Just Plain Bill

Always Have a Hanky in your Pocket

One of several admonitions I received from my mother - words of advice spoken often and with emphasis - was to make sure I always had a handkerchief or tissue in my pocket. It seems that having a hanky to use with a runny nose or to offer to someone in need was a sign of proper upbringing.

I remember that lesson well, still having a hanky in my pocket as I’m writing this note. The hanky lesson also contributed to an interesting coincidence just after my mother passed away at 96 years of age.

I remember going to the funeral home to claim my mother’s ashes. She’d wished to be cremated upon her death.  I looked around at the variety of containers available for me to purchase for her ashes, while waiting for the attendant at the home. I was having a difficult time keeping the tears at bay. Adding to my already blurry vision from crying was the fact that I had left my glasses in my car. I was having a really hard time focusing on anything.

As the attendant was entering the waiting room and after scanning all my options for containers, I settled on a very colorful one at the end of the shelf - one with a variety of flowers all over it.

I stood as he entered. We shared condolences and I then walked over to the container at the end of the shelf – the container I had selected while waiting.

Upon drawing close to the container, I was both surprised and amused to realize that the container I had selected was in reality a Kleenex box, full of tissues! That container would certainly (and perpetually) allow me to follow my mother’s admonition to never, ever be without a hanky or tissue.

Thanks Mom, for taking care of me right up to the end!

Just Plain Bill

“Uncle Bill, you have a Valentine on your face!”

You may have heard of the saying “Out of the mouths of babes oft times come gems”. Well, that came to mind when my young niece, Laura, visited me one summer over 25 years ago. She was six years of age, and was a true bundle of joy.

We were finishing breakfast and out of the blue, Laura said, “Uncle Bill, you have a Valentine on your face.” Her comment took me by surprise and I really didn’t know what to say in response. So, as a good uncle should, I just said, “that’s nice.”

It was a few hours later, when I’d finished shaving that I did notice that as my hair was slowing starting to recede on either side of my forehead, there was a “peak” forming at my scalp line.

Now days we have Wikipedia to help us with a formal definition: “A widow's peak is a V-shaped point in the hairline in the center of the forehead. Hair growth on the forehead is suppressed in a bilateral pair of periorbital fields. Normally, these fields join in the middle of the forehead so as to give a hairline that runs straight across. Widow's peak results when the point of intersection on the forehead of the upper perimeters of these fields is lower than usual.”

After not seeing my niece for over 30 years, we were reminiscing and I asked her if she remembered what she said over the breakfast table many years ago. She became just a tad embarrassed and said, “no, did I really say that?” I reassured her that I thought it was cute and I was glad that she felt comfortable enough to make that kind of a comment.

Since that time at breakfast many years ago, my hair line has continued to recede – till it’s all gone – and I kind of miss those days of when I proudly had “a Valentine” on my face. 

Just Plain Bill

Not bad!

I had a recent discussion with some new managers concerning how important it is to provide positive feedback - to give praise for a job well done. For many years, research has demonstrated the positive impact from providing specific, focused praise. It produces a measurable uptick on attitude, future performance, and most importantly, self appreciation.

I grew up in a family where praise of any type was the exception rather than the rule. With both parents having been raised in strict, highly disciplined homes in England, I learned that one should “know” that they are doing well and if not, one can count on being told everything can be done “better.”

My Mom’s ultimate praise took the form of “not bad”. Regardless of the size of the good works – from my selection to the Oakland All City Band as a ninth grader to being honor man of a Marine Corps battalion – the most that I ever heard was “not bad.”

During my long career as a management development professional, I have seen countless examples of the value a positive word can bring. In all my reading of the literature on successful management – from W. Edwards Deming to Peter Drucker, and from Ken Blanchard to Daniel Pink – the evidence of value that comes from recognizing things being done well is what I like to call “free coin of the kingdom.”

Now when I hear “not bad”, I’ve learned to respond with “Tell me more” or to ask “Specifically, what went well?”

So how are things going for you?

Not bad?

Tell me more…

Just Plain Bill

Denise’s Invisible Friend

During my 13-year teaching career, a very special experience occurred near the end of one school year.  It was the time of year when the days were getting warmer, when many students were now thinking about summer vacation, and when I noticed there was one extra spelling paper turned in by my third grade class. I really hadn’t noticed the extra paper until I started entering grades. I observed that I didn’t have a “Rebecca” in my class and yet “Rebecca” had turned in a spelling paper.

Like so many other teachers, I am an amateur detective at heart. I matched the printing on “Rebecca’s” paper with that of Denise, one of my quiet students. You see, Denise’s family was going to move during the summer. She’d be leaving my school and all the friends she had made since starting there in kindergarten. I knew the upcoming move was bothering her.

Once I looked at “Rebecca’s” and Denise’s papers, I noticed that “Rebecca” spelled all 15 words correctly, but Denise missed one word – she’d printed “horse” for “house.”

I didn’t say anything to Denise but I returned “Rebecca’s” paper stapled to Denise’s paper (my students recorded their grades for all their assignments in their Class Journal). I purposely didn’t check to see which grade Denise recorded in her journal.

The next week, we had another spelling test. Once more, I had an extra paper turned in for grading. “Rebecca” spelled all the words correctly again but Denise had missed two words – she’d printed “truck” for “trunk” and “light” for “flight.” 

When I returned the papers for my students to record their grades this time, I did observe that Denise recorded the perfect score from “Rebecca’s” paper. Rarely at a loss for words, I genuinely wasn’t sure what to do or say.

A few days went by. Then, when I was discussing each student’s creative writing papers (they were writing on what they would change in our school if they were the principal), I asked Denise to tell me about “Rebecca.”  She told me in a quiet voice that “Rebecca” was her invisible friend, who was going to stay in our school and would not be moving to another school in the summer. Denise also told me that she was helping “Rebecca” with her spelling and that she was glad that she was spelling all the words correctly.

I thanked Denise for telling me about her imaginary friend and shared that I appreciated that she was a good teacher to be helping “Rebecca” spell so well.

The school year ended. Denise’s family did move away, but before she left, she asked me to keep “Rebecca’s” paper in my room so that I would not forget her in the coming year. To this day, I still remember and marvel how one student helped herself cope with a difficult situation in her own special way. 

Just Plain Bill

Uvulectomy

Have you ever thought about that hangy-downy thing in the back of your mouth, which you can see if you open real wide? Well, neither had I until –

I didn’t have my tonsils out until I was 25 because I was raised during the time when there was concern you might get polio or some other infection after an operation.

So, when I visited my doctor following the operation, he asked me an interesting question: “When you were growing up, did you find yourself clearing your throat a lot?” As a matter of fact, I did. I remember that my father would often admonish me to stop clearing my throat, preferring I either spit or blow my nose instead of making that hacking sound – a sound evidently bothersome to others and a sound that accompanied a sore throat that came along on a regular basis. 

The doctor then showed me the bill for the removal of my tonsils and adenoids – plus the item listed as a Uvulectomy (for which there was no charge). My doctor told me that while doing his snipping in my throat, he noticed that my uvula was longer than normal (whatever normal might be). So he took his scissors and trimmed about a quarter of an inch from my hangy-downy thing, a procedure which would eliminate some of the irritation at the back of my throat – my sore throat - that my swollen uvula caused.  

I imagined that my shortened and squared off uvula would set me apart. To this day, I’ve yet to see that unique characteristic listed on a resume, a job description, or even a program for the ill formed at the carnival. I imagine I’ll just take that experience to my grave though, as I’ve yet to find a way to monetize it.

What a shame! (Cough, cough!)