I’ve missed hearing from some men whose voices sparked something different within,
Just hearing their voices touched my heart, and left “it” grinning again.
One is from the Bronx, and will always be like my big brother,
And he knows he can rest assured he’s still got another loving mother . . . .
She’s still praying religiously for him and his wife.
It’s good to be loved, when someone like him can touch and affect even one life . . . .
But his goodness and brotherliness go much farther than that.
This is selfishness on my part right now, but sometimes we all need a “lift”.
God knows that certain people in our lives are a very special gift.
So I was moved to call (probably the last too!) . . . . my old boss,
(I’ve already called the others!) Decades later, like old friends . . . . it were as though no time was ever lost.
Hearing his voice put me at ease, his words were casual and down to earth;
He’s real, no pretense, is not society’s puppet and therefore not an empty suit or stuffed shirt.
He, like the others who were good to me . . . . shirks accolades, and never left me feeling like dirt;
Rather he casually tells me the reality, gave me the scoop and told me so eloquently (in his own way) . . . . “the dirt”.
That’s what I understand, when I talk to a “man”.
I was tired, he understood after we talked, and immediately offered a hand up;
So I don’t have to listen to more lies, deception, or hopefully rattle the orange button or virtual cup.
Don’t get me wrong this really is my dearest and deepest passion;
Part of me still yearns to climb that corporate ladder, and another part is still old fashion.
Like, he never knew the glass ceiling I broke was about five years after flying out of his organizational nest.
Because, within I’m extremely competitive, highly driven, and downright hard on myself . . . . to excel, and exceed all expectations . . . . just to out do my personal best.
The ceiling I broke is seen in the photo up there, but it’s the wrong type of barge.
I was the first young female Scheduler of a petroleum product on the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers, in a vessel like that, and everything about it . . . . was incredibly large.
Nobody knew, nobody understood, nobody cared, and nothing about it was remotely “fair”.
Did I mention I was also entering in my Senior year of college?
When I resigned, that boss would not accept, would not ante up, but sometimes it’s no longer about money and career.
One begins to see . . . . success is not free, and its return is as thick as the rarest wood veneer.
So I know a real man . . . . is a real leader, he won’t take for himself, talk like others . . . . he offers and will freely give.
He knows where he stands, he stands like a man, and knows what life is like . . . . for real . . . . in order to live.
Actions speak louder than words.
Say what you mean, or don’t say anything at all.
If you say what you mean, it’ll come through, and the receiver will know you are standing tall.
It takes real chutzpah to know all this. . . . and very few will grasp the depth of that.
I love writing . . . . wanna know why?
I can smile as I just sit here and think, “Dang, I could be making things up!”
You figure out what is true and what’s not,
You’re an adult . . . . I’ll make up the plot.
Have a great day,
Now you can pay . . . . (if only I had an emoji to make a silly face at you. Hang on and let me see what I can do!)