me to help and then rejected all of my suggestions. He, in turn, explained that even though he thought I had made good suggestions, the original document had been drafted by the client and he wanted to make sure he wasn’t insulting in his revisions. I had to admit he had a point. Because of David’s willingness to talk honestly, both of us were able to explain our motives and feelings, a situation which could have gotten ugly was contained, our conversation opened up new avenues of communication and we worked happily together until he left the firm.

Of course, for every one of him, there are dozens who would never lower themselves to have an honest conversation with a subordinate. I’ll never forget the time I got off on the wrong foot with an associate, partly because of factors beyond my control and partly due to my own shortcomings. After a few disagreeable incidents, I went to his office and asked if we could talk. I apologized for my part in the unpleasantness and then suggested that we try to forget what had happened, start over and give the relationship another shot. He looked at me and said, “I don’t really think you’re capable of that.” We didn’t work together much longer.

I was recently on the receiving end of a co-worker’s wrath because of an error I made on a report which I had prepared for him. I apologized immediately, re-did the offending report, reminded him that we were friends and even offered to get him some Mrs. Fields’ cookies in an effort to make up, but nothing seemed to work. I treaded lightly for a couple of days and made a point of avoiding him. A few days later, we ran smack into each other at the elevator. Rodney grabbed me and hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Can you ever forgive me? I was just horrible to you.” There was no question. He was honest. How could I not forgive him? We’re back on track, an unpleasant situation was defused and a friendship was repaired.

Also related to the concept of honesty is the old, familiar “crying wolf” syndrome. Since I work for three people, it is critical that everyone is truthful about assignments and deadlines. However, there’s always the one who believes that fudging the truth about deadlines will get her work done on a priority basis and, on the opposite end, the one who always waits until the very last second, springs a surprise deadline on me and expects me to drop everyone else’s work because his absolutely, positively has to be done before 5:00. Both are dishonest, in their own way, and make my job more difficult and stressful. Jus’ the facts, ma’am. Just let me know what has to be done today, what can be done tomorrow, what’s priority, what can wait, and then allow me the freedom to work your demands into my other assignments for the day. Another old secretary trick: When everyone’s work has to be done at the same time, I simply stop working and say, “Talk to each other. When you’ve figured out how I should do this, I’ll go back to work.” It has never failed.

Old Secretary: Remember What's Important

Life is what’s important. Your job is not your life. If it is, you’re in trouble. Life is precious, precarious, not promised and oh, so short. We’ve all heard the heart-breaking stories about attorneys whose work always came first, no matter what; attorneys who schlep their 6-week-old infants off to babysitters so they can get back on the partnership track; attorneys who miss their children’s entire growing up years because they have to work; attorneys who are embarrassed by their non-achieving, ambition-lacking spouses; attorneys who have no social lives or skills and whose entire identity teeters on their success or failure at work. You must have a life outside the office and that life needs to take precedence. Get this one thing right and everything else will fall into place.

Just this past Thanksgiving, one of my attorneys had a post-hearing brief due the following Monday. We worked on it all day Wednesday, but weren’t able to finish. When I got to work on Monday, I discovered that late Wednesday evening, she had e-mailed the arbitrator and the opposing attorney, asking for a two-day extension so that she wouldn’t have to spend her entire Thanksgiving working. Both of them had readily agreed and the opposing attorney, who had not been particularly pleasant or cooperative to that point, even wished her a Happy Thanksgiving! “Bravo,” I thought. “This woman has her priorities in order.” Get this one thing right and everything else will fall into place.

My motto has always been, “My job is what I do to pay for the things I really want to do.” Even though I once thought I wanted to go to law school, I decided against it because I didn’t want my job to become my life. Looking back over the last 30 years, I know I made the right decision for me. Because I had a job that wasn’t my life, I was able to involve myself in many situations outside of my job which have brought me a tremendous amount of satisfaction. Because I had a job which wasn’t my life, I was able to care for my husband during a near-fatal illness which culminated in a successful double-lung transplant. Staring death in the face reaffirmed my belief that work is not the “be-all” and “end-all” and, contrary to popular opinion, you cannot “have it all.” Life is about choices and compromises, about prioritizing and planning and pre-empting. Get this one thing right and everything else will fall into place.

One final story. I’ve known a divorce attorney for many years, a big, intimidating guy with a “win-at-any-price” attitude and an ego to go along with it. Several years ago he was watching television one evening and discovered that he couldn’t get up off the couch. His wife helped him crawl upstairs and get into bed, and a few hours later he was totally paralyzed by a rare disease which affected his entire nervous system. He spent several weeks in intensive care, almost a year in the hospital and many months in rehab. After he returned to work, he called me to tell me what had happened, explaining, “Of all the people I know, I knew you would understand.” He was so happy to be alive, to be able to walk and care for himself, to have come back to work. Both of us got a little misty as he described the humbling but incredible experience of having a wife who never wavered in her care for and commitment to him. Almost every time we talk, he reaffirms, “Cliff and I are two of the luckiest men on the face of the earth to have you and Bonnie!” In the blink of an eye, his priority pyramid tumbled, his life and retirement plans dissolved, work became a non-issue and the only things that mattered were staying alive and knowing that Bonnie was there. Get this one thing right and everything else will fall into place.

What do I wish you knew? If I could pick only one thing, it would be that you put your job in its proper place, that you come to the realization that the life you have away from work is immeasurably more important than the life you have at work, that you understand that time spent with your spouse or significant other, friends and family is the time that really matters. The things you can buy, the fancy house you can live in, the stunning vacations you can take, the magnificent retirement you can plan, all these fade into nothingness when compared with the joys and rewards of time well spent with those you love. While you may not be the managing partner’s favorite pet, I promise that people will respect (and envy) your choice. And, from an old secretary’s somewhat jaded point of view, someone who’s happy at home, who’s at peace with his Maker, whose priorities are in order, who treasures his family and friends . . . that someone is truly a joy and a pleasure to work for!

Old Secretary: Working with Difficult Bosses

When I find myself working for someone difficult, I try, first of all, to be upfront and honest, with a generous sprinkling of humor. Consistently doing the best possible job in spite of his bad humor is another trick. Refusing to lose my cool, doing my damnedest to remain calm and rational, even insisting on being upbeat can sometimes turn the tide. Being friendly and helpful to clients can go a long way toward endearing yourself with the most difficult boss. However, there are some people who will not be pleased or pleasant, no matter what you do. And one of the hardest, most god-awful things I’ve ever had to learn and accept is that you are never, ever going to be able to get along with everyone.

Being up front and honest can often stop problems before they start, even with people who have reputations for being difficult. One of my current assignments had a reputation for being an extremely difficult work-horse and, rumor had it, a nasty habit of waiting until about 4:30 in the afternoon to really get going. So, the first time we talked, I said, only half-jokingly, “I’ve got to warn you. I’m an old woman and eight hours a day is more than enough for me. I don’t want to work overtime. At 5:00 I’m tired and I just want to go home. If you want your work done correctly and efficiently, give it to me early in the morning, before I get to that mid-afternoon-mistake-prone level of exhaustion.” It worked like a charm! That same “up front” trick worked on another difficult partner whose desk I often covered. Things went smoothly until one day when I couldn’t find a document for him. He became quite cross, and began pacing behind my desk, mumbling about my shortcomings. Finally, I turned around and said, “Look, Ted, your pacing and mumbling aren’t helping me. In fact, they’re making me very nervous. Please go back to your office and I’ll find the document for you.” I’ve never had another problem with him and we’ve achieved a level of mutual respect and friendliness that amazes me at times.

Every successful secretary has plenty of tricks up her sleeve. One that I learned a long time ago is to never respond in anger. It’s a trick that has served me well. There is nothing more deflating than yelling at someone who refuses to yell back. When I was doing billing in my former life, a junior partner came to my office and started screaming and cursing about the fact that I had not charged what he believed to be his new “partner” rate. I knew that I could not change a rate without authorization from the executive committee and I knew that he was out of line. I glanced up from my keyboard, turned back around and continued to work, saying not a word and totally ignoring his outburst. He soon ran out of steam and left the room. The end of that story was hilarious. I went to see the office manager and she said, “We’ll take care of this. Come with me.” We went to the managing partner’s office where she described what had happened and explained that this particular junior partner believed that he should be charging the same rate as the managing partner. The junior partner was quite rudely summoned to the office (“Howard! Get your ass in here!”) where he was summarily humiliated in front of both me and the office manager. It was all we could do to keep from laughing and well worth the little scene I had had to endure!

Another thing I will never do is cry in front of someone, no matter how mean and evil-tempered they’re being. I have done my share of boo-hooing in bathroom stalls, but I refuse to let the perpetrator know he got to me. My policeman-husband’s advice is a bit more pro-active, shall we say. “Don’t let them intimidate you. When they come out yelling, just get up out of your chair and stand up, and I promise they’ll think twice about carrying on.” I have to admit that I’ve done that once or twice, even shaking my finger in someone’s face. It was effective, to say the least, and felt good at the moment, but I’m not convinced it was the best solution, long-term. There’s nothing quite as sobering as calm, total, rational silence in the onslaught of a ranting, raving, red-faced temper tantrum.

The most difficult situation for me personally is the co-worker who is pleasant and friendly one minute, and then, suddenly and inexplicably, tense and uncommunicative the next. Inconsistency throws me for a loop and totally unnerves me. Inconsistency compounds normal day-to-day tensions, raising them to almost unbearable levels. Not knowing what causes the changes ratchets up the tension even more, because I can’t figure out how to stop the wild swings or avoid their consequences. Another story: In the middle of one of those pre-PC job interviews, the office manager said to me, “By the way, I’m the office bitch and if you can get along with me, you can get along with anyone.” I replied, “Tell me one thing. Are you at least consistent about being a bitch?” She hesitated and then inquired, “Why do you ask?” I explained that I really didn’t care what or how she was; as long as she was consistent, I would figure out a way to get along with her. Needless to say, I got the job and spent over 10 years working with her.

When situations become unbearable, I have several different tension-relievers. Sometimes I find a fellow-secretary who will listen, commiserate and make me laugh. Sometimes a good cry in the bathroom does it. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I work with a lot of good people and that “one monkey don’t stop no show.” Sometimes I just grit my teeth and say to myself, “Come on, you’ve done this for nigh unto 30 years, surely you can do it for another six months.” Sometimes I sit down and write what I’d really like to say, put it aside, read it again in a couple of days and throw it away. Sometimes I lose that famous Bender temper and live up to my reputation as the “secretary who won’t take any shit.” And sometimes I have thrown in the towel, admitted I can’t handle it and gone on to other things.

A Salute to Uncle Wilbur

My Uncle Wilbur was an electrician, who had his own business, and worked his whole life making sense out of electricity. I think of him often. When I peek behind my computer, I can hear him sigh and say, “An electrician’s nightmare!” When I wind up the cord on the vacuum cleaner, I remember: “Never wind it around the hooks because then you wind it the same way and wear it out.” I think about him when I have an electrical problem and intone that old Kremer adage: “Wish I had Uncle Wilbur in my pocket.”

Today I played Uncle Wilbur. After waiting for several weeks for an overpriced-overworked-"who gives a hoot" Florida tradesman to order a new exhaust fan for my laundry room and get back to me, I went on line and ordered the thing myself, for the grand sum of $14.38, shipping included.

The box arrived and it sat and sat and sat and, finally, today I decided the deed must be done. Opened the box, dragged out the ladder, dragged my fat behind up the ladder and spent almost an hour trying to jam the thing into the opening in the ceiling. After bloodying several fingers, cursing and verging on tears, I finally realized I was trying to put it in backwards. The fan blades had to go up into the ceiling and then, by cracky, the whole thing slipped right into place, I was able to plug it into the outlet, the little screw that holds the works to the ceiling twirled in and, wonder of wonders, when I hit the switch, it worked!

Okay, now the plastic cover. How did that thing go on? Had one little wire doohickey that I knew had something to do with keeping the cover flush with the ceiling, but damned if I could figure it out. Called Nutone and talked to some wonderful little child named Charles or Carl, some "C" name, who said, “Whoops, you need two of the wire thingys. Give me your name and address and I’ll throw them in the mail to you,” and then proceeded to patiently walk me through how the wire doohickeys work!

Uncle Wilbur must be laughing himself silly.

Resurrection

Webster defines “resurrection” as the rising of Christ from the dead, so my husband’s literal return from the almost-dead seemed like a good story to share with the congregation one Easter morning. Cliff was the recipient of a double lung transplant twelve years ago. Getting to the transplant was the single most unnerving experience of our lives. Cliff came within days of death, and our last clinic visit just two days before his surgery left the nursing staff in tears, fearful that they would never see him again and frustrated at being unable to help. We understand now that the only possible explanation for why all the details of January 27, 1994 came together is that it was the working out of God’s purpose. During an 11-hour surgery, Cliff was literally resurrected by a miracle of modern medicine.

However, the word “resurrect” is also defined as bringing something back to use or restoring and a couple of other ideas presented themselves: resurrection as a return of light after a particularly dark time, the return of spring after a Chicago winter, the return of life after a close brush with death – or perhaps a fresh, new understanding of an old familiar idea. For me, staring death in the face has resurrected, if you will, the preciousness of life. Resurrection has become a way to live.

Though the details have started to fade, I will never forget the long, frightening months spent waiting for a donor and the daily crying sessions in the shower wondering why Cliff had to suffer and how I was ever going to handle everything I had to do that day. Now, in the morning, as I walk the dog and watch the sun burst over the eastern sky line, I often sing, alone in the park, just the dog and me, a song that was a favorite of my Grandpa Kremer: “I owe the Lord a morning song of gratitude and praise, for the kind mercies he has shown in lengthening out my days.” How many times I heard and sang those words without understanding. Resurrection: facing death makes life so precious. Appreciate it, cherish it, be grateful for it.

Cliff and I share highly cultivated tendencies toward perfection, wanting everything to go smoothly and just right. That’s not reality. Life has its ongoing stresses and aggravations. We have been forced to realize, time and again, that the only important thing is that Cliff is alive and well – everything else is a “flitting blip” on the computer screen of our lives. Resurrection: facing death makes life so precious. Don’t squander it on insignificant aggravations.

I’ve been called “Nervous Nellie,” with good reason. It’s easy for me to become frantic with worry about what the future holds. I know what the statistics are. I know how quickly everything could go wrong. I know that Cliff’s treatment is just a shade beyond experimental. I know how few of our transplant friends have survived. “What ifs” and “hows” and “whys” can send me into a tailspin. How easy it is to forget who holds the future; how hard to let go of worry and fear. Resurrection: facing death makes life so precious. Don’t sully it with useless fretting.

Several years ago we lost our best transplant friend. On the first anniversary of his death, a gray Sunday morning, I cried as I remembered Terry and the song that Melvin sang to him during the service before the respirator was turned off, “Breathe on me, breath of God.” I thought about asking the congregation to sing that song during the worship service, for me and for Terry, but I didn’t have to ask. It was one of the songs that Pastor Mag had selected for the service that day. How wonderful to know God cares. How bright my day became as I sang, “Breathe on me, breath of God; fill me with life anew.” Resurrection: facing death makes life so precious. Open yourself to signs of God’s care and communication.

Resurrection: new love for live after near death; new outlook on the same old existence; new chances to trust God just for today; new reassurances that God cares. Resurrection: what a way to live!

Two Degrees of Separation

It’s really not six degrees, you know. For me it’s maybe two, probably less. Don’t know if it’s because I know a lot of people, or because I’m my father’s daughter and will talk to just about anyone about just about anything, or because I can play the Mennonite game at nigh unto Olympian levels. In any event . . .

I’m in southwest Florida and work for an attorney friend of mine in Chicago, using the magic of remote access. So, I’m talking to one of Bill’s clients, whose telephone number has a “540” prefix which is the same as that of my parents. When we finished with the business end of the call, I asked him where he was and he said, “Staunton, Virginia,” a town about 30 miles from where my parents live in Harrisonburg. We laughed and he asked what my father does for a living; I replied, “He and my brothers farm half of Rockingham County.” Norb paused and then said, “What’s your last name?” I told him and he said, “And what’s your dad’s name?” I replied, “Daniel,” and he said, “Does he own land in Timberville?” Well, yes. Turns out that Norb has a friend in Timberville and remembered going out to look at the irrigation system Dad and the boys installed some 20 odd years ago, the first such doo-hicky of its type in that part of Virginia, and probably one of very few irrigation systems east of, oh, say, Ohio. We were screaming laughing . . . what a small world!

Two weeks later, another phone call to another client, a Greek lady who’s selling a small business. We’ve gotten to be friendly through our phone calls and last week she said, “Now tell Bill he’s got to call me because in three weeks I’m going to Greece for a month to help my daughter plan her wedding.” Something rang a bell. A Greek tenant in a building we once owned in Chicago, whose American-born daughter met and married a Greek man and moved back to Greece. I said, “Hey, Toni, can I ask you a question. Do you know Olga and Sam and Pete who had the fruit stand at 71st and Rockwell?” Shrieks and screams! “Olga is my very best friend. We talk several times a week on the phone. We meet for coffee and gossip every Wednesday morning. How do you know Olga?” Small, small world!