Wanna Play?

A friend recently asked me a question. Am I competitive? Well? I answered the question but continued to think about it. I’m kinda funny. When someone asks me a question and wants to know my opinion, I need some time. Oh, I can always spout something immediately, but I need time to process before I can give a really accurate response. That delay itself can and has created misunderstandings and uncomfortable situations in the past.

So? Am I competitive? Well it means more than one thing doesn't it? In some contexts, being competitive means you actually have the capacity to succeed or win the race or sell your product at the same or lower price or offer more advantage than someone else.

But I think the question this time was along the lines of plumbing the depths my desire to win or finding out just how important coming in first is to me.

I have never been a professional athlete, but I have played various sports in a competitive environment. Sometimes I was more than aware that I was not ‘competitive’ in the first sense, but that did not diminish my desire to do my best. I did well in several activities, bowling and ping-pong to name two, and closing a game rolling a ‘Turkey’ in the tenth frame generated a fist pump and high five along with an adrenaline surge which could just as well fuel an internal ‘Primal Scream’ when a well placed slam kisses the very corner of the table and slides past a hopelessly out-maneuvered opponent. 

I love to play card games and board games, and of course those are all set up in a win/lose format. I prefer to win, and if my opponent loses with an entertaining demonstration, so much the better. That being said, I enjoy playing for the sake of the game and camaraderie….the wins and losses seem to even out, and it really doesn’t matter, anyway, Right? Whoops...except in chess.....  ;-)

When I was a younger person, I recall feeling that my ‘worth’ was somehow tied to being the winner, and felt bad if I didn’t finish first. But don’t we get set up for that? Those of us who know the agony of being chosen last when sides are picked are well aware of the perceived value of being competitive. And the incredibly ridiculous salary that so many professionals bring home is evidence of the truth in that.

These days, I compete mostly against me. I tell myself it is for personal growth and self-improvement, but I’m really taking inventory, looking for signs of physical or mental decay, and at my age, finding such is all but inevitable.

I don’t like winning at someone elses’ expense, but how would I feel if the competition was for food or shelter for my family, and my ability to ‘win’ was a matter of life or death for them? I might find I was a much different cat.

Bottom line? Bring it on. Let’s dance….:-)

Firsts and Lasts

Getting in the shower last night (and doesn’t a shower in the evening feel great, specially if you are going to climb in between clean sheets!) I began thinking about 'firsts' and 'lasts.'

When we begin life, our world is full of 'firsts' and we aren’t even aware of many on them. Our first words, first steps are things someone else remembers well, but we ourselves, not so much. Other things we not only remember but perhaps anticipated….the first day of school, or the first time we were able to tie our own shoes.

Then came the bigger events we really anticipated with varying degrees of joy/dread. First date, first period, first car, first job, not necessarily in that order…graduating from high school or going off to college, getting married, having kids of our own. Most of these we saw coming, often long before they actually arrived with time to prepare. Others, like our first speeding ticket or first auto accident we didn’t see coming at all…though others may have known it was only a matter of time.

The last time things from those years ended in one of several ways. Some may have ended quietly, almost unnoticed like the last time we used a sippy cup. Others with great fanfare, like graduating from diapers to big boy pants, tho perhaps if we live long enough we learn we don’t really stop using them we just pause for a while. Some early 'lasts' may come with tears. Parting with the blankie can be tough.

What seems to get past us are the last times we don’t notice at the time. As I get older 'firsts' are farther apart and 'lasts' are much more frequent. Sometimes we do something, then don’t do that same for a while then realize that for some reason we can’t do it again. Opportunity, ability, health or situation..all can change and spell the end of this or that.

The last time I went skiing, it never occurred to me that I was saying goodbye to that thrill as I drove down the mountain. The last time I flew an aircraft, I never dreamed that I wouldn’t be back at the controls. The last time we drive ourselves or the last time we make love, we usually don’t realize that that was it.  When we finally figure it out, it's too late.

Sometimes it is the last time we speak with a friend, and sometimes we wish that if we had only known, we’d have done it differently. But we who have been there and done that…we know, and hopefully leave no regrets…..

Bus Rustler

This tale bubbled up from the depths of the swamp that used to be my mind on the way to work this morning, and I don’t have the good sense to keep it to myself.

Several years ago, I traveled to Denver on a business trip. I flew in on Saturday to have a free day to explore, which I dearly love to do. I decided Saturday evening that I would like to go to church the next morning. I was scheduled to use a company vehicle during my stay, but I wouldn’t be able to get access until Monday. This meant I was dependent on public transportation.

So I have three problems to solve, find a church, locate the church and get to the church on time.

Being a relative stranger to the area, this was a bit more difficult than it appeared. I had to know where I was, where the church was, and how I could integrate those locations with the availability of the city bus. Now, realize that this tale predates Google Earth, or at least my ability to use it. So…to the phone book. I was looking for a Lutheran church, and an ELCA Lutheran church at that. The phone book listed several, with their addresses, but being a stranger, I had NO CLUE where they were, or which one was closest. I did have a paper map…yeah, yeah I know, you didn’t realize this was pre-history.

Anyway, I determined that St. Marks on Del Mar Circle was the closest, and that there was a bus that would pick me up within a block of my hotel and take me to Del Mar Circle. Whoo Hooo. I’m set.

Armed with my trusty paper map, a paperback book and a bottle of water, I set out to go to church. The bus comes by, right on schedule, and except for the driver, I have the entire bus to myself…kinda like a giant limo. I sit up front and chat with the driver for the half hour it takes to get to Del Mar Circle.

Now, I know the address of the church, but the circle thing throws me. Del Mar Circle is about ¾ mile in diameter, and there are six churches scattered along its circumference. The driver has NO CLUE which church might be St. Mark’s either. I gamble and hop off in the midst of a cluster of three churches, and of course none of them is the church I am looking for.

Now, if you do the math, ¾ times pi equals about 2 1/3 miles, so St Marks could be just over a mile away, at the most, if I go the right way. Crap shoot. I pick a direction and begin to walk. In less than a minute, a car stops beside me. The driver, a woman, rolls down the window and asks me for directions. Her luck is obviously on par with mine. The person she chooses to ask for directions is a total stranger not only to this part of town, but to the whole damned state! No, wait. Her luck is better than mine because she happened to pick a fella with a city map in his back pocket. We figure out her dilemma, she goes on her way, and I resume work on mine.

Turns out my luck is good and bad. The bad news: St. Marks is exactly opposite the place where I got off the bus. Couldn’t be any farther away….but….the good news is it didn’t matter which direction I walked……

I get to the church about 10 minutes before the service begins, I go inside and sit down. Here is where the fun begins. Lutherans are just like other folks, but more so. By that I mean everyone always sits in the same place every Sunday. When I picked a seat, I was displacing somebody. So they had to sit somewhere else and that created ripples throughout the sanctuary. Couple that with the fact that I was a stranger……well I felt like the hole in the doughnut. There was clear space all around me. Maybe this is how it is supposed to be…makes it easier for the Pastor to spot Newbies. Which he did. He stopped by to greet me, and also pointed me out during the service…like nobody had noticed the stranger in their midst.

The service ran a bit long, and I didn’t hang out for coffee because I had a bus to catch. Got to the bus stop and checked the schedule. Crap. According to the schedule, the bus had come by 10 minutes before. Sigh.

I sat down, took out my book and began to read. Lo and Behold, the bus drives up and stops for me! I get on board and see a rather harried looking woman driving the bus with a piece of white paper in her hand which she seem to be referring to every couple of blocks. As I often do, I strike a conversation with her. She is a brand new driver and has never driven this route before. She is following a hastily scribbled turn by turn description of the route and becoming more and more confused by the minute. That’s why the bus is late…works for me! I, of course am a total expert, because I just came from where we are headed. I assume the navigation chores…sort of an unpaid civilian adviser to the Denver Transportation  Department.

I now realize I missed a great opportunity to take that bus all over the city, but I wanted to get back to my room to watch the game. In retrospect…it would have been fun, but I didn’t want to find out what the City of Denver does to Bus Rustlers.