The 25 Days of Giving Challenge

What do silverware and jewelry have in common?

Until next time, expect the unexpected,
~ Hasky

Happy Anniversary!

BEFORE MY AUNT AND UNCLE ARRIVED

 

What we all expected: That my Aunt Delores' two sisters (my mother and my Aunt Sandy) would be front and center to celebrate. Which, of course, they were. As sisters, they have stayed incredibly close over the years, often making me long for a sister of my own, especially as I get older.

 

What we all got: My uncle Joe, who hasn't attended a family gathering in over 15 years, not only came, but was his old self. The Uncle Joe I remember - funny, entertaining, talkative (even with the post larynx cancer-tracheotomy device that lends his voice a Darth Vader quality he so often uses to freak people out for his own amusement). Why he separated from our family all these years isn't important, at least not to me. And whether he makes the effort to stay in touch at this point isn't as relevant today as his presence was yesterday. It was wonderful - because it was so unexpected - to see my mother, her two sisters, and the brother they love and have missed for so many years, dancing, laughing, connecting.

THE ARRIVAL

  

What my aunt and uncle expected: A quiet dinner with their daughter Lori and their grandchildren.

What they got: A huge surprise party, complete with video montage of their life together, a room full of people who love them, and ... it must be said ... one amazing cake! And most important of all, their daughter Becki, who is in a wheelchair and who has been in the hospital since last spring, was able to get a day pass to attend the party (hence my aunt's emotional "What the hell are you doing here?!" to the woman in the wheelchair, in this clip above.)


Overall, a great day of unexpected things for many people - and another life lesson about just how rewarding the unexpected can be.

Til next time, expect the unexpected.
~ Hasky

The things children say

What do car mechanics, impatient customers, and Oprah have in common?

This morning I sat in the waiting room at Tire Warehouse while a mechanic put four new tires on my car. The scene was what you might expect on a cold Monday morning in a tire warehouse: the guy who plunked down on the coffee-stained couch beside me smelled as if he had rolled around in a pile of cigarettes, the woman sitting across from me unwrapped and chomped on mini-Snickers after mini-Snickers, and the old townie who admitted he had "rushed in for an oil change just in case Wednesday's snow forecast came true" pontificated endlessly about tomorrow's presidential election to anyone who would (and wouldn't) listen.  According to him, "The mess we're all in right now started with Bush."

The only mess I was in at that moment was the $500 I was forking over for the new tires I so desperately needed.  And I couldn't even take advantage of the hour and a half to write on the laptop I was trying to prop on my knees because of the noise and the smells and the political rants drowning out whatever literary thoughts attempted to assemble in my brain and form words on my computer screen.

But then I saw him.  An elderly man sitting so quietly that it had taken me at least twenty minutes to notice him at all.  He didn't seem in a rush or irritated.  He was neither engaging nor avoiding the people around us. In fact, he looked quite content to be reading ... O Magazine.  I did a triple take to make sure that the incongruity was even real, that this man in work boots and work vest who reminded me of my own grandfathers, was actually reading - and completely absorbed by - what Oprah had to say.  But there he was, gently flipping the pages one at a time, glancing occasionally at the television's weather report, and then finding his way back to whatever Oprah article had grabbed his attention.  In fact, I actually found myself wondering what article it was, too.  Diet tips?  An interview with a holistic healer?  A "What Women Want" column.  A Favorite Things article.  

Whatever it was, he was as mindful of what he was reading as I suddenly was of him.  And it was a necessary reminder to me to live as fully in each moment as possible.  To assume that ordinary people will often surprise us.  And to know the pleasure of the smile we get to experience when that happens in our presence.  It reminded me to expect the unexpected.