Monday Moment - Feeling Lucky

A freak of weather came through a half-mile swath along the west side of Canandaigua Lake on Saturday afternoon – the particular half-mile on which the Canandaigua Yacht Club sits. And whew baby, did that weather freak – now called an EF-1 tornado with winds of 90 mph – wreak damage!

Though the storm passed through early afternoon, we didn’t have a clue about it until we received an email from the Club Board about 10PM. Nor, apparently, did many people who live just beyond the tornado’s narrow path. We hopped in the truck and took a ride to see what we could see – knowing that we wouldn’t see much at all in the dark. But what the heck, it’s a five minute ride, and though we knew our little boat was insured (I had paid the bill that day at nearly the same time the tornado hit!) we were certainly curious to see how it weathered the storm.

As we drove out West Lake Road, we kept looking for power outages. But lights were on everywhere. In fact, we were within feet of the Yacht Club before we saw anything of note. But then what we saw sure did make us sit up and take notice. Trees were down, boats were piled up, the place was roped off and it was a mess!

A few members were on hand – partly still in awe of what had occurred there and partly to make sure that no one crossed into an area that might not be safe. What a wise move. We learned that no one had been hurt though three members had been present at the time and had harrowing tales to tell. But boats of well over a ton had rolled on their trailers – some into other boats – other boats had been blown off their trailers, and still others were swept into the lake. Two of about 25 boats moored in the club’s harbor actually sank. It all looked like a train wreck!

Still, our fellow members said that they were pretty sure our little boat came through okay. We’ve only been members for three years, we don’t know these folks well and they don’t know us, but still, they were pretty sure our boat was okay. Nice to know. We asked what we could do, and were told that until the club’s insurance adjuster came – scheduled for Monday - it was better to just stay away. We agreed and left them to their vigil.

The next morning, the club website informed us that the insurance adjuster had been there early Sunday morning (lots of calls from members convinced them to change their schedule) and all hands would be appreciated to help clean up. We actually had other plans, but felt compelled to change them and do our part.

It’s true that many hands make light work. And a lighter attitude that might have prevailed had any one of us had to face the clean up alone. By the time we arrived, helpful club members had already hoisted our boat back on its trailer – indeed darn-near unscathed. So Ray pitched in to help with other boats – many of the Club’s rather unique and hand-built Shark class catamarans that had been tossed into trees and were gouged beyond repair. Aware of my physical limitations, I started gathering downed branches into big brush piles. All this in a steady, dripping rain, but also amidst surprisingly good humor.

Within a couple hours, most of what could be done without heavy equipment had been done. So for the next couple hours, we stuck around offering meager emotional support to the owner of one of the boats that sank. We watched as a barge-crane arrived to lift his boat from its resting spot on the harbor bottom. The crane operators pumped water out as they lifted until it floated and looked – from a distance at least – as good as new.

About half way through the day, Ray reminded me of something I say – heard from a friend about a friend long ago. He said, “It’s all about the stories.” And there were stories aplenty – and will be for years to come from this little hurricane. Each boat-owner has a story about his/her boat, where it went in the wind, and how it came out. Neighbors who sustained damage to their homes have a story. The fellow who was there when the storm hit has a whale of a story. The officers of the club have a story, and each person who helped and was helped has a story too.

My own story is one of what I perceive to be amazing luck. Besides the amazing – and gratitude-inducing – luck that no one was hurt – not on the waterfront, and not in their homes, I feel lucky. The above picture will show you what I mean.

Ours is the small yellow boat with the black mast, lying on its side – but not crushed by the four larger boats who started a domino that might easily have landed on us. Two of our nearest neighbors to the right each weigh about twice what our boat weighs. And two more behemoths that you can’t see in this picture weigh twice again that much. It remains to be seen whether any of these four that sheltered us can be salvaged. But our little yellow craft – which probably cost less than the deductible on the four larger boats – seems to have come through unscathed.

We never gave our boat a name. Couldn’t decide if a 14-footer really warranted a name to tell you the truth. That’s a question I’m not asking anymore. From now on, I’m calling our boat Lucky. As far as I’m concerned, she’s earned it!

It’s all about the stories. That’s my story – and Lucky’s – and we’re sticking to it!

Hope you have a lucky story to tell this week!

Sally

Monday Moment - Brave Harvest!

Far and away the most inspiring story I read this week is about Jose Hernandez, one of our astronauts heading up, up, and away in tomorrow’s shuttle launch. Have you heard this story?

Jose’s parents and four kids worked their way up from Mexico each spring, migrant farm workers who followed ripening crops in the fields. From the time he was six years old, Jose was out there from dawn to dusk, in the mud, dust, heat, picking vegetables for salad bars all over the United States. Every evening ended with the same message. Jose’s father turned to look at his four kids crowded into the back seat of the car and said, “This is your future if you don’t stay in school.”

There was the incentive for sure, but Jose’s parents didn’t stop there. They realized how moving from place to place made it more difficult for their kids to succeed in school, so they took risks, got green cards, settled in one community, and worked – really, really hard. As did their kids. Summers and weekends weren’t for sleeping in. Summers and weekends were for working in the fields, helping to support the family – with the same message at the end of every day, “This is your future if you don’t stay in school.”

All four kids did stay in school, and went on to earn college degrees. And now the family will gather to watch Jose Hernandez achieve the dream he formed as a child watching Apollo astronauts walking on the moon. Even with a master’s degree in electrical engineering, it took him twelve years to be accepted into the astronaut training program. This is a man who knows how to work and who knows the power of a really big dream!

Can you see why I felt inspired? There’s a song written and performed by Jana Stanfield that also inspires me. It asks the question, “What would I do today – if I were brave?” Jose has given me a new response to Jana’s question – I’ll think about what Jose Hernandez would do! And hopefully, I’ll do more than think! I’ll work!

What would you do today – if you were brave?

Wishing you a filled with inspiration, courage, and the satisfaction of hard work done well!

Sally

Monday Moment - Community Cravings

I’m at home for most of this coming week with minimal obligations – and it feels terrific! It’s been a bit of a whirlwind! All good, but I do think I hear my hammock calling my name!

When I reflect back on my summer – so far because I am determined to enjoy every single drop of it yet to come – the word that comes most clearly to mind is community. I’ve experienced – albeit from the sidelines sometimes – varied communities in action this summer. Each community has been unique, but they all share certain characteristics – a common purpose and goal, mutual nurturing and care, the chance to forge memories that will last lifetimes and that often significantly alter the lives of community members. And FUN in capital letters!

I’ve visited eight 4-H Camps across New York State this summer – from Long Island to nearly the Thousand Islands, from the Catskills to the Finger Lakes and Western New York. Each time I found a community. Young staff members experiencing their first taste of awesome responsibility, campers away from home for the first time or returning again to a place they’ve learned to call home, rituals and routines that might baffle a visitor but make perfect sense to everyone there. Eight complete communities that shape lives.

Two weeks ago I was with my Executive Edge friends in Orlando where we facilitated a team-building program for student interns to the accounting firm Ernst & Young as we have for the last 13 years. We work really hard, long days – and it’s such interesting work with a wonderful client. But the real reason we go is to spend time with our own team! There are new people on our team every year, but the core has been together since the very beginning, and spending a week with my best friends that I see once a year is among the most special opportunities of my life! Think about it. Thirteen years! The changes we’ve seen in each other! I feel so privileged to be part of this extraordinary community – if only for one week a year!

In between my travels, I sang for the first time with the Finger Lakes Chorale this summer. We rehearsed every Tuesday evening from mid-June to mid-August in preparation for two concerts this past weekend. I’ve sung with groups before and am always struck by how the very act of breathing the same air and belting out the same lyrics brings a group of diverse people together. One hundred thirty people in this group – some who knew each other for years, others new like me – brought together just because we like to sing. Some of us will go to dinner at each others’ houses, but more will just see each other occasionally at the grocery store. Still, for the brief time we were together, we were community.

I believe that humans crave community and all the benefits that come from an interdependence on other humans. Could be why I sought out so many community experiences this summer. Certainly that need for community will be a big reason why I’ll think back so fondly of the summer of 2009! In fact, I believe I’ll go start that reverie right now – in my hammock!

What memories of this summer season will you hold precious?

May you experience the joys of community yourself in the coming week!