I am posting twice tonight - my first daily double. This second entry is happier than the first. It is a funny memory I had forgotten that just came back to me, and I am enjoying it so much I decided to share. It might be too graphic for some of you, but I think you'll decide it's worth it.
Kirk and I pretty much went to bed at the same time as each other every night. I say "pretty much" because we always meant to go at the same time, but in reality what often happened was that he would go to bed, and ask me if I was coming. I would tell him I'd be right in. He (because he knew me and my version of time) would say "what does "right in" mean?" I would give him a variety of answers - anywhere between two and twenty minutes. However, I often didn't get there quite as fast as I committed. If it really took me a long time, he would come out and give me a look of humorous exasperation, and I would jump up from whatever I was doing and go to bed.
I don't know why I delayed - we both loved that time together. Cuddling, watching TV and laughing together, talking quietly - whatever. Then falling asleep all wrapped up in each other. It was one of the best times of the day, which is why he was always anxious for me to come in and join him.
At any rate, about a year ago, there was a night when I took a lot longer than I said I would to come in. In reality, it was probably about 20 minutes. When I got there, he said it had taken me forever. I said it hadn't - that it was only a few minutes. We bantered back and forth about it. Finally, he said he could prove that I had kept him waiting a really long time, and that I would agree he was right. I asked how, and this is what he said:
"If you went to the doctor, and he stuck his finger in your butt for that long, would it be a REALLY long time, or not?"
After laughing so hard I thought I would wet my pants, I acknowledged that the amount of time it took me to come to bed that night would indeed have been a VERY long time to have the doctor's finger in my butt. From that day on, I came to bed much faster, and if I was even a few minutes later than I said I would be, he would come and and wiggle his finger at me or pretend to be putting rubber gloves on. It worked every time.
A very funny thought - one of many, courtesy of Kirk.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
The Worst Day of My Lfe
When I was in college, I took a stress management class. Not because I thought I needed it, but because I needed an elective and it fit my schedule. It turned out to be pretty interesting though, and I learned a thing or two that I have used ever since.
The biggest one is something I learned to say to myself whenever something frustrating or upsetting was going on. It is also something I taught the kids. Well, mostly Erika. She has been prone to getting upset over small things her whole life (understatement of the year), and for much of her life, she had downright drama queen tendencies. As such, she heard this from me a LOT. (Side note – to her credit, she has matured out of the drama queen mindset the past few years.)
So what is this technique? It’s a very simple statement that you say to yourself to put things in perspective when something goes wrong. Here it is:
“If this is the worst thing that happens in your entire life, think how lucky you will have been.”
Think about it. Long line at the DMV? Not so bad if it’s the worst thing that ever happens to you. Late for an important appointment? Not so bad either. Stuck in traffic? Also minor in the scheme of life. Until recently, this really helped me keep the frustrations of day to day life in perspective. Even Erika, in adulthood, acknowledged to me a few years ago that it was a good way to look at things.
Then came the day Kirk died. Suddenly the statement didn’t help anymore. Erika and I actually talked about the fact that we now knew exactly what day was the worst day of our lives. At one point, I even remember thinking that if anything, this was going to make life’s little glitches even less frustrating because they would seem even more inconsequential.
Turns out I was wrong. Instead of making the small things less important, they suddenly have become unbearable at times. Because they are just too much to deal with on top of the rest of the awfulness. At this point, I am within a few days of the five month anniversary of his death. So far, here are the candidates I have for “the worst day of my life”:
1. The obvious choice – the day he died.
2. The day after he died. This might have been worse than the day he died, because it was the first FULL day without him – at least on the day he died I – and he - had a good day for most of the day. I will never forget that second day – it was incredibly painful, raw with emotion, exhausting. I could not process even the smallest piece of information. My sister Jennifer arrived that day – it was the only good thing about the day, and was the beginning of her taking such good care of me.
3. Two days after he died. Erika arrived that day, and again, it was a huge relief. But it was also the first day I saw him after he died. I had been so anxious to see him, but it was like a punch to the gut in real life. Thank God Erika and Jenny were there.
4. The day Erika and I flew home to bury him. I will never ever forget walking through the airport at home and seeing Matt for the first time. I had been so anxious to see him – it had been 5 days since the accident and it was far too long to go without seeing him. I remember seeing him down the hall in the airport and feeling what was perhaps the biggest rush of emotion (relief, happiness, grief, all mixed up together) I have ever felt, and then getting to him and holding each other so tight and crying and crying in the middle of baggage claim. Then Erika caught up with us and we were three holding and crying. I was so relieved to be with them both at the same time, to be touching both of them together. But there was one person – such an important person – missing. We clung to each other, me in the middle, walking to the rental car counter, pressed together so tight there was no air between us. I remember Matt saying “There are supposed to be four of us.”
5. The day we buried him.
6. The day after we buried him – the first day without him that was not a blur of activity and decisions. The first day that I saw what felt like the dark, open mouth of the rest of my life without him. I remember feeling like I was going to have a panic attack at the thought of it – it was too much to bear to think of never ever seeing him again.
7. The day I went to the Social Security Administration and had to sign something saying our marriage had ended. I do NOT consider our marriage over – not then and not now.
8. Matt’s birthday – the first important family day without Kirk, AND there was a tornado here; I remember sitting in the bathtub (the bathroom is my shelter room) in the pitch dark listening to the wind and praying nothing would happen to me, or Matt would have lost both parents, one of them on his birthday.
9. Father’s Day.
10. Fourth of July – one of my favorite holidays, and one that we have a lot of tradition around.
11. Kirk’s birthday.
12. The day before his birthday, when I should have been home with family but was stuck in Atlanta instead because weather made me miss my flight.
13. Every day on which anything crappy happened since he died.
I know a lot of those other days don’t seem like they could be as bad as the day he died, but sometimes I think they are worse in a way because they are ON TOP OF not having him.
So much for successful stress management. Just add it to the list of everything, big and small, that I have lost.
The biggest one is something I learned to say to myself whenever something frustrating or upsetting was going on. It is also something I taught the kids. Well, mostly Erika. She has been prone to getting upset over small things her whole life (understatement of the year), and for much of her life, she had downright drama queen tendencies. As such, she heard this from me a LOT. (Side note – to her credit, she has matured out of the drama queen mindset the past few years.)
So what is this technique? It’s a very simple statement that you say to yourself to put things in perspective when something goes wrong. Here it is:
“If this is the worst thing that happens in your entire life, think how lucky you will have been.”
Think about it. Long line at the DMV? Not so bad if it’s the worst thing that ever happens to you. Late for an important appointment? Not so bad either. Stuck in traffic? Also minor in the scheme of life. Until recently, this really helped me keep the frustrations of day to day life in perspective. Even Erika, in adulthood, acknowledged to me a few years ago that it was a good way to look at things.
Then came the day Kirk died. Suddenly the statement didn’t help anymore. Erika and I actually talked about the fact that we now knew exactly what day was the worst day of our lives. At one point, I even remember thinking that if anything, this was going to make life’s little glitches even less frustrating because they would seem even more inconsequential.
Turns out I was wrong. Instead of making the small things less important, they suddenly have become unbearable at times. Because they are just too much to deal with on top of the rest of the awfulness. At this point, I am within a few days of the five month anniversary of his death. So far, here are the candidates I have for “the worst day of my life”:
1. The obvious choice – the day he died.
2. The day after he died. This might have been worse than the day he died, because it was the first FULL day without him – at least on the day he died I – and he - had a good day for most of the day. I will never forget that second day – it was incredibly painful, raw with emotion, exhausting. I could not process even the smallest piece of information. My sister Jennifer arrived that day – it was the only good thing about the day, and was the beginning of her taking such good care of me.
3. Two days after he died. Erika arrived that day, and again, it was a huge relief. But it was also the first day I saw him after he died. I had been so anxious to see him, but it was like a punch to the gut in real life. Thank God Erika and Jenny were there.
4. The day Erika and I flew home to bury him. I will never ever forget walking through the airport at home and seeing Matt for the first time. I had been so anxious to see him – it had been 5 days since the accident and it was far too long to go without seeing him. I remember seeing him down the hall in the airport and feeling what was perhaps the biggest rush of emotion (relief, happiness, grief, all mixed up together) I have ever felt, and then getting to him and holding each other so tight and crying and crying in the middle of baggage claim. Then Erika caught up with us and we were three holding and crying. I was so relieved to be with them both at the same time, to be touching both of them together. But there was one person – such an important person – missing. We clung to each other, me in the middle, walking to the rental car counter, pressed together so tight there was no air between us. I remember Matt saying “There are supposed to be four of us.”
5. The day we buried him.
6. The day after we buried him – the first day without him that was not a blur of activity and decisions. The first day that I saw what felt like the dark, open mouth of the rest of my life without him. I remember feeling like I was going to have a panic attack at the thought of it – it was too much to bear to think of never ever seeing him again.
7. The day I went to the Social Security Administration and had to sign something saying our marriage had ended. I do NOT consider our marriage over – not then and not now.
8. Matt’s birthday – the first important family day without Kirk, AND there was a tornado here; I remember sitting in the bathtub (the bathroom is my shelter room) in the pitch dark listening to the wind and praying nothing would happen to me, or Matt would have lost both parents, one of them on his birthday.
9. Father’s Day.
10. Fourth of July – one of my favorite holidays, and one that we have a lot of tradition around.
11. Kirk’s birthday.
12. The day before his birthday, when I should have been home with family but was stuck in Atlanta instead because weather made me miss my flight.
13. Every day on which anything crappy happened since he died.
I know a lot of those other days don’t seem like they could be as bad as the day he died, but sometimes I think they are worse in a way because they are ON TOP OF not having him.
So much for successful stress management. Just add it to the list of everything, big and small, that I have lost.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Faith
The question of the afterlife continues to be a struggle for me. Where Kirk is, if he is, what he is, whether he is aware of us. At first, it was a constant struggle – seemingly every minute of every day. The need for a “sign” or a sense of his presence consumed me. I want so much for there to be something after death – some state in which he is not fully gone, through which we are still connected. My faith in this is stronger at times, then weakens, then strengthens again. Faith is not something I struggled with before I lost him – the topics about which I had remaining questions were just not burning issues for me. But now, it’s all different.
There is a book I read every day – I have referenced it before on this site. It is called “Healing After Loss – Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief” by Martha Whitmore Hickman. This book is very helpful and thought-provoking for me, and often references the heart of what I am feeling and questioning about the afterlife (and other topics). It does not offer answers – just thoughts. Here are some quotes from the book that are so true of what I go through with regard to this topic. (NOTE: I have tried to use these quotes correctly, and to give credit where it is due. I trust that Ms. Hickman will not be too hard on me if I don’t know the proper way of crediting her, and those she quotes in her book. Please note that anywhere I type “…” it means I have skipped some text that is not relevant to my point, and also that all italics are added by me. Hopefully this will keep any lawyers happy.)
“Faith is a way of waiting – never quite knowing, never quite hearing or seeing, because in the land of the darkness we are all but a little lost. There is doubt hard on the heels of every belief, fear hard on the heels of every hope.” (Frederick Buechner)
And also, from Martha Whitmore Hickman – “we can never really be sure for long that the particulars of our faith, our hope, are what we would like to believe they are…Because as sunshine follows rain follows sunshine, faith, as it waits, moves from confidence into doubt into confidence again…And every once in a while some minor miracle of insight and confidence, some serendipity with no explanation other than grace, renews us, and we are willing to relinquish our need to know the details. Instead, we trust that all shall be well.”
This is exactly what is happening with me – I cycle between quiet belief in something I have no proof of, and an urgent need for observations, details, evidence. Faith is not easy for the analytical, empirical evidence-oriented person that I am. Please know that I when I talk about “faith” I never mean God. I am just referring to the ability to believe in something in the absence of any evidence.
Slowly, though, I feel myself moving toward more moments where I believe than moments where I question. I am being helped in this effort by some things that are not hard evidence, but that do carry weight with me.
One of the things that has helped me is a conversation I had with my sister Lauren a few weeks ago. We were talking about the afterlife, and she told me that one of the things she thinks about is that there is so much in our world that we do not understand. We talked about the fact that there are many phenomena that humans have yet to figure out, and the fact that we haven’t figured them out or explained them doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Since that conversation I have thought a lot about the fact that I have always believed that there are many things we can’t experience with our five senses, but still likely exist. For example, we haven’t yet found life in outer space, but I firmly believe it must be out there – it is too illogical to think that we happen to live on the only planet that sustains any form of life.
Another thing that gives me hope is that I have learned that Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, an expert on death, believed based on her observations that there is an afterlife. The fact that a woman who was a scientist at heart, and who spent many many hours with people who were on the verge of death, believed in the afterlife carries some weight with me. I am trying to learn more about what she based her belief on, but for now, this also points me toward faith.
And finally, most importantly, there is Kirk. I have been waiting and waiting for him to somehow prove to me that he still exists. A “sign,” a ghost, a voice that answers when I talk to him, a spiritual feeling inside me – SOMETHING - anything. But I have been thinking lately that this is unfair to him. What a big burden I am putting on him! He has cared for me for so many years, always making sure I have what I need and want in every way. Is that why I still expect him to help me? I don’t know, but I am starting to realize that it is too much to expect. I'm now starting to think it is up to me to figure out what I believe, rather than up to him to convince me.
Still, I kept expecting something from him. But recently, it came to me that maybe I am looking in the wrong place for what he can give me in the way of assurance. I am looking in the “now” for the sign, the proof. The truth is, I think maybe he gave it to me long before he died.
To understand the significance of what I am about to tell you, you have to really understand Kirk and who he was. He was never prone to wild theories, or speculation, or fantasy. Like me, he liked data and personal observation – trust and faith were not characteristics he was long on. He was completely grounded in reality. Keep this in mind as I tell you this story.
A few years ago, Kirk and I went out to a restaurant back home. Once we were seated, our server came over, and he realized that she was a woman who had known his parents when he was a child. He told her who he was and they chatted for a minute, then she left to get our drinks. After she left, he told me that she and her family had moved into a house after he and his family had moved out of it. He told me it was the house in which he had seen “the lady.”
I knew right away what he was talking about - it was a story he had told me before. The house was an older home, and he had lived there when he was pretty young. His Mom and Dad would know for sure, but I’m guessing he was perhaps somewhere between 5 and 7 at the time. In a certain room of that house, he would sometimes see a woman – no one he knew (whenever he talked about this he always called her “the lady”). I believe he said his sister also saw the woman in that same room sometimes. He told his parents, but they never saw the woman, and I am sure dismissed his comments as imagination. He also says that in that house, he would sometimes see a black and white cat in the pantry. There was a barn in back of the house with barn cats in it, and whenever he saw the cat in the pantry he thought it was one of the barn cats, who were not allowed in the house. When he saw it he would try to catch it, because he thought his dad would be mad if he came home and found one of the barn cats in the house. He would try over and over to catch the cat, but could never catch it – to his recollection, the cat would get away from him, and then disappear.
Understand that this is not a story he told to anyone except me. He was very sure about what he saw, but would never risk looking silly to others. I don't think he ever used the word "ghost" when talking about it, but that is definitely what he believed he saw. I have to admit that although I didn’t totally dismiss what he told me, I did think that he was a pretty young kid when it happened and it could have been imagination.
At any rate, we had a good dinner, and by the time we were done eating, the restaurant was quiet. The server didn’t have any other tables, so she sat down and visited with us. Finally, she said with some hesitance that she wanted to ask him something. She asked him if he had ever seen “a woman” when he lived in the house – had he ever seen something that could be a ghost. He was stunned. He finally said “yes, I did.” She said that when she moved into the house, her children (who Kirk did not know) were pretty young, and that they would insist to her that they saw a woman in one of the rooms in the house. Like Kirk's parents, she never saw the woman, but her kids, who were now adults, continued to maintain that they were sure they saw a ghost in that room. Kirk asked her where the kids would see the woman, and she named the room (I think it was an upstairs bedroom) and he said that was definitely the right room. He asked her about the cat, but she had no recollection of her kids seeing a cat.
From that day forward, I believed that he did actually see something. I had forgotten about this until recently, and it now occurs to me that through Kirk I have indeed received some evidence of things we do not know or understand – I got it from him a long time ago in the form of his own experience.
Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, life in outer space and other undiscovered phenomena, and Kirk’s “lady.” That’s the foundation on which I am building some faith. And also, if I am honest, pure desire – the desire to believe that he is not fully gone, that we are still connected by more than love and my memory, and that I will “see him” again someday.
There is a book I read every day – I have referenced it before on this site. It is called “Healing After Loss – Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief” by Martha Whitmore Hickman. This book is very helpful and thought-provoking for me, and often references the heart of what I am feeling and questioning about the afterlife (and other topics). It does not offer answers – just thoughts. Here are some quotes from the book that are so true of what I go through with regard to this topic. (NOTE: I have tried to use these quotes correctly, and to give credit where it is due. I trust that Ms. Hickman will not be too hard on me if I don’t know the proper way of crediting her, and those she quotes in her book. Please note that anywhere I type “…” it means I have skipped some text that is not relevant to my point, and also that all italics are added by me. Hopefully this will keep any lawyers happy.)
“Faith is a way of waiting – never quite knowing, never quite hearing or seeing, because in the land of the darkness we are all but a little lost. There is doubt hard on the heels of every belief, fear hard on the heels of every hope.” (Frederick Buechner)
And also, from Martha Whitmore Hickman – “we can never really be sure for long that the particulars of our faith, our hope, are what we would like to believe they are…Because as sunshine follows rain follows sunshine, faith, as it waits, moves from confidence into doubt into confidence again…And every once in a while some minor miracle of insight and confidence, some serendipity with no explanation other than grace, renews us, and we are willing to relinquish our need to know the details. Instead, we trust that all shall be well.”
This is exactly what is happening with me – I cycle between quiet belief in something I have no proof of, and an urgent need for observations, details, evidence. Faith is not easy for the analytical, empirical evidence-oriented person that I am. Please know that I when I talk about “faith” I never mean God. I am just referring to the ability to believe in something in the absence of any evidence.
Slowly, though, I feel myself moving toward more moments where I believe than moments where I question. I am being helped in this effort by some things that are not hard evidence, but that do carry weight with me.
One of the things that has helped me is a conversation I had with my sister Lauren a few weeks ago. We were talking about the afterlife, and she told me that one of the things she thinks about is that there is so much in our world that we do not understand. We talked about the fact that there are many phenomena that humans have yet to figure out, and the fact that we haven’t figured them out or explained them doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Since that conversation I have thought a lot about the fact that I have always believed that there are many things we can’t experience with our five senses, but still likely exist. For example, we haven’t yet found life in outer space, but I firmly believe it must be out there – it is too illogical to think that we happen to live on the only planet that sustains any form of life.
Another thing that gives me hope is that I have learned that Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, an expert on death, believed based on her observations that there is an afterlife. The fact that a woman who was a scientist at heart, and who spent many many hours with people who were on the verge of death, believed in the afterlife carries some weight with me. I am trying to learn more about what she based her belief on, but for now, this also points me toward faith.
And finally, most importantly, there is Kirk. I have been waiting and waiting for him to somehow prove to me that he still exists. A “sign,” a ghost, a voice that answers when I talk to him, a spiritual feeling inside me – SOMETHING - anything. But I have been thinking lately that this is unfair to him. What a big burden I am putting on him! He has cared for me for so many years, always making sure I have what I need and want in every way. Is that why I still expect him to help me? I don’t know, but I am starting to realize that it is too much to expect. I'm now starting to think it is up to me to figure out what I believe, rather than up to him to convince me.
Still, I kept expecting something from him. But recently, it came to me that maybe I am looking in the wrong place for what he can give me in the way of assurance. I am looking in the “now” for the sign, the proof. The truth is, I think maybe he gave it to me long before he died.
To understand the significance of what I am about to tell you, you have to really understand Kirk and who he was. He was never prone to wild theories, or speculation, or fantasy. Like me, he liked data and personal observation – trust and faith were not characteristics he was long on. He was completely grounded in reality. Keep this in mind as I tell you this story.
A few years ago, Kirk and I went out to a restaurant back home. Once we were seated, our server came over, and he realized that she was a woman who had known his parents when he was a child. He told her who he was and they chatted for a minute, then she left to get our drinks. After she left, he told me that she and her family had moved into a house after he and his family had moved out of it. He told me it was the house in which he had seen “the lady.”
I knew right away what he was talking about - it was a story he had told me before. The house was an older home, and he had lived there when he was pretty young. His Mom and Dad would know for sure, but I’m guessing he was perhaps somewhere between 5 and 7 at the time. In a certain room of that house, he would sometimes see a woman – no one he knew (whenever he talked about this he always called her “the lady”). I believe he said his sister also saw the woman in that same room sometimes. He told his parents, but they never saw the woman, and I am sure dismissed his comments as imagination. He also says that in that house, he would sometimes see a black and white cat in the pantry. There was a barn in back of the house with barn cats in it, and whenever he saw the cat in the pantry he thought it was one of the barn cats, who were not allowed in the house. When he saw it he would try to catch it, because he thought his dad would be mad if he came home and found one of the barn cats in the house. He would try over and over to catch the cat, but could never catch it – to his recollection, the cat would get away from him, and then disappear.
Understand that this is not a story he told to anyone except me. He was very sure about what he saw, but would never risk looking silly to others. I don't think he ever used the word "ghost" when talking about it, but that is definitely what he believed he saw. I have to admit that although I didn’t totally dismiss what he told me, I did think that he was a pretty young kid when it happened and it could have been imagination.
At any rate, we had a good dinner, and by the time we were done eating, the restaurant was quiet. The server didn’t have any other tables, so she sat down and visited with us. Finally, she said with some hesitance that she wanted to ask him something. She asked him if he had ever seen “a woman” when he lived in the house – had he ever seen something that could be a ghost. He was stunned. He finally said “yes, I did.” She said that when she moved into the house, her children (who Kirk did not know) were pretty young, and that they would insist to her that they saw a woman in one of the rooms in the house. Like Kirk's parents, she never saw the woman, but her kids, who were now adults, continued to maintain that they were sure they saw a ghost in that room. Kirk asked her where the kids would see the woman, and she named the room (I think it was an upstairs bedroom) and he said that was definitely the right room. He asked her about the cat, but she had no recollection of her kids seeing a cat.
From that day forward, I believed that he did actually see something. I had forgotten about this until recently, and it now occurs to me that through Kirk I have indeed received some evidence of things we do not know or understand – I got it from him a long time ago in the form of his own experience.
Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, life in outer space and other undiscovered phenomena, and Kirk’s “lady.” That’s the foundation on which I am building some faith. And also, if I am honest, pure desire – the desire to believe that he is not fully gone, that we are still connected by more than love and my memory, and that I will “see him” again someday.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
A Good Memory
I have not written since his birthday. Free time seems very short since I have been trying to get some exercise each night – I often do not even eat until 10 p.m., and then have no energy for writing, even though I have lots of stuff backed up inside me that I need to get out. But once again tonight it is too late to write much.
If I was going to write a lot tonight, much of what I would say would be unhappy. But since I am keeping it short, I will share a good memory that came back to me today when I was driving. I remembered it when I was behind an eighteen wheeler that had one of those “How Is My Driving?” stickers on it.
Kirk and I were in the car, and talking about how people seem to only give feedback in this world when they are unhappy. Very rarely does anyone make the call or send the email about how happy we are with the service we got or whatever. As we were talking about this, a truck went by with one of those stickers. He started laughing and telling me what a good driver the guy was, and that he was going to call the number and tell them. He put the phone on speaker, and this is about how the conversation went:
Operator: Hello, how can I help you?
Kirk: I am calling in a report on one of your drivers.
O: Can you see the truck number on the sticker?
K: Yes, it’s XXXX.
O: Thank you. What is the driver doing?
K: He is driving extremely well.
O: (long pause) Excuse me?
K: He’s a very good driver and he is doing everything right.
O: I’m not sure what you mean.
K: Well, for one, he is driving in a straight line.
O: That’s good right?
K: Yes – I really appreciate it. He is also using his turn signals.
O: I guess that’s good too. (she’s starting to get it now)
K: He is maintaining a perfect distance behind the car in front of him too.
O: Okay.
K: I think he could be the best driver I have ever seen. I would like to commend him for it.
O: All right.
K: He is such a good driver you should give him a raise.
O: I’m afraid I don’t control that sir.
K: Who does?
O: His employer. I do not work for them – this is a service.
K: Can you put me through to his boss?
O: No sir. But I will relay the information to his employer.
K: Thank you – what is your name?
O: Mary (or whatever)
K: Hello Mary. Are you a good driver?
O: Well I guess so.
K: Don’t you know?
O: I guess I am.
K: Well do you drive in a straight line? And use your turn signals?
O: Yes I do.
K: Well you sound like a good driver to me. Would you like me to tell your boss?
O: (laughing now) No, that’s okay.
K: I’d be happy to – just put her on the phone.
O: No it’s really okay.
And so on and so on. Just a typical conversation between Kirk and a stranger. Before hanging up, he made her promise she would really file the report. He loved thinking about that guy getting told someone had called to report him driving perfectly.
As I was thinking about this I thought it is pretty ironic that a person who actually bothered to report someone driving safely was killed by someone else who wasn’t. But that was Kirk, and it’s still a good memory for me. I’m glad it came back.
If I was going to write a lot tonight, much of what I would say would be unhappy. But since I am keeping it short, I will share a good memory that came back to me today when I was driving. I remembered it when I was behind an eighteen wheeler that had one of those “How Is My Driving?” stickers on it.
Kirk and I were in the car, and talking about how people seem to only give feedback in this world when they are unhappy. Very rarely does anyone make the call or send the email about how happy we are with the service we got or whatever. As we were talking about this, a truck went by with one of those stickers. He started laughing and telling me what a good driver the guy was, and that he was going to call the number and tell them. He put the phone on speaker, and this is about how the conversation went:
Operator: Hello, how can I help you?
Kirk: I am calling in a report on one of your drivers.
O: Can you see the truck number on the sticker?
K: Yes, it’s XXXX.
O: Thank you. What is the driver doing?
K: He is driving extremely well.
O: (long pause) Excuse me?
K: He’s a very good driver and he is doing everything right.
O: I’m not sure what you mean.
K: Well, for one, he is driving in a straight line.
O: That’s good right?
K: Yes – I really appreciate it. He is also using his turn signals.
O: I guess that’s good too. (she’s starting to get it now)
K: He is maintaining a perfect distance behind the car in front of him too.
O: Okay.
K: I think he could be the best driver I have ever seen. I would like to commend him for it.
O: All right.
K: He is such a good driver you should give him a raise.
O: I’m afraid I don’t control that sir.
K: Who does?
O: His employer. I do not work for them – this is a service.
K: Can you put me through to his boss?
O: No sir. But I will relay the information to his employer.
K: Thank you – what is your name?
O: Mary (or whatever)
K: Hello Mary. Are you a good driver?
O: Well I guess so.
K: Don’t you know?
O: I guess I am.
K: Well do you drive in a straight line? And use your turn signals?
O: Yes I do.
K: Well you sound like a good driver to me. Would you like me to tell your boss?
O: (laughing now) No, that’s okay.
K: I’d be happy to – just put her on the phone.
O: No it’s really okay.
And so on and so on. Just a typical conversation between Kirk and a stranger. Before hanging up, he made her promise she would really file the report. He loved thinking about that guy getting told someone had called to report him driving perfectly.
As I was thinking about this I thought it is pretty ironic that a person who actually bothered to report someone driving safely was killed by someone else who wasn’t. But that was Kirk, and it’s still a good memory for me. I’m glad it came back.
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