Meeting People in Boston

One of the things Mommy does to make an income is write books. This means that Mommy occasionally has to go somewhere to meet with a potential publisher. So, when Mommy was teaching that summer in Middlebury, Vermont, she made an appointment with Harry, a representative of a Boston-area publisher for a book she was working on.

Apparently, this was to be one of those memorable meetings—memorable because of all the things that went wrong. Part of it was Mommy's bad luck—that seems to happen a lot, and part of it was that Mommy failed to get all the details she needed about the trip—that seems to happen a lot, too.

The first detail that Mommy missed was the weather report for the day in question. It was a long walk to the bus station, but it was mostly downhill. It would have been okay, except that it rained very hard that day. Worst, Mommy overslept, so she ended up jogging to the bus station with a computer in her backpack in the pouring rain. That slowed her down a little and made her out of breath a lot.

The second detail that Mommy missed was the location of the bus station. Actually, she knew where the bus station was and went there—but it was the wrong bus station. She wondered how on earth there could be two bus stations in a town half the size of Podunk.

Mommy ran over to the other bus station—literally. She knew she had missed her bus, but she thought there might be another one that could get her to Boston on time.
As it turned out, her bus had not yet showed up. Mommy was happy. She should not have been. That was not a good sign. The bus finally came, and every town it came to on the way to Boston, it got later and later. Mommy's bus pulled into Boston very late.

The third mistake Mommy made was in not getting a telephone number where she could call Harry if problems developed. All she knew was the name and address of the hotel restaurant near the bus station where they planned to meet. She ran from the bus
station to the hotel, hoping that he would still be there.

When Mommy walked in the door, she realized her fourth mistake. She had forgotten to ask Harry what he looked like. There were lots of men in that hotel restaurant.

Mommy went from one to another, asking, "Are you Harry?"

One man she asked stood up and said, "I could be if you would like me to be." Mommy decided that she would not like him to be.

Mommy did find Harry eventually. She also met a lot of other people whom she had not planned to meet.

Conclusion: There are better ways to win friends and influence people than to ask people if they are Harry.


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This story is excerpted from a collection of vignettes that I helped Doah, my severely mentally challenged youngest son, to write and publish several years ago (copyright 2003). It was my attempt to help him understand literacy and the purpose of writing and reading.

When You Are Shoved from the Right, Look to the Left

A man once went on Hajj (pilgrimage). As he circled the Kaaba (the black cubic structure in Mecca that pilgrims circle seven times during Hajj in worship of the one God), he was suddenly shoved from the right. Wanting to stay focused on his spiritual experience, he ignored this and continued to walk around the cubic structure, like a planet circling a star. Only a few seconds passed before he was once again shoved from the right. This time he looked over his shoulder and politely asked the man standing next to him to stop pushing him, but no sooner had he resumed his walk around the Kaaba than he was once again shoved from the right. This time the man decided that he must put an end to this impolite behavior. He turned to his right and asked the man next to him why he was continuing to shove him, but the man refused to apologize or acknowledge that he had even approached him. Loud voices began to interrupt the serene atmosphere:

"You must stop pushing me!"


"You are deluded! I haven't even touched you!"

A few minutes later, the man felt guilty for allowing himself to be distracted from his spiritual experience.

"Let everyone shove me as much as they wish" he whispered to himself. "I just want to concentrate on emulating the cosmos, circling the Kabaa as the earth circles the sun."

However, as he moved away from the scene, he suddenly noticed that the small leather purse that had been fixed on the left side of his belt was no longer there. While he was obsessed with the man shoving him from the right, another man to his left had been cutting off his purse. How artistically do they divide their roles: one shoves, the other cuts!

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my dear friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005.

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 and partly because I have been mugged three times (and don't want to give any mugger a small fortune). I have found that 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 representative 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 will 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 explanation that she would do whatever it took to get me out of my predicament, and she did. Although she could not give out the PIN on the phone -- and I would not want her 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 her profusely. My problem was solved, and she clearly felt good about having helped me.

When I took a cab to the bank, I got to know a very talkative, elderly man, a long-time 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, but I didn't feel it. It seemed pretty warm to me.

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

Trouble with Travels

It is not just tickets that Mommy has trouble with. She also has trouble with planes and all kinds of travel. Maybe it is because of the kinds of places to which she travels. Sometimes, even ticket agents cannot find these places on a map.

Once Mommy was flying to Moldova, which is a country that used to belong to the Soviet Union but is now independent. It is to the east of Romania, and not very many airlines fly there. So, Mommy had to fly Moldovan Airlines. When she was about to get on a plane from Moscow to Moldova, part of the plane's propeller fell on the runway right near where she was standing. Some man emerged from inside the plane and told people that they were having a little trouble at the moment. Mommy very quickly figured out what the "little trouble" was.

Another time Mommy was consulting in Bukhara, Uzbekistan, which is on the boarder of Uzbekistan and Tajikistan in Central Asia. Uzbekistan is another of those countries that people have trouble finding on the map and that were part of the former Soviet Union. Not very many Americans go there because you have to be able to speak either Uzbek or Russian, but Mommy goes there a lot. Usually she has few travel problems, but once it took her six days to get from Bukhara to Houston, Texas.

People told her not to take Bukhara Air, but she did not listen. She took the flight from Bukhara to Tashkent on Bukhara Air—and it was a perfect flight. She stayed overnight in Tashkent and got up in the morning to take another airlines from Tashkent to Moscow, en route to New York City and Houston. Unfortunately, that plane had fallen apart en route to Tashkent, so there was no plane to use to get people to Moscow. That is Mommy's kind of luck: planes falling apart.

Mommy stayed in Tashkent two more days. Then, when she did get a flight out, she had to talk her way past the border guards in Moscow because she no longer had a valid ticket from Moscow out of the country and no visa for Moscow. That is Mommy's kind of luck: no visa when it is needed.

After making it into Moscow, Mommy stayed a couple of days until she could get a flight to New York City. The flight, when she finally got it, was uneventful. Mommy was now feeling rather fortunate. She should not have been. In New York City, she got on the flight to Houston and relaxed. She should not have. Bam! The plane shook. Mommy knew what had happened because she had felt this sensation once in leaving Houston, when the baggage-loading vehicle ran into the side of the plane and damaged the baggage door. This time the food truck servicing the plane had run into it and put a hole into its side. Now it could not fly. Everyone had to get off and take a plane through Atlanta to Houston. That is Mommy's kind of luck: Planes getting damaged by loading vehicles running into them.

There was a man in the waiting area for the Atlanta flight. He overheard Mommy telling someone that this was her sixth day, trying to get to Houston from Uzbekistan. He listened to everything that had happened to Mommy. Then he got up and walked over to the gate agent.

"I would like a different flight," he told the agent.

"Yes, sir," she replied. "What flight would you like?"

"Any flight that she is not on," he said, pointing to Mommy.

The agent laughed, but the man did not. He made the agent put him on a different flight.

Mommy seems to have a bad influence on the travels of people around her. So, perhaps the man was right to get on a different plane. I can give you a couple of examples.

Mommy's sister, my Aunt Victoria, was traveling to see us when she was 15. At the time, she was living with my grandmother in Maine, and we were living in Washington, D.C. Grandma took Aunt Victoria to the airport and waved to her as she boarded the plane. However, she never showed up in Washington. Mommy looked and looked. The she had the airlines page Aunt Valerie. When the airlines learned that Aunt Victoria was only 15, they searched real hard for her. They found her, too — in Columbia, South Carolina. Since she was coming to the District of Columbia, she felt that it made sense to get on a plane headed for Columbia.

A different kind of travel problem happened to one of Mommy's students. A very nice but absent-minded lady once took a course that Mommy was teaching. She came all the way from Japan to take the course. Mommy tried to tell her that it is cold on the Central Coast of California in the summer time, but I guess she did not believe Mommy because she brought a lot of summer clothes with her. She could not wear the summer clothes because it really was too cold. So, she thought that she would make her travels easier by mailing the clothes to her home address in Japan. That did not make things easier for her, though, because she left her passport in the pocket of her shorts. Oops! Goodbye, passport! Mommy, of course, is used to passport troubles, so she helped her student get a replacement passport fast.

Conclusion: If you want an easy time traveling, avoid Mommy!

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This story is excerpted from a collection of vignettes that I helped Doah, my severely mentally challenged youngest son, to write and publish several years ago (copyright 2003). It was my attempt to help him understand literacy and the purpose of writing and reading.

Where in the World Is Elizabeth?

I just thought of an interesting little competition. While I am gone tripping, please leave a comment, guessing where you think I am and why. And since I will not have access to the Internet, no one will see anyone's answers until I return so there will be no influence one upon another!

I will send a surprise gift to everyone who guesses correctly.

This will be fun, no?

Make Amends with Your Boss

The hardest people to forgive are often one's bosses. After all, bosses can make or break the careers of employees. They hold the power of reward or punishment, promotions or firings. An uncomfortable word or act, even when not intended to be harsh or negative, can create instant and long-term hostility. A mistake in judgment can remain an irritant forever. But can we realistically hold bosses to a level of error-free performance? I think not. However, when bosses stumble, few employees will hold out a helping hand. Most will become angry and turn their backs on the boss -- to the detriment of both boss and employee.

I have forgiven friends, colleagues, employees, and bosses. The most difficult have been the bosses because somehow it meant admitting that I could err, too, and I didn't want to admit that. I have seen the same thing among my colleagues.

One instance will always remain a fragrant memory for a colleague of mine. He had an especially difficult boss who held up his promotion because the boss felt that my colleague had more to learn. At first, my colleague was very angry and refused even to look at the boss for several months. In fact, he would go to another elevator or cross the street to avoid having to greet her. He considered his performance outstanding and had little respect for the boss's "standards."

After some time, he did make amends with his boss. He just came in one day, stated that he wanted to have a positive relationship with her, and asked if that were possible, considering his recent behavior. She told him that it certainly was. (He should not have been concerned about her reaction. Most bosses do want to have a positive relationship with their employees.) In return, the boss went out of her way to help my colleague not only to match his performance to her standards and receive his promotion but also to receive other awards and accolades.

These two will probably never become close friends. However, the day that my colleague forgave his boss he got an immense psychic reward, and most days thereafter he continued to get small psychic rewards. The best reward was when his boss moved on to a better position -- and recommended my colleague for her position.

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

Fun with Luggage

Mommy does not only have trouble with tickets and planes. She also has trouble with luggage. It does not always end up where she is, or she puts wrong things into it, or it disappears.

The first time that Mommy had trouble with luggage was on a trip from Los Angeles to Moscow via Helsinki on Finnair. When Mommy got to Moscow, her luggage was nowhere to be found. It never did show up. Mommy said it vanished into Finnair.

The next time Mommy lost luggage, it was only for a short period of time. Mommy flew from Prague to Monterey, but her luggage flew from Prague to Moscow. Mommy figured that out those M- cities must sound alike or look alike to baggage handlers.

Another time Mommy and Daddy went to Florida and took their kayak with them. They put the paddles into a golf bag and tied it with a tarp. When the bag did not show up, the customer service representative asked them to pick out the kind of bag that was missing from a book of pictures. There was nothing like their bag there!

Mommy also gets into trouble with luggage because of what she puts into it. Once she packed a bottle of wine in her bag, thinking to hand carry it. At the last minute, she forgot and checked the bag. The wine came through great.

However, some other guy must have done the same thing because when Mommy flew from the Ukraine (another one of those former Soviet Union countries) to Middlebury, Vermont, where she was teaching a summer semester course, her bag was underneath some man's bag who had packed a whole suitcase full of vodka. The vodka bottles had broken and leaked into Mommy's suitcase. All her clothes were soaked with vodka. When Mommy finally got to the college, after a series of delayed plane flights, the laundry room was locked. All she could do was dry out her clothes. She had to teach a class before the laundry room opened, so she went to class reeking of vodka. If she wanted to make an impression, she probably did!

The worst time was when Mommy brought back a jar of bryusnika, little red cranberries from Siberia. She forgot all about the jar being in her suitcase when she checked it. When the bag arrived home, everything was all red: clothes, books, and Mommy's presents for us. (The red did not wash out, either.) Mommy just washed everything off, and to this day we have some red reminders on our bookshelves and in Mommy's closet of that trip.

Conclusion: Just figure that with luggage what goes in is not necessarily what comes out.

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This story is excerpted from a collection of vignettes that I helped Doah, my severely mentally challenged youngest son, to write and publish several years ago (copyright 2003). It was my attempt to help him understand literacy and the purpose of writing and reading.