Monday, January 28, 2013

ON THE WRONG END OF A GUN

I want to tell you this true and very real story. With all the talk about stricter rules concerning gun ownership here in the USA, I thought it appropriate. In one sense, as in retrospect, it’s funny - in a morbid kind of way; but as I went through it, nah, it was not funny at all.
Many years ago, I worked as fleet-manager at a car-dealership in San Francisco. A fun friend, JC, was the business-manager – my boss. As it probably still is today, it was a game of selling as many units as possible, making as much money imaginable, so a mix of greed and pushiness dominated; you know, high powered sales attitude. Not that I see anything wrong in that, as long as buyer beware.
So we jumped eagerly into any situation to make a sale; the lore of the mighty dollar. My sales attitude was always in favor of the customer; that was the way I was taught selling, working in Europe. It had worked well there, and it was working really well for me here in the USA. Sure I got caught up in the greediness within the car-business, as we also ran into lean times once in a while; so we worked hard, sold hard and pushed even harder.
This guy, about 35, walked in; I was helping out on the showroom floor, so I greeted him in that charming, self-assured and lovely way of mine. He told me that he wanted to buy a fast and powerful car – and immediately I knew precisely what I wanted to sell him. It was one of last year’s models, which had a hefty bonus pay-out to the one selling it. I asked him to wait while I brought the car around for a test-drive.
He looked rather bland the way he sat and drove the car; overweight and seemingly boring. He had the steering-wheel very close to his chest – a weird driving position. He told me that he needed a car as he had not been around for about five years; later on I found out the significance of that statement. But at the moment I was all: “I’m going to sell him this car and get a big bag full of money;” (the greed part, remember?)
We drove around San Francisco for about 15 minutes and I was wondering why he didn’t want to get on the freeway to test the speed and power – but no. Finally we were going south on Van Ness Avenue towards the dealership; and that was when he told me that something was poking into his lower back. He reached behind him with his left hand and slowly pulled out a handgun that he immediately stuck into my stomach. Now, has that ever happened to you? I hope not. It created one of those few situations in my life where I felt I had to be rather careful about what I was going to say next; something I have always had a slight (read: enormous) problem controlling.
He stopped by the curb, still with what now felt like a huge cannon pressed into my ribs. For some profound reason (duh) he had stopped right in front of the Holy Trinity Cathedral; I thought a mortuary would probably have been more appropriate.
“I’m sorry, but I have to borrow your car…” he said in a calm and controlled voice. My first idiotic thought was to respond like: “That means you are not going to buy it?” as I saw a vast commission and enormous bonus disappearing. But instead I decided to get the hell out of there and wisely negate on being sarcastically funny – but more so bent on staying alive; I considered that a good choice, even back then. I do trust the gun had a lot to do with my decision. Another fleeting thought I had was: “Is that thing loaded – ha-ha?” Or the last gasp before I met my Maker: “Need a tenner for gas?” But I wisely left all the humorous stuff on the floor.
So I quickly hauled my butt out of the car, noted the church and ran as furiously fast I could. The dealership was about 6 blocks away – and I ran and ran and ran, getting rather sweaty… (Yuk).
Finally I stood in front of JC in his office. He calmly looked up as I screamed: “I got a cannon stuck into my stomach and he stole the car and I’m scared and pretty pissed”. JC looked at me and in a calm voice said: “Was it one of last year’s models?” I couldn’t believe that he asked that, as: “OMG, are you okay?” seemed more appropriate – but that was JC, and in retrospect I loved him for it; just such a calm and funny dude, really.
I was brought downtown (doesn’t that sound cool?) by two detectives and gave my report. I spent some hours going through mug-shots; some very scary images. But he wasn’t there. Oh my…
And life continued. For some reason I was okay with all this, and didn’t even think about what could have happened. People around me seemed more upset about it than I was. About once weekly the next couple of months the detectives came by my office and showed me more pictures – but I did not recognize him in any. One of the guys told me that after this gun-slinging dude had asked me to get out of the car, he drove across Golden Gate Bridge and robbed a bank in Marin; at gun-point.
Then one day, my detective pals returned; both grinning from ear to ear. They showed me a line-up of six photos, all nasty looking mug-shots (Yuk) – and there he was. I recognized him at once, though his head was puffy, bruised and beaten up, it looked like. The detectives told me that he had tried to steal a Mercedes from a dealership in Beverly Hills, but while being chased by the police, he crashed into a tree and was arrested. They told me that he had recently spent five years in jail for all kinds of nasty stuff. And of course I remembered that he told me he had not been around for five years – the irony.
They asked me if I was willing to go to Dallas (Texas) to testify if needed. I said yes, of course – like free trip and excitement, huh? And then they told me that he had been transported back to Dallas – on murder charges… All of a sudden I felt I had indeed been very lucky; and life continued.
A few weeks later JC showed up in my office. He had a big smile on his face and a check in his hand. “Can you do that again? We still have some of last year’s models in stock and we really need to get rid of them”. He handed me the check and told me the insurance had paid up and it was my commission plus a rather large bonus. The car was considered sold, though in a rather scary way. JC was happy that another one of “last year’s” units was off the floor – and still giggling.
Being on the wrong end of a gun is not fun – and I know, because I have been there… But luckily, no BANG BANG…
Till next Monday: make it a safe week or better: a safe life

Footnote:
Gun control is a complicated matter, but for starters, there are types of weapons that have absolutely no place in any society. Accessibility to weapons here in the USA is pretty much wide open, where it needs to be narrowed down by tighter restrictions and additional laws. A huge percentage of fatalities caused by guns, is from suicides – makes you think, huh?

Monday, January 21, 2013

TAKING ME FOR GRANTED? – please don’t

There are millions of things we take for granted; we trust, expect, anticipate, assume and believe certain things will happen when we do this or that or when we do nothing at all. In my opinion we don’t give things we take for granted enough credit or appreciation – well, because we take them for granted; duh!

Taking things for granted can be translated into stuff we expect will happen; action causing predictable and expected reaction and that includes all the mechanics surrounding us 24/7. Turn the key and the car starts; punch a number on our Smartphones and we are connected, actually connected to the world; computers are incredible instruments we take for granted big time and we even scream at them if they are too slow; we expect airplanes to stay afloat and land safely, but complain about the small bags of peanuts; hot water in the shower and multi functioning TV’s. The list of these appliances that we ignorantly take for granted, is obnoxiously long.

So once in a while stop and find appreciation in that your car starts and drive, mobile phone works; the complex construction of PC’s and how the heck do they do all that stuff – so fast; the physics of planes flying (accepting the peanuts as a cruel joke) and that at 35,000 feet and thousands of miles away from home, I can set the programming on our TV, using my iPhone, while eating those stupid peanuts. Isn’t all this amazing – really? And then we take it all for granted – when we should appreciate – huh?

But that is just all the “stuff”. So looking away from all the “stuff” for a moment, we acknowledge that the “taking for granted” thing also flourish rather well between us human beings; and this is where it becomes a bit tricky, at times sad and perhaps disappointing. We don’t really want that to happen, do we?

American psychologist Dr. Joyce Brothers wrote the following: “Being taken for granted can be a compliment. It means that you have become a comfortable, trusted element in another person’s life.” I’m not sure about you, but do you want to be called a comfortable, trusted element? Sounds more like something you would call that old trustworthy sofa you have taken for granted for years. But Joyce is cautious because she writes: can be a compliment; I certainly do not want anybody to take me for granted – comparing me to the bloody wall-to-wall carpeting.

For some reason, I find that when we start to take people for granted, which involves being able to predict their actions on all levels, it becomes a form of personality assassination – no matter what little or how much personality they had before we started to take them for granted. So you see, taking me for granted, assuming I will do this and that like clockwork, no matter how true and wonderful it is, I still see as an insult. And the stupid deal about it is, that it is rarely meant to be – so perhaps I’m just a bit sensitive and insecure; that might be it, don’t you think? (WAH WAH WAH).

I believe that most relationships dissolve when we start to take each other for granted. We find predictability to the point where it gets boring, no matter how exciting it actually is – or used to be. We don’t often step back and look at the bigger picture, make ourselves aware of how fortunate we are, how privileged we should actually feel and add up all the blessings we felt when we first met. The simple act of looking at those photos from the early part of our relationship reminds us about WHY we are together; the thoughts and feelings will for the most part rush back to us as strong reminders. It is a rather grand trip, it really is.

I have never taken the relationship with my wife for granted – not one single second. We have been successful in keeping each of our initial individualities on track, and have never tried to alter or change each other (okay, we have probably both tried – though unsuccessfully). We respect and appreciate who we are as individuals, and that has kept a lot of the initial interest in each other running through the years. Sure we know each other very well, thoughts, emotions and way we do things, so of course there are the moments when we expect this and that – but that’s okay, as long as taking for granted is not involved. (For the record: of course we have arguments at times – don’t you?)

How often have you actually contemplated your relationship with your best friend? Actually thought about why you are friends, the sides of her you like, things that makes her special, makes your friendship excellent and exciting? You see, we don’t do that often, and that is a pity because the feeling of appreciation is awesome – on both sides, actually.

Sure it can be hard to nail down precisely why your relationships work, why you are best friends. Sometimes all we can come up with is: “some kind of great chemistry”, and that is a fair assessment, it really is; a bit open-ended, but fair.

Ask your friends, your wife, husband, partner, boyfriend or girlfriend why they think it all works so well; I think some of the answers will surprise you. I’ve asked my wife a couple of times and besides stuff that is none of your business, it was “because I can be me”. That statement knocked me over, because I never thought of that; it is so awesome to know – it really is.

We tend to get boring in our relationships when we don’t have to. We settle with everyday routines just to function. Some find that is enough excitement, but for the most part it’s bloody boring. We walk past each other so many times every day, and do we look, smile, you know: acknowledge and appreciate? Or are we just pieces of furniture? So you can see how taking for granted is not a very nice thing to practice, huh?

What I’m concerned, the opposite of taking for granted is appreciation; it’s as simple as that. And you’ll be surprised with the joy of backing off taking things for granted gives you when we move forward and acknowledge the people and the stuff we are surrounded by; it’s a grand trip we should take often.

When we appreciate each other more, acknowledge how fortunate we are, we all live better lives. I often look at photos from when the boys were small, from diapers through zits, school, leaving home, work, girlfriends and marriage. I met my wife 28-plus years ago and have so many great memories of the great times we had. I get teary eyed as I find myself a very fortunate person, and I will never take that for granted.

I don’t want to be predictable (as in boring); nobody wants to be labeled like that. Sure we get caught up in everyday routines and we forget to add a bit of color. But when we do, it makes a huge difference. So try to do something nice to somebody else, outside your normal schedule and enjoy the smiles it creates. It clearly tells them, that you do not take them for granted - and that is really nice to know; don't you think?

Monday, January 14, 2013

SKIING WITH PETER – if you dare

The term ski comes from the ancient Scandinavian language Old Norse. It was skio back then, thousands of years ago. It meant split pieces of wood as well as firewood – the irony? After hurling down mountains on pieces of split wood, taking a few falls on the way, firewood is not far from a banged up skiers thinking; unfortunately I know how that works.
In Denmark, only cross-country skiing is a possibility as Denmark is flat as a pancake. One of the two highest points is Himmelbjerget; its majestic peak reaching an astonishing height of 482 feet – isn’t Magic Mountain in Disneyland higher? Here’s another irony: Himmelbjerget means heaven (or sky) mountain. Those Danes have such a great sense of humor, don’t you think?
Back in the 1970s BS (Before Snowboarding) skiing was still for the rich people, as it involved trips to foreign lands with mountains taller than 482 feet and some serious snow. I lived just outside Copenhagen with a girlfriend from California, Andee. She had a colorful personality, lots of energy and wanted to have fun. At times I struggled keeping up with her – yeah, I know ME?
Andee suggested a ski-trip and I no doubt said: whatever. As I, Andee had never been skiing. We bought tickets to a ski resort in France called Aime La Plagne. And now it was time to outfit ourselves with ski equipment. Both of us went overboard considering our beginner status. I got top-of-the-line Rossignol skis and bindings, fancy ski-clothes, cool high tech ski boots and smart goggles – everything and then some.
It was a two weeks vacation, so we packed accordingly and then some. After a few hours flight we landed in Geneva (Switzerland) and got on the resort bus waiting for us. 3-4 hours on curvy roads, we entered France and arrived late afternoon at La Plagne. It was a fantastic resort sitting on top of a mountain ridge – probably still does.
We checked into the hotel, had dinner and couldn’t wait to get up the next morning and do that skiing thing. Oh, Andee signed up for beginner lessons; I didn’t think I needed to sign up for any ski lessons; I mean, the word bunny-slope was involved, duh. Well, that was a huge mistake.
After struggling getting into all this new stuff, skis and all, I was on the snow early the next morning. I looked smashing – as long as I didn’t move. Never been on skis, I quickly realized that trying to glide on those split pieces of wood and look cool in the process was impossible; so I stopped often and pretended to admire the view – and then I stumbled a few meters more.
I ended up on the edge of a downhill; the small kids made it look so easy. I figured, that on the way down, I’d pick up that turning left and right thing and perhaps also learn how to brake and stop. Small kids could do it, so what was the big deal?
I looked at the bottom of this mountain (it seemed). “Piece of ice cream-cake”, I thought. Took a deep breath and pushed off. As speed quickly picked up from that point on, I swiftly made a mental note to sign up for ski-lessons as soon as possible – if this didn’t kill me first, which it seemed to be in the process off.
The skis were flying from one side to another, poles all over the place, knees twisting and turning, my body being hammered, utter fear in my eyes while constantly screaming “MOR” (Danish for mother). The speed kept picking up and up and everything turned into a blur. I made another note: learn how to stop.
It was explained to me later, that I had come down in a straight line (yeah, duh…) and that my screams had attracted quite an audience from the lift line at the bottom of this huge mountain (they actually called it a practice-hill, as in advanced bunny-slope). What was left of my body had ended up a few feet from some orange netting; the skis were found in different time-zones and the poles far from anywhere. It had looked so bad that I was pretty much pronounced dead halfway down.
After some help getting my stuff back together, I headed straight into the ski-instructors office and demanded one week of private lessons. I was assigned to Pierre and we met up early the next morning.
With Pierre telling me what to do, I quickly picked up on how to ski. He started me up on the bunny-slopes and soon progressed to more difficult runs – 4 hours every day. After each day’s lesson, I continued skiing till the slopes closed down at sunset; I was seriously bitten. On the third day we went all the way to the top of the mountain and ran a few of the lesser black diamonds and then it was time for the Suicide Run (they should at least have called it that).
I was hesitant, but Pierre said: “Just follow me and do what I do, okay?” And I did – everything he did; it felt fantastic. The next few days we did the Suicide Run again and again, faster and faster – and I experienced how fantastic skiing could be.
“Are you having fun?” Pierre asked, and I was. So he told me I was on my own - I had graduated and felt great.
The next morning I was the first in line to go to the top. I was so ready and looked down on the perfectly groomed Suicide Run. But then I realized how bloody steep it was - without Pierre. I looked again and then decided that there was no way in Hell I was going to ski that thing alone, no way. So I got back on the lift and took a ride down to the bottom. I thought I was good, but obviously not that good. I spent the rest of the vacation skiing slopes less death-threatening, but still had a lot of fun – I was hooked.
Next year Andee and I decided to do it again. We went to Courchevel in the French Alps for two weeks. This place is considered “one of the best ski-resorts in Europe – if you can afford it”. The weather was fantastic with sunny days and snowy nights; absolutely perfect conditions.
The third evening we had dinner with a couple from our hotel. After a bit too much French wine we walked around the village and found a skating-rink, so we went skating. I used to be rather good on skates, jumps and all – but forgot it was a million years ago since I last strapped a pair of skates on.
But it all came back fast and I felt comfortable (but still slightly intoxicated). So I was going to show them a few jumps – and that’s when I fell hard on my shoulder and damaged one of my collarbones – and no more skiing on that vacation with 11 days left; I was pissed. Learned a lot about mixed drinks as many other casualties gathered daily in a great bar with a beautiful view of the slopes and the surrounding mountains – skiing would have been better; but I know what a Grasshopper is – a lot…
I continued skiing here in California. Always running fast, never really enjoying the views, kind of skiing – just fast. One time my wife and I met up with some friends for skiing in Beaver Creek, Colorado. We skied in a group of six, down really nice slopes and perfect conditions. Then we were heading into a softer right turn (I can still see it) and everybody in front of me was hugging the corner. The slope was very wide, so lots of space to the left. So I swung out and into the middle to pick up more speed through the turn. And that’s when I saw this huge icy spot. I dug in as hard as I could, but that didn’t help and death was yet again a possibility. Did it hurt? YES, but more so mentally than physically.
I did ski in the years after that crash, had a lot of fun with my wife and kids in the snow, but I started to feel hesitant and cautious about my skiing and some years back I stopped all together. But what I ride it had been. Do I miss it? Surprisingly not, but I highly recommend it – I really do and snowboarding too.
NOT ME - MY OUTFIT WAS BLUE

Monday, January 7, 2013

BREAKING UP IS HARD TO DO – or too easy?

Being dumped is not hilariously funny; deciding to divorce has little entertainment value; splitting up by mutual agreement rarely works and the guilt based: “let’s stay friends” seldom pans out.  Somebody is always ending up hurt, bitter, resentful, confused and for a while, emotionally damaged. Yes, breaking up is hard to do, but are we making it too easy?
When I began thinking about this subject, I wanted to go back and try to recall my feelings and other emotions from “being dumped”, as in somebody telling me to get the heck out, go away, “I hate you” and/or “you are ugly and your cooking sucks”. I really tried hard, but I could not find a single relationship where I had experienced being dumped; did I go through breaking-ups? Of course I did – and then some…
Let us establish that to terminate any relationship, there has to be at least two persons involved; duh! The irony: in many cases it’s a third person causing the dissolutions, based on the ignorant philosophy: the grass is (in most cases only seemingly) always greener.
We meet, we get to know each other, we become emotionally and physically attached; and then we fall in love. It’s all so euphorically exciting and so – forever? At least we hope so, as we cannot envision life without her or him ever (sigh); should I mention love & blindness here? I do recall that exhilarated feeling – again and again.
And a relationship can also end – duh! It can die gradually or rather quickly, as in “cheating” (having physical relations with someone you really shouldn’t do it with). To me cheating is the ultimate trust-buster and as trust is in the top-three of what a relationship is built on – cheating is far from nice. What infidelity is concerned: we can forgive, but rarely can we forget.
I think that most fizzling relationships lose their sizzle because we do not put enough work into them. If we don’t water the flowers, they will not grow, they will die – relationships are like flowers.
Breaking up is also based on some laziness and the unfortunate fact that we start to take each other for granted. We don’t see the person we fell in love with, with the same feelings we experienced back then. We slowly start to slack off ourselves and then we suddenly look at each other and go: “What the heck happened?” and then we start packing.
We throw other things away, so perhaps it’s an ingrown bad habit? The TV goes on the blink – we throw it out and get a new one. The coffee-grinder repair costs more than 10 new grinders; so we discard it and buy a new one, and so forth. But don’t you think relationships should be treated better than TV’s and coffee-grinders? For the most part, relationships are worth repairing.
To avoid being dumped or break up, we need to constantly work on our relationships. We need to communicate verbally, emotionally and physically – constantly. Sounds like a task? Well, it is NOT a task, far from, as you could harvest exciting results.
We are all basically good people. Luckily we differ as we are all individuals, each and every one of us. We not only have our own unique DNA, but more so our very own distinctive personality. In spite of all the differences, we still find companions we are attracted and drawn to. As a species we are monogamous – so we pair up and stay together – well, for the most part.
When we acknowledge and respect how different each of us is, we can better understand that for relationships to work, we must constantly make sure that we are on the same track; communication is essential, and not just “how was your day?”, “did you feed the kids and cat?” or “what is that weird thing on my elbow?” We need to go way beyond that – we need to constantly explore each other’s individuality and development – because that is what we do, we constantly go through changes on all levels – so why not go through it together? There’s an idea…
If we constantly communicate, we will no doubt avoid many break-ups, fights, divorces and what not. When we avoid communicating, it suddenly shows up in our face: What the Hell happened? Why don’t I like you anymore? “Weren’t we best buddies?” And then the guilt questions pop up as well as the wide range of unpleasant moments, emotions and the finger pointing to establish blame – don’t you just hate that?
If we find ourselves too busy to communicate with each other during our relationships and believe that someday we can just catch up and restore, we are so totally wrong. We quickly find that we have grown, and not grown together, but grown apart. We didn’t keep each other up to date about how we were developing, matured and all the stuff that makes each of us so unique; remember? When we keep communication going, breaking-ups would be fewer – I have no doubts about that.
As many different reasons for parting ways, as many different reactions; suffering the break of trust, loss of love, lack of respect, violated fidelity, boredom, and add your own – if you have any to add. We feel abandoned, discarded and on the same emotional level as TV’s and coffee-grinders. So we go through a period of mourning in all its drab shades and shadows; we cannot see that stupid silver-lining everybody tells us about; for now I’m sad and disappointed and feel like crap – so go away and leave me alone (so I can also pick on that weird thing on my elbow…)
Some handle split-ups better than others – duh! We look back instead of looking forward; but why not take this glorious moment of opportunity and start anew? Why not look at the positive side of a failed relationship? Why not reevaluate myself, find out who I am and where I want to go? Okay, so Joe Crap dumped me, but when you really look at it isn’t that his problem and not mine? Obviously he didn’t have the capacity to appreciate me, etc. So better getting rid of the jerk now than in 25 years and three kids later, huh?
I’m a fairly black or white, hot or cold person. So, I either like somebody or something, or I don’t which effectively removes the wishy-washy factor and makes life easier. So I can only see myself having handled split-ups and departures with that attitude.
Have I hurt anybody, made somebody sad or angry or what-not? I’m sure I have. Have I hurt and felt terrible about parting ways? I am very sure I have. Has any of it been easy? I’m positive that none was easy. Have I simulated Joe Crap at times? I possibly have – with plenty of after-the-fact regrets.
Breaking up is hard to do; but let’s not make it so easy. I believe we can eliminate a lot of those awkward moments of bye-bye’s and rescue some true relationships in the process, simply by communicating – of course only if you feel it’s worth the effort.
Until next Monday (and beyond, of course): Make it work – by working on it…
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