The X Man

This is the story of a complete stranger – one that left an enormous impression on me – in just a brief period of time. It was during a routine wait for testing at the hospital that I first came in contact with The X Man. Upon entering the reservation area, I staked out an unoccupied area and after checking in, settled in facing the entrance to unashamedly begin a favorite ritual – people watching.

X marks the spot

The usual suspects lined the perimeter around check in: an elderly gentleman with his wife – I immediately guessed that he was the patient taking note of the wrinkled creases of concern present on his companion’s face; a pregnant woman – unaccompanied and seemingly lost in the depths of PEOPLE Magazine; a young couple and their just-walking toddler; a 30-something man, unshaven and dressed from head-to-toe in Carhart. So far, nothing out of the ordinary.

That’s when The X Man rolled in, the whir of his electric wheelchair barely audible. Accompanied by two bright-eyed teenagers, who seemed perfectly at ease, he radiated strength and in the spotlight of the eyes in the waiting room, he took the stage like a seasoned actor.

At first glance, the man appeared to be completely disabled. And then he spoke. Actually, he laughed. After finding a place to wait, he began talking with his children, his voice filled with animation – and they laughed openly together. For all those present, this man was a reflection of what is great about life – and the pursuit of happiness.

Was I the only one who had been touched by his grace? I quickly surveyed the room: the elderly couple were quietly whispering to one another, the pregnant woman returned to her retreat in PEOPLE and the family was preoccupied with the “too cute” antics of their little one. “Strange” I thought to myself. When The X Man walked or rather rolled into the room, I felt the air shift a bit – almost like the energy had been replaced with something more refreshing. But the others didn’t seem to notice or if they did, they weren’t letting on.

When the registration desk called his name, X glided over with his children just close enough. When it was time for The X Man to sign the informational forms necessary to admit him for testing, he took the pen in his mouth and drew an X on the signature line. After reviewing the signature, the registration clerk asked if “someone else could sign for him?” X regarded the woman with genuine kindness and said “that is my official and legal signature. These are my children. They are minors and I am their guardian - and as such cannot give permission for my care.”

At that moment, The X Man dazzled like Venus on a dark, cloudless, winter’s night in northern Michigan. My mind was flooded with images of people I had come in contact with over the years who when questioned about even the simplest things were unkind, disingenuous, and at times, downright mean. I was one of those people. The X Man reminded me that day that as human beings, we are born with the right to be respected. And that no matter how many times a question is asked, it is still deserving of a kind and authentic answer. After all, it is how we treat those around us that matters most when we leave this planet. The X Man’s legacy will live in my mind forever. And I don’t even know him.

Running Away from it All

People have many different responses to pain – some run in fear, some face their fears and become fierce and others practice complete denial – refusing to admit there is a problem. My response has always been anger first, ask questions later, but dear woman I know, when facing extraordinary circumstances, opted for the first course of action…she ran.

An artfully intelligent CPA, my friend Anne wears an expression of compassionate pain. It was over breakfast one sunny morning that we reconnected after an extended period of time. I always look forward to sharing stories with Anne – a person who misses nothing when it comes to the details she always surprises me with a remark or insight – one that often changes my own perception of what occurred.

Over breakfast Anne was smiling but somber. We dug in and when she looked up and began telling me about a job offer that she had received from a current client and how she was ready for a “change” I knew instantly that she wasn’t just referring to her career. Anne went on to tell me about the offer, lightly seasoning the conversation with her dissatisfaction and her current husband’s job status.

As she continued on, telling me about the position available, I wondered to myself if she was really hearing what she was saying. You see, Anne, in so many words had shared that after thirteen years in a second marriage, she was considering divorce. It turns out, she didn’t.

The next year was a whirlwind for Anne. She began facing demons and challenges one at a time – drawing upon the Taurus warrior within to rise up and move on. It was during a critical time in the “proceedings” when Anne started running. We would meet early in the morning and run for an hour on the treadmill. At first, Anne could only run for five-minute increments. Today, with the help of a dedicated trainer and nutritionist she has completed three half marathons and run more miles than I can count.

Anne’s tenacity and dedication to fitness has created a “safe place” for her to grieve and conquer her own fears. One mile at a time, my friend Anne is re-creating her life - extraordinary for this grandmother of three and mother of two. By running away, Anne has actually returned to herself and has come to realize that after all these years, she is exactly who she has been waiting for.

The Truth About Three Men on a Plane

What do a corporate law attorney, a used car salesman, and the leader of a Shiite Muslim church, have in common? One plane ride.

I am grateful to have traveled the United States as a child and as an adult have continued this tradition. Whether it is for business or pleasure – I always find travel exhilarating and the people I meet – enlightening. This is the story of three men I met while traveling at three different times.

A beautiful flight over the Pacific

The first, an enormous man in stature was squeezed up against the window when I took my seat in the middle of a crowded 747. I immediately began drawing conclusions about what this man did for a living and where he might be headed on this pre-dawn flight. Just as we reached altitude, breakfast in a box was served. Although I enjoy traveling, my stomach has never settled into flying – so it’s rare that I eat on a plane. I carefully opened my box to see if there was anything inside that I could tolerate. Considering the turbulence, I decided against the gamble. That’s when the man spoke “You gonna’ eat that?” he said in a gruff but soft voice? I glanced over without meeting his eyes and slid the meal across to his tray – “nope, it’s all yours!”

Over the next hour, I learned that this gentle giant was a successful corporate attorney who in his off time enjoyed running up and down mountains. In fact, he really got off on seeing how many he could run up in a single day! He had two children, a golden retriever and was very happily married. As he talked, his low, melodic voice melted away every pre-conception I had formulated. He went from being an oversized jock to a family man with endurance beyond measure.

I met man number two in first class. It was a mid-afternoon flight and I was aisle-side. I packed my stuff up and prepared for take-off noticing that the man was simply dressed and alertly looking around the cabin. When beverage service was started, the man ordered a Guinness. Funny, I would have pegged him as a Coors Light kind of guy – again, my inquisitive nature got the best of me and I found myself striking up a conversation with the man about his beverage of choice.

We talked in short bursts of conversation – exchanging basic information with each other and commenting on our final destinations. As expected, our discussion turned to our professions and when he found out about my marketing background, the man candidly shared his story of success – in developing a niche’ market that at the time, and place, was virtually untapped.

You see this southern gentleman had a daughter who was a lesbian. When she came out, he was shocked but explained: “that she is still my daughter and I am very proud of her.” Over the course of meeting his daughter’s friends, he came to realize that there weren’t a lot of places (car dealers included) where homosexual people were comfortable shopping. That’s when the man had an epiphany: he would try to develop an atmosphere of equality in his dealerships that would engage a market that had thus far been discouraged and demonized.

Turns out, it was a winning strategy and the man was formulating a plan to cater to the “female market.” Providing a similar low-stress buying environment. Our brief meeting reminded me that there is something much bigger than us at work – and when we apply our compassionate nature, good things happen quickly.

The third man scared me from the moment I laid eyes on him. I was one of the last to board a sunset flight out of Chicago bound for Traverse City when a man in full Arab attire, rushed in behind me. I did my best to make room for him, haphazardly situating my bag beneath a too-tight spot and sitting down immediately. When the man paused in front of the vacant seat next to me, my heart skipped a beat and I turned towards the window and away from my prejudicial fears.

In a thick middle-eastern accent, the man kindly asked if he could “have a seat”? Growing up in a rural, white-bred community, my mom made sure that we understood equality, but post-911, I simply couldn’t seem to control my fight-or-flight reaction to the man.

The plane taxied and the man proceeded to engage me in conversation. Can’t he SEE how uncomfortable I am just being near him – my mind screamed? Instead when he asked, “do you live in Traverse City?” my response cut through the thinning air like a knife “yes, do YOU?” That’s when our conversation took a U-turn – shifting to his thoughts about the war and President Bush.

It turns out, this man was a high-ranking Shiite Muslim who had been called on in the past to advise the President about Saddam Hussein and Iraq. He passionately explained how Hussein had murdered 18 members of his family, including his great, great grandfather, whose body had recently been recovered in a mass grave.

That’s when I realized the gift that this man had given to me. I became an information-seeking sponge. I had purposefully kept my distance from being “informed” about the war – to the point that I avoided almost all media and news stories related to what was happening a world away. Here was a credible source – one with first-hand experience. I was intent on learning everything I possibly could in a mere 45 minutes.

And teach he did. When we finally parted ways, this gentle man handed me a slip of paper with his contact information neatly inscribed, and invited me to attend one of his lectures at the Mosque where he guides thousands of faithful followers. I have yet to take him up on the offer – but I am fully aware that it will probably result in the same type of ego-altering experience that we had already shared – on a sunset flight back home.

The Million-Dollar Man

I’ve learned a lot from people over the years. Some lessons were more direct than others. This is a story of courage and persistence. When I went to work for “Sam”: I was a young, newly married 20-something. My husband and I were classic D.I.N.K.’s, (Double Income No Kids) couple living the Rocky Mountain high life that many dream about

That's him. The million-dollar man

My job at Sam’s firm quickly evolved – I quickly rose through the ranks becoming a department head responsible for the company’s major accounts throughout the U.S. With the responsibility, came the pressure to sell. You see, Sam believed that I was a natural salesperson – cut from the same cloth he was.

As a wildly successful CEO, Sam was a former Special Forces Officer in Vietnam who was always “packing.” In the industry that our company dominated, he was revered and said to “have a silver tongue.” He lived the life of a cowboy in the rural mountainous range of Colorado, raising horses amidst sacred Indian burial grounds. At the time, Sam was 60-something and each morning he sauntered into the office, decked out in hip hugging Wranglers that were flattering in a Cowboy Up kind of way. He had silver hair, a perfect set of gleaming white teeth, and more pairs of custom cowboy boots and hats than I could count.

I never met Sam until after I was hired. My office was situated around the corner from his and mid-morning, I heard him yelling a co-worker’s name at the top of his lungs. Little did I realize, but this habit would become the stuff that made us stick. Months later, Sam was yelling MY NAME at the top of his lungs. At first, I would jump up, as if someone had placed a hot brand on my rear quarters and bolt into his office, flushed and out of breath. Later I found myself kidding Sam about “using the expensive paging system again.”

Throughout the course of my career, Sam became an unlikely mentor. We would sit in his office – he behind a massive, overly intimidating wood desk and me on the other side (miles away) and have deep philosophical talks about business and success. Most of our conversations ended with Sam inquiring about when I wanted to “start selling?” I kept telling him “I just can’t do it. I just cannot see myself asking people for money – asking them to sign a contract. I’m much more comfortable selling ideas and concepts.”

One day, Sam was particularly intent on changing my mind and I asked him point blank: “Okay Sam, how do you do it? How do you ask someone for One Million Dollars? His answer was poignantly simple: You just ask.

I got it that day. I realized that the only thing holding anyone back from reaching their potential – whether it be monetary or otherwise was simply asking.

A few short years later, I was hired as the Marketing Director for a successful design firm. Interestingly, the position turned into one of sales. In just ten months, I was solely responsible for $300,000 in new sales and contributing to over a half-million in others.

The mystery of “could I sell?” was solved.

It turns out, Sam was right. I could sell. Just not then and not there.

A few months after my departure, Sam sold the company and, being the brave and wandering adventurer he was, sold everything (cowboy boots and all). Last I heard he was combing the beaches of Baja. No doubt glittering like the million-dollar man that he is.