The Cheerio Left Behind

Each weekday morning I sit in a church for an entire hour before I go to work. Being a New Yorker it is hard to find a private place to read, write - collect my thoughts - during the week, Churches are empty and quiet in the morning - Perfect.

One day I sat down in my usual pew, pulled out my notebook, my favorite pen and settled in - then I noticed in front of me, on a shelf in-between a Hymnal and a Bible - was a single Cheerio.

It looked like it had been placed very carefully (not too far back as to be unreachable but also not too far forward as to be noticeable) - it was as if it was being saved for later or possibly hidden from someone who might take it away.

I immediately could imagine the little hands that put it there. The short stubby fingers of a baby, the tiny finger nails and the specific way kids each snacks – one at a time – the baby had to be old enough to sit on Mom or Dad’s lap - probably with a tiny snack-size Ziploc bag filled with other bribes to keep quiet.

I stared at this Cheerio for a while - never thinking of removing it - only pondering how to preserve it. I wanted a set of tiny velvet ropes to put around it because I immediately saw this Cheerio as a message worth maintaining just the way it was.

Noticing that solitary Cheerio gave me instant happiness.

It communicated to me the joys of childhood and the beauty of growing up. Sitting there between two very adult books, in a historic church, was a little touch of modern day childhood. The child who left it probably was not old enough to write or speak, but they spoke to me. This anonymous baby reminded me not to take life too seriously and start my day by acknowledging the child that was always going to be within me.

Now, all of this may seem like a metaphor run a-muck - but really – that is what this piece of breakfast cereal gave me - and I immediately started to compose a letter.

I was inspired to write down my words of wisdom – what I had learned in life – so far - and what I wanted to remember:

1. Live Someplace You Love – If you don’t adore your community you will never love your home. After 14 years I’m still in love with this City.

2. Always have people in your life that are both older and younger then you – the older ones give you perspective and the younger ones remind you how far you have come.

3. Keep your time of doing nothing to a minimum – Life is to be lived to the fullest so when you do stop and smell the roses they will be even more fragrant.

4. Enjoy your friends as if they are fine wine – no one will mean more to you in the end because your friends are the people you choose to share your life with.

5. Have great posture - that way even if you don’t know what you are doing or saying you will always look like you do. Plus, you will look thinner then you actually are.

6. There is a rock at the bottom of rock bottom – no matter how far you fall you have the strength to get up again

And finally:
7. Always have a pen and paper with you. You never know when inspiration will strike.

I wrote these down, put them in an envelope, addressed it, sealed it, stamped it and on my way to work that morning I mailed it – to myself.

The next day the letter arrived in my mailbox and even thought I new what it was and what it said I was excited to receive it. I was excited to see my thoughts and values on the page. I was back in the church smiling at the cheerio.

John Adams once said, “let us dare to read, think, speak and write”. I think about that quote when I look at the letter or my notebooks, or even when I ponder my time here on earth.

Let us dare!

It takes courage to communicate.

It takes work to communicate well.

It takes the childlike nature - alive in all of us - to write a letter to ourselves recording who we are in a select moment.

Now, when I sit in that pew each morning one of the things I ponder is communication and the power we all have to share who we are and what we think and believe. All of us on Facebook, blogging or even the random singers on the subway each and every one of us has taken on the challenge to connect with fellow human beings and ourselves.

I shared with you some of my personal values, all sparked by the presence of a child and their oat filled calling card. What is your calling card?

What can we all leave behind for our family’s, friends, children and the generations behind us to know and understand about our existence and hopefully do better then us? I ask you to share with someone – anyone - your lessons learned.

I’m here trying to learn how to have as much impact as a Cheerio.

Fried Friend: Chicken Chicken Ckicken

Has anyone else noticed the massive amount of fried chicken press lately? New York Magazine had a photo spread that was so beautiful I tore it out and posted it on my wall as if it was a girl in a bikini and I was a teenage boy.

Then the Times answered the chicken as food porn challenge with their own list of finger lickin’ choices with accompanying photo. What is a fried chicken fanatic, like me, to do with all this stimulation?

I would not call myself a fried chicken connoisseur because that would define my chicken eating habits as selective. My fried chicken consumption is not refined or based on the knowledge of the perfect fried chicken technique – no - it is much more primal. If fried chicken is put in front of me I automatically react as if starvation is on the way and I must eat everything in preparation. The famine never comes - of course – just more chicken but all of this chicken news got me pondering why I’ve always loved it?

Friend chicken and I go way back. I have this memory, that may be real or not, of me in a dark wood highchair, wearing a bib and eating the small pieces placed in front of me with my fingers. I don’t remember the taste but I do remember not being able to stop. I had found my crack and the seductive hand of addiction took hold. From that day forward every birthday and any other occasion where I got to choose the menu it was chicken.

Fried chicken has had such an impact on my life that one of my strongest adolescent memories is of me driving through the Red Barn drive-through (on my bike) and enjoying the meals by the loading dock. Yes, I ate fast food fried chicken from a box while sitting on a loading dock (I’m waiting for the episode of Intervention where I see this scenario played out – I know its coming).

I have celebrated with chicken and drowned my sorrows in its crispy goodness. I remember feeling like a kindred soul mate to Liz Taylor when she was quoted saying Popeyes chicken was her favorite meal. See, even goddess superstars have friend chicken weaknesses. Chicken has been my friend, my lover, my companion and now it's popular. I can honestly say I was ahead of this trend. I have spent a lifetime appreciating this wonderful comfort food and I am happy the world is celebrating its praises – now lets eat!

Question

What must it be like to live across the street from the MET?

I'm sitting on the stairs and there are lights on in a few apartments across the street. I'd really like to ask if they know how lucky they are.


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Hair Dryer Power

Did you know there is a difference in hair dryers besides shape and color? I didn’t. I thought all hair dryers were the same and did the same thing – dry hair. I have learned I was very wrong in this assumption.

Recently I switched gyms and the locker room has a different type of dryer then my previous gym. I started using it and ever since I have been getting nothing but complements about my hair. Everyone wants to know: Did I cut my hair? No. Did I get highlights? No. Am I using some amazing new product? No. All I’m doing is using a new dryer.

I can’t believe I have been stressing over my inability to make my hair attractive for – well..my entire life – and all I’ve had to do to get the hair attention I craved was to buy a better hair dryer? It's so simple its genious.

I’ve never liked my hair or doing my hair. My hair is straight – I, of course, have always wanted curly. When I was a teen I would get up at the crack of dawn to curl every strand of my pin straight hair into a teased up hair band mess that I loved. You want product, I was a child of the 80’s and we swam in hair products. My bangs were so high I looked like I had a giant puffy horn coming out of the center of my head and I loved it.

With age I let go of the crack of dawn grooming sessions. I tried perming, that never stayed. I did the hot roller thing, but in the summer I would be perspiring so much between the hot rollers on my head and the mid-west humidity that my hair would actually get wet while I was trying to curl it.

Eventually I gave up, worn out from all those years of styling I cut my hair off. I cut my hair so short that styling it and my dreams of long flowing attractive hair were moot. I let go of the fantasy and walked around with my pixi cut trying to convince myself that I liked looking like Mia Farrow during her married to Frank Sinatra years, but the truth is I never let go of my dream, what I did was get out of the habit of worrying about it.

So years go by and my hair would get a little long, then I would cut it off again and start all over. I went from styling the life out of it every morning to never styling it. I was a true wash and go girl and assumed I was destined to live an average hair life, I had accepted my fate. Then this magical hair dryer came into my life.

After a blow dry with this dryer my hair is bouncy, full and shiny. I have contemplated stealing this dryer many times, you must understand, it is magical. I wash, I condition, I dry it and brush it – that’s it and you would have thought I had Frederic Fekkai on retainer from the comments I get.

My Dad does a lot of handy man stuff and he once told me about the importance of tools to anyone trying to construct something. Well, I never really understood that statement until now. The final piece of my hair quest came to me – the perfect hair dryer. Watch out world my hair is back!

, Inc.

I am so annoyed by the branding of the world.

In my job I have reason to deal with a lot of companies and the publishing of their names. Do you have any idea how much time I spend checking and re-checking that the comma is in the right place or the "Inc" is two spaces from the end of the name blah blah blah.

People really...when did our sensitivity to brands become so sensitive we can't move anything forward without ten approvals from what's left of middle management?

The brand police are everywhere and all these little details designed to make something stand out or be official does nothing but clog the message. Hello brand people please make it simple and move on.

So true

"audience choice is increasing, which makes one pay a bigger penalty for mediocre product."

Tom Staggs


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Thought

Sometimes the why behind the art is more interesting then the art


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