Listen

Listen. Such a simple idea. One we all know is important. And yet, one that we rarely incorporate into our busy lives.

We may her many things; we listen to few. Take birds, for example. They have marvelous songs. Each one is so different. Some years ago I spent ten days teaching a seminar for teachers in Chisinau, Moldova. 

We were at a conference center that was very much a resort. It was located in the woods, and each morning before the teachers (my students) arrived, I enjoyed opening the windows and hearing the songs of the swallows that sat on the branches outside and created background music for my instruction.

My very earliest memories of birds’ songs and the joy of listening come from toddler days. My father would come into my bedroom in late evening in the house we moved from when I was three, and we would sit together by the open window each night and listen to the whip-poor-wills. The bitterroot bouquet that came from listening to the whip-poor-wills remained in the toddler’s mind throughout childhood and into adulthood and for nearly thirty years since my father’s death. Although I no longer live near an area where whip-poor-wills congregate, whenever I hear any kind of bird song, I also hear the whip-poor-will, and I am transported back to a special moment.

Listening to people can be equally enjoyable. “How are you?” we often ask in passing, and the expected answer is “Fine.” We do not usually anticipate a response that is detailed, and, if we get one, we are often annoyed that we are being detained from the destination to which we were heading when we asked the question. Yet, when we take the time to ask the question for real and to listen to the answer, we often find out many things we did not know, as well as the ways in which we just might be able to help a friend or colleague in need. If nothing else, we have just made someone feel better because everyone likes to be listened to.

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Make Your Desire the Other Person's, Too

The easiest way to make your desire the other person's, too, is to ask questions. Often, a very simple question, asked sincerely and unemotionally, gets another person to see things your way very quickly. The following questions were raised at Individualized Education Plan (IEP) meetings for my children. They are just a few of the many situations where simple questions, calmly asked, can create an immediate change of heart.

Before the beginning of one IEP meeting that my husband and I feared would produce verbal promises for Noelle's education that the school had no intention of fulfilling or putting into writing -- we had had experience in this area before -- we asked a very simple question, "May we tape this meeting?"

By law, we had the right to tape, so the question was understood as pro forma. We did tape the meeting, but we did not need to. All agreements at that meeting were put into writing and accomplished.

Here is another question that will get an administrator's attention very quickly. When my younger, multiply-handicapped son's high school refused to put reading and other academic goals into his IEP, saying that such goals were inappropriate for Doah, I asked, "May I share with the media the view of school officials that literacy is not an appropriate goal for all children in the public schools?" Very quickly, reading was added to the IEP.

At an even more difficult meeting, when the best program for Doah was at a school that was not conveniently located in our home area, officials arbitrarily and adamantly refused to place him there, clearly because of transportation inconvenience, not for educational reasons. Pressed for time to get Noelle to a medical appointment, I suggested that we had obviously reached an impasse in discussions and that I had to leave but would let the group, without me, choose how to answer my final question. I told them I could be completely flexible: I would accept either option they preferred.

My question? Would they prefer to have a few days to figure out how to place Doah in the most appropriate program (the one we had identified) or to figure out how to present their position in court?

They did not even ask for time to discuss the question. They immediately agreed to the placement we wanted -- which worked out so well that when the teacher was transferred to another school, Doah was transferred with her!

In all cases, our desire quickly became the other person's when we reframed the question. In all three cases, we developed warm, long-term relationships with the administrators involved.

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Make Your Option the Only Possible One

People quickly acquiesce when there are no other options. Getting your own way is usually as simple (and complex) as making your option the only one possible. I have watched two of my own children as middle schoolers do that quite effectively.

Each time we have moved into a new school district the tendency had been to place Noelle in special education because of her paraplegia. However, she preferred to be in regular education and was able to handle the academic work there quite well. When we moved to California from Washington in Noelle's eighth grade year, the school administration's proposal was once again to place her in special education.

When Noelle indicated her preference for regular education, the principal explained that all children who cannot walk had always been placed into special education, and, therefore, she would, too.

"Well, then," Noelle commented, "I wonder how you are going to handle the problem that comes with that placement."

When the principal asked what problem she was talking about, she said, "Clearly, I'm the one who has to go to the classroom every day, and I do not intend to go to that one." She was placed in regular education and was very happy there.

The principal met his match, as well, in her younger, gifted brother Shane, who was in her grade because he had skipped some earlier grades in school. The principal wanted to place Shane in the Gifted and Talented Education (GATE) program. however, Shane looked through the materials and found them unchallenging. He preferred to make his own program through the Independent Study program. Frustrated by Shane's lack of appreciation for the GATE program (and probably feeling the need to have another GATE student in the school program), the principal explained that being in the Independent Study program would bar Shane from school dances and other such activities. Shane replied that he preferred books to social activities and willingly accepted that restriction.

Seeing that his words had no effect, the principal said in a rather frustrated tone, "You don't understand! You have to have a behavior problem to get into the Independent Study program!"

Very calmly and pleasantly, Shane indicated that he would be willing to meet that entrance requirement, saying, "I could develop one if you would like." He was placed in Independent Study and was very happy there.

Noelle made her option. Obviously, no one could physically force her to go to a particular classroom on a daily basis and monitor her to be sure she stayed there all day. The alternatives to her choice were simply too cumbersome, impossible, or undesirable.

Shane also made his option the only choice. Of course, the principal did not want another child with a behavior problem. He could avoid that in only one way -- by meeting Shane's request.

These two children very much enjoyed their middle school years. Noelle learned far more in regular education than she would have learned in special education and passed the state exams just fine for regular education students. Shane immensely enjoyed his learning situation. His teacher had been a gifted education teacher in earlier years and was one of the few teachers who did not fear Shane's ability to inhale information and question assumptions. For math, the teacher asked Shane to work with a tutor from the local college because Shane learned too fast for the middle-school teachers to keep up with him. She learned incredible amounts of math that year, in addition to completing most of the high school program in other subjects -- all while being in a "punitive" program rather than the GATE program that, ironically, would have asked far less of him. It was, indeed, a good year.


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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

When Someone Kicks You, Still Your Leg

When someone kicks you, kicking back is not always the answer. Sometimes it seems that a nice swift kick, especially in a vulnerable spot, would garner a wonderful feeling. However, holding one's leg back from doing what it wants to do sometimes ends with even better results than any amount of revenge would have brought. In short, don't get mad, and don't get even: get what you want.

In my own life, I have written three doctoral dissertations in order to finally finish one doctoral degree. For one fabricated reason after another, my department chair did not accept the first two. (Rumor told me that he blamed me for his not being hired at the institute where I worked and had told one of the other graduate students that I would finish my degree only over his dead body -- a rumor that appeared to be true at face value although he would not state something like this publicly and I never cared enough to expend the effort to confirm the details. Since I was a slow learner, apparently, it took two dissertations for me to realize that perhaps the rumor was true and at the very least something was wrong.) I could have sued the university, had I had the inclination, money, and energy, and I might have won. I could have taken on the chair in other ways, but I did not. I chose to move on from a painful situation, still the leg that wanted to kick back, make my career through competent work and publication, and wait for serendipity to help with the dissertation and degree issue.

Many people along the way offered to help, and that made me feel validated. The department chair of another department at the same university wrote me a note of encouragement, suggesting that I complete the degree elsewhere and let her know when I could put the initials behind my name; that comment kept me going for years, and I was able eventually to let her know that she could, indeed, use those initials.

Colleagues treated me as if I had "punched" the dissertation ticket, and I have not been held back in my career. In fact, I would not trade my career for any other. For that reason, too, I have not felt the need for revenge. As for the dissertations I wrote, they proved useful in other ways -- another reason for not taking revenge.

The first dissertation topic was quite esoteric. I received a couple of fellowships to conduct the research for it in Siberia during the height of the Cold War, a time when Americans did not go to Siberia, least of all for research. I not only went there, but also I took my oldest daughter, Lizzie, with me. Through the years, the Siberian connection has been of professional and personal value. I have many friends there, have provided much consultation there, and was able to bring a child artist from there to the United States for medical treatment. If I had not worked on that dissertation, none of those connections would have been made. Besides, I made a conference presentation and published an article on the dissertation.

The second dissertation topic was less exciting, but it helped me land a dream job in my specialty, a job that most people get only at the end of their careers but which I got at the beginning of mine. Although my advisor never read the dissertation, it has been published piecemeal as several articles, presented at numerous conferences, and cited in the works of others. That is better than revenge.

The best outcome was that the trajectory of the kick landed me in an extraordinary position much later. I have now completed a third dissertation, this in in Russia, at a university that is better respected than my original university. Had either of the other two dissertations been read and processed, I would not have been eligible to do the later degree. Perhaps thanks to my earlier negative experience, I appreciated all the more the comment that was made by the department chair in Russia at the end of my dissertation pre-defense: "We don't know why you need us, but we feel fortunate that you came to us."

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Look Beyond the Broken Fence

A popular magnet bears the inscription, "A friend is someone who looks beyond your broken fence and admires the flowers in your garden." What the saying refers to is the separation of person (flowers) and problem (broken fence).

The separation of person and problem is the basis of unconditional love. Those who make love, friendship, or even collegiality conditional on specific behavior -- or the lack of specific behavior -- are destined to miss out on the wonderful experiences of real love. After all, the person is not the problem; the person's behavior is. Certainly, we can stop the behavior by killing the person, but then we are left with no future opportunities to receive the many blessings this person could have brought us.

Much unhappiness in this world results from people equating person and problem. Disliked behaviors are translated into dislike for the person exhibiting the behavior, and hurt feelings result from an unwillingness to overlook behaviors that offend. I know several people who say that they never forgive or forget and avoid all people who have ever offended them. Since no one is so perfect as to never offend anyone, it is not surprising that these people tend to have few friends and lead generally unhappy and difficult lives. They seem unaware that they have the power to bring love and happiness -- and blessings -- into their lives by looking beyond all the broken fences that they see, rather than telling their neighbors that they intend to move out of the neighborhood unless the neighbors get their act together immediately and repair their fences.

Couples who have been happily married 30, 40, and 50 years have learned this strategy. Without unconditional love, their marriages would have failed years earlier. They typically address the problem while supporting the person.

It has been one of my tasks in life to "fix" broken educational programs. Usually this means working with teachers who are afraid of "newfangled" ideas when the old ones have worked just fine, in their opinion, for years. However, obviously the old ones have not been working find in recent days, or I would not have been brought in as a consultant. If I were to treat each of these stonewallers (and sometimes worse -- I've been called names and had scathingly negative letters written about me, sometimes even before I have arrived on site) as a personal enemies, I would never have been able to get the programs in shape (and to date, I've had no failures -- knock on wood). In nearly all cases, there was a common enemy: fear of the unknown, i.e. fear to try new things because they might not work as well as the old things. By separating the problem (resistance due to fear of the unknown) from the person, I have been able not only to fix programs but also to build teams even in places where there previously had been enmity among colleagues. It begins with deliberately separating the person from the problem and ends with not even being able to see an equation between person and problem.

While it would be nice to have no broken fences or to see that all our neighbors are mending their fences, the fences are far less important than the flowers beyond them. If our neighbors have time to tend only to one of the other, let it be the flowers. They bring greater warmth and happiness into our lives.

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Learn Someone Else's Language

Learning someone else's language, even if only partially, can go far toward allowing one a more candid view of a society or toward establishing stronger interpersonal relations. Since English seems to becoming, if not already is, the international common language, speaking the local language can cultivate much good will. Speaking the local language implies that you consider the culture and the people worthy of effort and attention. Knowing another language has stood me in good stead on many occasions, one of which is described below.

In the spring of 1990, I went to Prague on business. One piece of business was to determine what books were being used in classrooms for Czech students so that my institute could import them for use with American students of Czech. Through a colleague, I was able to set up a meeting with senior members of the State Publishing House. Although several representatives of the State Publishing House, their assistants, and the interpreter that the State Publishing House provided, and I were seated formally around a large table, we were able to establish rapport. Soon, the State Publishing House had brought out its wares and was showing me its schoolbooks.

Then the interpreter was called away. Almost immediately a pall came over the room. It was apparent that no one there spoke English. Using Russian, which was clearly a lingua franca for all of us, would have been a cultural affront, given that I was an American, not a Russian, and given the history of Soviet domination of Czechoslovakia and its recently acquired freedom. My Czech was only a little better than survival level, but I made a gallant attempt to use it. The publishing house representatives were impressed. As a result, not only did I find out what books the students were using, but the publishing house donated one copy of every book on each subject of interest to my institute!

On that same visit, I stayed in a local hotel. The date was May 1, 1990, the 45th anniversary of the freeing of Czechoslovakia in WWII by the United States. There was no room in the hotels in town, and the contact who was supposed to have made my reservation had been so busy preparing for the formal celebrations of the political holiday that he forgot about me.

I quickly found out that trying to speak Czech bought me many brownie points with local hotel managers, and at one rather nice hotel, the manager found me a room for May 1 and promised to find me a room for each night I was in town. However, the room would change daily. She kept her promise, and even when she was off duty, she left instructions to her staff to find me a room.

This arrangement sent me room-hopping daily. While I was not overburdened with luggage, it was still a bit of a hassle to be always on the move. The maids, however, came to my rescue. I would pass the time of day with them in Czech, and they got to know me. They also got to know that I was room-hopping, and they began to help me move each day even without being asked.

I struggled with the kinds of language needed to communicate about topics that had never come up in a classroom. The maids, in turn, did an admirable job of understanding me.

On the last day there, I found the maids on the way to the elevator and gave them some herbal tea, at the time a new concept in the United States and not yet known in Prague. Straining the limits of my Czech, I explained what herbal tea was and then bid adieu to the maids. As the elevator doors closed, a British visitor entered the elevator.

"Cheerio," he called to the maids.

"Have a safe trip back home," one of them responded.

I leapt out of the elevator and confronted the maids. "You speak English?" I asked. Ironically, having become accustomed to speaking Czech with them, I instinctively asked even this question in Czech: "Vy mluvte anglicky?"

"Ano, mluvime (yes, we do)," they replied in Czech, "but we did not tell you that because it is so wonderful to hear an American speak our language. Most people, especially Americans, do not think Czech is important enough to learn."

No wonder they had gone out of their way to help me each day! They were proud that someone thought them important enough to talk to them in their own language even if it was painful or maybe precisely because it was painful.

learning someone else's language does not necessarily refer only to a foreign language. Although it may be non-PC to say so, the reality of any society is that it is broken into layers (some folks might call them classes). Sociolects (language used by a particular layer of society) differ among classes. Thus, people who work in factories tend to speak somewhat differently from people who work on farms, and they speak differently from college professors -- all of whom speak differently from politicians. There is great room for miscommunication when we do not understand or even know anything about the life experiences that form the basis of sociolects used by people with whom we need to interact. Time spent learning about these differences can determine how effectively we will be able to cultivate good relationships in general.

Also, dialects (the words and accent used in a particular geographic location) differ from region to region. Given differences in dialects, there is a great opportunity for miscommunication and for estrangement between any two individuals. We cannot create friendships if we do not know what our words mean in the dialect of the person with whom we are interacting. Nor can we expect friendship from people who do not understand us.

Having grown up on a farm, studied at the university, and lived in every major region of the United States, I have found myself using different dialects and sociolects, depending upon the person with whom I am speaking, just I change language when I hop from country to country. Changing sociolect or dialect to match the communicative situation is equivalent to changing clothes to match the social occasion. It results in being called "one of us. "One of us" is good. "One of us" is much more likely than an "outsider" or "one of them" to get a wish granted from or to establish a true friendship with from another "one of us."

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Flatter

Lewis Lapham (Lapham's Rules of Influence) advises the profuse use of flattery. He writes that "flattery is comparable to suntan lotion or ski wax. It cannot be too often or too recklessly applied."

My two handicapped children, Noelle and Doah, know this. As children and adults, unlike what one might expect, they have been quite popular, among others reasons, because they routinely use flattery.

For exmaple, Doah, when needing help, will often address a nearby woman, "Excuse me, pretty lady. You help me, please?" What woman does not like to be called pretty?

And who would not feel good about helping someone clearly disabled who shows appreciation through more flattery by saying, for example, "Thank you. You're a nice person. I like you."

Likewise, Noelle once got me out of a traffic ticket when I accidentally drove through a stop sign. A four-year-old at the time, she was clearly thrilled at the sight of the police officer who pulled me over. While I searched for the car registration, she gushed flattery at him, telling him how wonderful she thought policemen were, how kind, and how helpful. He told me to forget the registration, that he would give me only a warning because he did not want my daughter not to like policemen.

Although she became more sophisticated about how she words things, Noelle has continued to use flattery and to be treated with warmth by people with whom she interacts. For example, she had a series of negative experiences at what I shall call Hospital A in Washington and ultimately we transferred her to Georgetown University Hospital, where she had a series of positive experiences. Near the beginning of her treatment there, she had to be hospitalized. Unfortunately, no beds were immediately available, so the staff spread out a blanket on the floor of her room. The clinic director, embarrassed by this situation, stayed with Noelle two hours until a bed was found. She apologized to Noelle several times.

Noelle's response was, "Hey, I'd rather be on the floor here than in the softest bed at Hospital A." Obviously, that piece of flattery made Noelle a favorite patient for the entire time she was at Georgetown University Hospital.

We all like to hear other people say good things about us. They, too, like to hear good things said about them. Flattery often works where other means of motivation fail.

My sister, Danielle, points out that when flattery is sincere, there are many ways to get the good intentions to multiply. She cites the example of her husband, Bill, who has often elicited support and astounding service by first complimenting the employee sincerely with supporting details and then going on to report the employee's exceptional service and performance to the employee's supervisor, attributing the employee's attitude and performance to the supervisor's skill in management.

"By the end of the conversation," she wrote to me, "the supervisor and supervisee are dancing around Bill to see that everything goes smoothly."

So, slather the flattery wherever it is deserved!



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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Look for Common Ground

I frequently travel with only a couple of dollars (literally) in my pocket, usually because I run out of time to get to the bank before departure. I can nearly always find an ATM or use a credit card for any needs that crop up or forego needs satisfaction temporarily.

One Saturday, however, I was a little more disorganized than usual and ended up in Reno with nearly no money and only a rarely used ATM card -- the PIN for which I had forgotten. Oops! I called my bank's 800 number and reached a customer service agent named Beth.

I reacted with pleased surprise. "Oh, what wonderful news! My name is Beth, too. That must mean you are going to help me!"

Most people with respond with assent to such a statement. Few, if any, will say, "No, I don't plan to help you."

So, my comment set up the expectation that she would do whatever it took to get me out of my dilemma -- and she did. Although she could not give out the PIN on the phone -- and I would not want her to be allowed to do that -- with some creative thinking and several minutes of searching, she was able to track down a branch of my bank in nearby Sparks that was open all day Saturday. I thanked profusely. My problem was solved, and that other Beth was left with a very good feeling for the day.

Further, when I took a cab to the bank, I got to know a very talkative elderly man, a longtime resident of Sparks. From him, I learned much about the history of Sparks that I would not otherwise have known. I think the cab driver liked having an out-of-towner to tell his stories to because he waited for me at the bank at no charge.

The weatherman reported a chill in the air that day, bit I didn't feel it. It seemed pretty warm to me.

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Act on the Basis of Knowledge

All too frequently, we react, rather than act, and reacting rarely gets us what we want, let alone what we need. Doing the research, finding out what the possibilities are, listening rather than talking, learning what the other person knows--these actions provide us with the basis of acting in ways that are more likely to lead us to positive ends.

If one truly wants an upper hand, one might take a page out of the book of an American diplomat in the 1980s (a student of mine, in fact). At the negotiation table in Stockholm, formal interpretation was provided to the US and USSR negotiators by expert conference interpreters although most of the American delegation did speak Russian, including one very American-looking, young, female diplomat whohttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifse Russian skills were near native, departing from the common perception of Americans as tongue-tied in foreign languages.

During one break, Samantha (not her real name for obvious reasons) remained in the room, sorting her notes. Therefore, she overheard the Soviet delegation, who thought she knew no Russian, discuss the positions to be taken, their negotiation strategies, and what they would settle for. Following the break, she was able to get the Russians to play the cards the Americans wanted because she knew what cards they held!

Fisher and Ury (Getting to Yes!) suggest that the very best way to negotiate the deal that we want is to set up a win-win situation. We get what we want, and our antagonists get what they want. However, one must first figure out what they want.

Knowing what the other person wants sometimes means understanding the other person's culture. Some cultures do not want to get right down to business but to build a relationship before conducting business. This is characteristic for Japanese, Russian, and some other cultures. In American culture, swift action is valued over relationship, and American businessmen and politicians have often failed to conclude deals simply because they failed to develop a relationship with their foreign counterparts and partners.

Other values, too, can be important. If, for example, the Western world had understood the value of "face" and "saving face" to the Soviet government, the Soviet war in Afghanistan might well have been prevented or at least shortened. When the Soviet leaders claimed that they were there just for a temporary intervention, had the Western world asked for an estimated timeline for withdrawal, the Soviet leaders might well have felt the need to give one -- and then to honor it -- in order not to lose face.

Knowing what the other person wants sometimes means understanding the other person's personality. The famous psychologist, Jung, who wrote about the concept of personality archetypes, talks in one instance about two opposing types: thinkers and feelers. As a thinker and young administrator, I once had a middle manager who worked for me call me at home to complain about the problems in her department. They were legitimate problems, and as a thinker, I am quick to try to solve problems. I gave her some off-the-top-of-my-head advice. She became angry and hung up. I did not understand why she did that, but her reaction caused me to spend some time thinking about her problems. Thus, when she called back an hour later, I had better solutions to suggest. This time, she became even angrier and hung up abruptly. When she called again later, she began by telling me what a bad boss I was. I was by then quite confused.

"What is it that you expected from me?" I asked.

"Sympathy," she answered.

As a thinker, I wanted to fix things. As a feeler, she wanted to know that people, and especially her boss, appreciated her efforts and problems and cared about her.

It was a good lesson: don't assume that we know the other person's wants and needs. Rather, know who the other person is and act accordingly.

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Think Challenge, Not Impossibility

"Where there's a will, there's a way" is the line written under the picture of a mouse pulling an elephant up a hill. That picture has hung on my wall for a very long time. My friend and former roommate, Katie, gave it to me years ago because she thought it exemplified my attitude toward life. She's right. It does.

When my daughter, Noelle, was very small, she would occasionally say, "I can't." That, to me, was not the appropriate response to a difficult situation even though she was paraplegic and coping with a few other problems, such as epilepsy and hydrocephalus (water on the brain).

"No," I would tell her. "Can't is not the word you are searching for. You want the word, how, and the question, how can this be done? Think challenge, not impossibility. Where there's a will, there's a way."

As a young child, she learned this lesson very quickly, perhaps partly because it fits her own instinctive philosophy of life. Slides of preschool Noelle feeding the cows on her grandmother's farm, slopping the pigs, riding the tractor with her Uncle Will, and swinging on gliders with her very young aunts, Sharon and Victoria, were used in a multi-conference presentation by her neurosurgeon on the topic, "What Spina Bifida Children Can Do."

Noelle was lucky. She met other people who thought challenge, not impossibility. When she wanted to learn to roller skate because her kindergarten class went roller skating once a week at the next-door roller rink, Andi Kush, her physical therapist, did not say, "Paraplegic children cannot roller skate."

She said instead, "Well, we have to figure out a way to do it safely. Crutches and roller skates are not compatible." She recommended a walker with rollers on the front and rubber tips on the back, and that worked just fine.

The guard at the roller rink also thought that a mouse could pull an elephant up a hill. When Noelle became discouraged from multiple falls, he did not say, "Roller skating with braces and a walker is probably too hard; don't worry about it."

Instead, he come up to her outside the rink and sat down beside her. "I've been watching you," he said. "If you keep up that hard work, one day you'll be a champion."

Reinvigorated, Noelle pulled herself back up from the bench. Pushing her walker ahead of her, she skated back into the rink.

Many students who might have failed have graduated from programs I have directed because teachers thought challenge, not impossibility. "Can't is a word that I don't understand," I would tell any who claimed that a student could not learn and needed to be disenrolled. "Figure out how the student learns and teach him or her that way."

Figuring out how students learn has led to drastically reduced attrition rates in my educational programs. That attitude led to the graduation of proud students who might otherwise have left or been disenrolled and demoralized. What the teachers and I learned in that process has led to articles, book chapters, and books, sharing that information with colleagues around the world. It has also led to my conducting seminars on that topic in many countries, often team-teaching with some of those teachers who made the discoveries with me years ago.

The most recent example was with Doah a decade ago. Due to his mental retardation and very low IQ, our local public schools refused to teach him to read anything but highly functional words, such as exit and toilet. Teachers and administrators told me routinely that reading was an inappropriate goal for him. After he graduated from high school, he began regular tutoring sessions with a former elementary school teacher, Julie, who had a different attitude. As a result, he began to read real books, ultimately writing one with my help that was featured by the press at the National Book Exhibit in Los Angeles in 2003, where he spent some time as an author, signing books for visitors.

"After I gave up trying to teach him the standard way and my way," Julie told me, "I paid attention to how he learns, and I began to teach him his way. That worked." Of course, it worked. It worked because she was thinking how, not can't. It worked because she was thinking challenge, not impossibility.


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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Make a Statement with a Question

Questions are wonderful tools. They can be used not only for gathering information but also to get what you want. They control behavior far better than do statements.

A case in point is the conversation I had with the doctor of an elderly friend. I had accompanied her to the doctor to discuss a medical condition that occurs frequently in elderly patients. Before going there with her, however, I had tracked down the latest information on my friend's condition in the library and from the Internet. It was neither a curable problem nor a life-threatening one, but there were some remedies to alleviate the worst of the symptoms.

The doctor, surprisingly, allowed me to come into the examination room with my friend. (That turned out to be his biggest mistake.) I was surprised at the manner in which he treated my friend. He acted as if she were a child. Then he told her she would just have to get used to her condition.

I was not about to accept this answer although my friend told me that this doctor's behavior was typical of others in her experience. Most of the doctors whom she had seen felt that she was so old that she should be thankful that she was alive and forget about seeking a better quality life.

This doctor sealed his own fate when he turned to me, whispering, "You know how it is with older folks," implying that my friend was imagining her problems. I knew the problems to be real.

Moreover, I wanted him to make recommendations along the lines of some of the things I had read about in the medical journals. So, I responded to his comment with a simple question, asked in a deliberately naive tone, as if I were requesting information, "Oh, does that mean that you do not wish to prescribe any of the specific remedies that other doctors are using (I mentioned a couple remedies by name) or that you are unaware of them?"

His tone changed immediately, and so did his tune. Of course, he was aware of them. He could recommend a couple as being rather effective, and he spent ten minutes or so working out the best combination of recommendations. How much information and assistance that simple question brought forth! Only it was not a question at all. It was a command: Treat my friend well.

I got what I wanted. My friend got what she wanted (respect) and needed (treatment). The doctor got a lesson about how to treat elderly patients. I hope he has since applied the lesson learned to many, many others.

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Find a Way to Express the Situation Humorously

Raising two multiple-handicapped children has had its moments of stress. At times, it has been very natural to wish for a traditional family and "normal" (if one can define "normal") children. That was not to be, of course. Dealing with problem situations humorously has been the easiest way to ease the stress.

Whenever I would have trouble finding the humor in a situation, I would think of the experience of my friend, Susan (not her real name), and her consultation with a very wise psychiatrist. Remember his words always brought forth laughter -- for both of us.

Susan was in an even worse situation than I was. At one point, her daughter had been diagnosed with childhood diabetes -- a false alarm -- and her son had a very real, very rare, and very life-threatening immune system deficiency (previously colloquially referred to as "bubble baby" syndrome) that required daily doctor visits for years. Yet, she continued to work, and together with her husband, they managed all their problems.

Then, her husband developed cancer. The local Pittsburgh doctors could not help. They gave her husband six months to live. Susan decided to take him to an oncologist in Philadelphia. Taking their children with them, they locked up their home and left, not knowing when they would return. The oncologist in Philadelphia was quite talented, and after several weeks of treatment, it appeared that Susan's husband might have a shot at a somewhat longer life than previously predicted. Although months of cancer treatment would still be needed, further treatment could be carried out at home in Pittsburgh.

With some relief but also with some continuing concerns, Susan, her husband, and children returned home. There they found that someone had broken into their house, and nearly everything they owned was gone. When and how it had happened, no one seemed to know.

Considering this the final straw, Susan did some research to determine who was considered the best psychologist in the area. She made an urgent appointment with him.

The next day she found herself in the psychiatrist's office, explaining her situation. With no deliberation, he looked at her and said, "I don't know how to help you, and I'm not going to charge you. If I were in your shoes, I would go out and have myself a well earned nervous breakdown."

Whether or not his words were meant to be a joke does not matter. She took them that way and had a very long laugh. Whenever life's complications seemed overwhelming, she thought about that well earned nervous breakdown to which she had a right, would decide not to exercise her right at the moment, and the stress would sneak away.

She shared this experience with me. When the stress of raising several "special" children threatened to overwhelm, I, too, would think about the well earned nervous breakdown which I had the right to choose or not choose, and I each time I chose the laughter.

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Accept the Blame Even When the Fault Is Not Yours

One of the hardest things to do is accept blame. It is hard enough to do when it is one's own fault. It is even harder to do when someone else causes the problem. The more typical reaction is to blame the other person and expect some changed behavior from that person. Instead, one often meets denial, defense, and anger, and a bad situation has turned into an impossible one.

The movie, Sommersby, with Jodie Foster and Richard Gere tells the story of Jack Sommersby, who returns home after spending time in prison -- only the returnee is not jack Sommersby but a schoolteacher from another county who looks just like him and has taken on his identity. For those who do not know the story, the new Jack Sommersby turned out to be a kind and humane man, unlike the real Jack Sommersby. One of his kindest acts is to help slave laborers who Sommersby's land to earn their own lots. Unfortunately, he is brought to trial as the real Jack Sommersby for a crime that warrants the death penalty. If he admits he is not the real Jack Sommersby, he will live, but the laborers will lose their land. He makes the decision to accept the blame for a crime that he did not commit. Like the true hero of A Tale of Two Cities, he expects that "it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."

We may never be called upon to show the courage required to accept a level of blame that demands the payment of our lives. We do, however, often run into situations where accepting blame and not insisting that we are right (when we really, truly are right) is the better part of valor, better for those we are dealing with and better for ourselves, too.

I have a friend, a self-effacing immigrant with less than perfect English skills, who personifies the idea of accepting blame even when she is not at fault. When something goes wrong -- she is given an incorrect order, she gets the wrong change, or someone ignores her in line -- she apologizes.

At first, when I heard her do it, I thought that her English was deficient and she had not understand. Then, when I realized that this was not the case, I thought that she did not have the courage to stand up for her own rights. After watching her for a number of months and in a number of instances, I learned that she had greater courage. She had the courage to subordinate her need for being right (and feeling virtuous) to someone else's need to save face. As a result, she almost always gets what she is after, and both she and the other person feel good about what has transpired.

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Act and React within a Broad Perspective

I have not posted anything from my vignettes book for a while. Figured it might be time!

Far too often, we consider the impact of the moment only. How things affect us right now tends to be more important than how they fit into the bigger scheme of things. In fact, when one is irritated, angry, disappointed, or threatened, it is very difficult to see the larger picture. Yet, that is precisely when it is most important to keep things in perspective.

My younger daughter, Noelle, copes with spina bifida, a neurological defect that, among other things, has left her with full paralysis below the waist. However, she has nearly always kept matters in perspective. Taking a broad perspective has allowed her to lead a fairly normal life -- attend local schools, go to college, work part-time, play (including roller-skating), and the like. In fact, her ability to take a broader view of things has at times quite surprised the medical profession.

A few years ago, she was sitting in a wheelchair, not paying much attention to her feet. First, she was not used to a wheelchair, having used long-leg braces for ambulation up until that time, and second, she does not feel her feet. As a result, when she accidentally caught her small toe in the spokes of the chair's wheel, she did not notice and ended up tearing the toe nearly off. Amputation was the only resolution of the problem.

Clearly, the doctor who amputated felt sorry for Noelle and wanted to help her through her feelings of loss. However, Noelle had no feelings of loss.

"Are you missing your toe?" asked the doctor. What she meant to ask was whether Noelle was feeling bad that the toe had to be amputated.

Noelle, already looking at the situation from the broader perspective, took the doctor's words literally. "Yep," she replied. "It's all gone."http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

Somewhat taken aback, the doctor clarified. "No, I meant, do you miss having a toe there?"

To that Noelle replied, "I have never felt that toe. How can I miss something I never knew I had?"

I learned the lesson of acting within a broad perspective even more dramatically from Dr. John Blanco, an orthopedic surgeon at the University of Virginia Hospital (referred to in some of my writings, those that are pseudonymized, as Virginia State Hospital). At the time, I was the American guardian for Shura Ivanovich, who illustrated my vignettes book. I had brought him to the United States from Siberia, where he was not being adequately treated for spina bifida. Like my daughter's, his legs were also paralyzed but not as extensively. He was able to ambulate with crutches alone. However, as a result of inadequate care, both of his legs had become gangrenous, and the flesh on his feet had been eaten away.

Bringing Shura to the United States took nearly a year. The American Embassy in Moscow required incredible amounts of paperwork -- notes from the doctors in Siberia and notes and faxes from American doctors. Even then, the visa was denied, and I went to Moscow personally to intercede. Some of the embassy personnel were former students of mine, and they vouched for my sincerity and honesty to the consular officers. Finally, we had the visa, but Shura's condition had worsened. He was in the hospital. It took another couple of months before he was stable enough to move, during which time the gangrene worsened.

Once in the United States, Shura's first need was orthopedic care, which Dr. Blanco donated. What was needed was unfortunately very clear: a double amputation. The gangrene by then had taken over both legs, requiring amputation at the knee for one leg and amputation at the calf for the other. Shura took it in stride and readily gave permission. I, however, was devastated. I had to know the impact of the delay in getting the visa on the need for amputation.

"Could you have saved Shura's legs if we had brought him here a year earlier?" I asked. I thought I knew the answer. However, Dr. Blanco understood what was behind the question and gave me both an honest answer and a broader perspective.

"Perhaps I could have saved one of the legs," he replied. "The other leg was probably in poor shape even a year ago although I might have been able to save more of it. The important thing, however, is not whether getting him here earlier would have saved his legs. Rather, getting him here now saved his life."

A leg or a life -- that is a rather vivid way to describe what a broader perspective means.


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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Laugh Off the Humiliating Events

One can worry about one's dignity and have dark days and dark spots in one's life, or one can laugh at oneself along with everyone else. The latter attitude usually results in a smoother ride through life.

My oldest daughter, Lizzie, learned this lesson well not long ago when she found the "Oy!" in Illinois. All dressed up pretty for a very important interview at the University of Illinois, the graduate school she wanted to attend, she arrived on campus early, found the building where she was to attend a meeting, then promptly fell down a concrete staircase, ending up with scratches, bruises, a dirty suit, and a very swollen nose.

being the pragmatic type, instead of running away in disgrace, she decided to skip the attempt to wow folks with the first impression and continue on with life as normal (which, admittedly, for her, with trouble hanging over her shoulder most of the time, is not quite the same as it is for most people).

For those who are wondering, she did get admitted to the program. She continues to be nipped by trouble and to laugh off what she cannot change--and thus garners sympathy and friends.

Lizzie may come naturally by this tendency to have embarrassing things just happen to her. My grandmother once related to me the story of how, in the days when women's panties were held together by safety pins, she walked out of a theatre onto a public street, where suddenly the pin broke and her panties fell to the ground. With nary a worry, she stepped over them as if they belonged to someone else and kept on walking!

Similarly, when my children were small and I was working in the nation's capital while my husband was still living and working in Pittsburgh, I was often overwhelmed with the heaping mound of details that I had to manage on any given work day. Usually, I accomplished everything just in the nick of time. One morning, however, I was a bit ahead of the curve. With all four children bathed, dressed, fed, homework checked, and standing in line with lunch boxes in hand, waiting for the school buses a full ten minutes early, I leisurely dressed myself for work. Pleased with my unharried moment, I set off for the bus stop. There, a woman who often rode the same bus with me looked at me a little peculiarly and asked, "Didn't you forget something today?"

On such a well organized morning, I could not imagine what that might have been. I did a mental check: purse, briefcase, umbrella. What else could it be?

"What about your skirt?" she asked.

That incident could have become buried in the annals of moments one would rather not relive. However, I found it as amusing as others did and have used it in books and lectures about people with certain learning styles who tend not to pay attention to details--and about harried mothers in a working world.

My propensity for such absent-mindedness has not changed with age. More recently, I was walking across the NASA campus at Johnson Space Center en route to work when it started to rain. I was used to the fact that in Houston rain begins without warning and can be quite heavy, so I was prepared. Although I was lost in thought at the time, I automatically reached for my umbrella and whipped it open. I was brought out of my reverie when out of the corner of my eye I noticed all the other pedestrians standing still and staring at me. I was walking through a sprinkler. With a little chagrin, I stepped out of the way of the sprinkler and put away my umbrella, smiling and waving at the onlookers.

From that event, a number of people I would not otherwise have met or remembered certainly remembered me, including one of the guards. He began to talk to me each time I came on post, and when I took a business trip to Russia, I brought a Russian chocolate bar back for him. He was so delighted, you would have thought I had given him a bar of gold. I suppose in some senses of the word, I had.

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Turn Anger into Positive Action

Anger is one of the most difficult emotions to deal with. Too often, our anger leads us to take an accusatory attitude or in other ways to offend the very people who help and support us and whom we really need. Rather than getting angry, it is more helpful to take an action that will prevent other people from going through the same negative http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifexperiences that we have gone through.

For example, after I stole my son, Doah, from Renboro Hospital (name changed for obvious reasons), I was quite angry with the doctors there. It turned out that those doctors had misdiagnosed the cause of Doah's subglottic stenosis. As a result, we had lived through a year of trauma associated in those days with a tracheotomy: five serious episodes of apnea requiring hospitalization, three cardiac arrests, one collapsed lung, and a life-threatening case of tracheitis (inflammation of the trachea).

In addition to the surgery issues, I was angry because Doah had a tracheotomy and the only help the doctors planned to give me at home for monitoring his breathing was to tie bells to his shoe laces. That year, most of the trached children at the hospital died after they were sent home. Obviously, they forgot to kick their feet and ring their bells when they stopped breathing. I talked to the doctors at Children's Hospital in Massachusetts, to which I had taken Doah after leaving Renboro Hospital, and they helped me track down an apnea monitor rental company in a city four hours away from where we lived. Doah survived his first winter, thanks to his pediatrician, the Massachusetts doctors, his parents, and the monitor.

Perhaps we could have sued Arrogant Hospital or its doctors, or perhaps we could have raised another kind of ruckus. I'm not sure what good either would have done. Instead, we decided to change that hospital's practices. In lieu of a lawsuit, we insisted that the hospital bring onto its staff a tracheotomy care expert and that all parents of trached children be provided an apnea monitor when their children were released. The administrator hedged and called in the financial officer, who offered to cancel our bill. We insisted: not money, but action. The administrator promised to think about it.

He did. Two months later our apnea monitor rental company opened a branch in our city. We asked why. The answer was that since the time we had talked to the administrator there had been so many requests for apnea monitors from Renboro Hospital that it was worth the company's investment to open a local office.

More was to come. A short while later, the mother of a child who had been trached for ten years called me in excitement. There was a new tracehotomy specialist in staff, and he thought he would be able to remove her son's tracheotomy and get him breathing normally.

The epitome of turning anger into action, I think, is John Walsh, the host of the popular television show, "America's Most Wanted." The disappearance of his young son, Adam, later determined to have been murdered, drove him to see criminals brought to justice. Somewhat by chance and more a result of determination evolved the television show that has put hundreds of criminals behind bars who would otherwise still be on the streets today. Talk about turning anger into good!

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Send a Card

Everyone likes to receive personal mail. Everyone likes to know that someone is thinking about him or her. it must be a very sad thing to live alone and day after day receive little more than junk mail. Even one card with a personal message can brighten a day or a week.

In today's computer age, it is quite easy to send an email. And an e-note is always welcome, at least in my in-box. One can also send cards via email with personalized messages, and those are welcome, too. However, there is still little that can surpass the ability of a handwritten card to put a smile on someone's face.

When my best friend, an elderly Russian lady, and I first became close more than ten years ago, I would send her holiday cards. Holiday cards, however, are sometimes near perfunctory, and so they have less significance than spontaneous cards.

I found out the value of the spontaneous card when I once offended my friend. I sent her an "I'm sorry" card. When I saw how much she appreciated that card, I sent her friendship cards and encouragement cards and "just because" cards. Over time, I began to make up reasons to send cards, and when I traveled, I looked for new cards from exotic places to send to her. Mostly, I looked for original friendship verses. I would bring back extras to send to her on the weeks that I was home.

I love her very much, and she knows it. She has a house full of cards to prove it.

She loves me very much, and I know it. She frequently comes to my rescue, shares important information or experience, and helps me out in all sorts of imaginable and unimagined ways.

I have also sent spontaneous cards to employees. I sent them as congratulations for accomplishments and special events, as thank-you notes for work well done, and as encouragement during periods of stress. Sometimes, instead of cards, I send a handwritten note or flowers. The message is the same: Some has noticed and cares. That is a pretty powerful message.

Years ago when I moved from a large house to a recreational vehicle, I had to eliminate a large number of accumulated possessions. While weeding through (and weeding out) things, I came across scores of cards from former employees who had reacted in kind: congratulations, thank-you notes, and cards of encouragement. I found a place for them in my smaller quarters. One does not "weed out" things of such value.

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Use Wit to Solve Problems

Wit, in both senses of the word--quick thinking and humor--can do much to turn a difficult situation into a solved problem without encountering a lot of emotional stress. Wit can be used in very many situations. I know because nearly daily I end up in a problem situation.

One day, for example, as I reached the turnstile at Rosslyn metro station outside Washington, DC, I realized that I had forgotten my fare card on the train seat. There were machines aplenty--turnstiles, telephones, add-fares, but no way to get another fare card. Hm...

Figuring that humans would solve my problem better than machines, I approached the metro agent and asked, "What evil befalls a person who is foolish enough to leave her fare card inside the train?"

He laughed and said, "Well, that happened to be about 12 years ago, and I have been here ever since."

"Oh, my goodness!" I responded. "Your family must wonder what ever became of you!"

"I guess they must," he answered, and opened the gate. "I'd better let you go back to yours so that they don't wonder the same."

My dilemma seemed to bring a little fun into his day, and his witty retort gave both of us a laugh. Of course, with a friendly relationship established, he had no choice but to let me out. So, we both ended up with some laughter--and a problem solved.

My daughter, Lizzie, has used this technique well, especially with police officers. She really is a good driver, but things just seem to happen to her.

Once, as she was driving along, minding her own business, a furniture truck in front of her dropped a mattress onto the road. Thinking quickly, she detoured around the mattress and emerged onto the road on the far side--safely, she thought. Whap! She was rear-ended by the driver behind her who had ploughed through and over the mattress and into her. Instead of getting upset, she reacted with humor. When the officer on the scene asked her what had happened, she replied, "I was fine with the required, but unmarked, detour, but the guy behind me failed to turn right at the mattress. I guess he was tired and needed to hit the mattress."

Another time, she was exceeding the speed limit by a bit. At that point, she noticed red flashing lights in her rear-view mirror. As a young female driver, she was often stopped for various and sundry things by young male police officers, and after some laughter and flirting, they always let her off. This time, however, it was not a sundry thing. She clearly was in violation of the speed limit. She pulled over, and the police officer approached her car.

"Were you aware of how fast you were going?" he asked.

"Not until I saw you," she replied honestly.

After he finished laughing, he gave her only a verbal warning. Released (again) on a laugh!

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.

Match the Words to the Situation

Finding an effective treatment or cure for a problem means identifying the right medicine. My grandmother used "pink pills" (wintermint drops) as a disciplinary measure (bribe) for kids with imaginary illnesses. Therefore, we would all develop an imaginary illness from time to time. My mother used sulfur and molasses any time any one of her children developed a cough. That stuff tasted horrible, but it was a magic cure. None of us would dare cough within hearing distance of her.

Using the appropriate medicine for an illness has a parallel in human relations. It is called matching the words to the situation. Sometimes they need to be soft, and other times they need to be direct. They always need to be in a language that can be understood.

My youngest son, Doah, whom we stole from a Pennsylvania hospital (we shall call that place Renboro Hospital) where he was dying from a subglottic stenosis, treated with a tracheotomy, and where the doctors angered us with their arrogance, was finally cured in Cincinnati. However, we were warned that while his airway would grow quickly, for several months it would be marginal and that Donnie (husband), Lizzie (oldest daughter), and I should keep our CPR skills current for those times when Doah might stop breathing. So, although we expected periods of apnea and knew that getting through these few months was the only way to get get Doah to the point where he could consistently breathe without a tube in his trachea, the apneic episodes were always unwelcome occurrences.

The first apneic episode after our return from Cincinnati resulted in my doing 15 minutes of CPR before Doah began to breathe again. While we were en route to the hospital, Donnie driving and I doing CPR (faster than waiting 20 minutes for a volunteer ambulance crew to be assembled), the local small-hospital staff contacted the Life Flight helicopter to fly Doah to, sigh!, Renboro Hospital. Even though Doah was breathing on his own by the time we reached the local hospital, he was whisked to Renboro.

Of course, we were not allowed on the helicopter with Doah, so we arrived somewhat later than he did. When I walked in, an ENT resident was sitting beside Doah and reading the ten-inch file on him. When he learned who I was, the doctor lectured, asserting that all the Renboro Hospital procedures had been correct, that I was an impatient parent who had erringly taken my child to another hospital, and that clearly Doah had needed a tracheotomy and still needed one because he had scar tissue in his larynx. He told me that an operating room was being readied as we were speaking. I explained the opinion of the doctor in Cincinnati, who had not replaced the tracheotomy when Doah had accidentally removed his breathing tube in his sleep: The problem was not the old scar tissue in the larynx but the new scar tissue caused by the tracheotomy that was now interfering with Doah's breathing and that if everyone were just to leave him alone, he would outgrow the problem. (We sure loved that doctor in Cincinnati! Dr. Robin Cotton is his real name, and he has a large fan club, formed of the parents of all the children whose lives he has saved.)

The Renboro Hospital resident patronizingly pointed to the laryngeal area. In condescending tones so typically used with parents, he said, "Right here is where the scar tissue is, and we must put in the tracheotomy again."

I was very tired from the CPR, the 45-minute drive to the hospital, and the late hour. Further, Donnie was still parking the car so I was alone with this insolent, obtuse (my opinion), and impolite doctor-in-training. At that point, I chose to talk to the resident in a language that he could understand quietly and calmly and, therefore, effectively.

"Doctor," I said firmly, "this baby does have subglottic anomalies, but the area of gravest concern is the site of the tracheotomy itself where there has been a significant build-up of granulation tissue." (Comfort with that language comes from my study of Greek and Latin--and much time spent reading medical journals.

The doctor looked at me for a minute or so silently. Then, he picked up Doah's chart and walked off with a monosyllabic comment, "Oh."

I fell asleep beside Doah, not waking up until morning. At that time, Doah was released without further discussion of another tracheotomy. We finally got Renboro Hospital to do it our way!

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published about real-life events, copyright 2003.
Note: Also posted on The Clan of Mahlou and 100th Lamb.

Take a Risk for the Sake of a Fellow Human Being

So often friends pledge great loyalty to each other. How many, though, would willingly take a risk with their life and health for a friend?

A number of years ago, Newsweek reported on two friends who worked together as nurses. One was experiencing kidney failure. After many attempts to find a kidney failed, the healthy nurse approached her sick friend. With some effort, she convinced her friend to let her donate a kidney.

The risk that the healthy nurse took and the sacrifice she made for her friend brought happiness to both of them. Of course, as they reported, their friendship deepened.

Taking a risk for a friend is a very special act. It happens far too infrequently. Even more special is the willingness to take a risk for someone you do not know. Clearly, there are many people who are willing and motivated to do this, too. In addition to firemen and policemen, who take such risks professionally, there are daily reports of heroes who have rescued someone.

There are also those who die from taking risks for others. One group that comes to mind is those soldiers who in war fall on mines to protect their comrades. Another group is the musicians who played on the Titanic deck as it sank, trying to keep people calm, knowing that there were not enough lifeboats for all.

Live heroes are usually honored with local recognition.

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Excerpted and adapted from a collection of vignettes I published, copyright 2003.