Courtesy and the Hummingbird

Walking into the garage, I heard a frustrated, frenetic fluttering followed by a bump. Hearing it again, I looked around and saw a hummingbird frantically trying to fly outside but repeatedly getting stopped by a window. Not so bright and becoming duller by the second, the poor little bird did not understand what was wrong. I slowly lifted the window hoping to coax the little creature outside, but, alas, he simply kept bumping and fluttering without recognizing the open window below him. With only slight hesitation, I gently reached out my hands, and cradled the little thing in my hand. He quickly stopped his natural buzzing, probably wondering what was about to happen. I lowered him to the open window, opened my hand and encouraged him to fly. He did not wait long and took off into the world, free again.

Hummingbirds are fascinating birds having the ability to flap their wings up to 80 times per second for certain species. They are quite small and can fly backwards without hesitation. Their incredibly fast metabolism forces them to seek nectar and insects every few hours to avoid starving to death. With a heart rate of over 1000 beats per minute they move quickly and visit hundreds of flowers every day. They are a gentle animal but also firmly committed to their own survival, demanding rights over their established territory. The sound of several hummingbirds hovering around a feeder is one of the most musical experiences in nature. As the wings increase their speed so also will the pitch rise resulting in a harmonious symphony of energy and joy.

And so it was with great respect and amusement that I helped the little hummingbird survive. Just doing my part to give a little simple courtesy. Speaking of courtesy, why do many drivers lose all sense of thoughtfulness when behind the wheel of a vehicle? In the mornings as the sun is creeping up in the East, I am running 4-5 miles and listening to Moby Dick. Living in the country, we have very little traffic and I enjoy feeling the cool breeze caress my nose and cheeks while trying not to think about my aching legs and fast breathing. Running is both painful and exhilarating, joyful and terrible, fun and difficult. I am not quite a member of the club yet (I suspect you have to do a marathon to be a member), but I can hold my own in a running conversation now. And the experiences are often unpredictable--jumping over a snake, stopping cold to avoid a skunk, smiling at an armadillo, brushing grasshoppers off my legs, wondering about the dead bobcat, and snarling at the rubbish on the side of the road. All these and more add to the joys of running.

But I do not appreciate the cars that drive by without the slightest care of my safety. Many of them seem to speed up almost as though I am infringing on their racetrack. Admittedly, the road was built for vehicles not for runners and I guess if the driver slowed down perhaps he would arrive at his destination 10 seconds later than intended, but all it requires is a little common courtesy. It is disconcerting to see a car coming toward me at a high speed, knowing that a direct hit will put a stop to my running for quite awhile! I usually wave my arms and plan my dive into the weeds while hoping he will move over slightly and slow down. I am asking for a little courtesy and sensitivity to my exercise. Not too much to ask I don't think.

Seems to me that if I take a moment to offer some help and courtesy to a hummingbird, then a driver could offer similar behavior to the runners on the road. Yes, yes I know the events are unrelated, but nevertheless, it is fun to make the comparison for now.

Concluding this brief essay today, I must point out my love and respect for Gershwin's masterful song Bess, You Is My Woman Now. It is one of the greatest songs ever written with a depth of expression and complexity of construction rarely found in the pop world. You can hear the love in the music and can almost sense the anguish of fear of the future. Terrific music.

Defenestrating the Past

Without hesitation, I grabbed the jacket out of the back of the pickup and tossed it in the garbage bin. Although I did not officially throw it out of the window, I did rather figuratively defenestrate a part of my past. It was my high school letter jacket. Blue and gold, replete with large letters demonstrating my years in choir, band, and orchestra. Medals from contests, patches from district, region, and Baptist All-State bands, various festivals, concerts, and events most of which I cannot remember.

The dusty jacket was worn once in college in November of 1978 and I can recall the threat I received from an older (and much bigger!) college student. He said if he ever saw me in that jacket again, he would rip it into shreds and knock me around until I couldn't walk! He was a pretty mean guy but I did take it seriously. So I have not worn it since that day. As I was about to toss it in the bin, I really only had one memory that made me smile--my size. I was very thin in those days and most of my weight was in my hair. My how things have changed!

I suppose I had some pride in my jacket at one point in my life. I was active in organizations in high school and had a modicum of success as a musician. Whoop-de-doo and cheers to me. I got a jacket, decorated it like a Christmas tree, wore it around my senior year to keep warm (as though I needed it in El Paso, Texas!), and then put it away until today where it found residence in the dump. Did my defenestration of the jacket diminish me in any way? No. Did my keeping it for years elevate me in any way? No. It was just an organized system of threads primarily for maintaining warmth. Not that I am against letter jackets, and in point of fact I believe letter jackets are important to remind students of the value of dedication and self-esteem. I hope we continue to give honor to high school students and I hope we always find ways to recognize their achievements.

But it is also equally valuable to let go and defenestrate the past. We are shaped by our past and there is great psychological benefit to remembering successes, triumphs, and affirmations. Everybody needs an "attaboy" and a high school letter jacket provides that pat on the back. Yet to live in the past, relying on old successes to determine present circumstances is flawed thinking. Too often I believe we tend to dwell on those events--good and bad--and allow the past to govern our current way of thinking. I smile when I think about the past successes, and I frown when I consider the past mistakes and failures.

The smile, however, is simply a smile and no more than that. Today is real, today is alive, and today is the day to consider. Time to let go of the past. Nod at it, respect it, learn from it, but also defenestrate it!

The Net Market

My first complete book was published and is now available for purchase. I have been writing for years but never completed a book unless one counts the dissertation as a book. My brother, a prolific and professional writer, is about to publish his third book. I suppose in the old days an author would write and publish a book and people would walk down to the local bookstore and purchase it. The publisher's role was to distribute the book to as many bookstores as possible. The publisher then incurred a financial responsibility and obligation and so did the bookstore. I assume many publishers printed in-house although some probably outsourced the printing at least to an extent. Even today there are many authors whose name garners great royalties and advance compensation for an upcoming work. For those authors, a store and a warehouse likely kept thousands of copies on hand for distribution and for consumers. I suspect those days are virtually gone for all but the most acclaimed writers.

Most writers are like me, amateur, average, but dedicated to the process of writing. We enjoy relating our experiences, telling stores, building on our imaginations, and expressing our opinions. I wrote this book over several years and consider it to be a fairly good resource for parents, teachers, and community members who are interested in how to raise and help autistic children. Much to my shock, however, the book seems to have "caught on" in the mainstream world, at least to an extent. This has led to the book being available online with many bookstores and in many catalogs, most of which are not familiar to me. I have even been requested to give permission for a translation into Korean. On different sites, I have seen positive comments about the book from people I do not know and am surprised to learn that the book is sort of marketing itself without great effort on my part.

Obviously the topic is timely and parents and educators are curious how to help those with autism. But that aside, it is the power of the internet working congruently with the publishing world that has propelled the interest in this little book. I do not know how long interest will remain nor if it will result in any kind of royalties at all. As of this blog entry, no royalties have been received although I assume that will happen later. Truthfully, and forgive the moment of self-righteous nobility, it is not about the royalties but, rather, is about the benefit to others as they deal with autism either as parents or teachers.

Regardless of the book's popularity, the amazing thing has been the nearly overnight exposure to a broad market. Facebook, blogs, twitter, and digital resources work together to fill the world with ideas, thoughts, materials, and ways to improve. I put a few ideas in print and within a week, the world can read those ideas. The economics of the ideas are secondary to the ability to change the world in a short period of time. We live in a highly charged, entrepreneurial culture with tremendous potential and equally great challenges. The economic rules are changing, the marketing principles are altering, the system of supply and demand is incredibly fast-paced, and there is room and opportunity for all.

My little book about my son may continue to find a wide audience or it may fall into the same black hole where most books eventually dwell. But whatever happens, the ride has been fun and makes me want to write another.