Communication With A Twist

Happy 79 Dad

Today is the birthday of am amazing human who is now in every Liquid Amber seed I see.

“Is an eye an eye because you see it.. or because it sees you.”-un

Happy birthday Dad. Miss you madly.

Posted by Christina on June 2nd, 2010

Jeremy the Lion

If you have read my book, you know about Tara my niece. She is an incredible human.

I decide to spoil her a little last month. We got a hotel with a pool, hot tub, a wheelchair accessible room, room service and a restaurant. My plan: To pamper the heck out of her.

We arrive. Steve, at the front desk, is awesome. When para-transit arrives, he helps her find the room. He gives us free breakfast coupons. Sebastian hangs in the hot tub. Things are good. Sebastian rides on her wheelchair in such a ginger gentle way. It is really cute how he acts around her.

We decide it is just a little to sketchy to stroll from our hotel to the Cheesecake Factory, so we decide to eat in the hotel restaurant. It opens at 3pm we are told.

We sit in the waiting area and play musical chairs with my son. I guy walks by with 3 plates of food on a tray and we ask him if the restaurant is opening at 3pm. He keeps walking and says over his shoulder, I dunno.

I watch him walk to the bar. I quickly surmise he must be the bartender.

We wait another 10 minutes and I ask him if we can….he keeps walking sorta saying something about he isn’t part of the restaurant. It was WEIRD.

So, we figure we will eat in the bar. A little weird with the TV blaring sports (i hate television) and a 4 year old in tow. Oh well. When we go in (Red Lion Inn, Sacramento STUNNING dance floor y’all) we notice ALL of the tables are high bar style tables. A wheelchair won’t work at all. There are also steps so there is just no way to eat in there. The restaurant is right next to the bar. The bartender has to walk through it to get to the kitchen. He sees us and hears my niece say my wheelchair won’t work her Aunt. Still, he does nothing.

My niece starts to get mad. I don’t. I tell her getting mad only ruins our evening. There is a solution, let’s go to the front desk.

Steve is there on the phone, and a guy I haven’t met yet, Jeremy. I tell him the situation and he seems to be off work. He mentions it is okay for Sebastian to be in the bar. I explain about the bar not working for the wheelchair. I ask him if he knows how far a restaurant is that we could stroll to. He looks at me, Sebastian and Tara and says, “I don’t think that is safe. Have a seat in the restaurant and we will serve you.”

Jeremy becomes our server. This is not his normal job it is clear. He takes such great care of us. He overhears Tara talking about the champagne we will have in the room later. I tell her I forgot to bring it and that I’ll walk to a store. He brings over a wine list and helps us find something for the room. He returns to the table with the bottle on ice and two glasses. He talks to Tara, looks her in the eye and makes sure Sebastian has crayons and is having the time of his life. (clearly someone with kids)

Such a simple thing to do. There was a risk that other people would want to sit in the restaurant too. He didn’t seem to mind.

Jeremy made the weekend. Without him we would have focused on what we didn’t have. Instead, one individual chose to see us and treat us like family. Bravo.

Little noble acts in the world that make all of the newspaper headlines disappear for a moment. They are happening all around and are not talked about enough.

I’m one lucky girl to have Tara in my life - she is such an inspiration and tends to attract some beautiful transformations in people.

Posted by Christina on February 14th, 2010

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intended consequences

A story on the radio
A restaurant in Haiti, Munchies Pizza (spelling?), too expensive for most Haitians, realized all of their food was going to spoil. They opened their doors and started feeding people until the food ran out. Local businesses, started bringing food to the restaurant and they kept feeding until that food ran out. The owner’s brother in law, Bailey, packed a truck full of food in the Dominican Republic and drove it over. The restaurant is now feeding 1000 people a day. There is now a facebook page to continue to feed people. The business owners says he didn’t intend for this to happen from his food decision and it is giving him hope. A new purpose in life.
Unintended consequence of being pragmatic. Beautiful.

In the work I do, I often have unintended consequence that are seeds for my inner critic. I so wish there was some drug out there that would REMOVE my inner critic from my head for just 10 minutes. Unintended consequences aren’t always bad.. they just sometimes feel bad when they happen.

ps: No matter how much I google the story, I can’t find it. If you do - let me know.

Posted by Christina on January 27th, 2010

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Taking Grandpa for a ride

If you now me, you know I had the most incredible father imaginable. He died in 2004 before I was pregnant and knew Sebastian was coming. I often imagine the joy my son would have brought to my dad had he met him.

Friday night, Sebastian was hitting the couch with a stick. He was making quite a raucous and I thought about asking him to stop. Then I thought, heck, I was gone for 2 days.. let the kid beat the couch.

Suddenly, the house was silent. I looked over at Sebastian. We have this funny look we do to each other across a crowded room. He returns the look and says, “Grandpa told me it was too loud so I stopped.”

Oh, is grandpa here Sebastian?

“Yes, he is just invisible.”

Sebastian has said this before. It gives me tingles every time he says it. I so hope it is true. That somehow my dad is here holding my little boy. (and disciplining him on annoying noises… Dad, coach him to eat more vegetables while you are at it.)

If you know me.. you likely know the story about the liquid amber seeds.

Last week in a lonely hotel in New Jersey, I found another one. My dad works in mysterious ways.

I showed it to my son today. He asked if he could put it in his pocket. I hesitated for a second, not wanting to lose it. It has been worn down by the vacuum or traveling through a worm hole to get here so it is comfortable in his pocket. He smiles and rides away on his scooter.

Moments later we adventure out into the light drizzle for a scooter ride. There is this great car-less path in Brisbane with a slight downhill on the way back.

I hear Sebastian talking… I catch up with him and ask him what he was saying.

“I’m not talking to you momma, I’m talking to grandpa.”
Oh, what were you saying.
“Well, I’m taking grandpa on his first scooter ride. He wants me to do it from the top of that turn over there. You wait here momma. Really Momma. You wait here.”
Tears now, I nod.
“Don’t worry momma, we will be safe. I’ll take care of grandpa.”
He runs up to the top of the turn talking all the way there. In the sweetest little hushed voice.
He squeals as he races to the bottom of the hill. I can barely catch him with my knee issue. He is laughing and talking and it is such bliss.
We fall to the bottom and we are both laughing and rolling on the ground. Sebastian looks at me and said, “Uh oh.. grandpa wants to do it AGAIN momma!”

Life is so sweet. I just hope my dad didn’t see me throw a hand size peace sign at the cat last night when he tried to take the table cloth off the table…..I want him to remember me as NOT an incongruent 40ish year old.

Posted by Christina on November 25th, 2009

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Flaming unicycles

Scare Grove. Nice.
Jeremy: performer
Picked an 8 year old out of the audience. Handed her a torch that was 1/3 as tall as the kid.
Lit the torch.
The parents in the audience looking at each other. A mixture of, is this safe and how neat.
She lit his juggling batons and he lit is unicycle on fire.
I’m hoping we are taking a turn in our society. Allowing a little more risk and less fear of lawsuits.
I asked him about it after… “I trust kids more than adults.”
Me too.

Posted by Christina on October 24th, 2009

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hobbling

When I was a kid, I read a book about the future. A future when we hobbled brilliant dancers with bricks and brilliant thinkers with loud sounds, so we would all be equal.
Lately, I’ve felt a wee bit hobbled–my own doing… up late… most nights… wanting to unhobble… unclear on how to do it.
One of my mentors sent me a link to a movie. 9 minutes into it I’m feeling annoyed by it’s emotional obviousness.
Then
nice. Beautiful. A story about how we see things. How our belief about something makes it so.
Enjoy
http://www.thedoorpost.com/hope/The%20Butterfly%20Circus/

Posted by Christina on September 21st, 2009

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Flat Mason

I most admire humans who do weird things to make the day of a child. Standing in front of a group of 70 entrepreneurs last month a speaker (and friend) stopped what he was doing and asked someone to pull out a camera.
He mentioned that a friend of his has a son named Mason. Mason made a paper version of himself and called it “Flat Mason.” He asked the speaker to take Flat Mason with him since he traveled the world.
The speaker took out the paper Mason and stopped in the middle of his gig to take the photo. Tears in the eyes of many in the room.
Makes me think about how busy I always say I am. Years from now, Mason will have a photo album of all these places that someone cared enough to create for him.
Nice.

Posted by Christina on May 30th, 2009

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Nice Gams

Nice gams. 4 minutes long.. worth watching to the end….

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ksBTasD6YN8

Posted by Christina on February 5th, 2009

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Father of the Century

This year instead of a communication tip e-mail, I decided to send my dad’s poem out to my list. The responses and stories I am getting back are incredible. 37 so far - humans writing to me about what matters in their life. Thanks dad, although you passed 4 years ago - you still have impact. The poem, as I posted last year, is below with a little context at the end.

Happy holidays.

Christmas 1973 a poem by my dad

December 2008

Christmas this year
Should cost at least
A thousand dollars.

It should be
In the Ideal Bar & Grill
On 163rd and St. Nicholas
Waiting for the first
Tattered little boy
To come in selling
Tomorrow’s morning papers
Roughing up his hair,
Giving all his papers away
And giving him
A hundred dollar bill.

It should be
Walking through the
Bowery,
Finding the drunk
Shivering in the dark doorway
And giving him,
Instead of a religious tract
Or lecture,
A hundred dollar bill.

It should be walking,
Down Beale Street,
Stopping the first
Poor black child,
Giving him a smile
And a hundred dollar bill.

It should be
In Albuquerque.
Not a donation to a fund,
But taking the time to find
The sad-eyed Chicano child,
Taking him to a toy store
And letting him run riot.
Picking up the tab, the
toys and him and
To take them to
Wherever or to whatever
His home may be,

And leaving him the change
Of a hundred dollar bill.

It should be in San Diego
Out on the wharf,
With the old fisherman
Who mends nets
Because the tuna
Don’t run for him anymore.
A “Vaya con Dios”
And a hundred dollar bill.

It should be
In a Santa Monica Bar,
Smiling at the tired barmaid
Who came to the coast
To be a star
And only found reality,
Giving her conversation,
Respect,
And a hundred dollar bill.

It should be in
A Nob Hill restaurant.
Giving the maitre d’
A smile. And the busboy,
Who no one has noticed
All year,
A hundred dollar bill.

It should be
With a little old lady
In San Francisco’s Mission
Street
Selling flowers, Late at night
In the Tenderloin
Taking all her
Wilted posies,
Giving her a kiss
And a hundred dollar bill.

It should be
In Seattle’s skid row
Down near the Totem Pole
In Pioneer Square,

Giving the startled
Indian panhandler
A measure of returned pride
And a handshake
And a hundred dollar bill.

It should be the last saved
For the thief
Anywhere,
Who needs it worse
Than anyone,
Not just the money
But the need to
Be superior to someone.
Let him steal from me
A hundred dollar bill.

But most of all…
To have any value at all,
Let Christmas Day find me
Broke,
With empty pockets
Hanging inside out,
Still
In
Love
With
Man.

By Robert H. Harbridge, 1973

Note: This poem was written in 1973 (in case you worried about it not using the right PC language). The writer,
my dad, had lost his son the year before writing this poem and had just been diagnosed with Parkinsons Disease.
And still he could see what matters most.

We hope you are holding onto your happiness and faith no matter what is happening around you.
Look around–there’s extraordinary people in this world… you. Happy Holidays.

Christina Harbridge

& the Allegory team
Allegory, Inc.

Posted by Christina on December 19th, 2008

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Central Park Jogger

Last month at Axis in San Jose, Trisha Meili spoke to a group of entrepreneurs. I’m not sure if you know the name

http://www.centralparkjogger.com/

What an incredible story of the greatness of human beings. Yes, she was brutally attacked and left for dead. And the outpouring of support she received from strangers is mostly what she talks about.

The Marathon runner who months after her attack wrote her and told her he was going to run the New York Marathon in her honor. He won and sent her his medal. She held it last night as she talked about him. Someone she didn’t know who trained for months and gave her the spoils. One runner to another - his card said something about the medal for her as she finishes the marathon she is on. (She was in the hospital 5 months)

She talks about Solomon Brothers, the stock market firm she worked for, set up a working cubicle for her in the treatment center and put up a sign, “Solomon Brothers, Connecticut branch” to make sure she knew she was part of the team always. She had a stockmarket reader and everything.

Her message is perfect for this economy: Think about what you can do- what you are able to do, live in the present moment always and (in my words) believe in something - anything. Each tiny moment that gives a glimmer of hope and humanity.

Posted by Christina on November 5th, 2008

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