Most “gifts” in our culture are tangible presents — either something we buy, or sometimes make, for another.  So when we think of Christmas gifts, or presents for other events like birthdays and anniversaries, we think of “things”.  However, given that most people are hard to buy presents for because they “already have everything”, truly meaningful gifts are often taking on a different characteristic.

This past week I had a birthday and I had a wonderful day.  I started by sleeping in a little, and then went for a run on a cool, fall morning.  I went to work for the morning, and then had a nice lunch with some friends and one of my sons.  After completing my work in the afternoon, I met up with my family (all except my son who is at college in Texas) and they gave me my birthday gift.

The gift I asked for was not one they (or I could purchase) and not the typical gift you unwrap.  They gave me the gift of taking time out to (willingly) do an activity with me that I enjoy — and wanted to do together with them. In some ways the activity itself is not that important.  In fact, it might be good to think about those things that you would enjoy taking time to do on your birthday (or at Christmas), and an activity that you would really enjoy sharing with your family.  The key to this gift (for me) was that it is an activity I enjoy, but none of my family really does.  In fact, over the years, I have included them (sometimes by coercion) — asking them to go with me, and they generally haven’t enjoyed the experience.  In fact, over the years, it became clear that they really didn’t like the activity and would only go out of guilt, pressure, or not at all.

The fact that they chose to go with me truly was a gift because it was a sacrifice for them to participate.  What made it even more special and fun for me was that we actually had a good time together (I had fun because they did).

So after we were done fishing together for two hours, we went home and enjoyed a home-cooked steak, salad and baked potato dinner — along with the traditional birthday cake.

And then the fun continued — we hung out together and played a board game together, laughing at each other until we were ready to call it a night (at least, for Kathy and I).  Not the typical Friday night that teens and young adults sit around wishing for.  But I enjoyed the time with them, and I appreciate the gift of time and fun they gave me.

So for those of us that have a difficult time thinking of “what to get” friends or family members for a gift, I would encourage you to consider giving them the gift of time — especially inviting or planning to do something with them that they really enjoy doing but maybe don’t get to do as often as they like — or that you usually don’t do with them.  It is the kind of gift that money can’t buy.

I didn’t write an entry last week because I couldn’t really think of much to say. Nothing profound or new (not that my entries are typically profound.) So I decided to “think on it”.

This week, I don’t necessary have anything new (again), but I have been thinking about those situations when you don’t have much to say — and what you should do.

First, some context for those of you who don’t know me well. Historically, I have been quite outgoing, social, and rarely, if ever, at a loss for words. In the past (and still in some situations) I have been one of those people who willingly fills the void if there is any dead air space. Age, life experience (including times of making a fool of myself by talking too much) and the amount of social interaction in my work — all have caused me to slow down a bit and not be so socially hyper.

In fact, an adult friend of mine gave me some advice when I went away to college. He told me, “Paul, you are the kind of person who will jump in to every activity available, get over-involved, and burn yourself out — because you want people to like you. What you need to do is sit back for the first semester, shut up, and just watch what is going on. Then you can see what you want to get involved in and make some good choices.” Believe it or not, I attempted to follow his advice. And it was an interesting experience for me. Rather than be Mr. Outgoing, I actually took on the role of “the quiet guy” in new situations. And I watched other people make fools of themselves — and saw what I must have looked like to others.

Since then, I now “pick and choose” — sometimes I am my fun-loving, outgoing self, while other times I tend to be the “sit back and observe” guy. I actually enjoy the ability to choose which role I will take.

Here are some observations I have made, and some lessons learned.

• If you don’t have anything to say, don’t. There is an old saying which applies: “Even a fool seems wise if he doesn’t open up his mouth.” It reminds me of the movie from the 70’s “Being There” in which Peter Sellers stars as a not very bright (and even strange guy). He was primarily a gardener and butler and didn’t say much. But he would occasional utter an obtuse saying or metaphor, that others would view as quite “deep”, and he continually kept being put into higher levels of responsibility — largely because he didn’t say much.
• If you are not sure what to say, wait — leave some silence for others to speak. Many people who are more introverted need more “space” in which to engage in conversation. They need some time to process what they have heard, gather their thoughts, formulate a response, and then gather the courage to share their thoughts. Those of us who are motor-mouths go at such a fast pace in conversations (especially in small groups), that many quieter people don’t say much because there is not enough space for them in the conversation to enter in.
• Ask questions of others. The truth is: most people like to share about themselves — what they have been doing, what they are thinking about, experiences they have had. And all they need is someone to show some interest and ask them “What’s been going on?” and they are ready to share. I actually have found I get deeper and more meaningful responses when I ask different questions, like: “What is new in your life?” “What have you been learning lately?” “What’s going on that I don’t know about?” These seem to bypass the traditional small-talk responses (”Nothing.” “Not much.” “I don’t know. What about you?”)
• Sometimes “I don’t know what to say” is the most appropriate thing to say. There are difficult or awkward situations that arise occasionally, where it is really hard to know how to respond. Surprising news or decisions made, recent serious medical diagnoses or personal tragedies, or just awkward statements by others — all can put us in a position of wanting to say something but not to say something that might offend or seem inappropriate. I have found if I say “I don’t know what to say” they will continue on, give more information, and allow me time to figure out what an appropriate response is.
• If you don’t have anything to say, and you find yourself talking — stop. Okay. Sounds good.

Have a good week!

This post has nothing to do with anything of educational value. It is just an interesting personal experience I wanted to share.

Last night I went for a run (the term “run” is used loosely). It was a beautiful Spring evening, about 70 degrees, calm and the sun was setting. I turned out of my driveway and jogged up the dirt, country road we live on. Our dog, Brownie, who is now 12 years old, chose to watch me from the driveway rather than come with me as she used to do.

About a quarter mile up the road there is a fallow prairie field with trees along the edges. It currently has about shoulder high brown prairie grass left over from last year’s growth (the new green growth is underneath and can’t be seen yet). As I came to the field, right next to the road there were three deer standing and eating. Usually they run off, but this time they just stood and watched me go by.

A little further up the road there is a deep ditch (recently dug out to facilitate run off when it rains) about six feet wide and 25-30 yards long. Right now, the ditch is full of water. As I came up to this area, I heard and then saw two mallard ducks swimming in the ditch. They started to swim away from me but I noticed that the hen was working quite hard, using her wings, almost like she was trying to take off. But she wasn’t going very fast.

As I got closer, it became evident that something was wrong — they didn’t fly off like they should have, and the hen was hurt or something else was going on. So I stopped and went closer to examine the situation. I then noticed the shell of a fairly large snapping turtle in the water, just under the surface of the water, behind the hen. The turtle was latched onto the duck’s leg or foot (I couldn’t see because the water was murky).

I don’t like snapping turtles. And I know that they have an appetite for baby ducklings, so I figured this guy was looking for a meal — maybe wear the duck out, she dies, and he eats her. He was pretty big, not huge, but big — his shell was 14-16″ long and 10-12″ wide.

So I started grabbing dirt clods and whatever rocks I could find and started heaving them at the turtle. As I later boasted to my daughter, finally all the years of pitching in Little League and throwing snowballs as an adult, came to fruition and I was able to use my throwing skills for some social good. I know I hit his body a few times, and there were several close misses that must have scared him. And then I cranked him really good in the head.

At this point, the duck was a bit frantic. She had turned “upstream” and was swimming up the ditch rapidly. After I hit the turtle in the head, he was hanging on for dear life, being drug along by the duck, floating belly-up. I saw my opportunity and grabbed a nice sized piece of rock and chunked it at him — and obviously, hit with a direct strike. He let go of the duck and she swam off in the other direction (all along her partner, the drake, was swimming along side of her).

I waited a while and made sure the ducks swam off to safety (I was surprised they didn’t fly off immediately, but maybe she was hurt.) I then continued on my jog up the road to the the railroad bridge that is my half-way point, feeling quite proud of myself — “Dr. Nature, the duck-saver”!

So I ran (a little more “quick” in my step) up to the bridge and came back. When I got to the ditch, the ducks were no longer there, so I assume they moved on. As soon as I got home, I gathered Kathy and Lizz together and told them of my glorious rescue experience.

Interestingly, as I came downstairs this morning to write this, I looked out the front window and there were three deer in my front yard (Brownie now stays inside so she isn’t there to scare them off.) I had to “shoo” them because one of the deer was eating our juniper by the front door, although they just went to the edge of the yard, stopped, turned around and looked at me as I came back inside.