Red Bud Down

I was feeling sad/guilty about digging up the red bud tree I planted too close to another red bud tree. For the past three years they have both grown ferociously, their limbs weaving ever tighter into one another. One of them had to go or both would die.

Hacking away with a saw and shovel, pondering the cruel choices of life, the propulsive expansion of nature, the way our minds create value differences resulting in "weeds" and "beautiful trees," I was approached by my 80-year-old neighbor, ax and chainsaw in hand.

We worked well together. Thwack, thwack, thwack, zzzzzzt, zzzzzt — the red bud was uprooted, slaughtered, and quartered in a fraction of the time I'd allotted; efficiently stashed in a brown lawn bag before I could say: "Sorry for the poor planting job, little guy."

I love neighbors, and neighbors helping each other, and people of different generations coming together. All that created a warm, fuzzy, neighbor glow in my heart, but but but — the tree: so unceremoniously executed.

I'm going to have to perform a little good-bye ceremony to it in the alley tonight.

The moral? Follow the planting directions on the tag.

The Kids Are All Right

After arriving home from a family outing to Rango, I noticed my cell phone was missing. It was a miracle to notice this within an hour of leaving the theater, rather than say, two weeks later, but that is a different post titled “I Hate Cell Phones.” This post is not about hate—it is about hate’s opposite, though I have not yet figured out what that is.

I called the theater to see if I had left the phone there, and a young man I will call Pat answered. I don’t call him Pat to protect his anonymity, but because I can’t remember his name. Pat asked many clarifying questions as to where in the theater I was sitting and what the phone looked like.

“The movie ends at 9:25,” Pat said. “I will go in at 9:28 to look for your phone. You can expect a call back from me—hopefully telling you I have your phone.”

Yeah, right, I thought, like he’ll remember. “Or I could call you at 9:35,” I said.

“You could do that,” Pat said.

Pat called at 9:42. “I am happy to say I have good news. I have your phone in my hand.”

Pat actually seemed to care whether I got my phone.

When my cousin worked at Pottery Barn, customers would send letters to her manager raving about her service. I couldn’t imagine what could be so great about service that you’d be compelled to write a letter. But somehow, on a snowy February night, a 19-year-old had my back while I wasn’t expecting it or thinking I needed it, and it was such a relief.

I don’t know how to describe Pat’s manner: it wasn’t kindness, exactly, though that was there. It wasn’t politeness, or even helpfulness, though those were there also. It was more like humanity. Goodwill. He was naturally engaged, interested, open. I wondered what his parents were like, and whether they were proud to have such a lovely son. I hope they are proud of themselves.

And I hope my children and I grow up to be this altruistic.

Wikipedia: Altruism can be distinguished from feelings of loyalty and duty. Altruism focuses on a motivation to help others or a want to do good without reward

This post for Susan. If she can write a long thoughtful post, so can I.

The Year of the Superlative

What do you say when a friend asks your opinion of their artistic endeavor—you hated it—and you find yourself gasping like a fish dying on a line trying to think of one positive thing to say besides "Well it finally ended, that was good."

According the Cary Tennis, your answer is:
"I loved it!"
He explains here.

In Defense of Emoticons

An interesting Behance article on email etiquette has two interesting takeaways for me.

First, a neutrally worded email is perceived as negative. You have to go out of your way to show positivity. I have been using exclamation marks lately, despite having been brought up with a literary education that regards exclamation marks as the devil.

Second, the article espouses emoticons "until keyboards can actually perceive the emotional content of our messages." I often want to use emoticons, but have been too scared/snobbish, but today I learn it is the way of now.

I suppose this is the time of my post to end with exclamation marks and smileys, but I shall not.