Dickens opened Tale of Two Cities with "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times." When turbulent times threaten to toss us over, we can say it is the end of us (the worst of times), or we can say it is a new beginning (the best of times). Like the glass half full or half empty, the events are the same; the perception differs.
I am new, so my first blog entry was a mistake. It announced my new book, but a blog isn't the place for that. A blog is a value added entry to a website, to a core business. It is giving with minimal expectation of receiving. If the public finds blog entries credible, a conversation begins, a relationship begins, and trust can be built.
I have relationships with the cashiers and staff at my Publix, at my Atlantic Pack and Parcel, at my Cuban American Barbershop. I don't collect information from a beachside merchant and then purchase the product online to save money.
Yes, I have ideas. Yes, I write poetry. Yes, I have collected some poems and put them in a book to sell and make money. However, I am a retired teacher, and my most boring professor once said, "The exam is not the end of the learning; it is part of the process." The same can be said of the sale of a book, of any product.
I am helping people look at the world in a different way. I am working with my experience with cigars and with writing, and I am offering those insights to others in a book...in my website...in my Facebook page...and in this blog. As we get to know each other, I hope to be invited to speak at cigar bars and lounges around Florida and elsewhere. I hope to sell some books. Most of all, though, I hope others will see that they can reach out to others and help them, just as I wrote a year ago in this poem:
Compliments to the Chef
by Christopher Robin Adams
“My compliments to the chef; this lamb was tasty and tender.”
“Thanks! I will tell her!”
We grow and spin cartwheels
with kind words.
More of us survive,
when we know we are doing right;
more of us live happily,
when we are aware we are doing well.
In our competitive world,
where we often chase dollars
and trample daisies,
helping the flowers grow can give us enough pause
the often lonely idea
of passing on a kind word or eleven
in order to help another do right or do well.
We scratch a kitten’s ears,
tell a dog he’s a “good boy,”
but how quick are we to help another,
particularly when we are shelling out the bucks?
isn’t the money enough reward, enough praise, and enough kindness?
Not if we can do more.
A writer once noted we should act kindly,
not because we should (and she agreed we should),
but because we can,
because it is in our power,
because we have the time,
and because the other person’s world will be better,
as will ours.
As will ours.
I keep copies of this poem and give them to people who help me. Waiters. Waitresses. Wait staff. Clerks. Plumbers. Folks who in the day to day work for a living often incur inconvenience from the norms of their jobs. Many assume that's the breaks of the city. Perhaps it is, but I can still be nice. I can still say "Thank you" even though I am paying for the service.
I hope these comments are helpful.
This is Kit, and this is my call.