IT CAN'T BE DONE . . .

       I had intended to keep count . . . of the number of times last week clients said that they wanted "to make sure that . . ."  I wanted to tell them that as noble as the aspiration might be, its deliverance is an impossibility.

      As it is often used, "making sure" is a throwaway phrase implying that a full exertion of effort will guarantee an intended and expected outcome.  A 'Guarantee' in the purchase of an appliance, automobile, etc. usually is desirable.  At least, a replacement can be offered.  In human terms, however, there are just too many variables.  Consider, " I want to make sure ['certain' if you prefer]  that our team wins tomorrow's game."  For starters, the other team may get a 'vote'.  In 1949, the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Sox seasons came down to the last game. . . the winner would go to the World Series. The brothers DiMaggio played for opposing teams ...Joe for New York and Dom for Boston.  They were driving together for dinner on the eve of the game and Joe apparently said something to the effect that he would have to win the game for his team the next day.  Whereupon, his brother reportedly said,  "I'll be playing in that  game also."  Well, it happened that the Yankees won and Joe certainly contributed.  What might have caused a different outcome?  As talented as 'Jolting Joe' was, he could not have had perfect control over all the variables of the game.  What if an errant pitch had 'beaned' him in the first inning?  After all, pitchers do occasionally throw wild pitches and there were no batting helmets at the time.

      An athletic contest could be construed as an overly simplistic illustration.  What would you like to "make sure" occurs.?  In the first session with a new client, I specifically say, "I do not guarantee outcomes.  Someone else has a say-so in how this goes and that person is sitting in your chair."  I do, however, promise my best effort, training and experience.

     The late Rabbi Edwin Friedman, a preeminent Family Systems therapist, maintained that the pursuit of total "control" is a modern form of idolatry.  It is beyond the achievement of mortals.

     Where does that leave those of us who want to "make sure . . ." ?  At the risk of being 'trite', I would suggest accepting responsibility to utilize  our  Best efforts in terms of thought, action, talent, consultation, exertion, timing, and the recognition that there are factors at work beyond our own doing.

      That reminds me . . . I need to go remove the bird feeder from the deck to make sure that the raccoons do not eat the seeds during the night.

     Satchel

      

As the years rock on , , ,

           Fifty-Eight !!  58 !!  Most of the time I do not even feel 58 years old.  Then the math unremittingly insists that it has been that many years since high school graduation.  I missed last year's gathering.  Had not been to one since #50 and it , like the one today, was but a couple of miles from where we live.   (While I did not attend last year's reunion, a picture from the event prompted my writing of the earlier post "Once Upon a Time".)

      Our numbers have declined . . . of the original 44, eleven have died ... eight of the men and three women. Two men died within the past year.  One of those had been a close high school friend. ("Marlin . . . In Memoriam")  The other had been the class prankster.  Today, there were 17 of us who gathered, along with guests.  

      Evidences of accumulating years and health challenges were unmistakeable.  At times, the mood turned 'heavy' as 
we remembered losses and spoke of rough spots along the way.  Despite that, there was an authentic delight in seeing  each other and in re-hearing some old stories and a few new ones:  Carl's telling of cheerleading for NC State:"Give me an 'S', Give me a 'T', Give me an 'A', Give me an 'E'."  Whoops, left out a letter. ; Ray's comment, "Well, none of us has been in jail", being met by a lone voice that said, "I have".
And there are yet a few of us still working  full-time.

      The strong spirit of endurance and survival there today bespoke again the adage, "Old age is not for sissies."

    Satchel

"Not off our rockers !"

PARACHUTES AND PARATROOPERS

     I have never jumped from an airplane; nor at this stage of my life do I anticipate doing so.  We have a friend who was a member of the famed 82nd Airborne some years ago and he still has fond memories of the time.  During my Army basic training at Fort Jackson, S.C., in 1962,  there was an airborne company just across the street from our company area and we thought them a bit macho, always chanting 'Airborne, airborne' during their morning run.

    My sole close encounter with a parachute occurred that Fall.  After basic, I was assigned to the Third Army Flight Detachment at Fort McPherson in Atlanta.  My grand-parents lived close by in Alabama.  One Friday, two Captains flew in from Fort Rucker, Alabama, for a brief errand on post.  I asked if they would be returning via Montgomery and if so, could I catch a hop.  Well, they could go that way and since they were in a single engine L-19, I would need a parachute.  My section sergeant gave me a week-end pass and orders not to let the pompous First Sergeant know.  I checked out a parachute from the Supply Room, stashed it in their aircraft along with a few personal items for the week-end.  Though given a quick tutorial in how to use the parachute, I had already concluded that if matters reached that level of severity, I was likely already dead from a coronary.

   It was an uneventful flight and I had a good visit with kinspeople, even though my Uncle Sam (really his name) who did not know of my arrival was a bit surprised to see a parachute on his living room floor when he came home from work.  Getting back to my post became another matter altogether.  Not daring to check the parachute with luggage lest a clerk pull the wrong lever and have open parachute all over the place, I kept it with me on the bus ride back to Atlanta.  I was billeted off post in a private residence some dozen miles or so from downtown.  My plan had been to call the hanger and have someone provide transportation to my quarters.  No one was there except the CQ (Charge of Quarters) who was prohibited from leaving.  By now it was late on Sunday night and being AWOL at roll call the next morning was not an attractive outcome.  Finally I hit upon a  'life saver'.  I telephoned the fraternity house at Georgia Tech of the same national fraternity of which I had been a member some years earlier at another college.  I explained my situation, adding that I would be recognizable outside the bus terminal because I was in uniform and carrying a parachute.  There was a long silence and I realized how 'odd' that must have sounded.  At any rate, in a few minutes a couple of guys appeared and drove me home.

    All of that is frivolous compared to the 'real stuff' that occurred seventy years ago today (June 6, 1944) as paratroopers jumped into German Army-held regions of France.  As a small way of remembering and honoring, I have again watched portions of Band of Brothers.  "Hero" is a term that gets tossed around much too easily but those men, who frightened though they were, were heroes all.  I have especially thought of 'Mr. Len' (see earlier post with that title) who was part of the D-Day force, as well as two other men whom I knew when a boy and later learned that they had survived that 'Longest Day'.

    And, now on today's news, there is a story of Jim 'Pee Wee' Martin who was among those jumping into Normandy that morning and now at the age of 93 just jumped again.  Of this last jump, he said, "It was wonderful, absolutely wonderful. . . . I did not compare [with 1944] because there was not anybody shooting at me today."   (Mr. Martin maintains a Facebook page that can be accessed by doing a web search with his name.)

    Often in these posts, I note what I deem the necessity of contradicting the stereotypes of aging.  Horrible things do occur to folks in the post-65 cohort (as noted in my last post).  However, there are things we can do to 'hedge our bets', such as good nutrition and exercises like walking.  While I include Mr. Martin among the WWII heroes, he also deserves that accolade for his recent actions and attitudes.   He acknowledged that he was motivated in part by 'ego' in making this last jump to demonstrate that "I'm 93 and can still do it. . . . And also I just want to show all the people that you don't have to sit and die just because you get old. Keep doing things."  He plans to jump again next D-Day.  While I do not plan to join him in this endeavor, he is a great encourager for keeping fit and healthy.
    " Geronimo !!"
                              Satchel