One more thing about Louisville that shined. Today is the last story from my getaway with Richard last weekend. I promise.
The hip hotel where we stayed (21C) is home to Proof, a restaurant that - according to Conde Naste - is one of the best in the country.
Dinner was great. It was. But, I would be hard pressed to remember what I ordered.
That's because after dessert and, along with our bill, Richard and I were presented with a big bowl of pink cotton candy. Who needs a Starlight peppermint when you can dig into a bowl of cotton candy?
Unexpected.
Whimsical.
Memorable.
A simple idea that shines.
How about you? What distinctive twist can you put on a routine task, either in your home or workplace, that might get you rated Best in the Country? Visit us in the Community Forum labeled, Today's Post and tell us.
Shining off until tomorrow...
There was something else that shined about the trip Richard and I took to Louisville last weekend.
My former boss was celebrating his 60th birthday and his wife arranged a large party of family and friends to ring in his new year. Cocktail hour was fun, dinner was great, but the real fun was watching Fred get roasted by so many of the people who love him most.
For fifty minutes Fred sat on stage listening nervously to stories from his oldest childhood friends; former bosses, colleagues, and students; in laws; former mentors and mentees; and of course his children. He (and we) laughed, cried, and reflected on the profound impact a single person can have on the lives of so many others.
Part way through the evening I found myself thinking, "Darn it, I wish I could be roasted."
What? Roasts are meant to poke fun. Roasts are like carictures of you worst and most eccentric qualities. Why would anyone knowingly want to subject themselves to being roasted?
Then it occurred to me. Roasts are a little like the Yellow Envelope Project. Roasts are lighthearted ways for people to laugh and joke about what you mean to them. Roasts, despite all the embarrassment, let you know that you matter; that your life has left an impression -albeit funny - on someone else.
The real beauty of Fred's roast was that he was around to hear it. All too often we wait until someone has passed away before mustering up enough courage to share our feelings about what they meant to us.
Saturday night shined because it was like opening a yellow envelope and watching the love pour out.
We might not know this week's yellow envelope recipient, Ron, enough to roast him, but if you haven't already, please consider participating in this week's Yellow Envelope Project. I'd be shocked if it didn't leave him feeling as warm and loved as I know Fred felt on Saturday night (and you too).
On a funnier note, what will someone say at your roast?
Shining off until tomorrow...
To what lengths will you go to surround yourself with shine?
Here's an example of the lengths to which I will go:
Right before moving from Louisville, I asked Laurie to frame old family photos for me; photos that dated back generations and that, for this wannabe-historian, are priceless.
I asked Laurie because she is a great example of an employee turned artist. Before my middle son was born, I randomly stumbled into a local shop to have some of my oldest son's artwork framed for Matthew's nursery. Laurie treated Ricky's middle-school artwork with such experience and importance, you might have thought our newly matted and framed pictures were to be on loan at the Louvre.
Needless to say, her work restoring and framing my old family photos was comparably impressive. It was the work of an artist - not simply an employee. The framed pictures hang prominently in our living room and inevitably draw countless compliments any time a newcomer enters our home.
Of course it didn't take my mother in-law long to comment that the wall was devoid of pictures from Richard's side of the family.
True. And then ensued a three year campaign to have my mother in-law relinquish photos of Uncle Louie, Grandma and Grandpa Festagallo, Joan, Teresa, and the rest of the gang. Three painful years of empty promises.
Two weeks ago, Richard and I decided to fly to Louisville overnight so we could attend a party for my former boss. It was a last minute decision, but immediately I became singularly focused on getting my hands on Beeny family photos in enough time to have Laurie frame them.
Do or die. Hand them over. Last call. Now or never. Thankfully my mother in-law delivered - four days before our flight to Louisville was to depart.
The very next morning, with Beeny family photos in hand, I called Blue Grass Framing to arrange an appointment with Laurie.
She's gone. Laurie no longer works there.
Of course I asked the employee - not artist - who answered the phone if he would contact Laurie and let her know someone was trying to get in touch with her. He dutifully took down my phone number, agreeing to pass it along, but alas, I knew not to hold my breath.
Two days before departing, I vaguely thought I remembered Laurie's last name, so I spent the afternoon noodling around on the internet trying to track down a Laurie Z. in Prospect, Kentucky. No luck.
The day before leaving, I remembered Laurie loved Starbucks coffee like I do. As a last resort, I called the Prospect Starbucks hoping they would know who I was talking about and would pass my message along.
BINGO! They knew who I was talking about and agreed to pass along my phone number when she came in for her morning cup of joe. I waited all day on Thursday. Nothing.
Still I packed the pictures, convincing myself it wouldn't be crazy to camp out at Starbucks on Saturday morning or, if necessary, to drive around town looking for the Cooper that I remembered her driving.
Sitting in the Dallas airport at 6:30 a.m. on Friday morning - waiting to depart - and Laurie called my cell phone. By sheer determination, we were in business!
At 9:30 a.m. on Saturday, Richard and I met Laurie at Starbucks - goods in hand. We spent about an hour and a half sifting through formal portraits and informal candids, searching for the fifteen photographs most worthy of framing. Local regulars recognized Laurie and periodically asked what we were doing. I'm pretty sure it made her feel good to explain that this Texas couple tracked her down to consult on a framing job for their home one thousand miles away.
And, Richard and I felt good too because our most coveted family photos are in the hands of an artist - someone who truly shines at her trade.
That's the beauty of shining. People who shine will travel far and wide for the services of someone else who shines. They will do it because they recognize your star qualities. They know you work in way most won't and that the extra time and energy it requires to track you down is well worth it. People who shine will actually inconvenience themselves in order to work with others who shine, because they value the excellence and artistry you bring to your work.
How far and wide will someone travel for the work you do?
Or, visit us in the Community Forum labeled, Today's Post and tell us a story about how far and wide you have traveled for the work of someone else who shines.
Shining off until tomorrow...