Lessons from the Popcorn man
Reading that Albom book has made me think a great deal about the mentors I have lost touch with over the years. Some I can still see and hear in my head... with others, only the names and the wisdom remains.
One of the greatest lessons in life I learned at a very young age. Many years ago, I made a friend out of an elderly man who is related somehow to my grandfather (third cousins or something, but then... everyone in that little town is related somehow). His name was Burl... and I can still see his smile, the same cap he always wore, and hear his old pickup. He's one of the first people who taught me not to be ashamed of my intelligence. I was very young at the time, maybe 10 at most... but he gave me responsibilities and paid me upon completion of the tasks. The most important thing he taught me however, was about pride and enjoyment in the job. "Find something that you love to do, and make it your career." No matter what happened in the rest of his life... he LIVED for that 6 hour shift every Saturday night. The chance to serve people, to put aside his worries and help someone else. The money didn't matter... as long as he could pay his bills, he and Marguriette (his wife) were happy.
I think I was the youngest person at his funeral. It was far from the first one that I had attended, but it was the first one that I remember really hitting me hard. Burl died on a Sunday morning... just hours after completeing one of his shifts as "popcorn man" at our little music show. He hadn't been feeling well, but he still showed up, and for those few hours that Saturday night... he was as happy and healthy as ever. I even remember the last task he had given me... taking down decorations from the holiday, during our after-show cleanup. (I don't remember what holiday... we celebrated so many back then.)
Anyway... to this day I get more enjoyment out of the people I work with than the job itself. Somedays I remember what he said, and look at my job and wonder what he would think. ... I think he would tell me I'm here for the wrong reasons. I'm too far from home and family to truly be a success in his eyes. Or maybe he would see the necessity in "trying out my wings". But he would appreciate the effort. Atleast, I hope he would. And he would appreciate that I'm able to draw wisdom from those around me, and still absorb it like a sponge. That I know.
One of the greatest lessons in life I learned at a very young age. Many years ago, I made a friend out of an elderly man who is related somehow to my grandfather (third cousins or something, but then... everyone in that little town is related somehow). His name was Burl... and I can still see his smile, the same cap he always wore, and hear his old pickup. He's one of the first people who taught me not to be ashamed of my intelligence. I was very young at the time, maybe 10 at most... but he gave me responsibilities and paid me upon completion of the tasks. The most important thing he taught me however, was about pride and enjoyment in the job. "Find something that you love to do, and make it your career." No matter what happened in the rest of his life... he LIVED for that 6 hour shift every Saturday night. The chance to serve people, to put aside his worries and help someone else. The money didn't matter... as long as he could pay his bills, he and Marguriette (his wife) were happy.
I think I was the youngest person at his funeral. It was far from the first one that I had attended, but it was the first one that I remember really hitting me hard. Burl died on a Sunday morning... just hours after completeing one of his shifts as "popcorn man" at our little music show. He hadn't been feeling well, but he still showed up, and for those few hours that Saturday night... he was as happy and healthy as ever. I even remember the last task he had given me... taking down decorations from the holiday, during our after-show cleanup. (I don't remember what holiday... we celebrated so many back then.)
Anyway... to this day I get more enjoyment out of the people I work with than the job itself. Somedays I remember what he said, and look at my job and wonder what he would think. ... I think he would tell me I'm here for the wrong reasons. I'm too far from home and family to truly be a success in his eyes. Or maybe he would see the necessity in "trying out my wings". But he would appreciate the effort. Atleast, I hope he would. And he would appreciate that I'm able to draw wisdom from those around me, and still absorb it like a sponge. That I know.