Be Like BESSIE!

Be Like Bessie!

“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.”―Ralph Waldo Emerson

A few days each week during the winter I work in a giant laboratory studying the behavior of vast numbers of people. My specific areas of interest are the characteristics of patience and kindness while in pursuit of happiness and outdoor adventure. More specifically, I am a greeter at a New England ski area. From this vantage point I have face-to-face contact with hundreds of men, women and children of all ages. The stories my colleagues and I collect could fill a book. (Hey, that’s an idea!)

One of a Greeter’s responsibilities, beyond welcoming guests and answering basic questions, is to be sure each visitor’s wait in the line to purchase lift tickets is as short as possible, hopefully no more that 7-15 minutes on the most crowded days. This is no mean feat in the age of data collection required for the issuance of a re-usable RFID card that can be detected by a scanner in the pocket of even the most high tech parka. We also draw the short straw sometimes and have to facilitate traffic flow in the “drop off” area. If the entire ski area is the laboratory, then this particular area is the active Petri dish. . Maybe we should put up a sign that says, “Remember! Children are watching and listening.”

If I was looking to hire people to build a team for a task that required intense, cooperative effort in a stressful situation, I’d insist on seeing videos of how these job candidates handled their cars, friends, family and Greeters in the “drop off” area. Surely I’d learn more than any resume or interview could reveal.

Since we Greeters spend most of our time managing ticket lines, that’s where the best stories come from. Just the other day a person was in such a hurry to get his ticket that instead of walking through the short, simple, ten-foot, back and forth maze to the ticket window, this “gentleman” ducked under the ropes to take a more direct route, knocking over several stanchions, which he did not fix. He may have saved a full three seconds getting to the ticket window. I just smiled at him sympathetically. You know, one of those smiles that says, “I hope you get better soon.”

We greeters pick up a wonderful assortment of sound bites or snippets from the hundreds of conversations that swirl around us. My all-time favorite came from two brothers, strolling past with their arms on each other’s shoulders. The older brother looked at his younger sibling and said, “Hey, your wife’s happy and your girlfriend’s happy. I think everything is going to be fine.” Then they disappeared into the crowd leaving me with a number of questions that will forever go unanswered.

I’ve been thinking of asking management to position a large video screen in the ticket line waiting area showing highlights of good and bad behavior of guests collected over the course of the winter season. We would obscure the faces to prevent law suits, but the instructional value would be powerful…and highly entertaining.

Most people waiting in line to purchase tickets fall into one of three categories:

Group A. “I am too important to have to wait in line with all of these other people. Can’t you do something?”

Group B. “It’s too bad the wait is so long. Have you considered ways that might make things move more efficiently?”

Group C. “I’m not at work, I’m in a beautiful place and eventually we are going to have a great day on the slopes.”

The hybrid of groups B and C is my personal favorite. By the way, guests can purchase their tickets online at a reduced price and eliminate or greatly shorten their wait in line. It’s a reward for those thoughtful people who plan ahead. Let’s call this Group S for smart.

So how does this all tie in with BESSIE’S STORY? It’s simple. Bessie is the model of patience. She’ll stand with her nose to a door calmly and peacefully if she wants to go outside. When it’s time for breakfast or dinner Bessie sits like an angel without barking, whining or grumbling. In her dark, fragrant world she somehow just knows that we’re going to do the best we can to take care of her needs. When we are going somewhere in the car she’ll hop in and sit calmly as long as necessary. Very few people can follow her example of poise and good manners. The only time Bessie ever acts or behaves as if she is the most important piece of the puzzle is when someone is playing retrieving games with her. She can be a little antsy during these times, but we understand.

I’ve said it before. The best way to make friends and influence people is to BE LIKE BESSIE. It’s not as easy as it sounds.

“How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?” ─Satchel Paige

There seem to be two primary schools of thought regarding birthdays: Hide them like buried treasure and burn the map, or run them up the flagpole for all to see and salute. Neither is better or more appropriate than the other. It is purely and completely a matter of personal choice, like shoe shopping or deciding which bathing suit to buy (and then wear). The thing is, no matter how you choose to acknowledge them birthdays are inevitable, like mile markers on a highway or seconds ticking on a clock. Minutes add up to hours, hours expand to days, days clump together in weeks and months, months make up seasons, seasons link to form years and years become decades. Birthdays interrupt this relentless pattern annually, sort of like getting pulled over by a state trooper on that highway with the mile markers. You are reminded of how fast you are traveling through time and space.

Some birthdays receive more attention than others; you know, the milestone birthdays of 13, 21, 30, 40, 50, 65 and 70. Birthdays between these milestones are often discarded casually, like clothes in the laundry basket. After 70 you move into tiger country, ticking off birthdays that in your youth you never in a thousand years thought would arrive, permanently erasing the mistaken belief that, “I’ll never be that old.” Suddenly, those birthdays are smirking on your doorstep like a bill collector who finally tracked you down.

Please do not misinterpret this discussion of birthdays as dismay with the aging process. To the contrary, growing older with resilience and optimism despite endless reasons to feel otherwise is a delightful challenge, as difficult as being a teenager with chronic acne, crooked teeth and endlessly oily hair. One difference is that we older folks have learned to avoid mirrors the same way we try to dodge potholes, while teens are drawn to mirrors like moths to a flame. There is another major difference between teenagers and the elderly, and this is BIG. We’ve learned to rely on the simple mantra “this too shall pass”. Teens, lacking life experience, worry their condition will be hopelessly permanent.

Imagine an octogenarian grandmother putting an arm around her granddaughter and saying in a comforting tone, “Don’t worry sweetie, when you’re my age you’ll have dry, acne-free, wrinkled skin, perfect false teeth and a wig of shiny, healthy hair you’ll never have to wash”. Can’t you just picture the look of bewilderment on the young teenager’s face as she shrugs away and retreats to her room, and her mirror? Oh well, the teen will understand eventually…after enough birthdays.

You can gain a clear idea of how people view birthdays by the cards they send. Hallmark Cards in particular trumpet the blissful, joyful magic of birthdays with cheerful, pastel artwork and generic, flowery language acknowledging another wonderful year of living/surviving. Sending one of these cards on someone’s birthday is a safe bet, to be sure. There is often another rack of cards featuring photographs of older folks in action with hysterical, realistic captions. It’s my belief that the closer the friend, the crueler/funnier the card. Test this theory out on your next birthday.

Bessie turned twelve on May 10. The life expectancy for Labs is twelve years, so I guess she is on borrowed time now. According to the new Canine Age Calculator developed by the geniuses at The Smithsonian Institute with extra time on their hands, our sweet girl is 70.8 in human years. By the old method of determining a dog’s age (age x 7) Bessie would be 84, so we’re pretty excited. Consider how you would feel discovering you were 14 years younger than you thought you were. Think Bess cares? Of course not. Yes, we had a little celebration on her birthday, but it was more for us than her. In Bessie’s world her special day was just like the day before and the day after ─ no big deal.

Bessie will continue to do young dog things like chase balls, swim after sticks we throw in the lake and bark robustly when the urge strikes. She will also forget where she is sometimes, make weird noises in her sleep, and ignore us when it’s convenient. Remember, she is 70.8 years old and has earned the right to call the shots. As the ranking member of our family we let her rule the roost, the way independent, strong-willed grandmothers often do.

As the years pile up I am more aligned with Bessie’s example of how to handle birthdays – simply ignore them. No more pretending to be excited or hiding my chagrin or celebrating one particular day more than another. How cool would it be if someone asked how old you are and, being of reasonably sound mind and body you confidently and honestly answered, “You know, I’m not really sure.” That would be Bessie’s answer. Be Like Bessie!