Family

Every week I put together a to-do list for the weekend and every week I struggle to get it all done. Something always comes up that makes it a challenge to get the list checked off. Sound familiar?

I am a long practicing student of David Allen’s Getting Things Done system of personal productivity. It’s seemingly simple times like this when I need it most. During the week I collect, on Friday I process, and on Saturday and Sunday I execute (as best I can.)

This weekend I started out with the standard items: Karate, laundry, a couple podcasts, and then added on the odd bits from work that get done after hours like a quick software upgrade. (Even the task to write this posting was on the list.) By Friday, my list is pretty full. It’s enough to make one’s head spin. Yet without that list each week, my weekend might be squandered away.

Life always seems to throw a curve ball at you. My wife will come up with an idea to watch the Flag Day parade with the kids. I look outside and see 72 degrees and sunny, how can I refuse? But the list is calling to me to get things checked off! That’s when I know it’s time to take a step back and look at priorities. Time with the wife and kids always wins over power washing the house. Sure, it sounds simple in that case. In others, there are things I really WANT to do, usually gadget based, that make the decision all that more difficult. Last weekend the weather wasn’t as nice and I told myself “forget the list for a while and go watch a movie.” The list gives you a sense of accomplishment, but getting away from the list for a while gives renewed energy to come back and attack it.

My recommendation to you, keep your list. Use it as a guide, not as a rule. When something unexpected comes up, emergency, family time, or whatever, step back and use your priorities to make the “macro judgement” as best as possible. Know that you still have the list when the new item is passed to keep getting things done.

Years ago when I was in my late teens and early 20s, a man, actually his whole family, had a very positive impact on my life professionally, personally, and spiritually. My teen years were rough and although hard to believe now, left me with little self-confidence. The man, we’ll call him Bill, gave me a job (two actually), gave me respect and guided me. Bill is about 8 years older than I am. Age didn’t seem to matter. He had wisdom beyond his years yet the ability to communicate as if we were peers. I am grateful for all he has done. I owe him, and his family, a lot.

Now that I am older I look to the teens that I interact with and think “It’s my turn to have a positive impact.” In some cases, it’s just listening.  Others, it might be talking about tech gadgets. In other cases it’s taking a few hits in Karate.

One in particular (we’ll call him Mike) wasn’t all that popular. For some reason he gravitated to me. Others spoke openly about how annoying he could be, but I persivered at spending time with him. Now as Mike graduates High School, he showed his appreciation more openly. He thanked me in public for just being there. That meant a lot to me. Things became a little clearer this past weekend when I found out that he had interpersonal issues at school and his home life is a bit of a mess. Even though I didn’t know this before, it wouldn’t have changed my “mission” to return the favor and be there for him – even in a limited way.

If you are 25 or older, look for teens or early 20s people you interact with (Church, the gym, school functions) and talk to them. Treat them with respect. Treat them like adults because they will be soon and they will remember what you did for them and want to do the same.

Sometimes all the other person needs is a sympathetic ear. I found myself reminding me of this fact this past weekend. I have a family member going through a tough time and spent some time for a visit. It’s very hard to remain positive and upbeat when someone I love is struggling. In fact, it’s hard to say anything positive for fear of it coming across as “Look how good things are for me.”

More than once I had to remember “This is not about me” and the second most important lesson “Just listen. Don’t offer advice, don’t try to solve problems. Just listen.”

This last bit I learned from Donna several years ago. We work at the same company and often times she has a more negative opinion of her day than I do. That’s not to say her job is worse, just that she likes to “share” the bad things that happen. As a man, I want to go with my natural instinct and try and give her advice and solve the problem. Finally she said “Don’t try solving my problems, just listen.” That’s very difficult for me. “Why are you telling me this if you don’t want me to say anything?” I asked. “I just need someone to talk to.”, she responded. The wisdom-wallet got another deposit that day.

Now I find myself in that same situation with a sibling having a very tough time personally. Sure, we did plenty of other things like shopping, playing Wii, watching movies with the family, and playing games. Then one night we were up late. I was tired, and when I’m tired, little things can get on my nerves quickly. Being talked to about problems is not one of my favorites, but I remembered “Just listen.” This afternoon I got a call, but wasn’t able to take it in time. The message said “Thanks for listening. It really meant a lot. I feel recharged and ready to take on the challenges in front of me.”

So if you find yourself in a similar situation… remember, just listen.

It’s really strange how you meet people sometimes. This past week was one of the strangest I can recall. I was on my way to work on Monday – a day like any other. When I got to the roundabout in Neenah, I noticed  a car stopped on the far side, blocking my way. I got in the circle and as I pulled out, I noticed there was someone laying on the ground just to the left where the sidewalk comes down to meet the road. Instantly I recognized the person on the ground as the crossing guard who is usually in the median on the south side of the circle. Fearing the worst, I thought a car had hit her.

I got out of my van and asked the driver of the other vehicle, now standing near the woman, if everything was OK. What happened next bothered me… I didn’t react quickly. I hesitated and observed for what felt like an eternity. Not knowing the situation, but not rushing to aid someone in need. In reality it was probably 10 seconds, but it felt like 10 years. I noticed the other driver was on a mobile phone as he stood near the woman on the ground. Her hands were moving and slightly raised to her chest as she lay on her back with her knees slightly bent. The man was calling 911 for help.

As I approached the woman, I saw blood on her hands. I thought perhaps she cut her finger. The man was trying to put her mitts on to keep her hands warm, but was struggling with one hand on the cell phone so I stepped in and helped the woman with her mitts. That’s when I realized the problem was not with her hands, but her head. She had slipped on a patch of ice while helping one of the school kids across and hit her head causing it to bleed. She had on earmuffs and a headband, but no hat. There was a pool of blood behind her head about six inches around, but not getting any larger when I got there.

After getting her mitts on, the other man went to his vehicle and got a towel. I helped the woman put it behind and over her head to keep her warm, then began to talk to her.

“Hi. What is your name?”, I inquired.

“Carol”, she replied.

“Carol, my name is Chuck. You’re going to be alright. We’re here to help you.” It was odd what went through my mind and how aware I was, and still am, of every thought. “Keep her calm. Keep her talking. Are her pupils dialated? What did you learn as a child, from books, and from your mentors about talking to people in need and what should be said now?”

Carol’s eyes looked OK, but she was clearly shaken. The man on the phone kept talking and pacing. I only picked up bits of the conversation.

“No, she’s talking…”

Shouldn’t I be hearing sirens by now? It must have been five minutes since he called and the Police, Fire, and EMT are all within a mile of here. “Carol, help is on the way.” She looked like she wanted to fall asleep, and I knew that if the head injury was serious enough, that was a bad idea so I kept her talking. I tried to make small talk about the school, how we had seen her every day, and how much we appreciated her work. I think I ended up doing more talking than she did.

“Where did that little boy go that I was helping?” she asked.

I was touched by her dedication to remember the boy who was no long gone, likely without knowing what had happened – and probably better that way.

A few moments later the EMT pulled up. The other man and I had to move our vehicles so they could get by. We had done an effective job of blocking the roundabout exit insofar as everyone else had to take a detour to get to work. Like most inconvenienced drivers, they were probably more concerned about being a couple minutes later than expected rather than knowing the full extent of the situation. There’s something to keep in mind the next time traffic isn’t going your way. Consider that someone’s life could have just been changed in a flash and you want to complain about a few extra minutes.

Shortly after the EMTs arrived, a firetruck and police car arrived on the scene. Knowing that Carol was in good hands, I slowly slipped off to my van and went to work hoping for the best.

When I got to work, several people said they saw my van and asked what had happened. I told them. A few thanked me, but I couldn’t accept any thanks. I really hadn’t done anything that anyone else wouldn’t have done.

The next morning Donna was with me on the drive. As we approached the same roundabout I expected to see a substitute crossing guard, but was overjoyed when I saw Carol back at her post. I rolled down the window as some chilly March air rushed in. As we passed I shouted out “Good to see you back Carol!” and I applauded a few loud, leather hand covered claps.

She only had time to reply “Got a few staples in my head, but I’m OK.”

She’s been there every morning ever since and I’ve made sure to smile and wave, and she returns the gesture. I’ll never forget that chilly March morning when I was introduced to Carol the crossing guard.