Wow the weekend before Thanksgiving! That means next week your life is probably going to be overstuffed with too much work and no room for play or you’ve spent the past four days to nearly two years trying to figure out what in God’s name it requires to land a job in a market too afraid to budge because the current fad in America is to cut back, cut back, cut back. Lord knows we don’t want to offend the stockholders demanding top dollar for their investment…so we play along by way of keeping the peace.
A minister stopped by my studio to record yesterday—a single sentence from her well written chapters puts it all in place, “When I sit with those who are passing, I’ve yet to meet the person who takes the time to recognize a family member, friend or coworker for the gifts they shared during the years they were strong and very much alive. Every final conversation is based on relationship. They were incredibly loving, caring and their smile seemed to warm my indifferences with everyday life.”
As much as we want to have the best looking turkey and unforgettably tasting sweet potatoes and mash tators…this changed America we’ve evolved into since the great Recession of 08 still fails to recognize what it was our Great Grandparents brought with them—the spirit of life and our purpose for being here.
In looking back the only thing we truly store are plastic containers picked up at Space Savers. I keep having visions of my mother going through her parent’s cardboard boxes and wooden crates wondering, “Who were these people?”
What will someone discover about you when you’re no longer there to protect it?
Is it really all about getting money for Christmas? If the finger prints you hold belong only to you that means you’ve left nothing in the palms belonging to the hearts you publicly accept as love but deny as reason to grow in privacy.
Materialistic value is like age…it’s only a number and digits do nothing but make your life miserable. Bowling became more fun when someone on the team was no longer stuck keeping score.
Like it or not the holidays are here. The face of American success has changed but have you? I am requiring my feet to learn a new beat. I’m horribly embarrassed to admit that I have no clue who my son-in-law Juan is and where his drive to succeed is located but I know in my heart he’s the warmest, most giving man I’ve met since my stepfather Joe. If something happened to him today I would be my mother asking, “Who was he and how did he get this way?”
I study him like hawk because he’s the keeper of my daughter’s children and the lessons they learn in life must strengthen their willingness to grow to reach through the wall not stop the moment a connection is made. Success on the financial front has got to stop because somewhere along the path we forgot to have faith in our family. We’ve chosen instead to dump our loved ones in after school programs that heave ho a bunch of doe from our empty bank accounts and place it in the hands of someone doing it because its just another job and who the heck can find a good one these days?
Christmas and Thanksgiving are everyday…get to know your Juan. Put yourself in a state of mind that makes you a leader on the day life becomes a single note and its located in a plastic container—rather than being shocked about the ingredients inside, pick up each piece and sing with it.
Native American’s never mourned the loss of a loved one…they celebrated life. What we assumed with tears of sorrow and pain were physical conversations with their Great Creator by way of saying, “Thank you for sharing.”
When was the last time you looked into your Juan's eyes and said, “You have no idea how much I appreciate you being part of my life.” Even your pets will sit next to you a little bit longer when you start whispering, “Thanks you little hambone.”
Did you know Gene Simmons of KISS owns the rights to the dollar symbol…rightfully you should be paying him for the bucks you spend…which is my way of saying put value in family and get to know them because after a three day work week with bosses who will never understand, those eyes and open arms are going to be sitting around that table physically pumping out the energy to make your earned day off a bright spot to hold. And on your dying bed what you got in presents will never be remember but the finger prints you shared becomes the remnants in the red carpet firmly stapled to the stairway to heaven.
Steal my art….
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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