50 Words

When I was a Freshman in college, I had a writing assignment for an English class which was to describe something in great detail but with only very few words. I must have told my Father about it because about a week later I received a letter from him that included a piece of paper that had one paragraph written on it. It was an assignment he had completed in college many years before that he had saved. I was so surprised he had saved it! I read the paragraph and didn't quite understand it. I called him up and asked him about it. He said when he was a Freshman his assignment was to describe his Dad in 50 words.

Now, with greater context, I re-read his 50 word paragraph describing Grandpa. Wow....! It was perfect. I re-read it over and over....(yes! I did count the words just to make sure too--50). Those few words not only described him well, but captured his "essence", which really surprised me. It was really really good. I was so impressed with how well Dad had managed to choose each word and then string them together so succinctly to capture so much of someone in just 50 short words.... I know I completed my assignment, but can't even remember what I ended up doint it on......obviously it did not have the same impact on me or the professor!

Fast Forward 23 years.......I am rummaging through old stuff, waxing nostalgic ,and I come across Dad's letter and the 50 word assignment he sent me so long ago. I smiled to myself and replayed the short exchange we had so many years before. So, I re-read it again. The power of it had not dwindled with time--There was Grandpa, alive and well forever captured in "ink".

 I had not seen my Dad for about 3 years (longest for me at that point) and I was really missing him. I started noodling about what he had done for his Dad. What a wondrous gift, that 50 word "statue" was now a monument to him, something so complimentary to who he was. I wondered further.....what 50 words would someone choose for me? That quickly turned into an excited notion that formed in my head...."Hey, what if I do one for Dad?" Hmm..... I wonder, could I pull it off? I knew inside that I could never get it quite as right as he did, but a desire grew inside me to try. So, I set off right then and there....I opened up Word and started brainstorming and freeforming; throwing words all over the page like a puzzle,  electronically listing words, adjectives, superlatives etc...... I realized after 1 hour that I had 2 pages full of awesome stuff. Now the hard part....whittling down. Easier said then done! I started the laborious process of trying to condense a lifetime of experiences and characteristics into a couple of paragraphs. It became increasingly difficult and I found myself getting quite upset and frustrated....I started spewing forth not-so-nice expressions under my breath and finally after 2 hours hit "save", pushed my chair out and stomped off to release my pent up emotions with a nice Dr. Pepper. "Dang!@#&!! ; How come it was so flippin' hard??" For the next few nights I continued to tackle the problem at hand.....nothing seemed to flow, there was too much and I just could not emotionally handle the "cutting" that was required. I decided to let it rest after a week.

Fast forward 10 months...... No, I hadn't forgotten. I had continued to think and ponder about it for months but just couldn't wrap my head around it. It had to be a "feeling" and it was like grabbing a bar of soap in the bathtub--very elusive. What started as this optimistic poetic piece that I thought I could knock out in a couple of days had turned into a long, drawn out, focused mission that had pushed me and stretched me in very important ways. I began to pick up where I left off.

Somehow, someway, how, I am still not sure, words started to come together and more importantly their combined meaning created little parts of the "essence" of Dad (if that makes sense?) --at least it seemed that way to me. I started to get a little bit excited and I persisted. It took the next two months to finally get it down into about 70 words. I knew I was close but it just wasn't "perfeito" (perfect). Finally, after simply going over it over and over again I found myself counting ....50! I had done it! I felt so powerful....and then in the same heartbeat I second guessed myself and wondered "Is it even close?" "Is it good?" "Does it capture his soul the way he did his Dad?" .......Probably not, but it was good enough for a non-writer type like me....

I waited almost another year for his birthday to give it to him. I had it done in nice calligraphy and framed it for him. It was my most important gift to him and I considered it a way for me to honor him.

So.......I have thought long and hard about about posting my 50 word assignment on this blog.....I am well aware of the fact that to any reader this will not seem much, because of how personal it is to me. I do not expect anyone to respond as I have, but I share it regardless because I want to extend an invitation......... yes to you! I strongly suggest everyone go through this process. You will learn more about yourself and this person than you ever imagined. You will recall special moments that you may have forgotten, you will see just how amazing the person really is. Feelings and emotions will come as you think about how to capture them with words. It is a wonderful thing.

Should you accept this homework assignment, may it wring your insides out and frustrate you only because at the end of the day, your love and appreciation will be bigger, deeper and more meaningful.....at least that was my experience. I pray it be yours.....

When the time came to place my 50 word gift in his hands....I was wearing my heart on my sleeve and was "brimming" with emotion....he would never know how long it took or how hard it was for me...he didn't need to. I knew how much he loved his Dad, and I wanted to let him know how much I loved mine.....

Normally greets with a pun. Although avoids advice,
His wisdom pierces and lingers.
Soulful and Eloquent,
Would rather be driving a long haul rig.
Darts of self doubt only set the grit more firmly in his teeth
Never sweats the small stuff.
Passionately paints with poetry.  Melodic;
.…aches for Daddy
Aaron L. Brown -- Jan’05

Know Thyself.....

I walked in the door last night coming home from work and as I passed through the entryway I turned my head, saw a few of the kids watching TV and greeted them with a passing: " Hey Dudes.... how goes it?"

As I continued my forward motion and started to head up the stairs I heard a retort behind me that said emphatically: "Hey!... I am NOT a Dude, Dad!!"

I turned around and......yes, there was Alexa with her arms crossed across her chest, hips bent one way, with one of her "Bring it on Dude" attitudes written all over her face. (.......Do they always come with red hair!!?)

I could tell she was waiting for the "right" answer from me. I squirmed uncomfortably realizing she was making me nervous! (Like getting caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar). I realized it was FEAR! ......How could a tiny little girl cause make me sweat??!!

She just sat there and waited while I fumbled to come up with the right words. I began to explain to her that she was my little "Dudette"(....he he, nice recovery I thought.....) WRONG! That did not fly at all - in fact, her only response was to shift her weight from one foot to the other, now showing signs of growing impatience..... "Quickly Aaron" I thought..."you are striking out here". The only thing I could come up with was a feeble "It just means I love you honey!" .... If there had been a referee right there I would have been presented with a "Red Card" and ejected from the game for such a weak performance! Needless to say, she realized how pathetic I was, rolled her eyes and walked away.....

but not before she reminded me that she was a "GIRL!!!!! and that her name was ALEXA CHELTA BROWN".....

Now, all kidding aside. I sat down on the steps right there and let my mind take in the power of her few words.... What came clearly to my mind was: "Know Thyself"

I sat there and marveled at the fact that Alexa, who is 8 yrs old, not only knew who she was, but did so with great "enthusiasm" and conviction!

No, she most definitely is not a "dude" in the strictest sense of the definition. I may think of her as my "little Dude" but in the larger scope of reality -- No, she is not!

What caught me was how quickly she responded and the mighty attitude she said it with. She knew exactly what she was NOT--which really is a reflection of knowing who she really IS right?

I reflected upon the world that she has to grow up in....a world that is more confusing with every passing day. A world that I feel has often confused the "who am I? " question. It is less clear for young people today to "know who they are" because there are so many influences pulling them this way or that. The only way to make sense of anything the world "defines" is to: "Know Thyself"

As I sat there and let the full extent of her self-knowledge wash over me like a flood and I received a calm feeling and a lump in my throat. She didn't get that from me or Mom did she? No..... she came hardwired with that information, at least I hoped so, and also hoped that maybe Heaven had a hand here, helping her after all -- to know who she is, where she came from and what she is supposed to do.

Can she put her faith and belief in a simple still, small but powerful "feeling"? Is she prepared to face the world that might tell her she is any number of different things?.......... Yes! There is no question at all. She knows....... and anyone, including her silly Dad, that tries to tell her otherwise has another thing coming, that is for sure.

....After a few moments, I got up, continued where I had left off, and a knowing smile started to form on my face replacing the lump in my throat. I said a quiet prayer of thanks for that reinforcing feeling, not so much that I knew she knew, but more importantly that she knew she knew. I did an instant quick "check" internally, to see if I still knew as she seemed to know........Ahh, .it was a good moment for me, to remember too, who I was and to have that feel right.

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind. -- Dr. Seuss

No, Lexi, I will never mind when you speak what you feel, I consider it a blessing to know you, associate with you and to constantly learn from you....May you never lose that sense of identity and courage -- My money is on you -- never the World!!

Famous Last Words....

This past Saturday I attended the funeral of my uncle Bill. He was a couple of years younger than my Dad, but always seemed more of a big brother to him. Without going into details, he was an incredible man. His life full of service to church, family and community. Those who gave him tribute spoke of a man that quietly and persistently "endured to the end" and left a large wake of touched lives. I felt so inpsired listening to all that was said of him and found myself unconsciously reflecting upon my own life and then jumping forward in my minds eye to my own funeral...."what would be said of Aaron Brown?"

What would I really want to be said of me? Many things came to my mind in a flash, but they all fell short. I realized that many would probably say things like "he was fun", "always smiled", "easy to get a long with" etc..... As I listened to myself vette these out, I realized it wasn't enough. I wanted to hear stories where I did things for others that went "unnoticed" and anonymous, like I was hearing about Uncle Bill....I wanted to hear stories from my kids that said "I watched my Dad help others and led by quiet example" or "My Dad often gave more than he really had the means to give". I didn't want to hear about "things" but rather a lot about "people".

I was very grateful for a few quiet introspective moments that helped me sift all these thoughts and recalibrate my heart and priorities. I realized it was time to shift into a gear higher than every day mediocrity and stretch myself to do more, but quietly. To love for charity sake, not because of duty or because someone would notice. I left rejuvenated and realized I understood that funerals can provide a wonderful opportunity to evaluate oneself--to take stock, check and measure where one stands. Not compare....but rather, take the best of those who have passed on and strive to apply it to our own lives to be better. Thank you Uncle Bill for a consecrated life of enduring example. I won't get up at 4am and milk cows like you did, but I can certainly do better in my own modern realm.

Thanks Mom, for Dance...

I recently attended a high school reunion in D.C. and couldn't wait for the pinnacle activity of the event: "The Dance". It was incredibly fun and most of us didn't want it to end. I love dancing and can't remember when I didn't. I am not sure why, but I find it interesting.... What is it about dancing that makes me feel what I feel? If I were an alien sneaking a peek at our world and saw a bunch of people moving and contorting to loud noise I would probably re-think any invasion strategies. I have often wondered why certain songs can actually make my body move impusively and unconsciously often resulting in a sense of excitement, exhiliration and sheer joy. It is a wondrous thing I think, which I owe to my mother.

She was a professional dancer. She taught her 6 kids all styles and techniques: ballet, tap, charleston, swing, fox trot, square dancing and yes, even synchronized swimming.... She instilled in us a love for all styles and often she would look for any excuse to get up and dance, even if in a restaurant. I loved her uninhibited way of expressing herself through dance and I would like to think I have been "imprinted" by her. It was the creative process she loved and then to see her joy in watching her students perform was something to behold.

Some music is great as background to conversation, or just to "chill" to, but some music is designed to specifically be expressed on the dance floor preferrably with one's best friends. That is what I experienced last week. "Freak Out" says Le Chic...well, they definitely got that right!!

Dancing with my good friends from EAB High School (Brazil) is more than casual dancing...it is an extension of our friendship and ultimately a group celebration of life itself. Thank heaven for music and dance....it makes the dance of life so much more sweet! ......and thank you Mom for the music you made in my life...I miss you.

Life's Monkey Bars

I went on a spur of the moment bike ride with my two youngest today; Braden (10) and Alexa (8) and we decided to bike over at their former elementary school. We had a fun time playing follow the leader and chasing each other all around the playground and parking lot. Then when it was time to go, Alexa said "Just a minute Dad, I have to go do something". I wondered what that might be. She sped off to get on with it with deliberate urgency.

I came around the corner and saw her scaling across the monkey bars hand over hand. She made it across and said at the end with great gusto "I did it!!" Having seen her scale many monkey bars before I wondered what was different about these. I asked her. She said that she had never been able to do it here before she transferred schools. I understood. She had tried and tried and tried to cross while there, but never could. In that moment my heart did a little jump for joy, for her.

This had been on her mind for almost 2 years and she was intent on not leaving any unfinished business. She was going to get her goal and she did. I was so impressed with her sense of wanting to accomplish that, the urgency she felt and desire to fill a gap and not delay further.

It was such a brief and small moment, but it left a lasting impression on me.

What gaps have I not closed? What have I left undone?  Do I have what it takes to create the urgency sufficient to "finish" the things that are still undone in my life, now.. not later? As I reflected more on this I found that that there were a number of things in my life that I had not taken care of yet or “finished”.  There were relationships not yet mended… goals not achieved…. mistakes not corrected….sins not repented of completely…... Do I have what it takes to create the urgency sufficient to "finish" the things that are still undone in my life, now... not later?

As I have reflected on this my mind turned to the scriptures. There are many great examples and stories of others who also experienced their own reflective moments on this topic. The apostle Paul wrote in 2 Timothy 4:7:

"I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith"

Then, the best example of all, Jesus found himself near the end of his course, he was in the Garden of Gethsemane and offered the most sublime intecessory prayer as he atoned for the sins of the world.  In John 17:4 he said:

 I have glorified thee on the earth: I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do.

Then, the final closing remark of his life was in John 19:30.  He was the ultimate "finisher".....

 "When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, he said, It is finished: and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost."

We all have our own fight, our own course and our own faith to find and finish.  I have often found myself wanting to skip to the end, look for shortcuts, or wander off on seemingly interesting side roads that can be distracting to my real purpose and path.....

At the end of the day, there is no question what I need to do.  I have been given a clear line of sight.  I know this inside of myself.  I feel as if Heaven has confirmed it.  I have to follow Alexa's example, even if I missed somethings here and there along the way, I am reminded by all the examples above that I can still "finish" no matter how many times I fall when trying to cross the monkey bars of my particular life.......

Until then, thanks Lexi, for a beautiful small moment and your example of finishing what you started.

Jumping in with Both Feet!

Whenever we moved to a new country, my parents would readily send us, (kids) out with money to buy milk or bread etc.. Early on, I remember not being very happy about this and thought it was very unfair since we didn't know the language or even where the stores were. Once the complaining cycle fizzled out, we would then venture out into the new "hostile" world with some weird looking money in our tight fisted hands knowing we couldn't come home empty handed. I remember the fear of not even knowing which direction to walk or how to even ask anyone anything. Once a store was found we would begin the process of emphatic pointing, mumbling English under our breath and other frantic non-verbal motions to help the patient store owners to understand what we needed. They would quickly figure out what we needed, smile, and then help us with the pronunciation of the correct words and we would repeat them back to our new teachers so they could laugh and whisper funny things to each other. We would leave feeling kind of stupid but happy with our transaction. This continued until it became more of a game and I for one actually ended liking it as we got older and more confident.

My parents were so wise to "embed" us quickly into the culture, people and language. They refused the development of any pattern of "non-engagement". It was through their example I learned what it meant to be the "stranger", to be so appreciative of someone else's patience, for willingness of others to help me when they didn't need to, that people are good no matter where they live or what they believe. What began as a simple lesson in new vocabulary would often result in a very fun relationship with new found friends that couldn't wait until we came to buy something each time to hear us repeat those few words they taught us and for the exchange of smiles. Those simple relationships opened many doors to greater mutual understanding, respect and love in my life.

My parents always saw the best in new cultures. Of course they saw the dirt, the grime, the reeking smells of poverty and the beggars in the streets, but never did this cause them to isolate us from all of that. I am so grateful for those lessons. My life is so rich because of those wonderful "engagements" with many cultures and people. I thank my parents every day for their example and for teaching me to jump into new things with both feet!

I hope I can apply this wisdom my own life and remember to continue this tradition with my own kids -- yes, even in Salt Lake City, UT which to me is one of the most "foreign" communities I know...

In Denial....

I found out today that I am actually the very last of the Baby Boomers! I really never knew, or maybe didn't want to know that 1964 was the last year of this group. I never considered myself as one and still even now resist the categorization. Not that they aren't well meaning, beautiful citizens of the world, but rather that I always secretly liked the idea that I was somewhat "in between".....Not really a BBmer and not really Gen X -- A "non-classified" entity! This meant I was special, unique in some way. Ahh, but all ideals must meet their respective realities no? Does it change anything? No, not really. Only that I am grouped with a large body of stats that I really do not relate to at all. I am not sure which group I identify with, but have always felt that I was more of a "world citizen" or a "global villager" if you will instead.

But I am ok with this new knowledge. I will consider myself a "Bridge" that spans between the two. I will take the best of both and walk away with more. So, althought I have enjoyed being in denial, I will simply relish the fact that I can be part of a group and still maintain my individuality and uniqueness.

The classification doesn't define me or who I am, it just tells me when I am supposed to retire......