Here's the thing

How can someone who has lived presumably more than half her life not have an immediate answer to the question, “So what’s your hobby?”

You know, as in, passion. Or to put it more precisely, what’s my ‘thing’?
I would have thought that question an easy one to answer, because there are so many things I enjoy doing, some of which have been activities of mine for many years. But when a group of aviation professionals who have achieved outstanding success in their field asks you what you do outside of work, it is easy to fumble for the words that could hold up against their obvious lifelong passion.

Talk about feeling inadequate.

Here I am in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, home of the world famous AirVenture annual air show hosted by the Experimental Aircraft Association, surrounded by people who have jet fuel pulsing in their veins, and I am shaking my head recalling the dinner conversation from the other evening. That’s when the $64,000 question was posed to me, and that’s when I sat in puzzlement at the “right” answer.

Granted, the question was asked just a few hours after these aviation experts had flown in a B-17, as in one of the airplanes that flew bombing missions in World War II. These guys took turns sitting in the gunner’s seat as they flew over Wisconsin. Here it was a few hours after their flight and they were still grinning and laughing like little boys. Now that is pure passion.

There are many pastimes I enjoy, but none that generates the kind of childlike excitement or amazement that I see in my co-workers who just so happened to have designed, built and flown the world’s fastest conventional helicopter.

My hobbies are scarce these days due to a heavy work-school juggling act, but how can I use my “day” job as an excuse when this group of what I consider to be geniuses recently wrapped up a multi-year project that consumed their lives? Well, they were “working” at something they are passionate about, so there is a bit of a difference. Still, I have to think, “Whoa, I need a lifestyle adjustment here. My passions are lacking. I need some of this.”

I was so troubled by this conversation that I shared my distress later on the phone long distance with my husband. Of course, he immediately rejected my angst.

“You have plenty of hobbies,” he countered, listing the same ones I had mentioned. Then he added, “You love writing,” or words to that effect.

‘Nuff said. He’s right. My passion is storytelling. When I get on to an idea and start interviewing people and getting to the real details, I am so jazzed to create a beautiful story that will inspire, inform, entertain, and even create a lasting record about an individual that is worthy of remembering.

Doesn’t sound very exciting, does it? For me, it is. And that’s how it works. We each have something that energizes us. Some of us find that passion at an early age. Others may discover it later in life. Whenever it hits, it becomes a kind of Gatorade for the soul, replenishing what’s missing and giving us the boost we need to keep going. We just have to find it, embrace it, and let it fill us up.

Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan

Look within

I spent most of last week in West Palm Beach, Florida, on assignment for my job. Usually, when I travel on business, I am inspired by the sights, the people, occasionally the culture (particularly if I someplace interesting or different... like Paris, or New York).

I’m not sure if it was the fact that I was busy, or burnt out, or that I was not finding the location to be outstanding in a way that generated a creative response, but I came back with, well, nothing much.

No offense to WPB of course. I’ve been there plenty of times, so perhaps it is simply that is was not a novelty this trip.

I did have a thought though, on my drive home from the airport. Something I want to work on, I guess you could say.

As a person who is always on the “self improvement” kick, I will occasionally read an inspirational book, or watch a spiritual program on television. I got to thinking. All those ideas are fine and can be helpful, but I have a feeling all we need to know, to be “better” individuals, is within us.

Think about it. With a little time to reflect, each of us can identify a quality in ourselves that is good -- which we can amplify through our actions -- or not-so-good -- which we can choose to work on. We don’t really need someone to tell us how to be a good person, or how to be happy in life. The secret lies within. We just need to go there once in a while to conjure it up and embrace it.

Either that, or I need a vacation.

Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan

Adapt and overcome

"Nowhere to run."

I wasn’t planning to get into my own “stuff” so much as tee up this Walking distance entry to entice my readers into their own reflections, when I tweeted that earlier this week. So when I posted this note that hinted at my personal sadness on my Facebook page, I was a little uncomfortable (as I usually am) and certainly surprised that it elicited a few responses.

What did I say?

When a dreaded anniversary approaches, there is nowhere to run. Coming up in Walking distance later this week: When a memory hurts.

I was having a bad moment. Not even a bad day, but a bad moment when the underlying sadness in my life history bubbles to the surface. It happens now and then, and I am not alone in knowing what this feels like.

My blog “promo,” I thought, was harmless, but from the responses I received, I felt a connection to people that words cannot explain.

The responses were practically immediate. They were expressions of compassion, kindness, friendship, encouragement. This one was particularly pointed: “Remember the happiness that you had, not the sadness that happened. Easier said than done.”

That post, like the others that followed it, carried so much real feeling, I had to rethink what I wanted to tell you this week. For that, I am grateful. I want to keep things in perspective. It’s about treasuring our good memories. It’s about moving on from them and living life the best we can, to the fullest we can.

So let me share with you the idea that I was aiming at, when I opened up my heart in a tweet.

July 23, 2007.
Does the date mean anything to you?

How about Sept. 11, 2001?

That gives it away, doesn’t it? They are days from calendars past when life changed irrevocably for certain people. Dealing with the anniversary of the death of someone we love is one of the painful residual effects of loss. And it is inescapable.

On July 23, 2007, Dr. William Petit of Cheshire, Conn., lost his wife and two daughters in a horrific home invasion that destroyed not only his family, their home and everything in it, but the life the Petits had created and the dreams they were building.

As the fourth anniversary of the Petit murders approaches, Dr. Petit will relive that terrible day and the events leading up to it. He will not do this intentionally, if he does. This is the kind of experience that shakes a person’s world, unsummoned. The sadness comes on its own and it cannot be avoided.

We can relate to this feeling, but cannot understand it in the way that the families feel it. That should not prevent us from being empathetic and showing respect and kindness. It is the best we can offer.

Sept. 11, 2001 is one of those days that brings that out for so many of us. The familiar date was drilled into the American psyche when we watched jet planes crash into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and a remote field in Pennsylvania. We think of it as “9/11,” but for the families of the thousands killed that day, it is the anniversary of their loved ones’ deaths.

I agree that a death anniversary gives us an opportunity to remember the good, once we get past the unavoidable pain. Memories can hurt, but they also heal. As one friend suggested, it can help to honor the loss responsibly. As another friend said, it is our experiences that make us who we are. As long as we can stand up and be strong, good, giving people, we are honoring our loved ones.

In the coming weeks, I’ll take a look at how Dr. Petit, and one of my friends who lost a brother on 9/11 are living examples of those great comments from my Facebook friends. Be sure to follow Walking distance, because their stories are worth knowing.

When I started to write this entry, I had to look up the saying, “adapt and overcome” because I initially thought the saying was, “adapt and survive.”

Maybe that’s just my version of it. But I can edit it one better. How about, “Adapt and live fully”?


Copyright 2011 By Marianne V. Heffernan