Not Seeing The Trees For The Forest...

People are always talking about “Not seeing the forest for the trees”.  That’s never been my problem.

Certainly, it happens.  There are definitely days when the details get in the way and cloud the big picture.  Most days, however, I’m so busy either hiking down the path or standing back and taking in the view that I miss the beautiful little particles that make the landscape interesting.  I’m usually not seeing the trees for the forest.

This rings true not just while standing in the forest but while walking away from it, too.  I’m really good at moving forward and never looking back.  At least that’s what I tell myself.  The reality – which is probably clear to anyone who knows me (or who reads this blog) – is that I look back quite a bit.  I don’t have photo albums, but I have vivid memories.  I don’t have baggage, but I absolutely have learned lessons.  I don’t think I can ever truly travel forward if I don’t know where I’ve been. 

I imagine this is what early explorers did…moved forward, drew a map along the way, and kept going.  Somehow, they were able to focus on the whole forest while taking notes on the trees, too.  On the other side of the journey, they surely took time to reminisce and talk about the whole trip – the flora, the fauna, the disappointments and the treasures – but still managed to chart new lands.

As time marches on and I find myself attending more funerals than weddings these days, I can't help but look back at the forests I’ve left behind and am often surprised to realize just how many snapshots I’ve actually taken.

When I was a senior in high school, I left the paradise of the beach town I’d called home and landed in the suburbs of Philadelphia.  I did NOT want to be there.  Aside from the fact that I was a snotty teenager, and that I missed the sand and salt air, I was experiencing serious culture shock.  I was not at all prepared for life in the northeast.  I was not prepared for just how Philly that Philly could be. I was out of my element and couldn’t relate to the people in my midst.  As a result, steel walls went up all around me.  I was not friendly.  I was not nice.  I definitely was not open.  I was counting the days, the hours, the seconds until I could blaze a trail out of there.  I kept to myself, did not initiate interaction, and tried to fade into the woodwork.

But these Philly kids thought I talked funny.  They wanted to hear my southern accent (which, in my opinion, I did not have).  They wanted to talk to me.  They asked me questions.  Then some of them made me laugh.  They showed up at my door and forced me to eat pizza and go to concerts and such with them.  They were relentless.  Before I knew it, I let them in.  All I wanted to do was get out of that forest and I was surrounded by a ragtag bunch of funny, warm, interesting, and colorful trees, dammit.

I did get out of that forest.  I went back to my beach and beyond.  I did not look back at that Philly forest, but some of the trees stuck with me.  One, in particular, stood out enough that I kept in touch for some time.  We talked, we wrote letters, we visited.  Time marched on and we eventually lost touch and that forest and those trees rarely crossed my mind.

All these years later, I learned that my unlikely friend from that unlikely place left this earth.  This news opened the window to view that forest I left behind.  And I suddenly remembered the details that I didn’t even realize that I noticed.  I remembered the foliage, the colors, and the beauty of all the other trees that were part of that landscape.  Sometimes, a trip backwards is not such a bad thing.  Sometimes, it’s better to not see the forest for the trees.  Sometimes, the trees are what matter most.

To All The Gigs I've Loved Before...

It seems to me that Labor Day almost always comes to mean “Manual Labor Day” for me.  Mostly self-inflicted, to be sure, because as someone who has found her way to a comfortable indoor desk gig that follows a Monday through Friday schedule, weekends and holidays have become the most obvious time to mow the lawn and do the work that doesn’t get done the rest of the week.

This is not a complaint (mostly) because I’m happy to be in the position to have a regular schedule.  That doesn’t happen for everyone and it hasn’t always been that way for me.  So this Labor Day, as I was mowing the weeds that pose as my lawn, I ran through the list of jobs I’ve done this far in my life.  I’m quite sure I missed some of the little things – temp jobs or day labor, but the list is basically this:

• Hotel maid – I was 13 years old and I got the gig through my dad, who was the maintenance man.  Beachfront motel, catering to Spring Breakers and partiers.  To this day, this remains the hardest I have physically worked in my life.
• House cleaner – helping my sister in law for a bit of cash
• Wallpaper helper – ditto above.  My brother the painter and his wife the paper hanger stayed busy and enabled me to have a bit of pocket dough.
• Amusement park – ride operator, costume character - truly, is there a better job for a teen!?  On the beach, surrounded by shiny happy people, working with friends, making sure everyone is having fun.  Beat that, McDonalds!  You can't.
• Waffle House waitress – at the time, this was not an easy gig to land!  There were only two in the county and a winter job was hard to come by.  There was a test!
• Counter person at Wiener World – Come on.  That’s just funny.  I loved that gig.
• Walmart cashier – Again, just looking for something to carry me through the winter.  Walmart was new to my town, so this gig was a score!  Time and a half if I worked Sundays or Holidays!
• Pharmacy clerk – As a fish out of water, suddenly in Philadelphia and away from my beach, I hadn’t worked in months.  This gig is the first and last before getting out of there!
• Waitress – Back at the beach.  What else was I going to do?
• Insurance Telemarketer – Torture.  I learned within about a week that I was not meant for sales and telemarketing was soul-sucking.
• Waitress - Naturally
• Cocktail waitress/shooter girl – Many of the places now featured on MTV spring break and debauchery shows are places I called “employer”.  When wearing a holster filled with lemon drops didn’t pay off, I may or may not have partnered with the bouncers to profit from confiscated fake IDs.  Allegedly.
• Waitress – Now in Colorado, serving up slabs of steak to cowboys fresh off the range.
• Receptionist/data entry/Factory packer – or whatever assignment the temp agency sent me on that day.
• Hostess – Fancy schmancy French restaurant.  Out of my element.
• Cocktail Waitress – Bow tie wearing, neon and blacklight, bass-thumping nightclub.
• Hotel Desk Clerk – At last, something I planned and intended to do! 
• Hotel Reservationist/Desk Manager/Sales Rep/Night Auditor/Room service attendant/ Controller/etc. – That’s the thing about a family owned business.  You do it all.  And this place shaped me in so many ways.
• Hotel software installer/trainer/support rep/etc. – The Tumbleweed Days.  My family rarely knew where I was, but the airline miles were sweet.
• Waitress – Road weary, serving up ribs was a pretty good alternative.
• Hotel reservationist/sales weasel – Back to what I knew.
• FM Radio Disc Jockey – What!?!  Yeah.  The end of pre-clear channelized radio when radio was grand.  What an awesome adventure! 
• Hair Model/Voice Over Artist – Hey – I had good hair and a nice voice.
• Voice Over Artist – They paid me for this stuff!
• Exec. Assistant in corporate America/Voice Over Artist – OK, they didn’t pay much, and I had bills to pay.
• Advertising Everything – administrative, Copywriter, Producer, Makeup artist, Planner, ,etc. – Tiny agency with growing client.  Some days I was writing, some days I was picking up trash from a set.  This evolved into bigger bosses and less fun, but was a pretty good ride that built a nice career.
• Stay at Home Mom – Not a thing I ever intended to do, but that’s the way  it played out and the timing was right.
• Copywriter – Because those cellphone plans aren’t going to sell themselves!  They need words!
• Nonprofit Monkey – It’s got a fancier moniker, but that’s maybe a bit more accurate.  Handshaking, Butt-Kissing, Organizational Wizard for a Cause doesn’t fit as nicely on the business card.

Life would be so much easier if I could just use that as my resume without all the fancy timelines, terms and formatting because that really paints a much more accurate picture of me.  The truth is, I’ve been a really lucky girl.  While there have been moments without glamour, and days I couldn’t wait to end, I’ve never had to dig ditches or wallow in sludge.

My brothers have done jobs that are just unfathomable to me.  While I know what they did, my brain just won’t wrap easily around it.  Roofing and truck driving and even garbage pickup, sure.  I can imagine that.  Hauling dead animals in summer heat, working deadly jobs on oil rigs, and so much more that they’ve done just makes my head spin.  So I’ll go back to my cushy chair in my cushy office when this holiday is over, and just be grateful for those who paved the road that got me there.

Happy Labor Day, and thank you to all who do those things that I take for granted every day.