My profession has placed me in proximity to many famous people and the majority of them I am grateful to have met.  Not matter how much fame and fortune each had achieved, I learned first-hand that underneath each one is a person just like the rest of us.  How I felt about each celebrity I have met runs the full gamut just as the people I meet in everyday life do.  Many were warm and interesting, quite a few were aloof but polite and some were cold and just going through the motions.  But there are a few that really made impressions on me, especially one.

In 1972 I was returning to Colorado after visiting family down south and was making a connection on Frontier Airlines at the old Denver Stapleton Airport.  Those were the days of hair long past my shoulders and my full hippie regalia which those we called “Straight’s” liked to stare at, especially the older folks.  At the gate I was waiting for a flight to Colorado Springs that made another stop in Pueblo when I noticed a white haired gentleman in his 70’s sitting with a woman of similar age.

For about 10 minutes I stared on and off at the man about 20 feet away dressed in a crisp white shirt and khaki pants.  Was he who I thought he was or not?  I vacillated between “yes it is” and “it can’t be”.  To solve my quandary I got up the nerve to walk over and speak to him.  He was seated as I approached him and as he looked up I said “You wouldn’t be Norman Rockwell would you?”  He smiled and said “the last time I checked I was.  Who might you be?” as he extended his hand.  As I introduced myself and shook his hand I was glad for his warm and welcoming nature.  Soon after he patted the empty seat beside him inviting me to sit down and visit with him.  A couple of times while talking I referred to him as Mr. Rockwell and more than once he said “Norman, please”.

In our conversation of about 15 minutes, I learned the woman he was traveling with was “Molly” his wife as he introduced me to her (that he remembered my name even for 30 seconds really impressed me).  Then he motioned to a guy about my age standing nearby and introduced him as his grandson.  In the conversation he told me they were flying to Pueblo in order to get to what he called his “hideaway” somewhere near Canon City.  Norman seemed genuinely interested in our conversation and asked things like where I was going, where I had been, about my family and even what I thought of his work.  When I told him I “loved” his work and his Christmas paintings were favorites, especially Santa Claus, he said nothing, but a gentle smile came onto his face. He expressed his appreciation with that smile more than words probably could have.

The time passed quickly and soon it was time to board. Norman shook my hand, patted me on the shoulder, told me “good luck son”.  As he walked away to be one of the first to board he looked over his shoulder once and tipped his head a little to say good bye.  Later he smiled as I walked past him on the plane headed to my seat in the back of the plane and again when I got off the plane in Colorado Springs.  And that was the end of the story, but my memory of it remains clear and vivid.

To this day, I can remember the warmth of Norman Rockwell.  This is especially true since I have read he basically was a shy and quiet man overall.  But for a little while to me, then a kid of 18; he seemed like the uncle I had not seen in years.  I remember little things like the pipe in his shirt pocket but most of all I remember his smile.

Years later I read that Norman’s private life was troubled, especially the years married to his second wife and mother of his children who suffered from mental problems.  I also found a quote in some biographical material credited to Dr. Erik Erikson, a psychologist, who treated Mr. Rockwell.  It’s recorded that Dr. Erikson told Norman “he painted his happiness, but did not live it”.  Even today that makes me a little melancholy to think the man whose paintings contained such deep emotions from laughter to innocent elation and to sadness and reverence did not get to live what he painted. Norman Rockwell left an enduring legacy of joy and authentic American life to everyone, but to me he left a beautiful image of old gentlemen who was rich and famous, but still had time to be kind and thoughtful to an impressionable young man who 40 years later is still deeply grateful.   Thank you Norman.

Courtesies of a small and trivial character are the ones which strike deepest in the grateful and appreciating heart.  Henry Clay

I am grateful for the opportunities to grow I have had throughout my life and the greatest influences have been people.   Clear in my mind are the teachers who taught me to read and write, the pilot who taught me to fly, the woman who taught me how to love and even those who taught me what not to do by me watching them do those very things.  Yet beyond the many who contributed to the quality of my life, there are the very few who had tremendous impact on me.  Right at the top of that list is DK, my first mentor.

DK was an inspiration to begin with when he hired me as a first time department manager when I was only 23.  Only a few years before he had overcome a severe drinking problem that had left his personal life a mess.  He told me once “I screwed up my first marriage by becoming a drunk and screwed up my first marriage to a drunk when I quit drinking”.  I knew him a few years later when he met a nurse who became his 3rd wife while he was in the hospital for a serious surgery.  I was a witness to the happiness he found with her during the rest of his years and the two children they had together.

I have great respect for DK and what he had overcame.  But to an even greater degree I hold him in high esteem for what he taught me about business and people.  Of the many things I learned from him in the seven years he was my boss, at the very top of the sizable heap is that businesses succeed or fail from the inside out.  He taught me that there on the “inside” people are what make or break a business.  “Hire good people, ask a lot of them and treat them as well as you possibly can” are his words that are imprinted deeply within me.   The image of the framed item at the top of this page is an example of his philosophy.  This frame  hung in DK’s office and his family gave it to me after he passed away.  Now a decade later it is displayed proudly in my office and I hear his voice in my head still guiding me just about every day.

There came a point when he confided in me that in six months he was moving on to a different job and one where he could not take me with him.  In our time together and with DK’s help I had managed to create success that was written about nationally in trade magazines.  There had been a number of previous offers of employment, but none that could attract me away.  Now a good job offer came along within a couple of months and I accepted it as I could not imagine being in my present position reporting to someone else.  Like DK said “Kid, its time to go”.

On my last day DK asked me to come to his office when I had all my stuff in my car and was ready to leave.  So there I was sitting with him just after 5pm wanting badly to express my gratitude for his belief in me and all he had taught me.  I asked him “How do I repay you for all you have done for me?”  He replied, “You can’t Kid”.  DK must have seen the perplexed look on my face, so he continued.  “Someone saw the spark in me and gave me opportunity and taught me.  I saw the spark in you and brought you along.  It’s your responsibility to take the time to teach and bring along those you see the spark in.  That’s how you repay me”.

So here I sit misty eyed as I always get when I tell this story, grateful beyond my ability to express it to a man I will never forget.  In later years at a business I managed I was able to hire and mentor DK’s son who was floundering in life.  Somehow it is fitting that the last time I saw DK was when he was in town helping his son move to start that job.  I know he would be proud of his son’s success today.

Most of all Don taught me to “play it forward” at least 10 or 15 years before I ever heard that phrase.  With a grateful and happy heart I will be “paying him back” for the rest of my days.

A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops.  Henry Adams

The smile of a child is beautiful.  It is expressed with innocence and with the full emotion of the moment.  We tend to lose this unaffected expression of our self as adults, but there are exceptions.

There is a young man about 19 or 20 that works at the grocery store where I shop that has worked there about 3 years.  Russ is tall and handsome, enough so that if circumstances were different he might have been a male model.  He expresses himself openly to customers and most seem thrilled to see him.  You see a big part of Russ never left the 5^th or 6^th  grade.

Russ bags groceries and shags shopping carts in the parking lot.  I am uncertain if he works full or part time, but is usually there at the store when I shop after work and on Saturday’s.  Russ smiles at everyone and makes direct eye contact that lets you know he really sees you.  If he knows you often you’ll get a quick hug and he will tell you that he loves you.  Even if you are a stranger he will flash that wonderful smile and say something to you that makes you feel good.  He is always filled with the joy of being alive and in his world people matter most.    In the store I will go out of my way to get into the register line where he is bagging just so I can speak to him.

Yesterday was challenging at work and I was brooding  inside myself when I parked my car in the grocery store parking lot.  As I was walking toward the entrance, there was Russ gathering shopping carts to take back in the store.  He was working diligently as he always seems to be and focused on doing well his task.    I just walked over and told him hello.  Russ’s response was a BIG “How are you?” and he meant it.  Moments before I had been in a funk from my work day, but at that instant all that “junk” melted away.

Maybe it was when he told me he loved me that did it.  Maybe it was the hug.  I am uncertain.  But I certainly know it was Russ and I am very grateful for this boy in a man’s body who is my friend of sorts.  His joy for living and his love for others are so rare.  Some might say God messed on up making him the way he is.  I don’t think so.  I believe God made him just the way he is and put part of an angel in Russ.  He is perfect just the way he is.

Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.  Melody Beattie