I used to work at a great restaurant in San Jose, California called Eulipia. One night after work a number of us, 3 women and 3 men, were hanging out at the bar just shooting the breeze. The women got into a discussion of what sort of men they were attracted to. One had specific requirements. Another had an ‘ideal man’. The third had a long list of traits she was not attracted to. Us men sat silently listening to them explain these mysteries to us. It took quite a while.
After they were done one of the women turned to us men and asked, “So, what sort of women are you attracted to?” And without missing a beat, all three of us, in harmony said, “Whoever pays attention to us.”
And that is the secret of how to attract men, seriously. Yes, looks matter. Yes, we can like certain ‘types’. But within the very wide range of attraction most men actually have, there is one thing that stands out, the clincher. And that is charm. The woman with charm, the woman who pays attention to a man, is the one with the advantage, not the one who is most beautiful or has the best figure.
And here is another truth for you men who might be reading this. It works the other way too. Are you worried you aren’t the most handsome, buffed or tall guy? Worry less about that and more about if you are actually, sincerely showing interest and care about the woman in front of you. THAT is what matters most, even for the 3 women at the bar that night.
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman, Publisher of The Napkin Dad Daily.
Quote is by me. It’s a variation on a much longer quote by Adlai Stevenson of all people.
I was invited to be the guest at a twitter chat last night put on by Blog World, where I spoke last month. I answered questions about creativity, prompting a discussion about it among the participants.
One of the questions was:
“What advice would you give to folks looking to use social media to showcase their art? ”
In the process of answering I said the quote above. It is something that creative people sometimes balk at, they don’t want to be so deliberate or marketing oriented, as if it dilutes or diminishes their work.
But the truth is having a hook is not diluting or diminishing. It is refining and clarifying. It is allowing for a focal point, that is all. What focal point do you have, or could you have, for your creative work? How would it change your work? How would it help you move forward in your creative endeavors?
If you would like to be part of future chats simply get on twitter and use the hashtag #bwechat to see when the next one will be. You can find me on twitter as @thenapkindad
Drawing, quote and commentary by Marty Coleman of The Napkin Dad Daily
As many of you know, I coach a running group. The group is geared to complete a 1/4 marathon (6.55 miles) after a 12 week training season. But this season we added on something extra. We tacked on 5 extra weeks and took them from running the 1/4 marathon to a 15k to a 1/2 marathon yesterday.
By the time the 1/2 marathon race started they were on their own; no coaches telling them what pace to run, when to stop for water, what to wear, how to stretch, or what to eat. It was all on them, alone, by themselves to conquer fear, trepidation, worry, excitement, unexpected aspects they couldn’t control (internal and external) and to fight their way through it. And they all did it. I am very proud of them, everyone of them.
I tell them as often as I can that I am proud of them. When I first started saying ‘I am proud of you’ I had feelings that it was premature, as if I shouldn’t be saying it because I don’t know them well enough. After all, isn’t that reserved for a parent to tell a child or a spouse to tell their partner?
But I soon realized that it was my act of saying it, and believing it, that made me care about them enough for it to be true. I thought about what it was I was proud of in them. What had they overcome? What demons or negativity had they conquered? What achievement, seemingly out of reach, did they realize? What blossoming had I seen?
Tell me about how you express your pride in others. Do you say it often? What stops you if you don’t. How do you feel when you get, or do not get, that affirming pride statement from someone?
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman of The Napkin Dad Daily
When we think of personal finance we don’t usually think of someone who is poverty stricken. But everyone on the planet has personal finances. What do you have (usually in the form of money) to get what you need and want? That is the essence of personal finance and whether you are in a tenement slum, a mansion on the hill or somewhere in between you deal with that every day.The cost of being poor isn’t just in the amount of money it takes (and it does take some money to be poor) but in the emotional, psychological and relational aspects of life as well. For example, statistics seem to show that most marriage stress and divorce occur with money being the root cause.
How do we get out of that situation? It starts with recognition that you can only control you. That includes whatever money you receive, from whatever source. The pain and stress of not having enough money is a terrible thing, but it can be turned around if you start with small steps in a different direction.
That new direction might be being more responsible with utilities, food, driving, miscellaneous purchases. Maybe the new direction is just writing all the money inflow and outgo down.
Whatever small step you can take, take it. It might not lead to a grand solution it’s true. But not changing direction guarantees there will be no solution at all.
Hey all, got some GREAT news last night!
I am going to be a speaker at BlogWorld LA! The dates are November 3-5, 2011. I am not sure of my slot yet, but I will let you know. If you are going to be there you can bet I would love to have you at my presentation and meet you! I will give more information as I know it myself.
Did I fail to mention how much I love being The Napkin Dad? That’s probably because it’s day #5 of Failure Week.
All this week I have been reading ‘failure’ quotes. I read one Monday and all week it’s been bugging me. It is the opposite of the what I wrote above – here it is: “Success builds character, failure reveals it.”
It bugs me because I think it’s completely backwards. In my experience it is failure that builds character, not success. Here is why I think this: What do you learn from success? That you are great, smart, funny, lucky, hard working, pretty, talented, savvy, better than others? Does knowing any of those things build your character? Hard working is probably the only one of the bunch, right?
What do you learn from failure (or catastrophe)? That you can be wrong, dumb, unlucky, flawed? Yes, you can learn those things. But what else can you learn? That you are resilient, strong, persevering, diligent, humble, better than your circumstances, helpful, thoughtful, caring, selfless, patient, empathetic, intelligent? Yes, those as well.
And what is character made up of? Is it made up of ego, looks, talent and smarts? or is it made up of resilience, empathy, strength, humility, perseverance, love and patience?
I have had a LOT of failures and catastrophes in my life; schools I got kicked out of, a failed marriage, rejection in the art and academic world and physical disasters just to name a few. If I had not had those ‘failures’ and not gained the resulting character I now have, I would not be able to take the successes I have had in a good, positive and mature way (which I attempt to do).
Our successes reveal the character we’ve built during our failures.
Why do those thunderstorms come and ruin our crops?
Why did that friend betray me?
Why did that other friend save me?
What caused all these animals to be alive?
What caused me to be alive?
What makes a seed grow?
Why do we die?
What happens to us when we die?
All these used to be religious questions because religion started out as science. It was the thought and the act of trying to figure out why things are the way they are, why things happen.
It did a pretty good job of it too, for a long time. But religion got stuck because it did not have a method for self-correction. Too much was invested in the answers they came up with to allow those answers to change. It is pretty much the same way now.
That is when religion and science split. Science moved forward with the addition of a way to self-correct, the scientific method, and religion did not.
Drawing, quote and commentary by Marty Coleman of The Napkin Dad Daily
I am sitting in my studio on a Sunday morning, three years to the day that Melissa came to live with us. Turns out she did stay one week. Then she stayed another. Then a month had passed. I was able to convince the agency that I could be an affective foster parent and soon school started.
There were some adjustments to be made on all sides, but it was less of a struggle than I thought. Maria and Melissa learned about their boundaries from having a few spats. They made up quickly and no damage was done. Daria felt a bit unneeded at first, with Maria no longer barging into her room to tell her something. Daria used to complain about that, but it turns out she missed it. Melissa made a good bond with Daria though and before long Daria found both of them barging in to tell her things. She didn’t pretend to hate that anymore.
Six months later I started adoption proceedings and 6 months after that, it was finalized. My 4 daughters conspired to try to convince me to allow Melissa to change her name to match theirs. They suggested Laria, Staria and Faria. I suggested Blaria, Glaria and Ungaria. They didn’t think my suggestions were very good at all. In the end she stayed Melissa, because we all really liked her just as she was.
In September of that year she got another beautiful envelope in the mail from her brother. It was of a sunrise. In it he told her that he was going to finally be able to move back to Oklahoma. He had been discharged from the army and had found a job in Tulsa, the main city in the area. He was here in time for Christmas.
A nicer guy I had never met; polite, creative, caring and very much in love with his little sister. He also, it turns out, fell in love with someone else. Caria was home for the Christmas holiday and they spent a number of days together. They hit it off wonderfully and started dating. By the time the next summer came they were inseparable.
Now I sit in my studio 3 years later thinking about how the most random of events; the placement of an envelope in the wrong box, the desire of a young girl to learn to paint, the death of a good man at an inconvenient time, all led to the events of the past day.
From where I sit in my studio I can see into the kitchen. There, on the table, are 3 corsages. The flowers are white and red, the colors Caria chose for her wedding.
I can see beyond the kitchen into the yard. There is a bunny in the yard the dogs haven’t seen yet. I see it eating a dandelion. There are birds at the bird feeder fighting for a perch. I smile as I look beyond the yard, watching as puffy clouds make an orange and pink blanket in the sky amidst my favorite thing in all the world, a beautiful sunrise.
Melissa had a very hard night. She did fall asleep eventually, but not until after many hours of crying and talking with Maria. It was finally quiet upstairs around 11. Mary and I cleaned up the kitchen then sat and talked about the situation. Daria came home from her camping weekend around 11:30. She scavenged in the fridge while I explained what happened. She had taken 4 plastic containers, opened each one and taken one bite out of each thing before she said anything. “Is she going to stay with us?”
“I don’t know, but I am thinking we should at least offer to let her say until some permanent arrangements can be made” I said.
Daria put the food away and said, “That’s cool, as long as she isn’t really weird and doesn’t steal my stuff like Maria does.”
I promised her she was quite normal and that we would have another talk with Maria about her stuff being off limits.
Daria laughed, “Fat chance that will help. But it’s cool; I don’t mind another person around. It might keep Maria from bugging me so much.”
In spite of the sarcasm I could tell she was taking it in stride and wouldn’t freak out about it, at least not in the short term.
Daria was still hanging out with us around midnight when Melissa came quietly downstairs and asked if she could have some water. I introduced her to Daria. She looked at her and said, “Hi. You’re really pretty. I like your hair.”
Daria smiled and said, ‘I haven’t washed it all weekend but thanks.” I got Melissa a cup of water and asked her how she was feeling.
She started to talk but only a bit of crying came out. We consoled her and told her things would work out. She stopped crying and looked at me. “People tell me that a bunch but bad things keep happening. Angus told me that.”
Mary spoke softly, “Well, Melissa. Bad things do happen, for sure. They happen and good things happen too. You are here safe tonight with friends and we will do the best we can to make sure something good happens tomorrow, ok?”
Melissa sniffled, “Ok, I guess that’s what we will hope for.” She drank her last sip of water and went back upstairs.
Daria went to bed and Mary went home shortly thereafter. I stayed up doing some painting. I painted a little watercolor sunrise just to occupy my hands while my mind raced. I had negotiated the terrain of my daughters’ adolescence in pretty good shape. It hadn’t been perfect, but I had enjoyed the first two as teenagers so far and expect I would enjoy it with Maria as well.
I wasn’t worried about if I could handle another kid in the house, I was worried about whether Maria and Daria could. Initially Maria would love having Melissa around, I knew that. But it was a big shift to bring in a new child. The family equilibrium was stable, but it was floating on a relatively calm ocean of hormones, not truly on solid ground.It was sunrise when I finally got a bit of sleep.
Chapter 11
I called Velma’s sister, Violet, as soon as I thought it reasonable, around 10 am. She said Velma had a dizzy spell when she got home and had been in bed ever since. She said that they were going to have to travel to Mississippi for the funeral since that is where Angus had been raised and where all his folk were buried. There was a good chance Velma would move back there in the not too distant future.
She asked, “Are you interested in taking her in?” I responded, “She can stay here for a few days. What about her brother in Alabama, can he take her in?”
Violet explained, “No, he is in the military and will be for another 2 years. He loves her but he isn’t in any position to take care of her. Her parents are both dead so she has no where to go but into foster care, at least until she gets adopted, which isn’t all that likely given she is already 10 years old.” It all sounded so harsh. “She can come back to say goodbye to Velma and get her stuff, but she won’t be able to live here anymore.” I made arrangements to drop by Velma’s with Melissa later in the day.
Mary, Melissa, Maria and I all went over. Velma was sitting at the kitchen counter when we got there. Melissa went over to Velma and hugged her. Velma started to cry. Melissa said, “I’m real sorry about Angus. I liked him a lot.” Velma pushed her back a bit and apologized, “I am really sorry too, Melissa. I am also really sorry that I won’t be able to take care of you anymore. I like you bunches. You are a great young girl, one of the best kids we have ever had live with us. But I have to deal with a lot of stuff now that Angus is gone and I am not feeling very good at all. We will get all your stuff and make sure you have a new place to live, ok?”
Melissa put her head down and just nodded. Just then there was a knock on the aluminum storm door. Violet answered it and in came a short woman with long black hair. She was made up with a lot of mascara and blush. She said hello to Velma, gave her condolences then turned her attention to Melissa. “Hi Melissa.” She said. “Sorry this didn’t work out for very long. “ She said. “Who is your friend?” she asked, looking at Maria.
“This is Maria. That’s her father. I spent the night there last night. They are really nice.” Melissa exclaimed. “Can you go start to pack while I talk to Velma a little bit?” Jan asked. When Melissa and Maria disappeared down the hall and she heard the door close the woman addressed Velma. “So, you are sure you can’t keep her at least for a while? I don’t have anywhere to put her right yet. There just ain’t enough people willing to take in a kid right now. She would likely have to go north up to the city to find a home for her and even that would be really short term I think. That family already has 5 other foster kids living with them.”
Violet spoke up quick. “Jan, this is Art, Maria’s dad. He was nice enough to let her spend the night at his house last night. He said he could put her up for a while until a permanent place could be found for her. Art, this is Jan. She is the case worker for Melissa.”Jan looked at me. “You got a wife there?”
“No.” I said. “She left about 7 years ago. I have raised my 3 daughters by myself since then. Maria is Melissa’s age, another who is 15 and another who is 19, off at college.”
Jan shook her head. “Wow, you should have a lot more gray hair if you raised 3 girls and 2 are teenagers.”
I laughed and said, “No, I just went bald instead.” Lifting up my cap to show my lack of hair on top.
She returned to the issue at hand, “Well, I have to check you out in the system and all that stuff but in an emergency I have some leeway. I have to come over and see where you live now though. My boss won’t like that you are a single dad.”
“I can vouch for him. He’s a great dad.” Mary spoke confidently. She looked at me and smiled.Jan responded quickly, “He may be a great dad, but my boss thinks all guys are perverts. She won’t like that there is no woman around. Who are you?”
Mary smiled at Jan, “I am his next door neighbor. I have lived next to him for 10 years now. I have seen him do all the stuff a mother and father would do and he does it really well. I am around a lot.”
I smiled at Mary. Jan looked hard at me again. “I’ll call the office and they’ll check you out. You cool with that? While they check we can go see your place.” “Yep, no problem.” I said. Jan didn’t spend much time at my house, or ask a lot of questions. She looked at the rooms, the kitchen, and the living room. She asked what I did for a living and I told her I was an artist. She looked at me funny and said, “You make enough money from that?”
I told her I did. I showed my studio to her, explained my commissions and contracts, and she seemed satisfied.
Her cell phone rang. “Hi Dot. Yea, I am over at his house now. It looks ok considering no woman lives here.” She explained. I looked at Mary. She was trying to keep from laughing.
Jan walked outside and closed the door. I could hear her talking but couldn’t hear what she was saying. She raised her voice a bit at one point. Finally she came back in and said, “She says you check out so far and Melissa can stay with you on an emergency basis for the week. What happens after that, who knows?”
We called Melissa and Maria downstairs. I sat down and brought the two of them close. “Melissa, if you want to, you can stay here for a while. Maria, would you mind having a roommate for a week? I know it doesn’t sound permanent but it’s the best we can do for now, ok?”
The looked at each other and out came a harmonized squeal that made everyone in the room smile and put their hands over their ears at the same time. Even Daria was smiling. They jumped around in circles laughing and whooping it up for a few minutes before stopping on a dime. Maria looked at me. “Can we go upstairs and rearrange our room?”
I looked around at all the smiling faces and said, “Go do your damage!” and off they ran.
Velma was angry and sad at the same time. She had been by Angus’ side when he collapsed at home. Angus whispered for her to drive the truck to the hospital so they would have a way to get home later. She wanted to go in the ambulance with him but did what he suggested. When she got to the hospital they were already taking him in to the ER and when she saw him next, he was dead.
She was angry at Angus for suggesting that and at herself for agreeing to it. But the anger was overwhelmed by the sadness and desolation of knowing he was gone. 64 years of a life with the best partner in the world was over. She sat next to his hospital bed, holding his hand. She sniffed and sunk her head in her hands again and again. She would look up at his face and drop her head immediately, as if weighed too much for her neck.
Her sister, Violet, was there when I arrived. She stood behind Velma and rubbed her shoulders lightly. I stood off at a distance but Violet caught on that I wanted to talk to her and came over. Her eyes were red from crying. I told her who I was and that Melissa was at my house playing with Maria. She didn’t miss a beat before saying ‘Well, there is no way Velma can take care of her now, can she stay at your house?
I said, “Of course. She is about the same size as my daughter so she can wear her pajamas and fresh clothes in the morning if she wants. Someone can pick her up tomorrow or I can drop her off wherever she needs to go.” Violet’s response made me nervous, “I meant I don’t think Velma will be able to take care of her for a long time, if ever. They were about to be finished with the foster children business. Velma looks healthy enough but she has been having spells lately. She fainted 3 times in the last 2 months and it was worrying Angus quite a bit. I will talk to her and maybe I can call you in the morning about what we need to do with Melissa, ok?” I didn’t let my concern show when I said, “Ok, we will figure it out tomorrow.” I then had another worrisome thought. “Do you want me to tell her what happened or will Velma or you tell her?” She said, “Well, I have a funny feeling she will be asking questions right away. If she does, go ahead and tell her. She has had people lie to her before about this sort of thing and she doesn’t take kindly to it. Just tell her the truth. ”Violet gave me her cell phone number and said I could call her instead of Velma’s home number for the next day since Velma would probably stay at her house, at least overnight. After giving my condolences to Velma I drove home. After I called Mary to tell her I was on my way home I rolled down all 4 car windows. I felted oddly comforted by the wind, noise and buffeting I felt from the turbulent air swirling around me. I tried to figure out what words I would use in telling her what happened. I didn’t know if she was religious and should say he is in heaven. I wondered what Violet meant about Melissa having been lied to before. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to be insensitive either. Melissa and Maria were waiting in the front yard when I got home. “What happened?” Melissa asked as I shut the car door. “Well, Angus had to go to the hospi…” “He’s dead, isn’t he?” She said before I finished my sentence. I looked at her big eyes and knew that she knew. “Yes, he is” I said. She sat in the grass and started to cry. Maria sat down as well and put her arm around her. Mary came out the front door. We walked a few strides away and she told me that Melissa had been saying she knew Angus was dead for almost an hour. I told Mary what Violet had said about Velma probably not being able to take care of Melissa. Mary looked at me and said, “Well, Melissa and Maria have said more than a few times tonight that they wished they were sisters.” I was up until the sunrise thinking many things.
The rest of the afternoon sped by. The girls made peanut butter and turkey cracker sandwiches, which they declared to be ‘very good’ when I asked. They went out back and both got in the hammock. They watched the birds in the birdbath, laughing at them dunking themselves and shaking all the water off. That gave them the idea to run through the sprinkler, which I let them do.
6 o’clock came and went with no sign of Velma. I didn’t worry about it too much until about 6:30 or so. I asked Melissa to call home to see where she was. There was no answer. She said neither of them had a cell phone. By about 7:00 I was starting to worry. We called again and still there was no answer.
Finally around 7:15 I decided I should drive over to their house to see if I could figure out what was going on. I went next door and asked my neighbor Mary if she would watch the girls for a few minutes. She was happy to. I told her that if Velma or Angus came by it was fine to let Melissa go with them and to call me on my cell phone if they heard anything.
Velma and Angus lived in a nice mobile home park on the west edge of Sunrise. I had been in it once before to pick up some soccer supplies from a parent so I pretty much knew where I was going. Their mobile home was very nicely maintained, with a little flower bed next to an astroturf patio area. They had a lot of garden stones with words like ‘peace’ and ‘happiness’ carved into them.
I didn’t see their truck as I drove up and the blinds in the back window near the patio were closed. I knocked on the door but no one answered.
As I walked back out to my car an older gentleman on a bicycle was coming down the road waving to me. Right then my cell phone rang. It was my neighbor Mary. As she started talking so did the man on the bike. From both I heard the same thing, overlapping in a weird harmony, ‘Angus had to go to the hospital.’
I asked Mary how Melissa was doing and she said she was fine, all she knew was that Velma would be late. I asked, “So, what did Velma tell you?”
Mary explained, “She just said Angus had a bad pain and had to be looked at, that was all. She was sorry for the inconvenience and she would call when she was able to get back to the pay phone at the hospital.”
I asked Mary if she could stay for a while longer. “Yes of course. Do you want me to feed the girls?” I said that would be great.
I turned my attention to the gentleman on the bike. He continued, “Velma called the ambulance and they took Angus away on a stretcher. They had oxygen and a bunch of people all around him. I hope he is ok.”I was pretty sure what hospital they took him too but asked anyway just to be sure. “Yep, they took him to that little one on Rt. 57, up near the river.” I thanked him and headed north.
The hospital was a cinderblock affair, very small and utilitarian. What it lacked in beauty it made up for in kindness. I had brought all 3 of my girls here at one time or another. Caria had broken her leg playing soccer, Daria had been checked out after she got bit by a spider and Maria had her hand taken care of after burning it in the kitchen. Now you know why she knows the kitchen rules so well.
I parked next to Velma and Angus’s truck and made my way into the emergency entrance. Velma wasn’t in the waiting room so I asked at the desk if Angus Billet had been admitted. The woman at the desk turned out to be Betsy McMillan, who I recognized as a parent from Maria’s class. She looked up and said, “Hi Art. Yes, he was.”
“Hi Betsy, can you tell me what he was admitted for?” I asked.
“They think he had a heart attack.” She responded.
“Wow, that is no good at all. Velma told me he wasn’t feeling well today when she dropped off Melissa at our house.”I said.
“They have a daughter? That’s terrible.” She said as she returned to her paperwork.
“She’s a foster child, has only been with them a short while.” I explained.
“Well, it won’t be quite as hard on her then I guess.”
“What do you mean? Is he going to be in the hospital a while you think?” I asked.
“No, that heart attack, or whatever it was, was really bad. He didn’t make it.” She said.
